Me a run around deh place with out
a facemask with my Toyota corolla
Yah a smell yah breath because of corona
Me ah see a gal ah rona
she tell  meh she sista name mona
She ah ware a red dress and deh with deh owner
The thing ah pass name
Corona corona corona
We ah drink with me friends me is deh owna
Me deh with deh gal and me get a bonner
She tell me she want me to bone her
We at the hotel she said she want it in her hola
she ah halla in bed and she name mona mona mona  
She ask me who is me me tell she i am deh landowna
She ask me wha business meh do i tell she i is a mine owner
She want money i tell she Things nah do because of  
Corona corona corona
The thing ah jump from owna to owna
Yah nose a run but yah nah know is corona
corona corona corona
Yah a recover thinking is a cold but is corona
Nuff people ah dead than deh owna
Yah nah know who is deh owna
Deh owna deh owna de owna
Waring a mask looking like a doctor looking for a blood donor
Saving Lives of with the blood of corona  corona
Lady in the bus and cough everyone think she name rona
The man without deh a mask talking to rona
He go home to he wife with rona
The wife nah know but rona
Corona corona corona
Yah belly ah hut yah nah know is corona
Yah kiss yah friend she now got corona
Yah deh work with corona  corona  corona
We get bat ears because of corona  corona
We turn ninja and fight war with corona corona corona
Mortal Kombat with corona  corona  corona   corona   corona  
Ware a mask because of corona   corona   corona  
Blue ***** on yah face corona corona

Deh-bee.  Deh-bee.  Deh-bee.  I sit entranced by the rhythmic force of the cargo train rolling by.  This is the third train in 25 minutes, and with each pass, the sound of the heartbeat steals my attention away from the drunken chaos around me.  I glance at the north wall where a small, golden, shadow flickers with each pulsation.  Deh-bee.  Deh-bee.  Deh-bee.   The cargo train seems to disappear as unexpectedly as it arrived, and now I am pulled back into the scene around me – drunk, rowdy bar-hags and middle-aged men with bellies expanding at a rate too fast than can be restrained by their tucked-in Milwaukee Brewers t-shirts and their ******* Green Bay Packers jerseys.  I re-focus my attention to the crew with whom I share this table.

The CEO’s.  How is it that God blessed me with such an opportunity as to break bread with these four great, inspiring, and humble men?  NO WAY IN HELL is this a coincidence - this is undoubtedly God’s work at hand.  Our waitress walks quickly by, and I notice the uncomfortable glance she casts in our direction, her eyes focused on Vince’s t-shirt that reads in large, red letters, “CEO. Christians Encouraging Others.”

Vince. Boisterous and fearless, he can be relied upon to know everything about anything, and for the benefit of all within ear-shot, he never shuts-the-****-up about his faith or about those who lack it.  Thank God for Vince because without his leadership during our five-hour drive here, I would know nothing about tire pressure, ideal gas mileage, ****, the meaning of great music (a.k.a. R.E.M.), or how to deal with nagging kids. He is a truly model Christian, taking every opportunity to remind us of our calling in this world, passionately ending most conversations with, “This is Satan’s domain - the end of the world as we know it.”  When we were one hour away from the campgrounds, Vince disproved my previously-developed theory that he could not possibly be any more of a puke.  After making sure he still had everyone’s attention, he pulled out his favorite hat and enthusiastically adjusted it on his head.  Featuring another clever acronym, the oversized, navy-blue trucker mesh cap accented with gold rope trimming proudly sports, “C.I.A.”  Christian in Action.  

I share a cabin with Vince and these other heads of households.  These fellows come here once a year “to get away from the wives.”  One of the other fellows with whom I have the pleasure of sharing the cabin is Paul.  Paul forewarned us that he suffers from irritable bowel syndrome, a claim substantiated by the bag of “**** powder” that he proudly held up in the air during the ride here for all to see.  My brother Tom also comes along in order to partake in the outdoor activities, trip paid in full by my older brother, Richard, who has financially supported Tom for as long as Tom has been able to utter the words, “I can’t afford it.”  Thanks to ****’s Christian generosity, Tom’s soul has been saved along with all of Tom’s money as his mortgage was paid off over a decade ago.  Unlike Tom, **** is a tortured soul who suffers from PTSD.  He is also a recovering (to be more accurate, “recovered”) addict, having been cured “just like that” (snap!) when he found Christ in the 70’s.  

Deh-bee. Deh-bee. Deh-bee.  Another cargo train…  Why did I agree to this?  The waitress comes by again, this time with our food.  “Thanks, doll,” Vince says with a wink.  Embarrassed for her, I look away, staring once again at the flickering light on the north wall.  My gaze is suddenly disrupted by the steamy, ivory dish of food placed in front of me.  French fries, bathed in a lake of runny ketchup, sit enticingly in the middle of my plate.  To the left are mountains of milky-white coleslaw, and to the right sit boulders of golden-baked cod stacked one upon the other, towering high as if built to honor to the gods.

Without hesitation I grab the pale, cloth napkin and blanket my legs.  I find myself clenching the sparkling fork as I drive it into the base of the cod shrine.  Ketchup runs everywhere, and as I lift the bloodied mess above my plate, I become too distracted by the sound of Vince’s voice to notice that the cod never makes it to my mouth.  Vince stops and stares at the blunder of food now back on my plate, laughter erupting from the bowels of his cholesterol-encased belly.  

Debbie. Debbie. Debbie.  No train.  I look down at my plate again, the contents of my plate further bathed in ketchup.  My appetite is gone.  All I can think about is that frigid November night two years ago when I found her lying dead, body still warm, in our gazebo. When I saw the back of her head all over the floor, I knew it was too late.  “Debbie and I were going to go out for fish that Friday, but I didn't get home early enough…”  I hadn’t realized that I said anything aloud, but the sudden silence around the table quickly awakens me to reality.  

With a mouth full of chewed cod, Vince looks intently at me and raises his arms. “Man, don’t let him trick you!  He’s out for everyone, and he’s toying with ya.  Shoo him away. Christ is in you. This is Satan’s domain, and he’s messing with your head.”  

His voice trails off as my mind wanders back to that night.

“Greg, are you listening to me?  Cast these thoughts away, man!  The devil is trying to ensnare you. Call upon…”

“Hey, Vince.”  I cut him off.  “The other day I saw this sign in front of a church, and your hat just reminded me of it. The sign said, ‘It’s hard to stumble when you’re down on your knees.’  You know why your hat reminds me of that sign?  

"Let me tell you, Vince.  Let me tell you why your ******' hat reminds me of that ******' sign. Cause your hat says, ‘C.I.A.’”

Vince, silent for the first time since I’ve known him, responds to my comment with a blank stare.

“C.I.A.  ****... In… ***…  Get it?  You see, you’re never going to stumble, Vince.  You’re already head down, on your knees, taking it hard in the ***.”

Gua sama sekali gak maksudbuat ngejelekin, ngejatuhin cowo gua yang sekarang 

gua punya cerita yang mungkin lu semua pernah ngadapin dengan kejadia yang sama

gua punya cowo, asli gua sayang banget sama dia, gua pengen ngebahagia in dia kayak gua pengen ngebahagian keluarga gua. Tapi, ada banyak hal yang selalu buat gua ragu sama dia.
1. dia gak pernah sms ato nelponin gua duluan alesan tidur.
2. gak pernah bilang sayang sama gua, kecuali waktu nembak
3. kalo di ajakin alesan nya segudang, mungkin penuh kali tu gudang 
pasti lu semua punya pikiran kalo dia Cuma mainin gua, ato pun gak sayang sama gua?

tapi biarpun dia kayak gitu, gak tau kenapa gua tetep aja sayang. Gua ikut aturan dia, gua ikut apa maunuya dia. Pokoknya semua maunya dia gua jabanin deh 
karena ada satu hal di diri dia yang sulit banget gua lupain selama ini adalah KENYAMANAN kalo dideket dia.
Padahal yah, gua punya seseorang yang jelas.jelas sayang sa,ma gua, bias ngasih apa aja yang gua mau, yang bias ngebahagia in gua dengan semua hal yang dia punya, dia adalah mantan gua yang pacaran sama gua 2 tahun lebih.
gua udah banyak ngelewatin hari sama dia, susah maupun senang, dia mungkin satu.satu cowo yang paling ngerti siapa gua.
cowo yang paling care sama gua, pokok nya cowo yang paling sempurna deh dia 
meskipun kayak gitu tetep aja gua gak bisa boongin ati mgua sendiri, pacaran sama dia tapi inget orang lain buat apa coba?
lagian gua harus nurut apa kata orang tua gua gak boleh pacaran sama dia, toh gua gak bias ngelawan.

buat kamu cowo yang jadi pacar aku : please donk sayang, jangan cuek sama aku.
jangan suka banyak alesan, aku tuh sayang banget sama kamu.
coba deh kamu yang ngertiin aku sekali.kali jangan akunya terus donk 

buat kamu cowo yang aku sakitin : maapin aku udah nyakitin kaamu, semoga diluar sana kamu bakal ketemu cewe yang syang banget sama kamu.
maapin aku 

#sekarang gua Cuma pengen satu hal yaitu lepas dari kedua.duanya.
gua mau orang baaru, tapi gua takut tuk memulai itu semua 
sangat.sangat btakut

Dey can' make me ride no bus.
I'm tellin' you, dey can' make me.

You know, dey all riled up in dere,
since we started walkin' to work.
I's like dey finally startin' to realize what we can do.

I tell you, Yvonna, I walk three mile to work
e'ry day. E'ry day! Can you believe?
I walk all dat way in my heels;
oh, how my feet are blisterin'!

But I don' let 'em know, no, ma'am.
No, ma'am. I jus' smile like I got all deh
love a' Heaven on my side! Can you believe?
Yes, ma'am, I do. I do.

I get home e'ry day now afte' supper
'cause I can' take no bus.
I much rather walk dan sit in deh back, believe me.
But i's so sad, Yvonna, you know?
To see my chirren tryin' so hard tah cook for 'emself.
I feel bad, honestly.

My husban', he workin' so hard,
he almos' die when he come home.

We go to church, Yvonna, e'ry Sundy, you know?
Don't you, girl?

I pray. I pray dat all dem white people
will leave us alone. Alone, I say!
Dey all preachin' 'bout "We Da People"
'n all dat ****, well, I tell you,
we people too!
We may be black but I tell you,
I tell you, Yvonna, we God's people, too.

Yes, ma'am, we are.

Speak up, girl, I can' hear you.

Well, I guess it don't matter.
Ain't like nobody listenin'.

Nobody listenin' to a old, achin' feet *****.
Nobody but you.

S H E


She softly came into my life without her crown

To whisper, to shed light and to turn me upside down

As soft music, she spoke through her pictures

And once I saw them, I adored her features

Something is daily pulling me to her marvellous cave

To appreciate her fountain of beauty  to which I crave

She gave me something I won't lose

Even if I drank too much *****

She gave me something to keep in heart

So that we won't ever part

Something I look at and see her in mind

Then slowly move to heart to bind

Now that I am totally stunned and sedated

It is too hard for me to be eliminated.



Sam Burton ©



Today is Sunday, Oct. 5, the 278th day of 2014 with 87 to follow.

The moon is new. Morning stars are Jupiter, Mars and Uranus. Evening stars are Mercury, Neptune, Saturn and Venus.



In 1876, the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas, now Texas A&M;, opened. It was the first public higher education institution in Texas.

In 1883, the Orient Express train made its first run.

In 1895, the U.S. Open men's golf tournament was first contested. It was won by Horace Rawlins.



A thought for the day:



You can become a winner only if you are willing to walk over the edge. -- Damon Runyon





QUOTES for the day:



It is the desire of the good people of the whole country that sectionalism as a factor in our politics should disappear...

------------------------

He serves his party best who serves his country best.



Rutherford B. Hayes



You're dealing with the demon of external validation. You can't beat external validation. You want to know why? Because it feels sooo good.





Barbara Hall, Northern Exposure, Gran Prix, 1994



“So much of what we call management consists in making it difficult for people to work.”

Peter Drucker



"A champion is afraid of losing. Everyone else is afraid of winning."



Billie Jean King



POETRY





AEDH Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven



W.B. Yeats


Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

About this poem


"Aedh wishes for the Cloths of Heaven" was originally published in Yeats' collection "The Wind Among the Reeds" (John Lane, 1899).

About W.B. Yeats


A poet and playwright, Yeats was born in Dublin in 1865. He received the Nobel Prize in literature in 1923. Yeats died in France in January of 1939.

*
The Academy of American Poets is a nonprofit, mission-driven organization, whose aim is to make poetry available to a wider audience.


This poem is in the public domain.
Distributed by King Features Syndicate







Vocabulary

"Bona fide" is used to mean good faith, sincerity. It is the evidence of one's good faith or genuineness -- often plural in construction; evidence of one's qualifications or achievements.

Health and Beauty



Pumpkin Seeds



Have you ever toasted pumpkin seeds at Halloween? Don't wait until the holiday to eat them. Pumpkin seeds are a great source of iron, zinc, calcium, and magnesium, and area also high in omega-3. One handful a day makes a big difference.





CHINESE FOOD

In Canada, Thanksgiving is just over one week away. As an alternative to turkey, how about serving Cantonese Roast duck for Thanksgiving dinner?



Cantonese Roast Duck



By Rhonda Parkinson



Author Deh-Ta Hsiung writes: This is the duck with a shining reddish-brown skin seen hanging in the windows of a good Cantonese restaurant.

Serves 10 - 12 as a starter, or 4 to 6 as a main course. (Note: total preparation time does not include the time needed to dry the duck before cooking).

Ingredients

    One 4 1/2 lb (2 kg) oven-ready duckling
    2 teaspoons salt
    4 tablespoons maltose or honey
    1 tablespoon rice vinegar
    1/2 teaspoon red food coloring (optional0
    about 1/2 pint (280 ml) warm water
    For the Stuffing:
    1 tablespoon oil
    1 tablespoon finely chopped spring onion
    1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh ginger root
    1 tablespoon caster sugar
    2 tablespoons Chinese rice wine (or dry sherry)
    1 tablespoon yellow bean sauce
    1 tablespoon hoisin sauce
    2 teaspoons five-spice powder

    Prep Time: 30 minutes
    Cook Time: 60 minutes

    Total Time: 90 minutes

Preparation

Clean the duck well. Remove the wing tips and the lumps of fat from inside the vent. Blanch in a *** of boiling water for a few minutes, remove and dry well, then rub the duck with salt and tie the neck tightly with string.

Make the stuffing by heating the oil in a saucepan, add all the ingredients, bring to the boil and blend well. Pour the mixture into the cavity of the duck and sew it up securely.

Dissolve the maltose or honey with vinegar and red food coloring (if using) in warm water, brush it all over the duck - give it several coatings, then hang the duck up (head down) with an S-shaped hook to dry in an airy and cool place for at least 4 - 5 hours.

To cook: preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. (200 degrees C./Gas 6). Hang the duck head down on the top rack, and place a tray of boiling water at the bottom of the oven. Reduce the heat to 350 degrees F. (180 degrees C., Gas 4) after 25 minutes or so, and cook for a further 30 minutes, basting with the remaining coating mixture once or twice.

To serve: let the duck cool down a little, then remove the string and pour out the liquid stuffing to be used as gravy. Chop the duck into bite-sized pieces, then serve hot or cold with the gravy poured over it.

Courtesy of Deh-Ta Hsiung.

JOKES



Skeleton in the closet



A very large, old, building was being torn down in Chicago to make room for a new skyscraper. Due to its proximity to other buildings it could not be imploded and had to be dismantled floor by floor.

While working on the 49th floor, two construction workers found a skeleton in a small closet behind the elevator shaft. They decided that they should call the police.

When the police arrived they directed them to the closet and showed them the skeleton fully clothed and standing upright. They said, "This could be Jimmy Hoffa or somebody really important."

Two days went by and the construction workers couldn't stand it any more; they had to know who they had found. They called the police and said, "We are the two guys who found the skeleton in the closet and we want to know if it was Jimmy Hoffa or somebody important."

The police said, "It's not Jimmy Hoffa, but it was somebody kind of important."

"Well, who was it?"

"The 1956 Blonde National Hide-and-Seek Champion."



Quick Quotes



"It was different when we were kids. In second grade, a teacher came in and gave us all a lecture about not smoking, and then they sent us over to arts and crafts to make ash- trays for Mother's Day." --Paul Clay

---

"We should have a way of telling people they have bad breath. 'Well, I'm bored...let's go brush our teeth.' Or, 'I've got to make a phone call, hold this gum in your mouth.'" --Brad Stine

---

"Doesn't it bother you when people litter? The most creative rationale for throwing an apple core out the window is 'It will plant seeds for other threes to grow.' And, of course, our highways are lined with apple trees--right next to all the cigarette bushes." --Nick Arnette



Republican or Democrat?



A woman in a hot air balloon realized she was lost. She lowered her altitude and spotted a man in a boat below. She shouted to him, "Excuse me, can you help me? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don't know where I am." The man consulted his portable GPS and replied, "You're in a hot air balloon, approximately 30 feet above a ground elevation of 2346 feet above sea level. You are at 31 degrees, 14.97 minutes north latitude and 100 degrees, 49.09 minutes west longitude.

She rolled her eyes and said, "You must be a (political party)." "I am,"replied the man. "How did you know?" "Well," answered the balloonist, everything you told me is technically correct, but I have no idea what to do with your information, and I'm still lost. Frankly, you've not been much help to me."

The man smiled and responded, "You must be a (political party)." "I am,"replied the balloonist. "How did you know?" "Well," said the man, "you don't know where you are or where you're going. You've risen to where you are, due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise that you have no idea how to keep, and you expect me to solve your problem. You're in exactly the same position you were in before we met but, somehow, now it's my fault."



Birthday Gift

A husband went to buy a birthday gift for his wife. Some friends had been invited over that night to celebrate her fortieth, and he wanted to get something special. At the store he spotted some cute little music boxes. One blue one was playing "Happy Birthday."

Thinking they were all the same, he chose a red one and had it gift-wrapped. Later, at dinner, he gave it to his wife and asked her to open it...

When she lifted the lid, out came the tune to "The Old Gray Mare, She Ain't What She Used to Be!"



Blonde Convention



80,000 blondes meet in the Kansas City Chiefs Stadium for a "Blondes Are Not Stupid" Convention. The leader says, "We are all here today to prove to the world that blondes are not stupid. Can I have a volunteer?" A blonde gingerly works her way through the crowd and steps up to the stage. The leader asks her, "What is 15 plus 15?" After 15 or 20 seconds she says, "Eighteen!"

Obviously everyone is a little disappointed. Then 80,000 blondes start cheering, "Give her another chance! Give her another chance!" The leader says, "Well since we've gone to the trouble of getting 80,000 of you in one place and we have the world-wide press and global broadcast media here, gee, uh, I guess we can give her another chance." So he asks, "What is 5 plus 5?"

After nearly 30 seconds she eventually says, "Ninety?"

The leader is quite perplexed, looks down and just lets out a dejected sigh -- everyone is disheartened, the blonde starts crying and the 80,000 girls begin to yell and wave their hands shouting, "GIVE HER ANOTHER CHANCE! GIVE HER ANOTHER CHANCE!"

The leader, unsure whether or not he is doing more harm than damage, eventually says, "Ok! Ok! Just one more chance -- What is 2 plus 2?"

The girl closes her eyes, and after a whole minute eventually says, "Four?"

Throughout the stadium pandemonium breaks out as all 80,000 girls jump to their feet, wave their arms, stomp their feet and scream...

"GIVE HER ANOTHER CHANCE! GIVE HER ANOTHER CHANCE!"





Have a super nice Sunday!

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Hey you gal, com’ere

You notice seh, when word gone round,
And people affie frown
and deh look pon you.

Mi nah say nothing.

When word gone round,
And people affie frown,
And deh look pon me,

Why yeah fi see me?

You haunted or summthin?
Vanilla on cream,
Think she prettier then me,

You nah nothing

Hey goodie, with your white gal ‘air
Only thing you better dan me,
Is ******* that wood like a lolly lolly pop.

Why you affie be so bad mind

You have a sad mind,
Two tiny ***** knocking side to side,
Coming up to me, with ya smile in hand,
Yeah lie, yeah lie

Me nuh see you,
you affie be somebody fi see

Hey you gal,
you think your better then me?
With ya boyfriend
Who ya naw even see, see

Bringing home hickeys,
And deh gurls seh she nah even mean dem.

Hahahahahaha
Go **** back ya moma
Ya, luckier then me!!!

I BE MISSING YA BOB MARLEY

I be miss'en ya voice Bob Marley ya songs roll'en round in me head
ya see I've learned to feel the rain and not just to get wet
and waiting in line is a waste of time cause tomorrow ya could be dead
yea- I be miss'en ya voice Bob Marley ya words roll'en round in me head

trouble I not be want'en (mun)/ just some peace and harmony
to live and love the life I want / and (to) be happy to be me
I hear ya words every night and day they be taken me far away
to islands still uncharted (mun) or to a place called yesterday


I be miss'en ya voice Bob Marley ya songs roll'en round in me head
ya see I've learned to feel the rain and not just to get wet
and waiting in line is a waste of time cause tomorrow ya could be dead
yea- I be miss'en ya voice Bob Marley ya words roll'en round in me head

I hear the tides roll into shore / feel the sun upon my face
while I listen to ya music mun / and my dreams fall into place
people feel deh will get hurt / so don't allow themselves to feel
might as well be blind my friend / cause the sun you'll never see
  
I be miss'en ya voice Bob Marley ya songs roll'en round in me head
ya see I've learned to feel the rain and not just to get wet
and waiting in line is a waste of time cause tomorrow ya could be dead
yea- I be miss'en ya voice Bob Marley ya words roll'en round in me head

the paper say you be famous man / what more could one man wish
ya laughed and smiled and then replied / I don't need no more than this (diss)  
leave everything be as it be / don't disturb old mother earth
you be leaven here someday (my friend)  / with no more than at birth

I be miss'en ya voice Bob Marley ya songs roll'en round in me head
ya see I've learned to feel the rain and not just to get wet
and waiting in line is a waste of time cause tomorrow ya could be dead
yea- I be miss'en ya voice Bob Marley ya words roll'en round in me head

so live each day now the best you can / you never know when it will end
don't pain your days and nights away / in a world of where or when
just drink some *** and sing a song / cause tomorrows round the bend
talk with those ya do not know / for some day they may be friends
                      
                               by vjkelly...(c)2016 from the song of the same name
                                                            ­        by vjkelly

III

Qual in colle aspro, al imbrunir di sera
L’avezza giovinetta pastorella
Va bagnando l’herbetta strana e bella
Che mal si spande a disusata spera
Fuor di sua natia alma primavera,
Cosi Amor meco insu la lingua snella
Desta il fior novo di strania favella,
Mentre io di te, vezzosamente altera,
Canto, dal mio buon popol non inteso
E’l bel Tamigi cangio col bel Arno
Amor lo volse, ed io a l’altrui peso
Seppi ch’ Amor cosa mai volse indarno.
Deh!  foss’ il mio cuor lento e’l duro seno
A chi pianta dal ciel si buon terreno.

O patria mia, vedo le mura e gli archi
E le colonne e i simulacri e l'erme
Torri degli avi nostri,
Ma la la gloria non vedo,
Non vedo il lauro e il ferro ond'eran carchi
I nostri padri antichi. Or fatta inerme
Nuda la fronte e nudo il petto mostri,
Oimè quante ferite,
Che lívidor, che sangue! Oh qual ti veggio,
Formesissima donna!
Io chiedo al cielo e al mondo: dite dite;
Chi la ridusse a tale? E questo è peggio,
Che di catene ha carche ambe le braccia,
Sì che sparte le chiome e senza velo
Siede in terra negletta e sconsolata,
Nascondendo la faccia
Tra le ginocchia, e piange.
Piangi, che ben hai donde, Italia mia,
Le genti a vincer nata
E nella fausta sorte e nella ria.
Se fosser gli occhi tuoi due fonti vive,
Mai non potrebbe il pianto
Adeguarsi al tuo danno ed allo scorno;
Che fosti donna, or sei povera ancella.
Chi di te parla o scrive,
Che, rimembrando il tuo passato vanto,
Non dica: già fu grande, or non è quella?
Perché, perché? Dov'è la forza antica?
Dove l'armi e il valore e la costanza?
Chi ti discinse il brando?
Chi ti tradì? Qual arte o qual fatica
0 qual tanta possanza,
Valse a spogliarti il manto e l'auree bende?
Come cadesti o quando
Da tanta altezza in così basso loco?
Nessun pugna per te? Non ti difende
Nessun dè tuoi? L'armi, qua l'armi: ío solo
Combatterà, procomberò sol io.
Dammi, o ciel, che sia foco
Agl'italici petti il sangue mio.
Dove sono i tuoi figli?. Odo suon d'armi
E di carri e di voci e di timballi
In estranie contrade
Pugnano i tuoi figliuoli.
Attendi, Italia, attendi. Io veggio, o parmi,
Un fluttuar di fanti e di cavalli,
E fumo e polve, e luccicar di *****
Come tra nebbia lampi.
Nè ti conforti e i tremebondi lumi
Piegar non soffri al dubitoso evento?
A che pugna in quei campi
L'itata gioventude? 0 numi, o numi
Pugnan per altra terra itali acciari.
Oh misero colui che in guerra è spento,
Non per li patrii lidi e per la pia
Consorte e i figli cari, Ma da nemici altrui
Per altra gente, e non può dir morendo
Alma terra natia,
La vita che mi desti ecco ti rendo.
Oh venturose e care e benedette
L'antiche età, che a morte
Per la patria correan le genti a squadre
E voi sempre onorate e gloriose,
0 tessaliche strette,
Dove la Persia e il fato assai men forte
Fu di poch'alme franche e generose!
Lo credo che le piante e i sassi e l'onda
E le montagne vostre al passeggere
Con indistinta voce
Narrin siccome tutta quella sponda
Coprir le invitte schiere
Dè corpi ch'alla Grecia eran devoti.
Allor, vile e feroce,
Serse per l'Ellesponto si fuggia,
Fatto ludibrio agli ultimi nepoti;
E sul colle d'Antela, ove morendo
Si sottrasse da morte il santo stuolo,
Simonide salia,
Guardando l'etra e la marina e il suolo.
E di lacrime sparso ambe le guance,
E il petto ansante, e vacillante il piede,
Toglicasi in man la lira:
Beatissimi voi,
Ch'offriste il petto alle nemiche lance
Per amor di costei ch'al Sol vi diede;
Voi che la Grecia cole, e il mondo ammira
Nell'armi e nè perigli
Qual tanto amor le giovanette menti,
Qual nell'acerbo fato amor vi trasse?
Come si lieta, o figli,
L'ora estrema vi parve, onde ridenti
Correste al passo lacrimoso e, duro?
Parea ch'a danza e non a morte andasse
Ciascun dè vostri, o a splendido convito:
Ma v'attendea lo scuro
Tartaro, e l'ond'a morta;
Nè le spose vi foro o i figli accanto
Quando su l'aspro lito
Senza baci moriste e senza pianto.
Ma non senza dè Persi orrida pena
Ed immortale angoscia.
Come lion di tori entro una mandra
Or salta a quello in tergo e sì gli scava
Con le zanne la schiena,
Or questo fianco addenta or quella coscia;
Tal fra le Perse torme infuriava
L'ira dè greci petti e la virtute.
Vè cavalli supini e cavalieri;
Vedi intralciare ai vinti
La fuga i carri e le tende cadute,
E correr frà primieri
Pallido e scapigliato esso tiranno;
vè come infusi e tintí
Del barbarico sangue i greci eroi,
Cagione ai Persi d'infinito affanno,
A poco a poco vinti dalle piaghe,
L'un sopra l'altro cade. Oh viva, oh viva:
Beatissimi voi
Mentre nel mondo si favelli o scriva.
Prima divelte, in mar precipitando,
Spente nell'imo strideran le stelle,
Che la memoria e il vostro
Amor trascorra o scemi.
La vostra tomba è un'ara; e qua mostrando
Verran le madri ai parvoli le belle
Orme dei vostro sangue. Ecco io mi prostro,
0 benedetti, al suolo,
E bacio questi sassi e queste zolle,
Che fien lodate e chiare eternamente
Dall'uno all'altro polo.
Deh foss'io pur con voi qui sotto, e molle
Fosse del sangue mio quest'alma terra.
Che se il fato è diverso, e non consente
Ch'io per la Grecia i mororibondi lumi
Chiuda prostrato in guerra,
Così la vereconda
Fama del vostro vate appo i futuri
Possa, volendo i numi,
Tanto durar quanto la, vostra duri.

8 minutes to sunrise...

I open my eyes and see the white sheets
Scarred with the impressions we left upon them the night before. .

silently..
They seem abused
I can tell that it was a rough night

I woke up with bruises
Expecting you to wake up and walk out
Throwing my heart with excuses...

Outspoken ...

Silently. .

You woke up like a convict...
Who had secretly plotted to and killed someone
Within their dreams...

Secretly. ..

Silently..

I try to cage each minute..
For I have things I wish to say to you. ..
Words that seemed to have stayed hidden from you..

Baby there's 8 minutes to sunrise
Tell me what we're going to do...
Time is running out
And somehow I am no longer afraid of the darkness

With 6 minutes until the sun rises
I want to get lost in the midsts
of your soul
So that my heart can now what
It is like to wake up to a beautiful dream

4 minutes 'till sunrise
I can see the rays of the sun light
Dancing to the rhythm of our heartbeats
Tell me how we made through the night.

At sunset you told me you love
Night came,
And you showed me you love me
But with 2 minutes before the sun sets
I only need you to hold me ..

-Thembekile ".Kilay Deh'Poet." Tsaoane

When you're falling in a forest and nobody's around

It doesn't crash
Or even make a sound

La mattutina pioggia, allor che l'ale
Battendo esulta nella chiusa stanza
La gallinella, ed al balcon s'affaccia
L'abitator dè campi, e il Sol che nasce
I suoi tremuli rai fra le cadenti
Stille saetta, alla capanna mia
Dolcemente picchiando, mi risveglia;
E sorgo, e i lievi nugoletti, e il primo
Degli augelli susurro, e l'aura fresca,
E le ridenti piagge benedico:
Poiché voi, cittadine infauste mura,
Vidi e conobbi assai, là dove segue
Odio al dolor compagno; e doloroso
Io vivo, e tal morrò, deh tosto! Alcuna
Benché scarsa pietà pur mi dimostra
Natura in questi lochi, un giorno oh quanto
Verso me più cortese! E tu pur volgi
Dai miseri lo sguardo; e tu, sdegnando
Le sciagure e gli affanni, alla reina
Felicità servi, o natura. In cielo,
In terra amico agl'infelici alcuno
E rifugio non resta altro che il ferro.
Talor m'assido in solitaria parte,
Sovra un rialto, al margine d'un lago
Di taciturne piante incoronato.
Ivi, quando il meriggio in ciel si volve,
La sua tranquilla imago il Sol dipinge,
Ed erba o foglia non si crolla al vento,
E non onda incresparsi, e non cicala
Strider, né batter penna augello in ramo,
Né farfalla ronzar, né voce o moto
Da presso né da lunge odi né vedi.
Tien quelle rive altissima quiete;
Ond'io quasi me stesso e il mondo obblio
Sedendo immoto; e già mi par che sciolte
Giaccian le membra mie, né spirto o senso
Più le commova, e lor quiete antica
Cò silenzi del loco si confonda.
Amore, amore, assai lungi volasti
Dal petto mio, che fu sì caldo un giorno,
Anzi rovente. Con sua fredda mano
Lo strinse la sciaura, e in ghiaccio è volto
Nel fior degli anni. Mi sovvien del tempo
Che mi scendesti in seno. Era quel dolce
E irrevocabil tempo, allor che s'apre
Al guardo giovanil questa infelice
Scena del mondo, e gli sorride in vista
Di paradiso. Al garzoncello il core
Di vergine speranza e di desio
Balza nel petto; e già s'accinge all'opra
Di questa vita come a danza o gioco
Il misero mortal. Ma non sì tosto,
Amor, di te m'accorsi, e il viver mio
Fortuna avea già rotto, ed a questi occhi
Non altro convenia che il pianger sempre.
Pur se talvolta per le piagge apriche,
Su la tacita aurora o quando al sole
Brillano i tetti e i poggi e le campagne,
Scontro di vaga donzelletta il viso;
O qualor nella placida quiete
D'estiva notte, il vagabondo passo
Di rincontro alle ville soffermando,
L'erma terra contemplo, e di fanciulla
Che all'opre di sua man la notte aggiunge
Odo sonar nelle romite stanze
L'arguto canto; a palpitar si move
Questo mio cor di sasso: ahi, ma ritorna
Tosto al ferreo sopor; ch'è fatto estrano
Ogni moto soave al petto mio.
O cara luna, al cui tranquillo raggio
Danzan le lepri nelle selve; e duolsi
Alla mattina il cacciator, che trova
L'orme intricate e false, e dai covili
Error vario lo svia; salve, o benigna
Delle notti reina. Infesto scende
Il raggio tuo fra macchie e balze o dentro
A deserti edifici, in su l'acciaro
Del pallido ladron ch'a teso orecchio
Il fragor delle rote e dè cavalli
Da lungi osserva o il calpestio dè piedi
Su la tacita via; poscia improvviso
Col suon dell'armi e con la rauca voce
E col funereo ceffo il core agghiaccia
Al passegger, cui semivivo e nudo
Lascia in breve trà sassi. Infesto occorre
Per le contrade cittadine il bianco
Tuo lume al drudo vil, che degli alberghi
Va radendo le mura e la secreta
Ombra seguendo, e resta, e si spaura
Delle ardenti lucerne e degli aperti
Balconi. Infesto alle malvage menti,
A me sempre benigno il tuo cospetto
Sarà per queste piagge, ove non altro
Che lieti colli e spaziosi campi
M'apri alla vista. Ed ancor io soleva,
Bench'innocente io fossi, il tuo vezzoso
Raggio accusar negli abitati lochi,
Quand'ei m'offriva al guardo umano, e quando
Scopriva umani aspetti al guardo mio.
Or sempre loderollo, o ch'io ti miri
Veleggiar tra le nubi, o che serena
Dominatrice dell'etereo campo,
Questa flebil riguardi umana sede.
Me spesso rivedrai solingo e muto
Errar pè boschi e per le verdi rive,
O seder sovra l'erbe, assai contento
Se core e lena a sospirar m'avanza.

Jadi kemaren gue rencananya kaya bikin puisi atau apalah gitu kan sebelum ganti tahun. tapi gue ketiduran. terus gue kaya pas bangun tuh gak nyesel amat sih tapi kaya ada satu beban aja gitu kalau belom post apa-apa disini. Jadi gue post aja deh first impression gue buat orang-orang yang aku sayang hehehe.
tapi karena maleaes, kapan-kapan aja deh bye.

Back pocket journal.

Back pocket journal
Where do I start...
My heart is suddenly so small
That it's almost invisible...

I fall in love so **** easy ..
I lose my self in the taste of mystery. .
You see..

So that's the reason that
I don't want to keep talking about love.

Because suddenly
When we start talking
Words become magnified
Forcing us to rush into several emotions
Never mind the *** and the relationship. ..

Dear back pocket journal
I always wear clothes
With pockets because
I'm so afraid of
Leaving things behind...

So I pack this strangers heart
In my right pocket
So my heart can know
What it feels like
To fall in love with the right man

And I know how it goes ...
Another guy I'll like
Another guy I'll leave

Dear back pocket journal
Don't worry about how much
I can forget to love him ..
Rather ask yourself
If it was even love in the first place

Ask me what , why?
Why do I change him and his
To hers  

Lying to myself about liking him...
Her...
...
as much as i do

his just another one
something new
Another man to do...
There's nothing special about him

but ****
back pocket journal
Hearts can only see and find love
When those hearts are combined  

The world wants my heart  to lie
an d say that he seems like a good guy
go for it ....
There's absolutely nothing to lose

Dear back pocket journal
Upon this journey of love
I return without a heart..
But my lungs still breathe for him
My mind he lives upon ..

Back pocket journal ..
I..
I've tried so hard ...
But these feelings remain the same

-thembekile kilay Deh'Poet tsaoane

Love meanz: 2 commit oneself without a guarantee,to gv oneself completely in da hope dat our love will produce love in the lovd person,its an act of faith n whoever iz of liru faith iz also of liru love, its sm'n eternal i.e. the aspect may change bt not da heart,its a dream that only bkams reality wen we meet,its friendshp set on fire by 2 hot souls,its the master key that opens the gates of happiness n it dsnt mek da world go round instd it meks da ride worthwhile,its the emblem of eternity that confounds all notion of time n effaces all memory of a bgnning with all fear of an end,true love bginz when nthn iz lukd 4 in return n its equal,infinite,pure without violence,its an irresistible desire 2 b irresistibly desired by some1 special n all love is SWEET whether gven or returned..!! SURELY THERE IZ NO CURE 4 LOVE BUT 2 LOVE MORE.! I pray dat 1 deh sm1 will love me bak 4 ril. Amen.....!

shoot to the moon
but be gentle
with it
why is it...  
that I was constantly
counting on the stars
and you..  
you spent most
of your time praying
when every inch
of your body
was so majestically ...
creative
that you were
reigning my thoughts
at some point
the storm was unbearable
I..  
I hate when
my heartbeat
turns into tears
and my body
can't help but
to pool the very essence
of your memories
to flow right beneath
my skin...  
I pray
for the day
when my lips
can express the words
I love you
and my heart doesn't
have to mean it
the day when
you're no longer
an extension of myself
when finally I find
that I am brave enough
to purge myself
of your memories

-Thembekile Kilay deh'poet Tsaoane

Who am I
You ask ....?

Who am I to stand above the world
And reach for my dreams ...
.......

I am Kilay

I'm a poetic being
That talks to the stars ...

I am that lone individual
That hides behind my scars ..

I am the passionate seizure of beauty
I see myself on top of the world...

I shout silent screams
For I am too divine for words ...

I am the elusive captive in the universe...

Who am I ..?

Escaping from expected paths
I see my name in clear skies

Who am I to stand above the world
And not reach for my dreams ...

I am the sky ..
And nothing can stick to me ....

With my impenetrable unknowing
But ...
Who exactly am I?....

Who am I when my thoughts knock the moon
And my fingertips are the valleys and shores of the universe ...

Who am I
To be myself ...

Drifting....

Searching ...
Wondering ...

Am I not myself
When I hide behind my scars?

Who am I
You ask ....?

I really wish I knew
For I am not myself at all

♡ Thembekile Kilay Deh'Poet Tsaoane

days don't really
name themselves
but I'll start off
by naming this one "us"
in the courtyard
last night
I can't really phrase
the look on your face
that somehow seemed to crave
what I knew as my soul
but you only knew as my body
to be honest..  
you...
you. . .
you're the type of soil
that dreams are made of
just enough to retrace
the memories of what
I expected of you and I
just below the moon
it's amazing
how the wind
always forces things to return
and...
your love was like the shade
rotating around me
as if they were clock pointers
accounting the hours
I've spent just ruminating
upon thoughts of you
I have felt things
that I never even thought
that I could feel
and yet somehow...
despite the tears
despite this sweet desolation...
somehow...
the best interpretation of my heart
was birthed through
the cracks of my brokenness
but at least
you..
i have someone
to dream about...
you...
I'd like to wear
the memories of
the deepest parts of yourself
you allowed me to explore
like a mask on my face
and define it
as my smile
~thembekile kilay deh'poet tsaoane

I've tried hard
to look back
at our time together
we never really
had time together
we had *** together
I was a good pleaser
never known
for really being a believer
in anything
but myself...  
and you...  
you fell victim
to what you thought
was praise and worship
whenever
I was on my knees
I hate to be the one
to tell you this
but making you think
that we both
fell in love simultaneously
was the greatest joke
that I could come up with
and yes...
you will...
you will resent me
like I resent
the holes and bumps
on my thighs and stomach
that were the evidence
of a product
I can only now
hide with secrets
and step father's
and yes...
I've said this before  
I've tried hard
to look back
at our time together
we never really
had time together
we had *** together
-thembekile Kilay deh'poet Tsaoane

I have always wondered
what it would
feel like.....  
to enjoy the idea
of aging alongside you...  
as we watched our dreams
learn to walk by themselves
as we question
if whether or not
patience would recognize
Its very beginning
in our souls ..
just enough
to give it a taste
of our world....
look...  
I'll hold onto
your memories
as if they were
the smoke
from the cigarette
I have just inhaled
as if it weren't
somehow slowly
trying to **** me
on the inside ..
I'll watch the sky
and lose myself
in the shallow winds
as smoothly as it
brushes against my cheeks
almost as if
they were trying
to take a peak
into my solitude
it feels pleasant sometimes
like sort of
getting to hear yourself think
and I've been thinking...  
I want a love
that goes beyond
******* in the front yard .  
my heart
doesn't have
an on and off switch ....
do you know.   ?
what have you been feeling
looking back
on all of this?
I'm not sure
if you were mine
for the pain or the insanity
knowing I was
a hopeless romantic
who couldn't wait
to fall in love
as if I was a young girl
playing in the mud puddles
and lords knows
how much
I had a thing for rain
I always seemed
to fall like it
broken and hopeless . .
willing to fall for anyone
Or anything
that stood in the open
long enough to catch it...  
that was you...  
and I...  
in love...  
once upon a time
-Thembekile Kilay Deh'Poet Tsaoane

Background noises

The air fills itself with silence
But somewhere in the midst
Of it ...
I can feel I am not alone ....
You're subtly lingering
In my mind ....
Like our memories
Embrace the depths
Of my bed sheets
Even in your presence ....
As if your heart beat
Painted itself upon my walls ...
So every time
my eye lids part in the morning....
I can't help but reminisce
About you ..
Like your mind replicated
Itself in mine ...
So every time I lay my head to sleep...
I can't quite embrace the night ...
Without thoughts of you ..
Despite, how many times
I've washed my bed sheets.

♡thembekile kilay deh'poet tsaoane

it's amazing right
that one poem
can be about
a thousand people
yet only one person
will eventually
understand it....
they say imaginary friends
tell us about ourselves
and our dreams
before we knew the world ....
so imagine..
that I was your friend
and this was a movie...
and somewhere
in between buildings
sand castles
and building forts
in the tree house
you found...
a portion of yourself
hidden deep within
my Iris....  
and all you wanted
was to run in my mind
while I was running
next to..  
from you...  
tag..  you're it..  
then you run
and I chase after you...
until we find ourselves
walking down the isle...

-thembekile Kilay deh'poet Tsaoane

here's to...
an unbeatable first time
when you didn't
want to rush
but the blood
flowing through you
couldn't help
but to race
with your heartbeat
and ...
I..
I was never really
an angel myself
so the only guiding
I could execute
was directing
the surface of your skin
to the inner most parts
of my soul....
they say..
you never really
heal where it is sore
if you keep
touching up on it
there will always be
grave repercussions...  
Do you remember the time
we kissed danger
upon its lips
I can still taste
a hint of you
just by crossing
a red light
I guess blood
is thicker than water
so I'll always feel you
beneath my skin
before I can can swallow
my last pill
and even way before
I can cry. .  
~Thembekile Kilay Deh'poet Tsaoane

Midnight remedy

Making my way home
With a hint
Of your scent
On every inch of my body
I can tell that
You've been wanting this ....
9pm. ..
Last night ...
I should have been
In the comfort of my own bed
Dreaming about
All of the things my body
Craves to achieve on yours ...
But I was there ...
In your embrace....
How innocent you looked
As you lost yourself
Comfortably ,
In the opening of my legs...
I forgot to tell you ...
How  beautiful your eyes were...
With my legs open
Like the pointers of a clock
At the twelfth hour of midnight...


♡thembekile kilay deh'poet tsaoane

rah-deh doesn't understand the blows he is taking
his arm over his head
does nothing

this is an inland characteristic
raising the arm
doing nothing

bleeding does nothing
and that's the trick
rah-deh needs

he is in the weeds
flipping thru old screeds
scratches on his arms

when he dies
nothing is left
to die

he circles back
wretching
easier days cooler nights

both places
see him
at the same time

and unravel
their can't be's
and can't say why

kursi panjang atau sofa panjang?

lebih ke kursi panjang deh, tidak empuk soalnya


tapi masih nyaman
sembari ditemani kamu dan boba


dari pagi sampai petang
masih betah saja berbicara


tetapi kamu teringat kewajiban
sudah lewat ashar, hampir magrib


lalu segera kamu pamit, takut ketinggalan


lalu punggungmu adalah hal yang kulihat terakhir kali


terimakasih, dan maaf ya


dari aku yang melamun dan menimbun banyak pertanyaan

Lard Gad I cant tek it nuh more
Right now mi feel like church life unsure
Mi cant even see weh fi embrace nuh more
Cause the covid thing seh nuh embrace nuh more.

Lard Gad I cant tek it nuh more.  
Right now mi feel like church life unsure.
Mi miss sis jenny cooking,
The good sat deh chicken,
Mi usually lick mi  finga
Like a happy baby pigeon.  

Lard Gad I cant tek it nuh more
Right now mi feel like me church life unsure
Weh affi mask up
Face cover up
A cough or sneeze mek everybody flair up.

Lard Gad I cant tek it nuh more.
Lard Gad I cant tek it nuh more

in praying positions
I realise how looking back
at our conversations
in the same bed
that auctioned my body
to you,
even though my tears,
in the company
of my four walls
indisputably proved
to be the highest bidder...
but listen carefully
as my maleficent words,
escaping just beneath
my breath,
tap into your soul...  
until your lungs
know nothing else
than to breathe
the air of me...
until the insides
of your eyelids
morph themselves
into traces and features
of my face...
maybe then you'll really see
the blessings bestowed
upon you...  
and count them
as often as you blink....  
They say let he who has no sin cast the first stone
so here I am...  
as white as the bedsheets
I've left the old sinful
pieces of my soul in
purely resurrected from
the acts of sin
we executed last night...
young lost king
embodied by nothing more
but a sense
of you needing me
I will name and shame you
within this poem
until the thought of it
hunts down your dreams
until they haunt you
and you can do
nothing more but
pray me into your dreams
just enough for you
to find your way  
back into mine
so I can dream you
into my existence
-thembekile kilay deh'poet Tsaoane

i asked for the colour of her iris
and then shortened the epsilon to an eta
when she told me her second name: denæ,
although she spelt it δενηα,
so i just called her de-nah, and remembered her first:
κελσιε - even though it could have been deh-neh-ah.

O patria mia, vedo le mura e gli archi
E le colonne e i simulacri e l'erme
Torri degli avi nostri,
Ma la la gloria non vedo,
Non vedo il lauro e il ferro ond'eran carchi
I nostri padri antichi. Or fatta inerme
Nuda la fronte e nudo il petto mostri,
Oimè quante ferite,
Che lívidor, che sangue! Oh qual ti veggio,
Formesissima donna!
Io chiedo al cielo e al mondo: dite dite;
Chi la ridusse a tale? E questo è peggio,
Che di catene ha carche ambe le braccia,
Sì che sparte le chiome e senza velo
Siede in terra negletta e sconsolata,
Nascondendo la faccia
Tra le ginocchia, e piange.
Piangi, che ben hai donde, Italia mia,
Le genti a vincer nata
E nella fausta sorte e nella ria.
Se fosser gli occhi tuoi due fonti vive,
Mai non potrebbe il pianto
Adeguarsi al tuo danno ed allo scorno;
Che fosti donna, or sei povera ancella.
Chi di te parla o scrive,
Che, rimembrando il tuo passato vanto,
Non dica: già fu grande, or non è quella?
Perché, perché? Dov'è la forza antica?
Dove l'armi e il valore e la costanza?
Chi ti discinse il brando?
Chi ti tradì? Qual arte o qual fatica
0 qual tanta possanza,
Valse a spogliarti il manto e l'auree bende?
Come cadesti o quando
Da tanta altezza in così basso loco?
Nessun pugna per te? Non ti difende
Nessun dè tuoi? L'armi, qua l'armi: ío solo
Combatterà, procomberò sol io.
Dammi, o ciel, che sia foco
Agl'italici petti il sangue mio.
Dove sono i tuoi figli?. Odo suon d'armi
E di carri e di voci e di timballi
In estranie contrade
Pugnano i tuoi figliuoli.
Attendi, Italia, attendi. Io veggio, o parmi,
Un fluttuar di fanti e di cavalli,
E fumo e polve, e luccicar di *****
Come tra nebbia lampi.
Nè ti conforti e i tremebondi lumi
Piegar non soffri al dubitoso evento?
A che pugna in quei campi
L'itata gioventude? 0 numi, o numi
Pugnan per altra terra itali acciari.
Oh misero colui che in guerra è spento,
Non per li patrii lidi e per la pia
Consorte e i figli cari, Ma da nemici altrui
Per altra gente, e non può dir morendo
Alma terra natia,
La vita che mi desti ecco ti rendo.
Oh venturose e care e benedette
L'antiche età, che a morte
Per la patria correan le genti a squadre
E voi sempre onorate e gloriose,
0 tessaliche strette,
Dove la Persia e il fato assai men forte
Fu di poch'alme franche e generose!
Lo credo che le piante e i sassi e l'onda
E le montagne vostre al passeggere
Con indistinta voce
Narrin siccome tutta quella sponda
Coprir le invitte schiere
Dè corpi ch'alla Grecia eran devoti.
Allor, vile e feroce,
Serse per l'Ellesponto si fuggia,
Fatto ludibrio agli ultimi nepoti;
E sul colle d'Antela, ove morendo
Si sottrasse da morte il santo stuolo,
Simonide salia,
Guardando l'etra e la marina e il suolo.
E di lacrime sparso ambe le guance,
E il petto ansante, e vacillante il piede,
Toglicasi in man la lira:
Beatissimi voi,
Ch'offriste il petto alle nemiche lance
Per amor di costei ch'al Sol vi diede;
Voi che la Grecia cole, e il mondo ammira
Nell'armi e nè perigli
Qual tanto amor le giovanette menti,
Qual nell'acerbo fato amor vi trasse?
Come si lieta, o figli,
L'ora estrema vi parve, onde ridenti
Correste al passo lacrimoso e, duro?
Parea ch'a danza e non a morte andasse
Ciascun dè vostri, o a splendido convito:
Ma v'attendea lo scuro
Tartaro, e l'ond'a morta;
Nè le spose vi foro o i figli accanto
Quando su l'aspro lito
Senza baci moriste e senza pianto.
Ma non senza dè Persi orrida pena
Ed immortale angoscia.
Come lion di tori entro una mandra
Or salta a quello in tergo e sì gli scava
Con le zanne la schiena,
Or questo fianco addenta or quella coscia;
Tal fra le Perse torme infuriava
L'ira dè greci petti e la virtute.
Vè cavalli supini e cavalieri;
Vedi intralciare ai vinti
La fuga i carri e le tende cadute,
E correr frà primieri
Pallido e scapigliato esso tiranno;
vè come infusi e tintí
Del barbarico sangue i greci eroi,
Cagione ai Persi d'infinito affanno,
A poco a poco vinti dalle piaghe,
L'un sopra l'altro cade. Oh viva, oh viva:
Beatissimi voi
Mentre nel mondo si favelli o scriva.
Prima divelte, in mar precipitando,
Spente nell'imo strideran le stelle,
Che la memoria e il vostro
Amor trascorra o scemi.
La vostra tomba è un'ara; e qua mostrando
Verran le madri ai parvoli le belle
Orme dei vostro sangue. Ecco io mi prostro,
0 benedetti, al suolo,
E bacio questi sassi e queste zolle,
Che fien lodate e chiare eternamente
Dall'uno all'altro polo.
Deh foss'io pur con voi qui sotto, e molle
Fosse del sangue mio quest'alma terra.
Che se il fato è diverso, e non consente
Ch'io per la Grecia i mororibondi lumi
Chiuda prostrato in guerra,
Così la vereconda
Fama del vostro vate appo i futuri
Possa, volendo i numi,
Tanto durar quanto la, vostra duri.

bottle cap

corkscrew
touch
turn
twist
you....  
at the tip
of my opening
after just one bottle
my undefined self
became a soul
within your eyes...
ashtray,
done and dusted
as I lay legs open and lament
in the centre of my bed
holding onto what
I can now look back
as what I'll convince myself
is memories...
light switch,
how the voices in my head
seem to think
that you only exist
whenever the lights go off
doorknob,
keyhole,
lost souls,
were the keys to my room,
to my heart?
-thembekile kilay deh'poet Tsaoane

I want to run
through your mind
while you try
your best
to unlove me
until the opening
of my legs
feel like a vacation
you're in desperate
need of but....
you can never afford
I wonder..
how many souls
that will become
the ancestors
of the next generation
have embraced
the very essence
of your bedsheets

-Thembekile Kilay Deh'Poet Tsaoane