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Poetry from the ass

I write the poetry from the ass
whose intestinal and much fecal letter
runs through the pipes
and trots through the fields, as this is,
as either horses may be, or gypsies...

it runs by the rivers, its course
my poetry is sea-horses
without bridle, without riddle
through the sewage system
runs the poop, runs the loop
of a liberty indeed obscure, all blind
my poetry is my mind
which goes along the crooked path
of a ruler
and that so many times is not read
by those who are alive
cause it delivers itself only to the dead

Yes, the dead can read me
and they are alive at this
sort of life literature is
a new kind of sepulcher
which is to be lying and paralyzed
to read and to realize
with an unmovable culture
a bumpy nature

The poetry of the ass leaks along pipes
which inside the blessed ground say
where can one lead to or show the way
- channels which present such a trend
like anal extensions without an end
flowing to unknown parts of the underground
the fluids and farts you interpret by sound.


Úmero Card'Osso, from São José dos Campos, Brazil
Written by umero_card-osso (Umero Card Osso)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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