THE LITERARY CRITIC

 

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Everyone must build his own world,

his own abyss, clamours the literary

critic, big-boobed busybody with tank’s

ass who builds grand people out

of dogs writers civil servants, snitches

sons of bitches writing panegyrics to them

and inflating them blowing into their ass

with the pipe – such is the custom

of the communal Jews adding: the mania

of the cannibals must not become

destructive, they shall suck the juice

only from the innards, they shall not touch

the blood, their burdens are not light…

and he watches his work as if it were new.

Where can this puffing critic go

in such times he lifts up the nasty

little dog, but the nasty little dog stays

you receive nothing for free – you steal

not for the fuck are you in the world?