Cerberus talks about cars he's going to buy
with the pursuit of the american dream,
refrigerator, war on wars
and gilded bricks of zest
in the junkyard
his face is a bowl of flowers on pangea
getting darker every day;
they talk about cars they're going to buy,
robots they drank
and maybe things that they freed.
You astound. Such incredible ideas. Way you present them is undeniably capturing to the reader's eyes, mind. keep reading, as poet ~ youre obviously ridiculously inspired, not influenced; own (original) creativity here - is remarkable. best care, sjg
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
ps: 'we don't just hand you the American dream, man, you gotta hold onto it'!