Riding the elevator from the sub sub sub basement
The tinkle of inanity wafts from the speaker grill
Intended to distract from a most alarming fact
The lack of a door is a frighteningly bitter pill
It's roots deeply buried in the cold, dank pit
Warmed not at all by the searing flames of hell
That blacken heart, soul and mind turned on a spit
Until evil agony and despair inside you upwell
The other end far removed way up out of sight
Buffeted by gales, ceaseless blasts of thunder
Jagged cracks of wild bolts of lightning's energy
Ever threatening to rip the structure asunder
There are no stops between pit and spire
Not one single pause in the relentless rise
At times it creeps but others it rockets
A seamless cube on a path into the skies
Don't let distraction elude the most vital fact
Despite shooting up above all things around
Eternally heed this most dire of warnings
What goes up must inevitably come back down
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem