Stop writing Literature, You garrulous Indian
a life of toil for the man in the centre
a hub in the peripheral tireless wheel
where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man
no words cling now no words meant in blame
the tongue he lash the words they now tame
no shock of blast open laughter rock the hall
everyman there say there sure were a man
a man no fear cowed in communion to other
made for no gods made for no demons either
all men he know best when he see just once
no second thought resurrect the man if bad
so go tell the magi no trek in sight in sky
here a man be born here he so sure die
other no like see one so bright stand up high
other no like feel like sky fall low into ocean
what make ‘m i say with feeling so just
is sure he different he force hisself work
work work work work an' again work
he work nite an' nite so 50-hour in day
where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man
where you go from word born here now
turn and twist all whoring the alphabet
‘don't write anything you can get published'
so publish only what you can't call your own
writing like reading's a public coital act
so showing your work is exhibitionism
‘why don't you send your stuff around
keeping it to yourself's sheer masturbation'
reading-watching-listening's just voyeurism
so sending wares around is prostitutionism
where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man
[...] Read more
poem by T. Wignesan
Added by Poetry Lover
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