as a growing up boy
one dies many a death
a friend moves away and so he's no longer;
another friend met a "better" friend,
so he's "in love" more within himself
and so one goes back to one's vocabulary
the Latin the Greek,
worlds that keep existing
in books
in classrooms
in teachers
so it was natural that one day
I removed myself and took distance from humanity
after all, they die one by one or en mass
on the battle fields
those warring parts of life's culture
funeral rites playing false roles
heroics and sacrifices
but language keeps on flying towards you
words you once before heard
and often overheard
in the worst pubs...
and classrooms...
but one did not mind the "dirt" in words
hatred has its institutions, its professions
followers leaders
branded words
too many words
turn the animal
into forms of human labels
nature grows you
culture frames you