Obscure

Literature is herself a clown.
Without this coming first,
no great art is made
except glooms of ***** authors
peddling like traders of a trade.
 The second needed
is the dying of the tedious
sigh,
the writer must drown in happiness
and be filled in joy.
What covers will stay
and what empties will become
an empty road stand,
no beauty or use per say.
And last,the writer needs to master
the ideas of the whirling clock,
the deep jokes in ordinary lines,
and the skills of hung
heads,swinging apart their blood;
executed for what is done,
the writer executes the book
and the book,the image stays.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

Poem

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Singaram Avatar
September 22, 2013 at 7:32 PM
Great work Mr Hsu, Best regards, Sekar
Chircop Avatar
August 29, 2013 at 3:21 PM
literature is herself a clown indeed.Enjoyed reading your thoughts..Welcome to ps
Mr Avatar
August 29, 2013 at 5:06 PM
Thanks :)
Hairomis Avatar
August 29, 2013 at 11:26 AM
I enjoyed this very much, but it seems... unfinished in a way. Like it's missing the true end. :)
Mr Avatar
August 29, 2013 at 5:11 PM
Glad you enjoyed it,i actually wrote this two years back. You may be right,but somehow i don't have as much passion for this one now,maybe i will edit it again someday. Thanks!
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