(This is a poem I wrote for AP English when I was in high school)
It is not the frailty of man kind I fear.
Only a fool deceives himself when he believes
That strength lies in all men.
For what are we more than concealing ourselves behind a veil?
We act as if we were not already shadows.
Foolishly yet do we gauge our eyes
And swallow our tongues to praise falsehood.
“Death is worse than living,” they all say
Yet it is me they dare accuse of madman.
Genesis states that women were made from the rib of man,
But it is God’s formal way of disguising
That they are brewed from Lucifer’s astuteness.
For no one else can possibly teach
Treachery as well as Satan does.
Take note Ophelia,
Thee is fairest among the whores
But it is thy charm that beguiled me
For thou doest not more than deceive,
And one becomes so green in the entangling vines of love.
But mother greater are thou a whore.
Thy beautiful lips only speak lies,
And thy lecherous hips only feed sin.
How soon doth black sheets exchange for white?
Too soon mother, that the devil himself sleeps on thy throne.
The devil to who my misfortune,
Hath the same blood that is fed to my veins,
But evil is he more,
The murderer hath the audacity
To drink from the same goblet as my father.
Oh Claudius, if I could just crush thy skull
And adorn it on an altar
For the world never again to forget
What Cain has once again done to Abel.
Thou art a power hungry and envious bastard!
But I would be in oblivion
If I said that my yellowness
Did not consume me nor define me.
Indeed, I am a coward,
And a conscious one at its worst.
To know one is in err
And have not the valor to change it-
Is a flaw I carry exceptionally.
But I cannot endure the enemy much longer,
Thus must I, Prince Hamlet, become a man.
La Absurda 