There's nothing like a good
punch in the head or a swift
kick in the backside to
help you understand where
you're not wanted
Sipping limeade and beergrass,
i watched your head explode
as you tried to absorb the concept
Pestilence overtakes vanity as
eyeballs blistering against
the unforgiving sun
Mouth-jockeys jockeying for
the sacred position
She's a big fan of
the coffin freezer
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem