I sing the bodies pathetic
the people whose chief talent is humility,
inconspicuousness,
I praise the turning of faces to the wall,
the abandonment of all the shoddy hopes,
and those who hang back and don't dance
or go into bars, and those who don't have
a talent even for hypocrisy,
the suicides, both rational and desperate,
the conscientious objectors, the Jehovah's Witnesses
who refuse transfusion,
the winos, the hobos, the miscarried infants,
the beggars, the unfit, the drop-outs, the cowards,
those embarrassed by praise,
those who feel trapped by existence -
all those whom the Celebration Industry rejects,
and those who write unpublishable poetry.
2 comments:
Brilliant !
I read it carefully if I would fit in.
The beutiful losers or a proud and rejected were omitted.
I also know that you are aware of one member of the Celebration Industry who never rejects me.
Dína.
Oh Dína, you were included in the last line : the writers of unpublishable poetry.
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