NONSENSE VERSE
(Song of Lunacy)
The itchy hand
Seeks a face to award a tattoo of spread fingers.
Frowning slaps shall rush forth
Like the blind anger of a mad cow:
Ta-ta-ta!
Let the face tear and rip into pieces
Like a book flogged by the watery canes of rain.
We need a dance of lunacy
Since we already have our songs of madness
Overtaking the rickety bus of our society
On the wavy road of golden potholes…
Play us the drums of the crazy land
And we will do the dance of insanity
Like the lazy wand of dubious magicians:
Kpat! Tkpat! Kpat! Tkpat! Kpat! Tkpat!
This is the verse
Where sense runs helter-skelter
With calm confusion,
Yet nonsense raises its nose
With scarred clarity.
This is the verse of the lunatic land,
The verse of the itchy hand,
Seeking to award a tattoo of fingers
On the face of the rats
Eating away the famished heritage of our senses…
YUA ‘18
