Violence Against Him

My fist on his face
a bomb on the desert
the best tool a mace
to do him in like an expert.

I lay all my trust on me buddy
he hugged me in amorous affection
who would have said that this bloody
friend should turn into infection?

Incestuous corpuscle on my skin
parasiting in my blood.
Tho' he is hort and rather thin
has pinned on me like a stud.

Protects his acts in religion
cheats his friends under his mask
his moves those of a reptilian
ruining friendships is his task.

I dare not utter his name
lest it should bring pestilence
fakes me as frail as a dame
and I could not see the difference.

I feel like a handkerchief
one day used one day dropped
and to my own disbelief
he turned out to be a fop.

I do not dwell in a great city
I don't recall the streets' names
But I sing my simple ditty
with no fears and no blames.

Eastern religion's a farce
that provides no substamce
his integrity so scarce
his words lost in a nonsense.

Go back to Hell in one day!
I don't care about you, friend
your figure has become a clay
that on me I should not blend.

Respire the vapors of Hades
crawl your carcass in a torment
turn as black as a shade is
lucky you my hate is dormant.

In thirty years or more
I'll look back in curiosity
but I'll kill myself before
recollecting such monstruosity.

Your name has gone.
Your essence vanished.
Your figure no more swan.
Your remembrance is now banished.

(Dedicated to a Buddhist old friend of mine)

Tony, September '95

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