There is a shit we don't eat,
to my younger brother's dog,
Is the best meal to break a fasting
A prayer was said by a kid
At church today, We all laughed
Until we shed tears like drunkards;
On the expressway,
there is a fat deep hole
but nobody sign it out
or place a caution board;
I walked close and looked down at it
and saw inside millions of dead souls.
I came across a cat in the shrubs,
And later found him that night
hovering with wings on the black sea
There is an handwriting on the wall
Written with a black charcoal,
though it is bold but I am not cleared;
is anyone else stopping to read it?
Or we say the one who wrote that,
Wore rags, he must be a madman.
Because he is from an unknown way
But he is he sitting on the half-moon
He is planning to destroy the world.
he is the thief coming by-to rob,
the man of the house is a fool
to stand and watch the window
with a pistol and a big barrel?
When he is coming with no guns
But by the shit we don't eat.
If Jesus has any sense he'll refuse the second coming, remember what the politicians and their slaves, us, did to him the first time round.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i can dig it - Moses