Ignore what doesn't suit us
if answers prick too close
against the surface of our fear
just leave them unacknowleged
no one will know, no one will notice
Pick and choose our shaky soap box,
use capitals and condescension
to trammel any thought that doesn't
quite agree with our contention,
that picks away the corners of illusion
that shows we are just human
and thus flawed alas, not god,
and certainly not perfect,
not all knowing; our rants
our raves, like infants squealing
for attention as they vomit up
the food they ate too fast
did not digest and cannot understand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem