Free minded,
Wild-eyed mystery, abandoned,
Objectivity, discreetly,
In hashed tones,
Reverberatin',
Through my vocal tract,
Rattling, and refiling,
Through a bag of change-like sound,
Amplified, to subdue your chemicals,
'Good, he's human'
They'll say with exhausted relief,
Un-conscientiously.
Uniformity, puts a certain emphasis,
On units,
Converging selfishly,
To feed the dim glow,
Of sanity's fire.
'So, how's the weather? '.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem