i wish to hear no more
the rhythmic melodies of words
in vague phrases and paragraphs
no more do i like to hear
the clanking of rhetorics
like galvanized sheets
molded on the roof of an old bus
that could hardly run on a stony road
no more, no more do i like to hear
the marching cadence of lyricism
in many blindfolded lines
of crawling stanzas of poems
no more will my heart beat
through the touch
and caress of stunted syllables
my mind would just be tormented
by convoluted messages
shattered might be my eardrums
by the deafening cries
of a lonely heart swimming
in the sea of despair
singing only the sadness
of two separated grieving souls
weaving in poems the litanies of grief
and the delusion of a mind
enslaved by the love-stricken moon.

on the paper’s face
i wish to see the sputum of words
the bloody arms of lines
the rebellious metaphors of sacred dreams
of the prostrate masses on clayish soil
the flaming lyrics of the people’s brain
yes, i wish to hear in every stanza
the hissing of bullets
the roaring of bombs
in the poetic struggle
of the oppressed class
i wish to hear
in the encoded hymns
on the masses’ breast
the cussing of the wind
in the deep night
the dashing of lightning
on the face of darkness
the earsplitting thunder
in barren hills
the exploding protests
in the city’s bosom
the reverberating shouts
of a noble soul
cohabiting always
with the country
he loves forevermore.

yes, i wish to see no more
the framed pictures of deluded love
or torrid kisses of lustful lips
am oftenly blindfolded
by love’s illusions
you’ve painted
on the curtain of my eyes
lurking in my mind’s room
are numerous revolting images
slaves of darkness
tortured by the starless nights
when shall all these metamorphose?
scrawny arms
wrinkled faces
bended backs
emaciated bodies
twisted intestines
while feasting are the lords
on the abundant table
of flesh and blood
of slaves with rumbling bellies
while they
the demigods in gold palaces
savor the aged wines
the roasted pig
the sexy lass
when would they drop a speck of pity
on the palms of the downtrodden class
from whom they derived their awesome wealth
when would they give the dispossessed
a scoop of rice
to satisfy the kid’s growling stomach
where only air so oftenly dwells?

no more, no more
i wish to hear
the melancholic elegy
the praying ode
the squeaking epic
the toothless words
the lame stanzas
that don’t spit
on the greedy face
of rapacious crooks
now, i wish to see
on wrinkled papers
flaming letters
in barren fields
burning words
reducing to ashes
the oppressors of the poor
i wish to see razor-like stanzas
slashing the breast
of fear and grief.
i wish to see no more
the lethargic words
so weak to invigorate
the people’s consciousness
yes, i like to see words
with violent waves
with surging storm
smashing the shores
of exploitation and injustices
let glare the sun’s heat
let shout the thousand words
let the rain be sharp arrows
or angry onrushing bullets
piercing the black heart
of the exploitative class
cracking the skulls of those
who’ve betrayed
the now and then
of a nation slaughtered
by the insatiable ruling class
blazing letters
flaming words
stanzas invectives full
armed with bombs and guns
would murderously incinerate
the shady palaces
of lords of corruption and greed!

(My English version of AYOKO NA!)