#cuckoo
PSYCHOTIC,
INSANE,
DERANGED,
and UNSTABLE,
DELUSIONS,
CONFUSION,
WACKO,
and, A ******
A NUTJOB, and CUCKOO,
WHEN YOU ARE
SO FEARFUL,
AFRAID OF WHAT IS NOT,
GOT US HEARING AN EARFUL,
you thought you
saw something,
cos
OF YOUR OWN THOUGHTS,
seeing SPOOKS, and THE UNNATURAL,
a LITTLE BIT OFF,
You are VERY UNHINGED,
HEARING VOICES IN YOUR HEAD,
up In your OWN MIND,
DON'T LET THE PARONIA WIN,
GET A GRIP, and TOUGH SKIN,
cos
WHATEVER THEY SAY:
tell them
"NO!!!"
YOU'RE NOT REAL
and
GO FAR, FAR AWAY,
GET OUT OF MY CONSCIENCE,
YOU CAN NO LONGER STAY,
YOU ARE CREEPIN US OUT,
WITH SUCH A FIXED STARE
as if SOMETHING is INVISIBLE
STANDING RIGHT THERE,
YOU'RE IN SUCH A FRANTIC,
You are SERIOUSLY LOSING IT,
Having us in a panic,
COS,
of your
SCHIZOPHRENIC,
but that's OK,
Help is on the way,
JUST BE SURE TO TELL THOSE
PSYCHOPATHS
TO STAY FAR AWAY!!!!!
B.R.
Date: 9/26/2025
Sep 26, 2025
Sep 26, 2025 at 8:55 PM UTC
So untamed, it
Blows
So surged, it
Howls
So wrapped, it
Unfurls
There swirls thee stumbled
Here narrows the gate of nestle
Drizzles are drown
too subtle to afloat,
Stormy navy sky's gone
too distant from home.
Only yearned Thatness.
The grounded drop took a leap
into the sky soars the azure
into the sunray flows the torrid
As the rain not yet make its curtain call,
is the next symphony coming?
Summer sundown sinks me in subtle
Here I heard a cuckoo
Sep 26, 2025
Sep 26, 2025 at 12:43 PM UTC
My butt's wet
With buttsweat,
My *******
With nutsweat.
I bust ***
With swamp ***
That bubbles
With swamp gas.
The cuckoo's
A-singin';
The bees are
A-stingin;
The thunders
A-drummin;
The sumers
Icumen.
May 29, 2025
May 29, 2025 at 1:31 AM UTC
The cuckoo's whisper in this sweet evening
Is more lovelier than love has been
Throughout eve she keeps on whispering
For somebody, whom she has never seen
The vesper is on and fervent Angels sings
They lift up their choir to heavenly height
Amid, this sweet whisper, the cuckoo brings
And make this place and time a holy rite
Such peace, tranquility and harmony
Was felt all over and around the place
And nobody would be with agony
For everybody was blessed with grace
Yet I sit here alone with mournful lips
And ponder about the past with a grief
For l, doomed like Odysseus and his ships
Cry like a newborn baby in the eves
Her mortal vestige is in grave and oh
It has been years and years, since she has been
But still today I can hear and can know
She is here always, though she can't be seen
Mar 19, 2024
Mar 19, 2024 at 2:10 PM UTC
Sumer is icumen in
anonymous Middle English poem, circa 1260 AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Summer is a-comin’!
Sing loud, cuckoo!
The seed grows,
The meadow blows,
The woods spring up anew.
Sing, cuckoo!
The ewe bleats for her lamb;
The cows contentedly moo;
The bullock roots,
The billy-goat poots ...
Sing merrily, cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo,
You sing so well, cuckoo!
Never stop, until you're through!
Sing now cuckoo! Sing, cuckoo!
Sing, cuckoo! Sing now cuckoo!
*********
Keywords/Tags: Middle English, medieval, reading, rota, round, partsong, summer, cuckoo, sing, cuckold, seed, meadow, woods, ewe, lamb, cows, bullock, goat, billy-goat, poot, **** pass gas, never stop
These notes were taken from the poem's Wikipedia page ...
