Half-man, half-insect
With a bizarre spirit in his own dialect
So who is he, this half - man, half-insect?
Perhaps a man of dismal descent
And this half-man, half-insect
Have eyes for ample judment
And the antenna beaming forward,
With his silk for skin, with flesh untoward
His wings are shriveled
And conjures an image of a dying moth
His thoughts are disheveled
Of which impede him from soaring distances
Half-man, half - insect
Trudging the land with the worst intent
Of causing discontent upon wives and men
And the lamenting tail of disappointment
Half-man, half-insect
His veins ebbing with a plague
A plague that causes anguish
In the somber air of his presence
And when he judges,
He is in sync with candor
And none could withstand his fervor
That ridicules the bliss from the scorn
And he does not bleed,
Nor does have the need to heed
For he is an insect with a putrid soul
And a man only in physique, not in his senses
I have known many whom,
Have the characteristics of this epitome
Half-men, half-insects, they are everywhere
And there’s no resignation in the torment
They can't reconcile, they are benumed
With words that scathe like thwarting lunges
The lambaste cannot be stop, we are destined
To fall in the hands of the half-man, half-insect
And glance over mirrors,
And castigate the inferiors
Take a look at the visage
I hope the mien you despise is clear
So what do you see in front of the mirror?
Is it the one that you have long been describing?
Or the picturesque aspect isn’t that perfect?
Hence you see the half-man, half-insect.
You have his features, you have his skin
Perhaps you are but akin,
To the half-man, half-insect
Albeit you are one, from within.
There’s not a cure for this affliction
That has scattered upon disimmenation
There would be no bleeding, only scarring
Of one’s truest self, you decide among halves
So are you mundane?
Are you a vermin?
You have dispositions as light as satin;
Perhaps your errs could speak so much of your decision
Half-man, half-insect
Conceived in the noxious womb
And will be buried soon in a man’s cranial tomb
We are all insects in physiology.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem