There is not a rock they can hide behind.
Not a boulder molded near the summit
Of mountain peaks...
Can plug the stench caused by these hoodlums.
These renegades of 'low with odor'
Infest digressions with plans of wealth.
Drenched in chaos...
And worthy of pathos they are not!
Not these slick demons.
Yet...
Pitiful in this pickeled juice,
They may be
In attempts to preserve their dishonor!
They shed publicly their integrity...
Quicker than the hair from wild dogs.
Barking in a pack to ward off danger,
As they scour lands seeking fresh meat!
To leave bones to scavenge.
And...
Allowed they are
To flaunt their looting of common sense,
From all of us
Standing in line to donate more blood!
To protect this crazed point of view,
Of who and what invades!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
hey, man this is really good poem. speaks out!