Ambrosia Poem by Cristobal Benjumea

i want you to know that i am here next to the scrapheap
concord is wellcome, to accept the sacred
nor is jesus going to throw the merchants, from the temple
nor the sacred pull you free of the jungle, nor present itself on a silver plate, the direction, and all your fallacies, all, how you administer, rejection, with how much of an animal, you are, how the survival of the species the game, we are here allways in the rainy forest, next to the stream, and i am talking, wilst i shine this shield, and the wolf eats ice cream. you so defenceless, by yourself, so dependant on others, to rest in a bossom, and recieve ambrosia,
so dependant on the kirov ballet, to breack into dance, to the echos, of all the brilliant parts of your span. pearls, made into a medalion.