Tabo - 20 lines.
I write some kind of declaration of something, and you all exclaim "it's breaking"-
when finally you see the destruction of this world is in the making-
I try to cope with hopelessness and depressed thoughts-
bracing myself for the blow of impact while building arks-
aspiring to divert myself from others, and do better-
but all I amount to is scribbling down and playing with dead letters-
forming empty phrases outta long gone words-
with a voice so sick and tired of this soulles cold world-
clearing my throat, gettting ready to speak-
trying to grasp this ignorance with humble inquiries-
humankind has got this perverted paradoxical feeling-
a need for both good and bad, a god and a devil to believe in-
excluding that theory I implode in an paroxysm of maddening laughter-
knowing I'm the Divine and Disastrous capital D of Disaster-
the book entitled "World" is at the end of the last chapter,
better turn a blank page-
I'm performing this poetry just to see your blank face-
I know you could never interpet the hieroglyfs of this lyrical writ-
the wielder of the pen is sharing his cynical wit-
a clean parchment, a quill, a couple drops ink-
my inspiration and myself are ready to link-