Still between worlds infused with crazy desire to
complete my terrible text - but overcome by tragic
discovery my courageous attempt to thrive on dry
beskuit led to symptomatic resurgence of allergy
Soft rain and loud thunderclaps mirror a desperate
prayer earlier today when stuck in an endless
meeting; there I could tune out the meaning of
spoken inanity, but not the resonance of it
Could not escape metre and timbre of King Kong
and her henchmen, Crying Mock Turtle delivering
a speech with many sighs and innumerable sobs
and Mr Dream-A-Lot riveted to his own spot
Being driven into the deep sitting in this big old car
of a meeting, gnashing of teeth trying to escape
the voice floating over me, nearly falling asleep
but remaining disdainfully awake, thinking of
Slashing my wrists and spraying blood on the
listeners as a clear sign I've had enough when
the end came, and after an anti-climax of more
sorrowful whining by Mme La Pompadour
I ran from the meeting only to find my powers were
spent, no more concentration to be obtained from
my brain, I did try to get back into step, in vain
chasing elusive meaning & strange formulation
In the end I conceded, came home to lie in your lap,
feeling I have earned my rest…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem