The LAST RITES, of the ROACHES, call it, a narrative if you will, a poem, translated…
These Unwelcoming Monsters
Found Their Ways Back Under the Cups
The Ripples in the Darkness, a Glowing Cocoon
Which Religion is, Emitting Beauty Gently
an infestation of ROACHES, you SEE, why people would get disgusted, don’t you??? Not my photograph…
The Defensive Natures, Like the Good-Natured Vermin, Begging to be Crushed
A Person without Love, Seeking Console
The Toes are Shiny and Wavering
But the Heart, Stable & Steady Like a Grave
The Unwelcomed Monsters. Opening Up the Eyes
That Reflective Glow from the Snow
Tolerating on, Like the World
Knowing that, There are, the Tears in One’s
Own World. Letting it All Go, with Those Flowed Out Tears
The Thin Arms in the Eyes
there really is, NOTHING “cute” about these insects…NOT my picture.
Those Slippery Wings About to Dissipate
Starting Off on a Life without Worries
May My Death, May All Our Hopes
Stay Kept in, This Same Kitchen
Call this, the requiem of the roaches, it knows, that it won’t, escape getting killed by humans, because of its nature as a pest, and, it just, wants to, get left, where it lived…