Chessboards stacked in a stagnant platform
To amalgamate the norm and leave the channels open like on a hilltop storm
Its time to reveal all metaphors that shield the flock from the tyrannical
Pit stop to bump heads with the very flip side of pedantic fall
Pull into the rift of the abyss two anonymous ships
Aside in a celestial showdown molesting the pronoun fit
Levitating reciprocal flow to nourish the Martian flats where they begin
Whose impermeable bedrock is a but a pertinent rare
Fertile crop with the turf bare that’s exposed to the air
That thwarted and concocted obnoxious aroma to which is hard to glare
Shared rarely by the fair haired amalgamator
Corona ting the wakeup with a chorus cordoned later
By Horus the raucous real raw zealot tapping away at the core
Of your misconceptions with the latent meltdown on perceptions like iron forged
From the molten hell that spelt the end of the dawn
And forever more gelled the warning
Into the sworn proclamations that are adorning
Born in the wrong and the swords of verbal grasses scorned mourning
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem