Prestigious life

Prestigious life
Ko Hmway

Why museums?
Why gallows?

Isn't our life itself a museum?
Isn't our life itself a gallows?

It doesn't make any sense at all
In utter denial, we try to crawl
like the tiny pests on the wall;
eating our own brains which are so small
against the sheer gravity
but with the very last piece of our dignity ...

Indeed, it was consumed by cockroach of time
and left tawdry and unanimously blind,
the fume of balmy vapor;
"our own runaway bravery"
once we affectionately inhaled
hence, we passionately swayed and swam in that atmosphere
perhaps, we call it our only elegant particles,
the particles of our very life...

Now ...
It just strikes us down,
how funny that we are like the helpless clowns;
hung ourselves with the deluged stunts abruptly
wasn't it so specifically ironic?

Look at that with microscopic attention,
It is genuinely the master piece of failure
In which we are pride of
and in which chanting mantras
and in which counting our own blood cells
then again and again fell for the same tricks
Well ... isn't it a bliss?

Uncivilized civil wars,
uncountable counted souls,
drowned out sorrow,
we possessed them in our recollections,
may be it is the reason why we have museums,
may be it is the reason why we have gallows

I see ...
There I said and float away
my museum self to my gallows,
come, enjoy with your ego
whence, we visit each other
and punish each other,
come on ....
come on, I whisper ... ... ...

Ko Hmway