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L'un toujours vit la vie en rose,

Jeunesse qui n'en finit plus,

Seconde enfance moins morose,

Ni vœux, ni regrets superflus.

Ignorant tout flux et reflux,

Ce sage pour qui rien ne bouge

Règne instinctif : tel un phallus.

Mais moi je vois la vie en rouge.


L'autre ratiocine et glose

Sur des modes irrésolus,

Soupesant, pesant chaque chose

De mains gourdes aux lourds calus.

Lui faudrait du temps tant et plus

Pour se risquer hors de son bouge.

Le monde est gris à ce reclus.

Mais moi je vois la vie en rouge.


Lui, cet autre, alentour il ose

Jeter des regards bien voulus,

Mais, sur quoi que son œil se pose,

Il s'exaspère où tu te plus,

Œil des philanthropes joufflus ;

Tout lui semble noir, vierge ou gouge,

Les hommes, vins bus, livres lus.

Mais moi je vois la vie en rouge.


Envoi


Prince et princesse, allez, élus,

En triomphe par la route où je

Trime d'ornières en talus.

Mais moi, je vois la vie en rouge.
Mae Jul 2019
My home ran way
Now I sit were glass meets the frame at the window and wait.
How long has it been
Years?
Weeks?
I'm not sure I care.. I'm not sure I don't

The mountabank came round again
Selling me a fictitious love.
His love.
You see, sense he travels so much selling the good oils
of
Rosemary tilled out of our toilet, Powders that
I personally
made from the stalagmites that grow in the southwest corner of my dwelling,
and
Teeth whitener
scraped from off only the finest ingredients
of
Feets calus, the kind aquired after walking long enough to no longer need shoes.

No he had no time for me and besides, he wasn't my home.

I'd have my fun but... He could never hold my love.

Yesterday I passed away
The cold nothing
Became a greater threat this time
I didn't have my home
Nor my love
I wasn't ready to go.
In a dank cave somewhere in the Philippines
After the hair on my head grew from fire red
To silver white.
Still sitting where the glass meets the frame.
Jay Vasquez Oct 2014
I always speak of your infinite eyes
But sometimes I wonder do you still dream of mine
Am I still the one you adore
Do you still feel the urge to kiss my wounds and bloom into my skin
Does your body still ache to feel my calus finger tips roam around your torso
Fold me like a t shirt and stuff me into your bottom drawer
You could wear me on wash day
I'm the book next to the book protected in dust
The one you haven't read since you last dreamt of him
I'm the dark bubbles in your black coffee
I'm the goosebumps you get when you watch blue moons
I'm the active chemical in your LSD
I'm the feeling your leg gets when you've been sitting on it for too long
I'm that bitter flavor that you no longer taste on your 4th glass
I'm the burn on your tongue when you take your first drag
I'm the chip in your nail when you smash your finger on the car door
Im the little plastic on your shoe lace
I'm the tag that's on your favorite shirt
I am the hidden ***** fork at the bottom of your dish rack
I'm the last drop of water that's left on your body after a shower
I'm the dust mites in your bed
I'm the wax in your ears
I am the dirt under your finger nails
I am the door handle on your mums car
I'm the scent in your perfume
I'm one of the littlest stones in the 7th step on your stairs
I am the peek hole on your apartment door
I'm the the gum stuck to the pavement on your way to school
I'm the ***** scent on the bus on your way home
I'm one single ridge on the quarter you give to a homeless man you see on 8th street
I'm the fibers in the paper of your journal
I'm the oil that keeps the ink in place in your pen
I am the Pentagon shape of your pencil
I am the empty spaces on your paper
I am the spine of your favorite book
I am the flavor in your favorite food
I am the bulgdes in your best pair of socks
I am the pitch of your voice
I am the waves that hit your veins every other week or so
For my dearest
Charlene Aug 2018
I work hard 5 days a week I sweat, I get ***** calus palms and ashy hands is what work does to me .

I get paid and still I haven't got a penny to my name .

Is this a freaking joke can anyone here me. ?

I just got paid and I'm still freakin broke.

It's a joke.

Every single penny went from rent down to gas . Are we stupid killing our selves to make honest cash.

Do u hear me does anyone comprehend? .

I work hard all week I get paid and I still have nothing to eat.

It's a freakin shame I can not catch a break.

This life we live it's a ******* joke.

Can anyone hear me ? Do you comprehend

I Just got paid and I'm still broke. It's a freakin joke.
Many cultures use the broom
in a uniquely different way, a useful tool when you have something to say.
The broom, always Present in the corner

Some used it as a ceremony for marriage
Each New Year, out the door they sweep the dust and dirt, of the old year
Then they sweep in a fresh new year Cheer

Others used it as a tool to disparage
Their loved one in a marriage
While most just, swept the floor
This is about our broom, history and more
The broom always Present in the corner

Our grandparents used the
broom to settle a dispute.
This process was resolute
The broom always present in the corner

husband demanding, and did not listen
Broom bristles turn skin red until it glisten 
Eventually, the husband would learn
Until his next turn
With every poke, the wife spoke her mind
Peace and harmony both would find
The Broom always present in the corner

Old fools
Don’t give the Younghans enough credit
Some are grounded, Worth their salt
Some have manners, tantrums they halt
The broom always present in the corner

Young fools
Today’s generation, no respect for elders
Not only do they think they’re right, but they demand everyone see things their way
And there’s absolutely nothing you can say
It’s just a broom in the corner

The younger generation societal shift
Throwing tantrums ,Pitching a fit 
Screaming protests, facts unfounded
we are at war , fighting ,Gaslighting lit
Elders surrounded, warning bells sounded
both sides refusing to recognize the day 
Shut down ,Neither side has a word to say

The broom stuffed in the closet, put away
Covered in cobwebs, collecting dust  
discussion Falls upon deaf ears Decay
Facing fears No muss no fuss

Emily post ,Decorum  demeanor, respect
Values no longer taught in schools
“The golden rule” a lost term ,neglect
Emotional education taught in retrospect
Whoever holds the broom makes the rules
That is what is taught in school
Teaching Children to be cruel
A broom is no longer a useful tool

Broom bond fire light the night
evil rules the day
Another tradition of past has gone astray

The older generation are reduced
to the term of useless eaters
By Younger generations of Calus cheaters
Otherwise known as tweaking tweeters

How did the separation become so vase
Younger generation can be so crass,
Perhaps Smoking too much grass
The broom A relic of the past

Out with the old
In with the new
Neither generation has
A clue of what to do

The younger generation
The master of the faux pas
pushing limits, doing things
that should NEVER be done,
What? pray tell,
Having ***
In their parents bed
Is a perfect example of one!

Where do you draw the line?
Polar opposites will never be fine
How can we meet in the middle?
How can we each learn to give just a Little

Mind you this is conjecture on my part
Yet the poem came from my heart
If we want humanity to survive
We need to work together to stay alive
BLT Webster’s Word of the Day
Conjecture4-7-24
To form an opinion, or an idea without proof
James M Vines Dec 2019
I had a dream the other night, I was in an ancient land. The world was dead silent, as people stood around. They looked up at a hill top where 2 crosses stood. I ask a stranger, sir was does this mean. He told me the Romans has killed two thieves. Then I was taken to another place, a quiet garden outside a city. There I heard people arguing, I went in among them to see what I could do. Then as they quarreled and fought, I asked what's wrong with you? One man pulled me aside and said that he was gone. I did not know what it meant, then I was carried on. Quickly night became day, and I stood on a hill over City. I saw a man looking down weeping and I said sir is there anything I can do. He simply looked at me with sorrowful eyes and said they're not worth it. I stood in awe for a moment, then I saw a bright and blinding light. Then I heard the man's voice say I am sorry and I watch him fly away. Into the heavens he went, then I felt a cold chill. An then I heard someone laughing, but no one could I see. Then a cold calus voice said, now you belong to me. Filled with terror I woke in a cold sweat, I the got down on my knees. I cried out to God. Please don't let this be. A quiet voice replied, please be still my son. You have nothing to fear for the fathers will was done. I tried to calm myself, but I still felt like I was there. Stuck in a place on that hill so long ago. Overlooking a city where Satan won, when Jesus said no.

— The End —