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Sew doudou pyé piman an mwen.
Sew doudou mèt kann a piman zwazo
Sew ki ka fè bonda manjak
Konsidiré I miel
Sew doudou piman miz an mwen
Sew ki ka soulajé ko mwen
Sew ki ka fè mwen lévé
Sew ki ka fè mwen soukwé soukwé adanw
Kolé séré
Sew ki ka fè mwen briyé kon letwal a lorian
O pipirit chantan
Man enmé bektew telman
Si ou té sav ki jan man enmé bektew
Man enmé bektew kon foufou
Man enmé voré asiw kon rakoun agoulou granfal
Piman miz an mwen
Pyé piman miz an mwen
Pyé la sa ka toujou poté
Piman aw ni mowdan kon pins a krab
Ban mwen on bon moso piman aw Pou nou mangé kon granmoun kalalu an nou doudou.
Piman aw woz woz woz doudou
Piman aw wouj wouj wouj
Piman aw nwè nwè nwè
Piman aw cho cho cho
Piman aw ka brenné
Piman miz aw ka chofé tout ko an mwen doudou
Ki sa ou mèté adan i pou I ka pike mwen konsa
On bon to piman doudou
I bon you bonnman doudou
I ni on ti gou mirtiy
Man pa Jin manje piman konsa doudou
Metey adan flakon
Pou mwen te parfumé mwen
Metey adan zakra jiwomon doudou
Pou man pe chofe ko mwen doudou
Piman miz
Piman miz
Se on ras piman ki telman Bon
Se on kalite piman
Ki ka dérayé moun ki pa save koman kuiziney
Piman miz piman miz
En Nou dansé doudou
On bel bolewo épi piman la sa ki ka voyé mizik asi nou doudou
Lawrence Hall Aug 2019
You can’t be serious all of the time
Because there are bellowing tyrants around
Who bully and demand, who preach and screech
Whose arguments are threats and censorship

Recusancy is their worst enemy
A casual indifference to their demands
A refusal to wear their branded livery
And clenching one’s fist around only

A brush
A pen
A wrench
A book
A thought
A hope

If all you do is to react, they win -
You can’t be serious all of the time
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is: Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com

It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  THE ROAD TO MAGDALENA, PALEO-HIPPIES AT WORK AND PLAY, LADY WITH A DEAD TURTLE, DON’T FORGET YOUR SHOES AND GRAPES, COFFEE AND A DEAD ALLIGATOR TO GO, and DISPATCHES FROM THE COLONIAL OFFICE.
Oh Glenda (Miz Gee gee)
     years elapsed since, I didst hawk
     verboten fruit adrip
from yar verdant bough,  
     thy strong craven raven
     doth still twitter and flip

sans thy testosterone switch,
     where woody pecker missus grip
ping re: egret ting prospective
     relationship nixed thee
     as gull friend material, hip
mistress, though heron eye did pay lip

     service verily orgasmically quip
yes...wren doer ring
     more'n commit Freudian slip
which peeping cardinal tip
     towing thru nested tulip trip

     gave balled oriole peck whip
ping lil *** pistol be
     friending chirping ***** riot
inserting thingmabob
     after pants sigh did un zip.
                            *  
Egg gad unlike rob bin duck cradle
yar mature red breast all aswirl
     asper a stationary dreidel
mammary ducts mine mouth pursed
     yar ******* mine gums did ladle.

Only in memory, aye
hungrily thirst and thirstily hunger
     fort deux aureole dye
still affecting this gab
     bird, who didst deign
     as milquetoast guy.

Whenever this birdman alone
his thoughts metaphorically drone
worm wayward toward
     ***** thatch, where

     hello kitty doth purr and groan
of quintessentially
     ***** coiled hair moan
ning softly as thee
     bared naked lady lies prone
admiring pinkish puckered
     def flesh tone.
Mike Hauser Jul 2013
First come up with a catchy title
One that will draw the crowds
Throw in a bit of Mojo
A little pizzazz, a lot of Wow

Give it a twinge of what people want
A slight tweak of what people need
That can stand on it's on, slap them square in the face
How about you call it FREE MONEY!

Now that you have the hardest of parts
Tightly locked in place
It's time to spin the ultimate rhyme
One that will blow them all away

Throw in a little love for all the ladies
One or two car chases for Dad
So as not to leave anyone out
Dinosaur's and bunny rabbits for the kids

Now take it and mix it together
Slightly shaken but never stirred
Till you have them eating out of your hands
Devouring your every word

This will keep them coming back for more
They will always be waiting in line
For your next junket through
The world of mysterious rhyme

I hope that this has been helpful
And in a way has enlightened you
Now go out there Mr.and Miz Poet
There's a line outside waiting for you
Olivia Kent Mar 2014
A speechless hill enthused with history, stands tall.
Breathtaking,gracing the skyline of Winchester.
From the morning train, I see Lady Catherine in all her glory.
A toupee of trees on the top, discard leaf litter, as it tumbles.
Body of  plague victims interred deep in the hill.
An iron-age hill fort, a barrow minus wheels.
Teeming.
This hill’s alive with wildlife.
Steeped with history.
Stagger to the top of the beautiful beast, peep at the miz maze, a weird design.
Rest awhile, realise how beautiful it is.
Let peace be the only thing up there, to come and invade your space.
Well worth the climb, now to get down;  she's not far off perpendicular.
Gratefully wander down the man-made rickety steps.
Touch base, look up, further survey the climb you just made.
Relish those charms of St Catherine.
OLIVIA 2014
Saint Catherine's Hill is an iron age hill fort.  I go past it every morning on my way to work.
I walked up it once, but it is so steep, so I'm not in a hurry to do it again!
neth jones Aug 2019
[Young Male Voice....inebriated, perhaps]
Slit of the tongue Frush guppy !
I sped to you today
So-nah
To treat you to a working meal and...
You’re not there !
You remained a way yonder
Sense-able to my.... me
but too.... mirage n’ fragrant for any talk
this side of miz..mizcomunication
Stay thus sway !
I’ve decided
Is decried
Please...and I’ll love you
as just what I can imagine you to be
...uh..so, yeah...see you tomorrow maybe
Agunda! AGUNGDA !
- voice out man
Lawrence Hall Jan 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                               For the 20th of January
                                      1961 and 2021


                 The deed of gift was many deeds of war

                                         -Robert Frost

Miz Hawkins brought a television to school
So we could watch the inauguration
Of a president “born in this century”
But he seemed really old to us anyway

God looked like President Eisenhower
And God was surely a Methodist
President Kennedy was a Cath’lic
(In their basements they hid shortwaves and guns)

Shortwaves tuned to the Vatican and that ol’ Pope
So could a Cath’lic be a good American?
But the nation was young, and so were we
And America was God’s best creation

And because America was the Leader of the World
And we had whipped the Nazis and the **** [sic]
All by ourselves, and invented the Bomb
We were the blessing of democracy over all

Robert Frost spoke grand words in the January frost
I was hoping for his “Stopping by Woods”
Because I had memorized that in school
But he gave us something else, “The Gift Outright”

And then with frosted breath the President
Asked us what we could do for our country
Our country later asked us about Viet-Nam
But for now Miz Hawkins shushed all us deeds of gift

The nation was young that day, and so were we –

And everything seems so much older now
Our long ago optimism a deed of gift
To angry old men whose voices rattle

Rattle from behind armored glass and barbed wire
Barbed wire left over from DaNang and Saigon
And a thousand abandoned desert posts
Each a gift outright to Ozymandias

Who late bestrode the littered Capitol steps
His wrinkled lips loud-yelping in command
Over our increasingly antique land
“Made it, Ma! Top of the World!”

The happy crowds of ’61 are sand
There are no crowds in ’21, only silence
Behind ranks of soldiers (properly vetted)
Standing in empty streets, waiting for a Traveller

References:

Robert Frost, “The Gift Outright”
Shelley, “Ozymandias”
Warner Brothers, White Heat (film), 1949
A poem is itself.
Lawrence Hall Aug 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

The Lone Ranger Masks Again

When I was a boy I wore my Lone Ranger mask
I even wore my Lone Ranger mask to school
Where mean ol’ Miz Griggs made me take it off
But now I may (as opposed to “can”) wear my mask

Indeed, I must wear a mask, and so, ha!
Ya can’t make me take it off now, Miz Griggs!
I can wear my Lone Ranger mask, so boo-hoo!
Me and the Lone Ranger, we ride again!

