What an Awful Pleasure

/, Blesok no. 91/What an Awful Pleasure

What an Awful Pleasure

At 8 O’clock
At Central Station
A Stone in the Swamp
Another Stone in the Swamp
Under the Creed"s Mantle
The Tip of My Tongue
What an Awful Pleasure

awful pleasure
thinking is.
Even if a person thinks
whether it’s worth thinking.

It’s awful when one reclines in repose
and doesn’t want and cannot
think about one’s brains.

It’s awful that homo sapiens
doesn’t think.
And there comes the homunculus
and there comes the homunculus
and with what an awful pleasure
what an awful pleasure
the thugs march in throngs.

Wow, Jeeeeeeeez!
What an awful pleasure,
what an awful pleasure is
to have somebody think instead of you.

AuthorRumen Leonidov
2018-08-21T17:22:42+00:00 September 21st, 2013|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 91|0 Comments