Big man,
He is a joystick celebrant
Hands clutched tight and sweaty
Grasping plastic happiness
Shooting with repetitive motion
And phrasing, pressing down down the
Big red button with meaty thumb to achieve
Each pixilated success
Each new face like a screen before him
Opportunity only to play again
Say again the victory victory of
War hero imaginings
Smooth black handle, sharp
Lights and no ambiguity
He doesn’t even see us here
Not cheering him on.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A sublime start with a nice poem, Faith. You may like to read my poem, Love And Lust. Thank you.