Only…the problem is…I’m not in school

Rats
I miss the afternoon nap, too.
Lawrence Hall Feb 2017
A Small Boy to His Pencil

O, Ticonderoga, my magic wand –
I wave you, and I am an engineer
Speeding a silver passenger train
From Texas to California, and back

I wave you once again; I am Robin Hood
Drawing my bow against a bishop fat:
“I invite you, Your Grace, to a great feast
in Sherwood Forest, at your own expense!”

I wave you yet again - and Old Miz Grouch
Fusses at me: “Do your sums! And don’t slouch!”
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I'm gettin' older, too

lyric from “Landslide” by Stevie Nicks

<>
climbing stairs, balancing two breakfasts,
two fill-to-brim-rims warning sloshing,
earbuds in place, always,
lest the news
interrupts and plunges me first thing into
moody murderous disheartened failure,
and Miz Minx Nicks lays me low

this lyric knocks me to rock,
there and then,
consequences be ******, the unstoppable
lyric rocks grinding me to an
immovable halt,
all spills,
don’t care, for the need to scream-
bleed-finally
write to understand why these
a l w a y s words arrest my soul

children
the most costly thing anyone can
create,
the lost, the found
the ones in the grave way too early,
and the ones who were born
knowing better,

children
whose inviolable sense of
totally righteousness
makes forgiveness
disabled, disallowed
for the poor clueless fools
them who naively know~nothings
who chose to raise them

here I am not getting,
no, unsteadily unreadily
too late
am older,
up-to the shaking-head age
so unexpected,
almost ridiculous
untimely unthinkable
‘cept for:

it’s an impossiblity ~
and just
don’t understand this injustice
perpetrated upon this
unsuspecting and in denial,
sorrowful old man


so I weep
on the steps so steep,
Woman comes to see if I'm
fallen,
my wailing at the realization of
my losses all
totally tallied
is heavy much more than
my now empty hands,
but busy them,
attempting to staunch the
flowing
overwhelming regrets that
gush from every pore,
and that no one can
ever be cleansed,
and the permance of
stains

for I am only
getting older too
killing me
way too slowly
Lawrence Hall Oct 2019
Are You Going...?

             Benedíc nos Dómine et haec Túa dóna quae de Túa
             largitáte súmus sumptúri. Per Chrístum Dóminum
             nóstrum. Ámen
.

Miz Busy with her homemade apple pies
Uncle Alfie lapsing into a snore
Young lads and lassies making goo-goo eyes
Miss Billie’s cookies (shhh…they’re from the store)

Children frolicking only with their ‘phones
Jolly old Ed basting burnt barbecue
An altar boy gorging until he groans
The teenagers’ gross game of choke and chew

Young marrieds getting into a squabble
Politics roaring like a thunderstorm
Bubba came drunk; he’s beginning to wobble
Tox ‘tater salad that’s gotten warm

Unidentifiable glop upon a stick –
No, I’m not going to the parish picnic
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is: Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com

It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  THE ROAD TO MAGDALENA, PALEO-HIPPIES AT WORK AND PLAY, LADY WITH A DEAD TURTLE, DON’T FORGET YOUR SHOES AND GRAPES, COFFEE AND A DEAD ALLIGATOR TO GO, and DISPATCHES FROM THE COLONIAL OFFICE.
Muzaffer May 2020
mümkün mü
unutmak
tebessümün davetkar çığlığını
itiraf etmeliyim ki
şiddetli yağan
yılların ardından bile
hala sıcak
ve aloe vera tazeliğinde
belimden beline boşalan
yağmur damlacıkları

eritsek
bitter tadında
güneşi ibraya çağırıp
sıcak
çikolata nefasetinde
bir kaşık sen
bir ben
yalayarak
gökteki siyah bulutları

banyo
aynasında mı
hala selfie'miz
hala
mavi miyim gözlerinde
perili köşk sen
parliament gece
ben

uzun
değil artık saçlarım
sezar yüzünden
alesia'ya
gitmem gerekti
getorix'e
örmek için kalın duvarlar
gözüm kara, sözüm har
patakladım
hergeleyi de
kapalıydı dudağından
dudağıma çıkan
bütün yollar

yaşlandım biraz ben
ya sen
hala fit misin
dağ, dere, ova
papatya mı
hala rengin

avuçlasam yüzünü
seviyo, sevmiyo
diye
nereye çıkar bahtımız
söylesene pirinç tanesi
söyle de
yeniden açsın
kal.. çiçeklerimiz

— The End —