A plethora of particular people
Plastic wrapped in panic
Shop in stingy shackles
Till dropping from delirium
(Desperately drowning
Their ignorance and impatience
In seeping cesspools
Of caffeine and nicotine)
Masterfully masking
Umpteen vitamin deficiencies
That cosmically conflict
With antidepressant medicine
Wistfully waiting and anticipating
The four day sales ad
With a manifold of cut-rate sales
And five hour door busters
(But despite their untenable tardiness
They expect octopod salesmen to bend)
And like a budding bullfight
With a merciless matador
(In a large fluorescent lit arena
Packed by softheaded stockers)
They're stabbed in the neck
Curbed from lifting their heads
And can only see red
And charge, charge, charge
Opening the photo floodgates
To months of devil ray debt
(As they contribute
To the Bedlam of Society)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem