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 Jun 2015 Louis Brown
louis rams
wee willie escaped from his jockey strap , and say s he ain't going back
he said it was too cramped and crammy , and always fighting bill and sammy.
they feel they are the ***** of the party, because they are filled and hearty.but they forget that they are below willie and attatched
to all that he says and does , even the ***** raises a fuzz.
now he's at attention once again and say s his head will never bend.
he says that he was tired and limp , but he'll show them he;s no wimp.
he won't let any women bad mouth him and put him down
because of the solution he has found.
tighten the rubber at the base of his neck
and he'll stay at attention if you want to check.
(C) L . RAMS 061815
"because those who worship weakness should never be surprised they serve those who do not."
Outside of poetry
I would still be living a life
lightened and carefree
merrily chatting with wife.

I would let a poem rise in my head
throw to wind and see it dead
return to sky all breath of pain
watch them fall as joyous rain.

I would darken the screen let it sleep
burn the poems with none to keep
retire to the nook not been for long
brush up the web on a dusty song.

To be away from poetry I would strive
sail on the river go on long drive
snuggle tighter to a fathomless space
outside of poetry discover happiness.
when torn clouds bared blue holes
the river brimmed with ecstasy.

it had rained the whole day
and she was bursting in seams
to tell her side of the story
from the many
upon her shore's mangrove.

how the tiger guards her treasures,
prawns and ***** and honeys and woods,

pounces from the saline thickness of the mist
when dream of life is heavy on the gatherer
and smell of death far gone forgotten

rips the flesh cracks the skull open
flows the blood as silent night
carries the trophy for a bony rest
till devoured by her floodwater.

the river knows it too well

the tiger is her lover and loyal sentinel.
The Sunderban tigers prey upon the fishermen, crab catchers, woodcutters, and honey gatherers who venture into their territory, more often illegally, driven by the lure of the wealth in the river and on her shores.
 Jun 2015 Louis Brown
Helen
that's the
question
asked of
a time or
two, while
sipping from
a glass poured
for me  and you
what's at the end
of the bottle or of
the glass? I  do not
know and it seems
rude to ask. I hope
we don't drink  to
glass breaking in
reality, or try to
see the truth of
you, and me
 Jun 2015 Louis Brown
irinia
smaller than the table, smaller than the chair,
smaller than my father’s big boots.
like a potato, that is how small I dreamt myself.
because in spring, they put the potatoes
in the ground and that was it,
till autumn they were not disturbed any more.

I dreamt myself in the planting pocket, among them,
sleeping sweetly in the darkness,
turning on either side in summer
and then falling asleep again.

and to wake up in autumn still sleepless
and unclean like my brothers
and when it is time to dig us up, to jump above
and yell: stop digging, stop digging,
for I shall willingly come home,
if you put me back in spring,
and in spring I am the first one
to be thrown back in the planting pocket
and so on, to always stay and sleep,
from the planting pocket to the basement and from the basement to the planting pocket,
for many years, deeply asleep and forgotten.

Ioan Es. Pop
translated by Beatrice Ahmad
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