Ego Poem by KATOCH P C K PREM

EGO
When I collect like lollipops
clippings from newspapers
of half-truths and lies
I ask an uncouth derelict
Into truths that never existed.


For I often remember Chanakya
and Machiavelli in obsolete tit-bits
to assist me in distorting truth
so that a new scene is visualized.

This brings me close to Hitler
who cries for blood in guttural bursts
that mount high to reach deafening shemozzle
insisting in delirium
to handle a cresset
and allow release of an ego
before a hack-saw.

There I began to look out for parallels
and invectives against world helpless
which rise to a frenzied pitch
when a vast assemblage becomes dumb
and listens to angry words spellbound
without gurgitation
when a Confucius submits.

Such words of hate in grunts and spasms
and doctrined in historical perspectives
always a spoken truth
like a messiah
who issues forthwith a sizzling warning
that when I visit my tomb in ruins
it will be a death for all
because this way I hate truth
and refuse to raise myself on a stage
for this shall hurt my ego.
(Those Distant Horizons 1993)