Thought finds biscuits outside
the mind runs around
our daily special
soup bread wine and
some cheese.
Do not the lost disenfranchised
again climb the latter with
knees just to howl at the moon.
Flimsy is tongue made of paper
and glue pinata hits stick learn
not to rue politicians fortune made
off the backs of middle class folk
eating your shoes souls
with children inside.
Priests cast out sins of the fathers
and mothers just to come home
and do it all over again
hearing lost wants and all of the needs
stooping to breath last rights of diseased.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem