This poem was written to describe/honor a boat-shaped wooden sculpture on which a town was built.
Here’s humanity chucked on that tub
Figure the fuss in the ship’s hold
Roaming ‘round the deck, helm is hell for holding
How come that outland ship ain’t capsizing?
They ****** up their toll of ****** *****
Thrown out, left behind, they’re coping with that schism
Roving ‘round Ocean blue between two small isthmus
Grinning like they used to ain’t gonna be easy fun.
Here’s humanity beating it to starboard
If they had behaved themselves, possibly
God almighty wouldn’t have batted an eye
Zealous lots in exile on that ****** city-boat
They built up walls ‘gainst their bitter heartbreaks
Alleys, their homes and even small gardens
On a boat! Oh my, isn’t that tub gonna sink?
The wind-facing prow is a freakin’ chimera!
Such a craft is like a merry-go-round
You feelin’ sea-sick ? Looks like a hiccup!
It’s not rocket science, maybe a bit pitchin’
Here’s these talented convicts’ last resort!
Translated from the original version in French, July 19, 2018, Oullins. Appoline
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 7:46 AM UTC
This poem was written to describe/honor a boat-shaped wooden sculpture on which a town was built.
Here’s humanity chucked on that tub
Figure the fuss in the ship’s hold
Roaming ‘round the deck, helm is hell for holding
How come that outland ship ain’t capsizing?
They ****** up their toll of ****** *****
Thrown out, left behind, they’re coping with that schism
Roving ‘round Ocean blue between two small isthmus
Grinning like they used to ain’t gonna be easy fun.
Here’s humanity beating it to starboard
If they had behaved themselves, possibly
God almighty wouldn’t have batted an eye
Zealous lots in exile on that ****** city-boat
They built up walls ‘gainst their bitter heartbreaks
Alleys, their homes and even small gardens
On a boat! Oh my, isn’t that tub gonna sink?
The wind-facing prow is a freakin’ chimera!
Such a craft is like a merry-go-round
You feelin’ sea-sick ? Looks like a hiccup!
It’s not rocket science, maybe a bit pitchin’
Here’s these talented convicts’ last resort!
Translated from the original version in French, July 19, 2018, Oullins. Appoline
Slang was originally written in French. I'll post the latter here for y'all: La compagnie des mat’lots ivres
V’la qu’l’humanité est flanquée sur ce rafiot
J’te dis pas l’ ramdam dans la cave des mat’lots
Ils errent sur le pont, à la barre c’est galère
Comment n’pas faire chavirer ce monde hors-terre ?
Ils en ont ramassé, des sacrés culs d’bouteilles
Chassés, amarres larguées, ils survivent au schisme
Ils errent sur la grand’ bleue entre deux pauvres isthmes
Pour retrouver l’sourire, c’est pas demain la veille.
V’la l’humanité qui fout l’camp à tribord
S’ils s’étaient comportés mieux, comme ça, de prime abord
L’bon Dieu là-haut, n’aurait pas remué l’moindre cil
Forcenés en exil sur un satané bateau-ville !
Ils ont construit des murs contre leurs chagrins amers
Des ruelles, leurs maisons menues et même des jardinets !
Sur un bateau, ma foi ! Ne va-t-il pas couler ?
La proue arbore, face au vent, une figure de chimère !
Cette embarcation-là, c’est comme un tourniquet
T’as pas le pied marin, t’aurais pas le hoquet ?
C’est pas la mer à boire, ça tangue juste un peu
V’la le dernier rempart d’ces bagnards talentueux.
Appoline, 18 Juillet 2018, Oullins
