There are certain kinds of people you simply can't write poems about.
A certain nerve of inauthenticity, or perhaps even whole cell-filed of
something fraudulent and so profoundly and obviously untrue, is trig-
gered in your mind: like a mine-field it becomes so fast, like game has
become war and war has become sabotage: so Quickly and so Fast.
And soon and sure enough, your brain has become more the outposts
of weapons. Weapons perhaps against God for ever creating such a waste
of lies on something appearing to us so true as the fact of being human.
Through our own genuine state of being human, we can not escort our
nerves to describing and explaining such a waste of creation. I am offended.
I am disgusted. I am too smart to be fooled. And I don't know if I want
to be smart like this right now. A part of me wants to be fooled: it seems
so fun and out on a roll. A certain nifty polish of the power of the popular
hypnosis starts waltzing around one's sense of self, and sense of what life
in the body humans descritas is all about. Squeeze a poem out of that
crock of fraud at least. You're desperate to have gotten something decent
out of that relationship which only unveiled a sadistic unforgivable crock
of fraud. How painful. How many people are really and truly that cruel?
Did you really allow such an evil sadistic strategic saboteur to be created?
Oh Lord! How could you do such a thing? But smart. Oh yes, the evil cretin
is smart. Perhaps tormentively and geniusly so. Like that evil one indeed.
And so the evil saboteur that God should never have created is smart. And
okay, so quite good looking in that Blue Blood way- untouched by the
squirrels of poverty zapping discomfort and fear on the brain like a torch.
But you can't talk about a person like this through poetry. Because there's
nothing pure in one's soul actuated besides trauma and disgust, and nobody
wants to read about that….really, nobody. Everybody hates when they feel
somebody has bothered to write a poem about something that should
have never happened in the first place. Especially when it's about a human
being who should have NEVER been created at all. So God is not perfect, huh?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem