Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Viola Nov 2015
He was never mine but I captured his attention.

For a moment I was the girl back home he would always mention.

I was in no place to be an army wife with loose ends

He went away to korea, we split ways. No thought to remain friends.

I will always wish for him to find better days.

He saw what many men see in me
A shiny fish in the sea

But soon he found that those who try to catch me drown

In an ocean of emotion he fell and sunk like a rock

But I just kept swimming, singing my siren song,

Waiting for someone to come along and
dive into the depths of my obstinance

And pull me up despite my resistance.

To help me shine with opulence.
  Nov 2015 Viola
Laurent
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Et nos amours
Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne
La joie venait toujours après la peine

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure

Les mains dans les mains restons face à face
Tandis que sous
Le pont de nos bras passe
Des éternels regards l'onde si lasse

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure

L'amour s'en va comme cette eau courante
L'amour s'en va
Comme la vie est lente
Et comme l'Espérance est violente

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure

Passent les jours et passent les semaines
Ni temps passé
Ni les amours reviennent
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure

In English :

Below the Mirabeau bridge there flows the Seine
As for our love
Must I recall how then
After each sorrow joy would come again

Let night come toll hours away
Days go by me here I stay

Let us stay hand in hand and face to face
While down below
The bridge of our embrace
Roll the waves weary of our endless gaze

Let night come toll hours away
Days go by me here I stay

Love goes away the way the waters flow
Love goes away
How life is long and slow
How hope of life can deal so strong a blow

Let night come toll hours away
Days go by me here I stay

The days the weeks are passing from our ken
Neither time passed
Nor love can come again
Below the Mirabeau bridge there flows the Seine

Let night come toll hours away
Days go by me here I stay
Guillaume Apollinaire (26 August 1880, Rome – 9 November 1918, Paris) was a French poet, playwright, short story writer, novelist, and art critic of Polish descent.

Apollinaire is considered one of the foremost poets of the early 20th century, as well as one of the most impassioned defenders of Cubism and a forefather of Surrealism. He is credited for coining the term Cubism (1911) to describe the new art movement, the term "Orphism" (1912), and the term "Surrealism" (1917) to describe the works of Erik Satie.

This poem functions as a touching record of the end of Apollinaire's long love affair with Marie Laurencin.
  Nov 2015 Viola
September
It's not morning sickness if it only happens when I wake up next to you,

baby.
Viola Nov 2015
To awaken asleep
In a sedation so deep
No relation to a reality so obscure
No elation to basque in thats pure
Just lost in the system you have lost yourself in.
Frost bitten and bitter by the cold awful truth.
Your youth was sapped away and monetized
So you could be indoctrinated by thier lies.

Stand up straight,
pledge your heart,
tuck in your shirt,
forget about art,
shake hands,
make money,
make plans,
play your part,
nod and agree,
this won't hurt,
bend over and take it while the upper eshelons make it.
You're stuck in the dirt.
breed hate,
make war,
but wait theres more.
Be sheep,
eat garbage,
ignore the carnage on the screen,
open your eyes,
shut up,
listen to this party music pop,
be seen in these clothes,
drive these cars,
live in these suburbs,
Hang out at these bars
kiss the fat plastic ***** of these reality stars.
Get drunk,
get high,
get ******,
get by,
Work, dont stop.
why do we try to survive?
Why is the society we live in one where desparity thrives,
taught to covet a shiny rock,
Then told it is not for us to hold,
So we dig our own graves until we get old.
Hoping to find a nugget of gold.
a concept favored by the elite classes,
a smart lazy man with a shiny rock tricked the masses into believing that he possessed value with no skills,
we still believe
so we try to achieve the thrills that come with obtaining the shiny rock,
we will do so until the world stops.
Viola Oct 2015
Two towers that fell like inferno from hell with gravity reversed, a tragedy staged and rehearsed.

A plot to cover currency lost, a drop in the bucket of the price paid by the bodies that laid scattered. We were told it was terrorism and that was all that mattered.

The american people racked by grief of loss, gave up their freedom no matter the cost.

What we gave up that day was the hope to win the class war that had already began.
Embezzlement, fraud, lobbying, and racketeering were no where nearing an end. After all the rise of corporate fascism disguised as democracy, the hypocrisy that the peoples votes counted when the control of the oligarchy would always surpass and surmount.

The all mighty dollar stacked high like a tower came crumbling down. Built on flimsy lies and destroyed by greed, it was the want and never the need.

It all happened the day before. You just werent paying attention, nothing more.
Next page