The nicest thing that can be said about an Onk
is that there could be hiding in the shade a real donk.
But what we know about this freak who's ventured back
she should be strung upon the people's torture rack.
She neither has nor will acquire decent thought
and in her skull one finds the essence that is caught
by fleeting glimpses of carcinogens to prove
that only scum will dribble into its own groove.
Shall we then chase her from these premises at once
as we would spit upon this fast decaying dunce.
I give you notice, do not doubt my true intent
you have an out of course, eat horseshit and repent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem