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n jacob Sep 12
Ragged, flimsy, thin, spotted card.
Creased with the tales of time.

Jaws equipped for a blow,
Ears higher than the mouth, just as God placed them.

Face structured like stone,
On the narrow shoulders of a boy, we lean.

And of all the 'siła' endowed to our name,
The windows gently lead to the soul inside.

Carry, drag, and crawl.
But never let an utter of hardship leave thy chest.  

Like a ‘Schnadel’,
More gold surfaces, as time does what it does.


"Spread your wings as I have told you,
God bless you, I love you."

Love from 'Polska' is different than words,
More doing than talking, build a house like the birds.


Stay true to 'Wiara' like a true ****** would,
John Paul set example, follow, do good.

"Fight like you’re dying, please lose the sad frown,
‘cause you can’t let the ******* get you down."

What a name you uphold,
Humble pride that is shown,
And like a good yellowhammer,
'Papcio' always returns home.
A poem written upon seeing an old photo of my Polish dad as a young child. Our last name, Trznadel, translates directly to 'yellowhammer' in Polish, which is a bird that gets more gold feathers as it ages.

siła-strength. Wiara- faith Papcio-papa
Peter Jan 3
A
Being
Is here
To get you
But it’s not so
Simple to get you
Huh? Everyone thinks
Its so easy to get someone
But it is much harder than it
Seems really. Have you ever tried
To get someone, and it turned out to
Be the most difficult task you have ever
Created for yourself? I am sitting here in this
Empty room listening to music doing completely
Nothing and if so only pointless things like writing
Poem even tho i have never wrote a poem before. It
Just hit me to write one and im just letting my brain go and
Spit these words like guitar releases its cords. Right now the flow
Is pretty slow, because the music slowed down. Now we are searching
For the right words to use, and when the chorus comes, our brain gets hit
By some strange feeling that it can create whole universes in just a few seconds.
Chorus has ended again and my brain is a flop. Why is it a flop even tho nothing has
Really changed only sounds that i hear changed. Why my brain is connected to these
Sounds with such strength? Why can’t i escape these sounds, they are all the time with
Me. Help me. Help me find help. I need help. I know that i need help. I don’t know where
To seek help.

Why this poem looks so strange? i want
My poem to look different.
                  Chaotic.
but this isn’t strange
it’s just different help me find help. i need help i need help please help me why is it so hard to be alive to be human to be a living thing i don’t wanna die but i don’t wanna live is it a curse or a gift life is not precious life is terrible only from time to time is worth living but still look at the cancers of the world all the terrorism all the sick people all the cataclisms   i hate life i hate world i hate living



why can noone help me please
help
me
      .
oh well music changed looks like i am happy again but only for few minutes.
                    unfortunately.
Peter Jan 3
Everything can look
      like a poem
  The only thing
       you need
  is to put enough
   ******* spacebars
  to make it look
         like
                 one

— The End —