Swirling the silicon chips of Saharan dunes,
Winds play symphonies of melancholic tunes.
Mum. Not another peep.
Bordering venomous blue cola oceans,
Zillions of snake hoods hiss and froth.
Still the mouth shut.
Smoking mills thrive, feeding on the loot;
Chimney stack rifles pierce the hymen,
decorating it with the bullet holes.
Mum. Not another peep.
Clouds wear the techie mask, aborting the rain fetuses.
Metallic clone outperforms the Mozart.
Surgical incisions and tonsured heads.
Still the mouth shut.
Waning crescent a mere forged C scar;
Telling tales of the first cry and pain.
Still throwing endless tantrums;
Volcanic womb spewing red hot menstrual lava.
The second the systole hits the roof, capillaries burst open,
windmills of god come to a screeching halt,
throwing up the unassimilated.
Hold strongly to the Earth, Man!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem