The art of all specialized uses of
verbal destruction in the ruining
of another person's life, as-in the
wrecktoric of one's hopes - all
that's left is a shattered soul.
The subject in question is left
mentally broken down after an
assault of language that is all
together un-elaborate, very
un-pretentious, and insincere.
Whatever good that was inside
them has been cast adrift like
some shipwreck - drawn in by
a false light in a lighthouse
that really doesn't exist.
Dissipated passbys who are
intellectually vacuous offer little
comfort, let alone a helping hand;
They're more interested in their
own 'high-flown style'.
Bottom line - the Wrecktoric prefer
to smash or break forcefully all
that's good, want to infiltrate with
all that's bad - the air permeates
surreptitously with hostile intent.
'2008'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem