an immigrant never
can hide his ignorance,
nor ability to garner
the pretext of the chameleon.
small revelries of conquest
are malfescent applications,
most often applied by the
tormented mind recompensing
evils of tortures past. and
exchanges no longer innocent
are decorated as benefactors,
when they are agendas.
where missions no longer
prevail. his untruths, mostly
inflictions of self pity, remain
driving martyrs raping faith
and loyalty. while as the voyeur
he rests on intimate theories
never requesting recompense,
and devouring love with self hate.
landing hard on shallow timbers,
alone, we stem glassware,
frozen in empty chests. medals
strewn like past remnants. photos
molding from misuse. and the
one light that shone he sheared
piercingly, through thrusts of
laughter, devoid of conscience
then claimed foul toward her heart.
dawn does not break, nor lite the
dark, it sets only to rites the
fables of men to women. omens
and soothsayers direct him now.
she is victorious in that resolve.
his heart, pierced, with her blood
coursing through his veins
he can no more forget-
than not breathe.
(Further compilation in the bucketman series, and lovelorn praise...)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem