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Yael
Yael Zivan
I know not my purpose, I know not my goal but this is the song of the many sided soul

Poems

Hira  Feb 2015
Tm mere ho
Hira Feb 2015
Aj brri shiddat se toot k yad aya hae wo
chaha b to toot k tha main nay usay
wo pehli mulaqat..
mje acha lga tha wo
usko b shaed!
lgi achi thee main
wo b khamosh tha..
chup to main b thee..
uski ankhun nay kaha kch
suna main nay b tha buhat kch
suno!!
main tmen kch kahun!
mje tm say muhabbat hai
kash! mje tm mil he jao kbi
arzu to ye he hai abi
buhat khamosh muhabbat krti hn tmen
tm mere pas ajao na!
tm he say to kehna hae..
tm he say sb kehna hae
mje tm say muhabbat hae
sirf tm say muhabbat hae
aur yae b jan lo..
aur tm maan lo..
tm sirf..  mere **
Sirf mere **...
Dara Brown Dec 2014
my friend al
calls me every night
midnight to be exact
with invites to the maryland club,
you know the one, near hudsons bay
where johnny walkers always playing that old drum?

come he says
& we can dance with martini & rossi
baila baila on table tops
while jose cuervo
plays his cuban guitar.

aye yae yae mami,
venga, venga!
come
let me show you the comforts
of southern hospitality

it will only cost you one silver dollar

i try to say no
absolutely not

cause the last time i danced with al
i found myself lying in the arms of ron bacardi
at the old kentuky tavern down by the green river
ooh, he was soo smooth talking
standing there dressed in his red label shoes
& when he told me i felt like black velvet,
handed me four roses
& tickled me with three feathers
i found myself with my
backside to the ground
& me looking up at nothin but skyy
& by the time i knew what was going on
we had done it 151 times
before jack daniels caught us
behind mr. boston's house
& when he swore
he’d tell my old grand dad
i was so scared,
i stole the white horse
that belonged to capitan morgan
just to get away.

lord knows to this day
if he knew
he’d slap me silly, take me to church
& swear the christian brothers
could save my soul.

no, i wanna say
absolutely not

but its too late

i’m already at the canadian club
where my soul is being ******
by the fat *******
filling my glass
with crushed grapes.
Marshal Gebbie Feb 2013
Balanced on the cusp of reason
Teetering in rationale,
Gyroscopic permutations
Take the leap or stay and snarl.

Reason fights with high confusion
Torn between the yae and nay,
Gyroscopic permutations
Pack the case and leave or stay.

Screaming taunts in ragged order
Torment in saliva mist,
Gyroscopic permutations
Cut the throat or slit the wrist.

Standing on the lonely cliff top
Way below the surging tide
Gyroscopic permutations
Take the leap or run and hide.

Balanced on the cusp of reason
Teetering on right or wrong,
Gyroscopic permutations
Join the dead or sing a song.

Walking up the baking highway
Soaking up the streaming sun
Gyroscopic permutations
Laugh or cry... today I won.*


Marshalg
Throwing the dice.
22 February 2013

© 2013 Marshal Gebbie