"Sumer Is Icumen In" (also called the Summer Canon and the Cuckoo Song) is a medieval English round or rota of the mid-13th century. The title translates approximately to "Summer Has Come In" or "Summer Has Arrived". The song is composed in the Wessex dialect of Middle English. Although the composer's identity is unknown today, it may have been W. de Wycombe. The manuscript in which it is preserved was copied between 1261 and 1264. This rota is the oldest known musical composition featuring six-part polyphony. It is sometimes called the Reading Rota because the earliest known copy of the composition, a manuscript written in mensural notation, was found at Reading Abbey; it was probably not drafted there, however (Millett 2004). The British Library now retains this manuscript (Millett 2003a). A rota is a type of round, which in turn is a kind of partsong. To perform the round, one singer begins the song, and a second starts singing the beginning again just as the first got to the point marked with the red cross in the first figure below. The length between the start and the cross corresponds to the modern notion of a bar, and the main verse comprises six phrases spread over twelve such bars. In addition, there are two lines marked "Pes", two bars each, that are meant to be sung together repeatedly underneath the main verse. These instructions are included (in Latin) in the manuscript itself:
"Hanc rota cantare possum quatuor socii. A paucio/ribus autem quam a tribus uel saltem duobus non debet/ dici preter eos qui dicunt pedem. Canitur autem sic. Tacen/tibus ceteris unus inchoat *** hiis qui tenent pedem. Et *** uenerit/ ad primam notam post crucem, inchoat alius, et sic de ceteris./ Singuli de uero repausent ad pausacionis scriptas et/non alibi, spacio unius longe note."
(Four companions can sing this round. But it should not be sung by fewer than three, or at the very least, two in addition to those who sing the pes. This is how it is sung. While all the others are silent, one person begins at the same time as those who sing the ground. And when he comes to the first note after the cross [which marks the end of the first two bars], another singer is to begin, and thus for the others. Each shall observe the written rests for the space of one long note [triplet], but not elsewhere.)
The lyric may have been composed by W. de Wycombe, also identified as W de Wyc, Willelmus de Winchecumbe, Willelmo de Winchecumbe or William of Winchcomb. He appears to have been a secular scribe and precentor employed for about four years at the priory of Leominster in Herefordshire during the 1270s. He is also thought to have been a sub-deacon of the cathedral priory as listed in the Worcester Annals or possibly a monk at St Andrew's in Worcester. But it is not know if he composed the song, or merely preserved it by copying it.
Feb 28, 2020
Feb 28, 2020 at 4:37 AM UTC
Can I be the sun ray,
that brightens in many ways,
of the day that shines through,
all natural and ever glowing.
Can I be the cuckoo song,
that sets a tune without grammar,
of the lilting music to deaf ears,
all soothing and wonder inducing.
Can I be the thought,
that worships another thought,
of the superior one that I believe in,
all powerful and hope filling.
Can I be the rocky mountain,
that stands tall without emotion,
trapping the dark clouds in its arms,
ever calm and meaningfully inspiring.
Can I be the fancy mirror,
that shows my reflection without a bias,
keeping its judgment to itself,
so, I can answer finally, “who am I?”?
Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 6:00 PM UTC
When my sun is hidden, I must rely upon on my moon’s shine.
When my chakra is askew, I must realign.
Learning the things I already knew.
They flew over my head
cause I’m cuckoo.
Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 8:02 PM UTC
I am the cuckoo clock,
Precise,authentic,steadfast as a rock.
All day long,
Tick tock, tick tock goes my song.
Hung on the wall,
In the main hall,
Tick tock, tick tock, tick,
Not a wink,
My pendulum swings to and fro,
As I view people come and go.
On the dot of the hour,
My cuckoo slides in and out of the door,
Chirps a lovely cuckoo call,
Young and old in the hall,
They cheer all.
I am their cuckoo clock,
A piece of artistic work,
My master's pride,
The family's guide,
To their various routines,
For many many seasons I have been,
On their wall,
In the main hall.
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 10:35 AM UTC
Love
What's unsaid about it?
Still it's different
and unique for everyone.
Sometimes,for me its like
songs of cuckoo bird.
Sun that rose again in my life,
a green oasis in a desert,
The best part of my youth.
and sometimes,
i am a lone warrior in the battlefield,
searching for the enemy soul,
dont know where to find
and how to defeat!..
I am not afraid of break-ups or
passionate love.
since who knows,
what love has at store!
the equal amount of love back?
Happiness?
Atrocities?
or may be a surprise?
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 10:24 AM UTC
If I were a person stronger than myself
My insecurities would disappear
Would you hear worried absurd thoughts
If murmured into your ear?
You would be horrified to learn
The madness running my brain
If I was less crazy my head would be too
It's a shame that instead I am insane.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
In the audio recording you sent me
An hour of touching yourself
punishment for misbehavior
you giggle and cry at the same time
With a trembling whimper
It's too late now, for a confession.
We were never so honest, as our ***
Violent, passionate
suspending reality momentarily
Life's one true sin, objectification.
And now, you are a recording.
Your eye begging Me, The Cuckoo Bird
To Free you from your own fingers
like the cuckoo bird
My religion
Only gave me one hour
To howl, at passing time.
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 6:55 AM UTC
True love is:
A waxwing bird feeding
A cuckoo who was left in her nest
The starving cuckoo is pleading
The waxwing is doing her best.
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 1:59 PM UTC
O the flower sways,the flower sways!
Why does the gentle wind blow!
O the river picks up a sway!
O flows away with its 'gentle' noise!
O why does the cuckoo,in every garden
Kuhu, Kuhu,Kuhu, does it sing!
O why,who knows,for what?
O Haay!Haay! Does the heart?
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 7:48 AM UTC
Early morning
It was in the early morning, blackbird song and
long wet grass, shuffling through making trails in dew
In the early mornings of my life.
Something of magic in the sun slanting
through wet dripping branches,
pearls of water drops in spidery webs enchaining
blade to blade in the long wet grass.
It was in the early morning rising from warm sheets
when hearing that cuckoo summons from
far distant woods, calling , welcoming me forth
into the dewy day, doors unbolted, stepping from within
dark walls, shadowed kitchens, cold and stony floor.
Stepping forth and catching at my heart.
They were.
Sun’s rays, dewy grass, pearls of water drops.
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 6:48 AM UTC
a mystery is-
bound between one's birth and death;
yen to transcend it!
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 2:07 AM UTC
As dawn broke we warmed
the cuckoo started love songs
Almost romantic
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC
A cuckoo sings its first spring voice
The cider maker cracks his cork on this year’s choice
English apples presented from pre years press
Picked and selected to impress
Bottled and ready for drinkers wide and far
Vision distorting with every jar
From orchards up and down the land
Drinkers search the best in town
Scrumpy be the drinkers rot
Weak willed should try it not
A test once tasted of a brewers fare
An enjoyment discovered but just take care
For once you have past the half way mark
You’ll soon be singing and dancing with the larks
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 12:54 PM UTC
She cuckoos & swags across the heart
for stealing the breath off its beat,
I enjoy listening to her voices
whispering from somewhere outta Georgia street
*William Shakespeare did speak,
***"In delay there lies no plenty,----
Then come kiss me, sweety-n-twenty"***
So I do write,
***"Her devotional love makes the oceans restive,---
Even a breath of her ice crystals muse makes my heart festive"***
And, winds blow
Her love arrives to my way,
Waves starting to flow
in one-direction where there's no sun-ray*
With some caramel hues of her nocturnal love,
I inhale her throughout the night
Melancholy clouds burst out, though No Mistreat,
The echoes of rain start whispering around me,
&, along such a mist, she cuckoos & swags across the heart with naked feet.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 7:24 AM UTC