"albanian" poems
Remember, The Olympics
Not for Politics, but sport
Leaders of so many countries
Choose to use this to distort
The reason all are gathered
To present their efforts best
Not just for Queen or Country
But to continue with their quest
To achieve a brand new standard
A true Olympian at heart
It's time for the worlds people
To come together, do their part
We all cheer for our countries
But we should put them on the shelves
For the next two weeks in London
Cheer on the athletes, themselves
Today I am Canadian
Tomorrow maybe, Dutch
American and English
And French...well not so much
Albanian, Croatian
Serbian as well
I will cheer all the worlds athletes
And I will be the first one who will yell
When a record does get broken
Or a personal best is set
If a time gets smashed in swimming
Or a ball goes in the net
My country is my favourite
But, whichever flag's unfurled
For the next two weeks in London
I am a citizen of the world
I will sit here on my sofa
Acting like I'm on the bench
and I'll cheer on all the athletes
But...I won't cheer for the French!!
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 8:04 AM UTC
Ever had the feeling of being trapped in a glass box
with the air slowly running out, with every breath?
In sun, rain, snow and storm, the box gets dark or warm
but what you can do always remains the same.
Have you just simply wanted to walk away or break free?
To travel the world taming Lion cubs and petting great white sharks?
To wake up to a sunrise in a Dutch farm and watch it set over the Mediterranean sea?
To teach children in Thailand or India?
To salsa on the streets of Mexico or be blinded by the lights in Dubai?
Have you ever wanted to be border-less?
To not be punished for being born in a country
where the sun is hot and people are poor?
Have you ever just wanted to work, get a place, pay taxes,
and not ignore the growling of your stomach
so your 5 pound takeaway stretches over 3 days
postponing the date to buy the next food stock?
Have you ever wanted to check your bank account
without having your fingers crossed, because
even though you know the exact balance
you hope by some miracle it will be more?
Have you prayed for immigration to back the hell off
leaving you to make a living without risking deportation?
Have you ever got tired of playing by the rules when
the Albanian Mafia and Walmart
makes more money per hour than what you'd make in a lifetime, or two?
With heart aches and emotional games, and
attending Sunday mass becoming more of a cliché,
with rejection and doors closed,
at the cost of owning a brown passport,
with your head spinning and back against the wall,
have you wondered what life wants from you at all?
To all the women being trafficked for ***
and the children slaving away spinning Persian carpets,
tonight it's too cold to snow outside my glass box.
Inside, it's too sad to cry...
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
I, ConnectHook
DEMAND recognition as The Most Boring Poet of all.
You’ll never touch me so don’t even TRY.
Don’t even bother dipping your quill again,
you mere drip on the mildewed scroll of antediluvian parchment,
you cuneiform Cunégonde, you proto-Canaanite pottery fragment,
you keyboarding failed clown
and archeological relic unworthy of preservation
in a third-rate underfunded Albanian museum…
I, and I alone, dragged myself up from the protoplasmic slime
to BORE you.
I transitioned from amphibian to anthropoid
before your mama even MET the postman.
I stood upright upon the ****** battleground of evolutionary struggle
and SELECTED MYSELF (naturally).
Now pass that banana right over here.
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 2:45 PM UTC
So sometimes, I still double back,
To these little pretty things-
Where I entwine my written words
with depictive new meanings.
Happy birthday, I must first say
To my Albanian commerce kid.
When we met, then when I left, I
always appreciated all you did.
Next comes the apologizes, I'm sure you know what for
The fact that you showed up, for me?
Confirms it even more:
Julia Kruja, you're an incredible person- such a beautiful soul,
Its a blessing to call you 'friend', and remain someone you know.
With unconditional support- unwavering sincerity
whichever way things go.
Despite my lack of clarity, selfishness and pain- you're always there to meet with me, make plans again and again.
You instill this worth back in my soul, by treating me the same- removing judgement from your heart,
Regifting hope inside my brain.
Happy Belated Birthday my friend
Sep 18, 2023
Sep 18, 2023 at 6:23 AM UTC
Where was I, when you were alive?
Was I sleeping, dreaming, kicking, screaming,
Staring in wonder at the bright stars a-gleaming?
Where was I when you were crying?
Was I thinking of life after dying,
Seeing as it was, or blind and sighing,
Where was I when you were crying?
When you were born, what was I doing?
Was I speaking, walking, peeking, stalking,
Dancing, singing, laughing, mingling,
Looking, lying, toking, trying?
Where was I when you were on the beach,
Staring out towards the sea?
Perhaps I was taking a ***
Or sipping my hot cup of tea?
Where was I when you were sleeping?
Perhaps I was in mid-air, leaping,
Or watching as MTV was bleeping swearwords.
Where was I when you fell ill?
Was I parked up on a hill,
Waiting for life to arrive
With a plan it did contrive?
When you were driving,
Or tidying,
Perhaps on a snowboard somewhere, sliding,
Was I alone at home and hiding?
Or on the bike somewhere, and riding?
Maybe I was wide-awake,
Or laughing with my friends, while baked,
Or greasing a pan to bake a cake,
Contemplating what makes a lake.
Or perhaps I was asleep and dreaming,
and lost in my subconscious readings,
With avatars of all my friends,
Buying a Mercedes Benz.
Where was I when you were wasted?
Was I laughing at old hatreds,
Staring at a crawling aphid,
Or in the shower, and stark naked?
Where were you while I was thinking?
Perhaps you were awake and blinking,
All the sleep out of your eyes,
After dreaming of cute Albanian guys?
Where is everyone this second?
I mean, this specific second,
As I write or read this poem,
Perform it for a crowd so wholesome,
Where am I as you read this?
Up on a stage and fighting fears false lisp,
To make sure all of these words are crisp,
Or eating bread with ham and swiss?
Are you dead, or are you living?
A minion to society's bidding,
Or policing streets and finally ridding
Pavement of the hobos twitching out of crystal ****
Perhaps you're firing a gun,
Or you've found the only 'one,'
To love through thick and thin, till death;
Or thinking, "Wow, poor old MacBeth."
In this moment, is it all;
So listen to the moments call,
And cancel all your texting plans,
And use those thumbs to grasp the hand,
Of a loved one next to you;
"The day before" was never true,
So there's no better time for you,
To look for some more love to brew.
So get up, and go do.
Go do it.
Apr 27, 2011
Apr 27, 2011 at 12:10 PM UTC
Beturikeš sleep in the middle of Germany. USS, Romania, Serbia, C. Using Maccaro Maguinda. Green Turkish Arabic Italian Export Marks Marcus Germany Roman legends are amino acids. 1 edition of "Beritania'amino Nā'akika -'amino Nā'akika ... which, to see Nikki, Pompey, Ram Lambinue Mont Blanc NJAC (Mont Blanc), Tiripolisa, United States, Brazil, China, Hawaii, United States "In Somalia, United States of America, Romania, Serbia, Romania, sad, knowing in the USA, Diego has lost the wall," meaning "landlords are Arab, Arabic Arno'ōma'oma'o , German, Thai, Italian लौरा LGBQLig Rich Roman Mount Cay England, United Kingdom, Romania, Science NJAC sufficiency, 11 new cases in my new Mont Blanc, Luembanii Hawaii American Tripoli Brazil, Uganda, Romania, Spain, Riya, Somalia, November, Switzerland, Germany, and now it is an adult man acid , Nā'akika D. was unhappy, sound United States, and Romania Purgatininigi -... "This popular Christian Democratic International, United Nations General Assembly, United States Marinca, Romania, Serbia, Roman race. Mango Mango lamp. Green Apap, Arno, Albanian, German, one Italian लौड़ा बक Light, Real Estate in Thai. In the Roman Empire I Pelekāne'amino nā'akika lock in the UK, "no idea" Hey, Romania, Luembinnogo Mont Blanc Custom NJAC (Mont Blanc), Brazil, United States Tripoli China, Hawaii, Uganda, Romania, Spain, Italy, Somalia , November 11th ... - Laws Act, Germany, Law on Germany, Now A Man, 'Amino Dictionary D. On the contrary, a spokesman for the Roman Latin America, the former Romanian-American ... even "Christian" has never been a Christian.
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 5:12 PM UTC
Everyone is a joke
Says the clown
Her mother has lung cancer
Crack a joke
He's crying because I bullied him
Crack a joke
He killed himself a week later
Crack a joke
Hysteria
Loud blowhard laughter
Bulging blood-shot tear-filled eyes
Butterflies eating your intestines-
Serious nothing.
Everyone's always your plaything
You say it's because you're Albanian.
Male.
Because you just-dont-care.
Because we're all stupid.
Hypersensitive.
That's a cop out-
I think,
You're just a clown.
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 7:28 PM UTC
The seven day prayer candle burned out
seven days ago, and the twisted blinds
are held together with chopsticks and moving tape
after snapping in an unresolved haunting.
The nights enter like gemstones and exit like rabbits.
Truth sequestered from skin; I get a haircut
instead of another tattoo.
While shaving my neck with a straight razor,
the bald Albanian barber asks me:
"Which is scarier: people or mirrors?"
Before I could reply he shook his head:
“Trick question. They are the same thing.”
Walking home, I tore up the if-I-die note I had hidden
in my back pocket, and taught the pieces to dance
to the silence of buckshot screaming into a black hole.
