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Pockets Aug 2020
We are fish in an aquarium
Swimming all around
We live our lives in circles
Screaming to get out
We all are different colors
We all have different backgrounds
But this tank that we’re trapped in
Makes us all the same now

The manna that rains from heaven
Makes us fight like thieves
Some of us eat our children
Some of us starve in the street
The bigger fish are greedy
They never skip a meal
The little fish band together
And decide who they will ****

One day we will bite the hand that feeds us
When we get fed up with this life
We’re tired of being performers
For the master’s prying eye
We would rather starve than go on living  
this kind of lie
That if we keep on swimming
Then everything will be alright
raquezha Aug 2020
Arog palan kaini an pagmati
Kan magtrabaho para sa sadiri
Mamata nin amay
Maayos nin gamit
Malutong pamahawan
Makarigos nin dali-dali
Sasanglian an murusdot na lalawgon
Late ka nanaman
Mayo nanaman kayang sakayan
Diyan sa may kanto

Arog palan kaini an pagmati
Kan mawaraan trabaho
Aro-aldaw ginigibo ko an gabos
Buong púsò kong tinatatao
An kusog asin hawak ko
Mayòng pinapalampas na oras
Aro-aldaw na paulit-ulit
Puon sa pagmata nin amay
Hanggang sa pag-ulî nin banggi

Pero tanò arog kaini?
Mayong nakakaintindi?
Hain na an úgay?
An pagmakulog?
Tanò puro pansadiri?

Mayò na bagang nangyayari
Kamong mga nakatukaw
Halangkawon man an harigi
Daí na nindo nahihiling an kasakitan
Kan mga uripon sa palibot nindo

Arog palan kaini an pagmati
Kan dai magkakan nin sarong aldaw,
Duwang aldaw asin sa ika-tulong aldáw
Daí ko na aram kun ano an totoo
Kun nabubuhay an tao para magtrabaho
O nagtatrabaho an tao para mabuhay
1. Urípon; servant, slave (in historical reference)
2. https://www.instagram.com/p/CDl9XF6Hopv/
Dinesh Padisetti Jul 2020
We all want it
But we haven't got any
Having it makes you free
Or else you're a slave to society

If you have some
You can go around the world
If you have a lot
The world goes around you

What good are you,
O'penniless pauper
In a society full of money
And devoid of love
How pleasant is to have money heigh **!
              -- Arthur Hugh Clough
kiran goswami May 2020
They tell me to stick to my roots
because roots lead up to shoots.
They tell me to stick to my origin
unaware of how it acts as a prison,
My roots are Draupadi's hair that was twisted and lugged,
my roots are Panchali's saree that was tugged.
My roots are Sita's wrist Ravana wrested,
my roots are where Ahalya's chastity rested.
My roots are parasites that eat up its own herb and ****,
my roots are rat snakes that eat up its own tissue and meat.
My roots are flames of fire that created and watered the plant of Sati,
my roots are pools of blood and long ropes that drowned and hanged LaxmiBai and Moolmati.
My roots are the dish misogyny flavoured with patriarchy,
my roots are naked streams of Ganga washing off their lynching and anarchy.
My roots are all the poison Shiva drank during the churning of the sea,
my roots are Dhritrashtra's aspirations and ambiguity.
My roots are its own herbivore,
my roots are the lava that burns its own floor.
And my roots are my flesh and bone,
so I am stitched to my roots altogether, all alone.
So as I cut my own roots, my roots chop me,
hence I stick to my roots while my roots remain free.
Somewhatdamaged May 2020
The perfect little life
Glowing Skin
Rad Car
Shiny Teeth
Forever Happy Life!
Is it real or just fantasy?
Is it true or you just showing off?

The flawless talents you claim to have
In your virtual reality
Rising from social media industry
You sure you're nothing but a slave?
Slave to self created lies and misery...

With all this artificial manufacturing
Even the modern music sounds so boring.
The love for auto-tuned vocals and beats
I find it full of ****!
Nothing comes natural
Nothing's raw anymore
Cause everyone seems to forget
Mistakes make the better tune
Not just in music but in life too.

Now
Everything needs to be comfortable
Everything needs to be fast
All of us have become so impatient
This obscure routine seems reliable
Bound to the super computer in our palms
Rotating through 3 apps whole day
All we do is rage and moan.

My perfect little dream
Collapsing in front of my eyes
and refusing to do anything
but become a digital world zombie...
You Us Me-Zombies
Asominate May 2020
Who needs emotions when there are people to please?
Who needs doctors when you’re the source of the disease?
Who needs human functions to live when you’re deceased?
Who needs love when it’s certain you deserve to bleed?
Who needs?
Afterall, who needs? Certainly not I!
Ylzm Apr 2020
My life's in your hands
You believe what you will
choosing freedom and riches
Your hands not mine to wash

My life's in your hands
Born as servant, sold as slave
Gifted prisoner, unseen, unknown
My life not mine to choose
Ayodeji Oje Apr 2020
On a rickety table
With battles of syllables
There was a scramble
Where cradle turns rumble

Wants insa-ti-able
Yet we're able
Able to disable
Every evil cable

Enough of this national gamble
The people are in shambles
With trailers of grumbles
For mountains of fumbles
May we not utterly stumble
For the flow stinks like a stable
This is a reflection of a country operating like a banana republic.
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Martial "Erotion" translations

Epitaph for the Child Erotion
by Marcus Valerius Martial
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Lie lightly on her, grass and dew ...
So little weight she placed on you.

I created this translation after the Nashville Covenant school shooting and dedicated it to the victims of the massacre.

Erotion (I)
by Martial
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

To you, my departed parents, dear mother and father,
I commend my little lost angel, Erotion, love’s daughter.
who died six days short of completing her sixth frigid winter.
Protect her now, I pray, should the chilling dark shades appear;
muzzle hell’s three-headed hound, less her heart be dismayed!
Lead her to romp in some sunny Elysian glade,
her devoted patrons. Watch her play childish games
as she excitedly babbles and lisps my name.
Let no hard turf smother her softening bones; and do
rest lightly upon her, earth, she was surely no burden to you!

Erotion (II)
by Martial
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

To you, my departed parents, with much emotion,
I commend my little lost darling, my much-kissed Erotion,
who died six days short of completing her sixth bitter winter.
Protect her, I pray, from hell’s hound and its dark shades a-flitter;
and please don’t let fiends leave her maiden heart dismayed!
But lead her to romp in some happy Elysian glade
with her cherished friends, excitedly lispingly my name.
Let no hard turf smother her softening bones; and do
rest lightly upon her, earth, she was such a slight burden to you!
—Martial, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

NOTES: Martial wrote this touching elegy for a little slave girl, Erotion, who died six days before her sixth birthday. The poem has been nominated as Martial’s masterpiece by L. J. Lloyd and others. Erotion means “little love” and may correspond to our term “love child.” It has been suggested that Erotion may have been Martial’s child by a female slave. That could explain why Martial is asking  his parents’ spirits to welcome, guide and watch over  spirit. Martial uses the terms patronos (patrons) and commendo (commend); in Rome a freed slave would be commended to a patron. A girl freed from slavery by death might need patrons as protectors on the “other side,” according to Greek and Roman views of the afterlife, where the afterworld houses evil shades and is guarded by a monstrous three-headed dog, Cerberus. Martial is apparently asking his parents to guide the girl’s spirit away from Cerberus and the dark spirits to the heavenly Elysian fields where she can play and laugh without fear. If I am correct, Martial’s poem is not just an elegy, but a prayer-poem for protection, perhaps of his own daughter. Albert A. Bell supports this hypothesis with the following arguments: (1) Martial had Erotion cremated, a practice preferred by the upper classes, (2) “he buried her with the full rites befitting the child of a Roman citizen,” (3) he entrusted her [poetically] to his parents, and (4) he maintained her grave for years.

Keywords/Tags: Martial, translation, Latin, Erotion, daughter, slave, six years old, turf, bones, earth, burden, patrons, shades



Coq au vin
by Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

1.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but are you merely an éclair to the greedy?

2.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but are you **** Amaro to the greedy?

Amaro is an after-dinner liqueur thought to aid the digestion after a large meal.

3.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but are you an aperitif to the greedy?

4.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but they’re pimps to the seedy.

Ad cenam invitant omnes te, Phoebe, cinaedi.
mentula quem pascit, non, ****, purus **** est.

These are my modern English translations of Latin poems by the English monk Gildas. Gildas, also known as Gildas Sapiens (“Gildas the Wise”), was a 6th-century British monk who is one of the first native writers of the British Isles we know by name. Gildas is remembered for his scathing religious polemic De Excidio et Conquestu Britanniae (“On the Ruin and Conquest of Britain” or simply “On the Ruin of Britain”). The work has been dated to circa 480-550 AD.

“Alas! The nature of my complaint is the widespread destruction of all that was good, followed by the wild proliferation of evil throughout the land. Normally, I would grieve with my motherland in her travail and rejoice in her revival. But for now I restrict myself to relating the sins of an indolent and slothful race, rather than the feats of heroes. For ten years I kept my silence, I confess, with much mental anguish, guilt and remorse, while I debated these things within myself...” — Gildas, The Ruin of Britain, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Gildas is also remembered for his “Lorica” (“Breastplate”):

“The Lorica of Loding” from the Book of Cerne
by Gildas
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Trinity in Unity, shield and preserve me!
Unity in Trinity, have mercy on me!

Preserve me, I pray, from all dangers:
dangers which threaten to overwhelm me
like surging sea waves;
neither let mortality
nor worldly vanity
sweep me away from the safe harbor of Your embrace!

Furthermore, I respectfully request:
send the exalted, mighty hosts of heaven!
Let them not abandon me
to be destroyed by my enemies,
but let them defend me always
with their mighty shields and bucklers.

Allow Your heavenly host
to advance before me:
Cherubim and Seraphim by the thousands,
led by the Archangels Michael and Gabriel!

Send, I implore, these living thrones,
these principalities, powers and Angels,
so that I may remain strong,
defended against the deluge of enemies
in life’s endless battles!

May Christ, whose righteous Visage frightens away foul throngs,
remain with me in a powerful covenant!

May God the Unconquerable Guardian
defend me on every side with His power!

Free my manacled limbs,
cover them with Your shielding grace,
leaving heaven-hurled demons helpless to hurt me,
to pierce me with their devious darts!

Lord Jesus Christ, be my sure armor, I pray!

Cover me, O God, with Your impenetrable breastplate!

Cover me so that, from head to toe,
no member is exposed, within or without;
so that life is not exorcized from my body
by plague, by fever, by weakness, or by suffering.

Until, with the gift of old age granted by God,
I depart this flesh, free from the stain of sin,
free to fly to those heavenly heights,
where, by the grace of God, I am borne in joy
into the cool retreats of His heavenly kingdom!

Amen
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