WHAT'S LEFT

 

From the back I face the concrete wall,

 With every possibility and will:

 While inside I'm a trembling orphan,

 a vulnerable wound!

 The hysterical Word of hysteria

 was thus preached by meddlesome,

 macabre buckaroos:

 their unquestioning bickering

 was manifested in

 a thousand sputtering forms!

 - Where have I come from

 to the unknown and 

uncertain depths of abysses? 

Here is the supreme question, Why?

 Was it because I,

 a buffoon who fails all,

 Whispered romance in hesitant,

 childish lines To ears waiting for love,

 And to the broken voices of my soul

 With a few kiss-bombs

 arose a flower-blade,

 a lily-eyed blossom! 

I have learned to appreciate

 that the pearl shower of bullets

 may be pure in its fragility,

 innocent in its nobility!

 - That made me such a nobody,

 such a molasses, such a man,

 such a man of will,

 such a man of action,

 such a man of no notice,

 such a man of no importance,

 like a fat snail that carries

 his home-slumber on

 his back as a shelter. 

Invisible as a speck of dust:

 And so small and unknown!

 Many a foolish young lady's

 precious treasure of my heart

 was replaced by a balance

 of worldly interests:

 a car of honourable value,

 with a fixed monthly income,

 and he who truly sacrifices

 his soul with naive 

Sisyphusian romance,

 and if need be with lion's paw,

 has built palaces

 and shelters for 

women's hearts! - I live. 

I have trusted my life

 to penetrating telepathic eyes,

 For once I feared no consequences:

 now the laws of responsibility govern me!