The choreography was as patient as pregnant pauses
breathing into paper bags.
To the neighbors, smoking cigarettes on their stoops,
the shredded paper just looked like litter.
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 9:45 AM UTC
As Earth spun to unfold a kind
creating sounds it calls upon
to express a thought a feeling
a sensation it barely comprehends,
life at the remnants of the core
of what once was a unique land
named Pangea evolved,
to get acquainted with a notion
that would reign thereon.
It all happened in an area
of encounters where gothic Liufs
held dear by German Lieb
saw Lief the Dutch and Liaf the Frisian
fall for Liof the Saxon catching Lob
praising Liebe rejoicing in the arms
of Liubi. Until came Lufu the English
who desired and felt romantic
****** attraction it believed worthy
of a noun all to itself, and that is when
Luve came into the scene to be greater
than anything else, a word
no one would ever forget.
While behind the curtains
Albanian Lyp begged needing Lips
demanding for more.
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 3:24 AM UTC
A very important dimension of Montenegrin
culture is the ethical ideal of Čojstvo i Junaštvo,
roughly translated as "Humanity and Courage".
A result of its centuries long warrior history,
the unwritten code of Chivalry stipulates that
to deserve the true respect of a people, a
person has to show virtues of integrity, dignity,
humility, self-sacrifice for the just cause, respect
for others, and Rectitude, along with bravery.
In the old days of battle it resulted in fighting
to the death, as being captured was considered
to be the greatest shame. This code of conduct
is still very much ingrained to a greater or lesser
extent in every Montenegrin's ethical beliefs,
and it is essential that it be kept in mind in
order to truly understand them. Most of the
extraordinary examples of un-tate like conduct
during its long history can be traced to the code.
An absolute institution in Montenegrin Culture;
You are 'allowed' to miss someone's wedding,
but not coming to their funeral will be
remembered as funerals are often turned into
social events. A Montenegrin tradition made
into law in Montenegro by King Nikola during
his reign, consisted of newly-weds planting
an olive tree on their wedding day as a symbol
of marriage. An ancient Montenegrin code of
honor is called "Čojstvo i Junaštvo", similar to
the Albanian "Besa". The Montenegrin law of
vendetta, "Krvna Osveta", where one must take
revenge on whoever killed his relative by killing
the murderer or one of the murderer's close ||
relatives, similar to the Albanian "Gjakmarrje".
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 12:52 AM UTC
Autumn Lady
Reanna with autumn hair and summer eyes.
Lady from afar here in England.
With such charisma, capturing her image in a blink of your eye.
Imagine that there was only ever one sunrise; that is Reanna's beauty.
As memorable as a waterfall, free and never still.
In movement.
Never a prisoner of anyone.
Always laughing and smiling, never sad or in tears.
Her laughter is infectious.
Reanna will make you laugh, banishing your sadness.
With Albanian and Greek culture and relatives, Reanna is very unique.
In her mind's eye Reanna dreams of rugged beautiful landscapes and flies over them like a lark.
Swerving and swooping with total movement.
Imagine Reanna dancing, in tune with the music.
That's Reanna.
Alive with movement.
Her personality is as colourful as the cakes she makes.
Happy, confident, smiling, funny, sweet, cultured, intelligent.
Reanna.
Greek autumn lady!!!
Mar 17, 2020
Mar 17, 2020 at 12:30 AM UTC
Atje ku jam ë lumtur
Atje ku nuk ka zhurum
Atje ku ka dashni
Atje ku nuk kam mërzi
Sa më ka marr malli..
Familja, shoqëria, rrugët të dashur
Premtoj të bashkohëmi sa më shpejt
Edhe per të gjithë me nejt
Per të gjithë
Kosovë
(Albanian)
Daar waar ik gelukkig ben
Daar waar geen herrie is
Daar waar liefde is
Daar waar ik geen gemis ken
Hoeveel ik het mis..
Familie, vriendschappen, wegen die geliefd zijn
Ik hoop dat we zo snel mogelijk samenkomen
Om er voor altijd te blijven
Voor altijd
Kosovë
(Dutch)
There where i am happy
There where there is no noise
There where there is love
There where I know no sorrow
How much I miss it..
Family, friendships, the roads which I love
I hope we’re able to come together soon
To be here together, always
Always
Kosovë
(English)
Mar 15, 2020
Mar 15, 2020 at 9:30 PM UTC
"You look like a California Boy"
the Albanian man said
"What does that mean, a California Boy?"
I asked
"I don't know."
he said,
"But I said it so you figure out
what it means and tell me."
All I knew is that I was still wearing
a sweater that I had put on in the morning
when it was still only fifty degrees out
and that I was starting to bake a little
in the strange, eighty-degree October
sunlight
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 1:48 AM UTC