Zeitgeist is ripe
for the short skirted type
Meine Liebe!
Zeitgeist is ripe
for a truism so unlike
the twisted elbow.
before or aft
we can can laugh at last
like intertwined glasses of wine
that pour from mine to thine
and thus enshrine
in daily consumption,
of fatal predeliction,
of brittle proportions,
of nightly presumption,
and neurally convicted contortions
a Zeitgeist that casts horse-blanket fleas
over all proceedings
that end with flip-flap-sap
and begin with soil enriched seedling
that in all manner sartorially incline to snack
on the spirit of the times morally needy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem