An overloading of circumstance,
With a focus dumped on pomp.
And just too much of the poppycock,
That crops up with romancing done...
Prioritized by the junk
Leaves the people celebrating,
Their nonsense without end.
And the people celebrate,
More of it to begin!
To defend.
And often...
People have to pretend with them,
Everything is okey-doke.
Since people love it when,
They can poke at other folks to joke.
'Cause...
People need to feel,
A realness...
Although little of it makes sense at all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem