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 May 2017 karlotti
Onoma
Have you ever been
pulled over by the culture
police?
I know this culture cop
who loves pulling people
over for self-expression.
He'll wait till you break
into color, and cut you
off at your most emphatic.
He'll ****, burp, scoff--
master craft a discombobulating
smack to your mouth.
He thinks most expression pins
you down to obviousness.
So by definition a lack of expression,
or stifled expression, means
you're not being obvious.
Therefore tolerable, but being obvious, or not being obvious is still
being, trying--expressly.
Watchdog of his own passive-agression, his cagey brooding activated by voices in excitation
of uniqueness.
He's living hard between the lines,
unable to read so to speak, as sing!
My mouthy mute carbon copy
of repression, I'm so sorry--truly.
 May 2017 karlotti
Nat Lipstadt
~
all my poems are prayers on a good fun-Sunday

or a piece thereof;
wishes or curses,
longings, hopes, and a boatload of
'wouldn't it be loverly'

absent tho the conditional,
the if -then continuum,
no promises or persuasive pressures,
deal making sort of pointless
as words are directed internal to the
stew, the mix of matter and sensibility,
that seems to try and semi-govern me,
my own game controller Xbox apparatus

risen Sunday morn church in bed
first poem prayer issued,
a prone proclamation:

let me always allay
the needs of others owed
before mine owned

I like it,

maybe I'll call it commandment #110,
which means got all day to come up
with a couple more - good fun-Sunday*

4/23/17
8:53am
Un océano dentro de un océano
flujo etéreo de túrbida tinta india
reptando sobre el lecho de tus frondosas raíces.

Sereno opalino que baña la acera,
Calima que vaga a un lecho de luna
No ardas en vano gigante bonsái

Que las ninfas llevan en la memoria,
los cantos al dulzor de tu savia,
El recuerdo que viste de alma
la noble piel de tu fina corteza.

Bromelias que silban al aire
el rumor de un bosque sin nombre
oculto en el corazón de esta urbe
retozan humildes tus ramas

Que bien han de llorar por tus verdes retoños
que filtran la luz de un sol calcinante,
ciparisos que asoman sus brazos leñosos
tributo silente al ferino rumor del ocaso

No ardas en vano gigante bonsái
que manchadas de sangre están las manos
que revuelven la quietud de tu cieno
 Nov 2015 karlotti
OVC
Xico 5
 Nov 2015 karlotti
OVC
I shall plant cherry trees
On green fields outside town
And wait years for blossoms
You and I, love, married
Cherry blossoms scattering our countryside
 Jun 2015 karlotti
OVC
Morning rise
 Jun 2015 karlotti
OVC

The morning rise is beautiful in the maturing spring
As the sun rises, the sky is painted with the color blue
The birds flock from the horizon, from which long, thin clouds stretch,
Softening the sun rays
Slowly, cars begin to cross the streets,
Their owners ready to begin their day,
Drinking cups of coffee that fill the air with morning essence
To bring the early day alight.

 Jun 2015 karlotti
OVC
Redhead
 Jun 2015 karlotti
OVC

The girl that I like is young, quite petite, I might add
Bluish-greenish turquoise eyes, like the forest and the sea combined
Her voice, a sweet, gentle overtone; the ocean, calm waves that reach ashore
The breeze, blows the forest trees; a rustle, soothing to the human ears
Her skin that luminesces; the white sands of the Riviera Maya
Here and there, little sprinkles of darker sand on her pretty face
Her natural dark, red hair, as fiery as the midday sun,
And her lips a vibrant red, that melt you in the summer days,
So warm and cozy as the winter rays.


Not sure about that last line, but here you go. Hope you like it.
Cheers.
 Jun 2015 karlotti
OVC
A guy says to a girl:
So you're the reason global warming is occurring...

The girl looks confused: What, why?

Guys says: Because you're so **** hot, that's why.
Not really a poem, just something random I thought about the other day.
With blood shot eyes.
He watches her sleeping.
Tears not falling.

Crashing around him.
The music plays.
The drums pounding.

The voice seducing.
The guitar waling.
It's like your hypnotized.

Getting closer.
And closer.
And closer.

To the amazing sound of his voice.
Opens the door.
There he is.

So mesmerizing.
Don't look back.
Don't look away.
For he's there to steal you.

His arm around your waist.
His breath against your neck.
The chills that fill you.

His voice luring.
As you softly kiss his lips.
Your now under his control.
She couldn't be a mortal, just simply born;
but truly a goddess, ignited, free from form.
-
The day the ground met with her delicate toes
was the night the stars aligned in symmetrical rows.
-
In dream, she dances and glides upon air.
Awake, she braids comets in the threads of her hair.
-
My greetings seem hollowed, I am drifting afloat.
The language of fondness is a lump in my throat.
-
Her outline is gleaming with a soft, vermilion luster.
Her eyes, subtle jasper, urges your core not to trust her.
-
Not a staza, nor an epic can contain flawless grace,
or the yearning I feel when we are sharing this space.
tlp
this is for those without the words to describe
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