Jan Hansen Poet Burlesque

The Evil Personified

Personified evil


I feel repulsed when he is near; I ought to have compassion 
for this cripple, his twisted foot and arm
a beggar with scabby skin and eyes as black as looking into
the dark side of the moon.
This is not a person you can be nice to the more you give
the more he hates you and wishes you an early death.
His diversion is to follow funeral processions but no into
the cemetery, no one wants him there.
Why do I hate this person must be a background for me?
Childhood, when I lived in fear of the undead.
After the war in Norway, there was hunger in the land
but I noticed at the gymnasium the children 
of the middle classes, who went to be the new suits
a concrete box for trash, unopened parcels of food.
I had to be quick in case the rats took it.
A rat jumped up and tried to catch the food eyes shone 
of hatred hated me for being human.
Like the cripple who dislikes humanity, who he blames
for his perpetual hardship.
This dirty little person was hated by his mother denying 
she gave birth to this satanic being
I hate and fear him too, four black horses, where he is 
the only mourner.

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