lil _refugee_ and other poetry-minded people of Hubski: share your most recent work! Don't have anything recent? Write something! I wanna read your voice.
Here's my (incredibly cheesy) contribution:
You tell me you've never been on a rollercoaster with loops I'd like to be upside down with you Twist my arm while we twist through space I will hold you tight upside down and head over heelsProbably not what's expected, but my wife was making beef au jus and joked that the only missing ingredient was me (I don't join her in Denver until later this month). I was in a Halloween-y mood, so I wrote this to tease her. I'm sorry in advance. You hang me to dry, And there 'cross my neck Slashed your knife to the bone. "It's done now!" I cry. No more can I groan. Spills my blood through the slit, And there pools below In the vat from my limbs Into the pit Where the churning sauce brims. One can see you again, Dunking my corpse In a vat-full of sin. You look up from eating With a thousand yard stare "Take my french dip, bitch." You double-dog dare. Pierced by my ankles Down through my veins And that afternoon
Stand up Walk You can keep going Others have quit due to less But don't stop Not when you've come so far Stumbling isn't failure But to give up is Life has sustained through eons And it will sustain you For the cruel And the kind No matter how much it seems that it wants you to give up You are as resilient as life itself
I really like this. I looked through my journal for any recent poems and only found an essay about the people I know who want or wanted to be dead, and the people who don't. Cheerful for a rainy Monday morning. The piece ends like this: -------------- Motivated by fun, pleasure? Companionship, philosophy, hope? and maybe just enough dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, and endorphins to keep it all going. sorry.
------------- Why aren't you dead yet?
Written last saturday at 3am: L'emmerdeur Il dit qu'il était riche, et haïssait les fiers. Il buvait un Bordeaux qui valait bien son prix Acheté à la foire à Saint-Paul-en-Rivière Il avait négocié : le port était compris. He drank a Bordeaux with a worthy price-tag Bought in the Saint-Paul-en-Riviere's fair He negotiated : shipping was included Sa fille était un ange, trop belle à marier, Trop fine pour l'école et leurs cours avariés. Elle sera icone, une star que l'on voit. Il ne la poussait pas, elle choisirait sa voie. Too smart for school, and it's old lesson She'll be a model, a star people stare at He wont push her, she'll choose her path Il paye une mutuelle, et n'aime pas l'impôt Qui sert à enrichir les oisifs, les lourdauds. Il ronflait tout le jour assis dans son bureau, Mais goutait l’art lyrique et les vers d’Alan Poe Which only help the lazy and the vulgar He snore all day sitting in his office But love poetry and Alan Poe's verses Sa femme était parfaite. Il la trompait le soir Avec une jeunette, ourlée d’or et de soie, Qui veille à son bonheur, jamais ne le déçoit Quand sur son genou rond il veut la faire assoir. With a teen wearing gold and silk who care for his happiness, never disappoint When he want her to sit on his lap. Même s’il est cultivé, il aime le ballon Il dribble, court et sue dans des garden-parties Avec des notables qui ont tous le bras long Changent le cours du monde entre deux penaltys He dribble, run and sweat in garden-party With some influential leaders Changing world's path between two penalty Il jugeait les torts des présidents de la Terre. A les voir se tromper, il leur riait au nez. Chacun pire que l’autre, et tous à détrôner. Il priait humblement qu’ils arrivent à se taire. Watching them fell make him laugh All were worse than the other, and needed to go He humbly ask them to shut up J’écoutais ce bourgeois durant de longs quarts d’heure, Qui parurent des jours à mon oreille outrée. J’aurais voulu partir, mais il bloquait l’entrée. Silencieux je pestais contre cet emmerdeur. Which seems like days to my wounded ear I wanted to go but he was in front of the exit Silently I cursed against that prick Il reprit son laïus plein de sévérité. Comme un esprit serein, qui possède le vrai, Sans trop faire d’efforts, ses paroles œuvraient A bien me dégouter de toutes vérités. Like an all-knowing mind owning the fact Without any effort, his statements succeeded to disgust me from any form of truth Il dit qu’il recyclait, adorait la Nature. D’ailleurs il conduisait son clan chaque dimanche Dans les parcs gracieux qu’on trouve vers la Manche, Arrivée en deux heures avec ses deux voitures. In fact he drove his family every Sunday To the nice park we found in Normandy. Less than Two hours trips with both