I wish I could regurgitate my stomach,
Spill out my its contents and bathe it
In a pool of healthnut oils.
I wish to spill my guts accross a highway
Of contention and bring the world to a stop!
I wish this could be easier to swallow,
And yet I plead:
I need a gastric bypass
With the knife of knowledge,
and a clean hand.
My heart is heavy with undiagnosed
syndromes of insincerity.
I need an oral anima to clear my throat
for truthful words to pass;
But first I need a drink.
For no surgeon would ever think
Nor is there one more qualified than me
to perform this operation,
none more qualified than me;
Me defeating me...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Truthfulness and faithfulness are instinctively mutual, travelling in unison...We are the doctors of our ownself, healing the undiagnosed sickness will take time of chemotheraphy of our hearts and religious medication of the soul...Great poem Sir.. Wish you the best, Cate