While cheap things pose ordinary
Ordinary things pose cheap
They linger supine to worry
Hitter and yon boom a heap
One pregnant damsel just died
Putting to bed a cheap sex income
Yet life would have lied
Had she’s her cheap not become
In bits ignorance clambered to her feet
And skedaddled, miles away
Biting and munching her teeth
But bravo! Bravo! Any way
Streets litter with worship songs
Fraud squad on cords fro same Christ
The many a babbling and rattling in tongue
Yet the best remains the worst
Oh! A good brood mood flood me embers
The smoking guns and wanton maims
Upon a pencil Mohammed matters
Cartoon caricature got globe in flames
They plump up like blisters
Piling up pink pretty pores
But all that glitters
Is not often religious
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Some real truths in some of the thoughts