his cars De sa santé, il s’inquiétait bien fort à cause De l’argent, des nantis, des pauvres, des Roumains, Des alcooliques, des trans, des chats, des humains Tous étaient responsables, empiraient sa cirrhose. the money, the rich, the poor, the gypsies the alcoholic, the trans, the cats, the humans All were responsible, worsen his shrivel Il allait deux, trois fois par mois à l’Opéra. Car seule la musique éveillait sa bravoure. Il aurait tout quitté pour être un Aznavour, Ses immeubles, ses chiens, ses biens, etcétéra… Because music only made him brave He could abandon anything to be just a Presley his buildings, his dogs, his stuff, et cetera... Rome était sa passion, ses temples, son Histoire. Il regrettait le temps du règne des Césars, Ces amis du bon goût, du drôle et du bizarre. J’imaginais un poing filant sur sa mâchoire. He regret the period when the Caesar ruled They were the friend of good taste, fun, and the odd. I pictured a fist going through his chin Ce riche Parisien me retourna la tête. Aujourd’hui encore, quand parfois j’y repense, De l’avoir écouté, j’eus pour seule récompense De bien me dégouter des soi-disant esthètes. Even today , when I remember it From listening to him I only developed a deep-seated hatred for the so-called aesthete Pour m’échapper, enfin, je lui tins un pari : Existait-il un être aussi digne de louange Que lui ? Le silence clôtura cet échange. Ainsi je pus quitter ce pédant de Paris. Was it a being more worthy of praise than him? The silence was his answer. So I could flee that snooty from Paris. The prick He said he was rich, hated the proud His daughter was an angel, too cute to marry He pay his health assurance but hate taxes His wife was perfect. He cheats on her at night Even with his knowledge he liked the ball He judge mistake from president around the world I listen to that bourgeois for some quarter hours He started his speech again with severity He said he recycle and love Nature For his health he was wary, because of He's going two, three time a month at the Opera He had a passion for Rome, its temple, its history This wealthy Parisian spun my head. To escape, I finally proposed a bet:
The most recent one is a love poem. You make my heart race You make my mind pace You make the summertime feel cool and smell like honeysuckles forever You make my day better You make me want to be good to you You make me want to say I'm taken You make a small house seem cozy You make a large house seem feasible You make my dreams come alive You believe in me so much it makes my heart ache
Violets are gray I'm colorblind But that's ok I made a bunch of these I think on the second Valentine's day dating my wife. This is the only one I remember. The others were worse. I'm not a poet or writer at all. Roses are gray
It's good in the same sense that Shel Silverstein is good. It makes me laugh. It is good.
From just over a decade ago, still the last thing I wrote :( "Discussed... Raw Disgust" Teeth gnash metal grit mash, Vein popped grip slip sweaty, Shallow air pant tangle hair, Twitch cheek stitch speech scar, Muscle stiff whiff stink taste, Down scowl cold high howl, Clinch eyed pinch cried face, Throat gasp gloat past fast, Keel floor roar feel over. Lip curl disdain pain hurl,
Girl on Daddy’s Back Girl on daddy’s back Traveling day after day Until it is no longer fun. 1000 miles on foot Away from daddy’s fears In a house Where we used to laugh. Going to a land Guarded by an orange troll Where some people are good And others are mean. On this road My dad is tired But he is not afraid Cause he has me on his back. Roe November 2018 #trumpstory
Oh poetry, I love you, the many faced muse. No insight just some syllables to stumble through and use. ........ Poetry is knowledge, for those without a clue no chance at making sense at all, the written word's obtuse grasp at meaning, hit a wall, the thickness makes it true men of clay seek vainly with no veins to lead them to the fundamental truth is it grey or amber hued ensure words of meaning baked in you reflect the common view my rainbow is a fount of knowledge little known to you no foundation just the brilliance of meaning in situ ........ ........ I noticed once the lord Almighty in patterns deep and thick so naughty had made upon his plan that day lines of meaning washed away in sand so broken no colors show just tan and khaki who could know what caused the wave that shook the flow symbols, knowledge, I sound crazy I know ........
“More, more, more” Says little Mila Mae I am hungry, I am thirsty I am growing more each day Edit: making this a post. Been too long since my children’s poems tag got any love. #childrenspoemsbytng