Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Crystal Apr 2018
MY UNCLE
You werent related by blood
But related by love
You made me laugh
But now youre making me cry
You left your life
Hanging on that rope last night
Im holding back these tears
Not wanting to get red blotchy patches
I dont want my sisters to see
because they dont like you very much
Because of some of the silly things you have done
Shut in my room
Thinking about the times
WE would be play fighting
You would pin me to the ground
Tickle me until I was in pain from laughing so much
i rememeber
When it was hot
The sun shining bright
You would get smart at me
And I would be smart back
You would pick me up
And throw me in the pool
I would try splash you
But fail
the time it was the night before christmas
And you came home from shopping late for your children
And got me to help wrap the girts
We woke
Not expecting anything form you
But you got us gorgeous earrings
I know it was little
But it meant alot
And IM holding back
Not letting these water warks
Fall from my eyes
Uncle
I miss you
And I know youve done bad
BUt youve done good too
Protected my mum
Had everyones bacl
Helped others out
Raised to little boys
But they now have to live with their mother
She wont look after them
Not the best home
But its their mother
But uncle
I love you
No matter what
I hope your having fun now
Happy
Watching your boys
Watching everyone
We love you
This is a poem I wrote about my uncle who killed himself last night. It broke my heart and my mums. Yep..
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2022
it sort of breaks my heart, but at the same time... it sort of doesn't...
oh, i'm good in England...
only today i went for a haircut...
Vicky? Nicky? a proper bleached blonde bombshell...
- so those two hours alone must have been nice,
with your parents away on Jamaica?
- the best time of my life...
but i only had one problem... cooking for myself...
oh... no... not cooking per se...
but cooking for only one person... i find it incredibly
impossible to have to cook for only one person...
i cooked a mango curry... ended up eating it for
3 days...
oh my... she's doable... she's ******* doable...
she's all curves... all woman...
i came into the salon in my usual: Karl Lagerfeld attire...
i.e. wearing the same clothes...
with a baker boy cap... here for a hair-cut...
she started to **** herself up... put on extra lipstick
on... pulsating red...
i sat down in the chair before the mirror
and closed my eyes... we talked...
god... she's a plump blush of flesh... i'd do her...
sorry... i would... she might be in her mid-50s...
but i'd still would...
that's the thing... i later walked into a cafe
to buy a coffee... sure... 17? tight ***... petite...
but she cut me with eyes of a shy doe...
i don't do scared... shy...
i do longing... i'm more into that sort of sensation...
i must be an oddity among men...
young women don't really... don't really
pressure me with attractiveness that might
want me to stick... around...
n'ah... it's boring... the canvas is blank...
sure... it looks great on paper...
but our music tastes would be mismatched...
or our taste in books...
at 35 i'm looking... in the range of 35+ 35 - 55...
if there's a child? that's a bonus...
little Frankenstein monster experiment...
maybe we might learn German... Greek or Russian
together?
it just had to be necessary to not get rich...
to have a choice of young women...
my own age... that's better... or older...
i'm happy... burned by Jeminah...
even after giving her the wine,
the banana loaf, the flowers on Valentine's Day...
struck down on my last turn on my bicycle...
oh man... she burned me... but she shouldn't
have lied about me drinking on the job...
so much for dating alcoholics...
wait... i am an alcoholic... but i'm the sort that
puts out cigarette butts on his knuckles for scars:
i'd hate to get a tattoo...
someone who has punch-ups with his shadow
and ends up with a plum-hue mascara under
his eye... that's me...
i tried to reassure her: my grandmother was married
to my alcoholic grandfather...
it's not a sixth sense... you can't smell alcohol
no more than you can smell ****...
of a donkey: a mile away...
but you know how women are... when it comes
to drinking... those stomach cramps
and my faking of loving-up... well...
chances are... she might have thrown a knife at me...
or punched me... and men drink because?
the women are subservient Turkish galls?
in a society where men are men and women are women?
o.k., sure, she burned me...
i don't need to have my time wasted...
to the brothel i went... ah... she's not Khadījah...
the name of the first wife of the prophet Muhammad...
KHEDRA... well... lucky me... ****** Valentine's day...
wait... wait a minute...
are all these English trying to suppose i believe
they're these ******* nuns?
or are the nerves getting the better of them?
even if they are single mums?!
what, a, waste, of, time... i'm not waiting...
i'd rather get the full-on with a Turkish ******* than...
wait for these... ahem... "nuns"...
i'm not waiting... the bus has already left...
KHADRA... not KHEDRA... which means:
green... verdant... quick! quick!
what's green on the Turkish leash of the tongue?!
my eyes are green... coincidence?
what's the word for verdant?
i need to tell her that my irises are the colour
of her name... in Turkish... i hope the grammar is similar
and i don't come off as *******...
hey... if single mums can shun you...
young girls are in it for the gynocentric: whatever...
while the prostitutes are honest...
3 days of her sending my selfies...
today... a picture of her exposed torso... with an emoji
of open lips covering her belly-button
and an emoji of a kiss on her underwear...
if the prostitutes can be truly human...
why bother the rest of the women?

mind you... sort of funny... my hairdresser remarked
something on the lines... Aryan...
you look Aryan...
well... historically... there was this tribe of Iranians
that arrived on the platitudes of Poland...
they were known as the Sarmatians...
Poland was once known as Sarmatia... Sarmaci...
well... it's not an interracial slur...
it's more an intra-racial slur: Moskiewskie Gałgany...
Muscovite... hmm... what's? a 'gałgan'?
well... closest approximation is: bałwan...
snowman... funny, that... the Germans of
the mid 20th century pretended to be both Aryans
and... mythological Norse folk...
can't play two "etymological folk"...
the "Aryans" invaded former Aryan lands of the Sarmatians
to the east... ****** land...
if... an English girl in the 21st century describes
you as... having Aryan features...
you're getting credible information...
the Russians and the Ukrainians...
what? former Swedes...
                  sure... Кaцaпы... KATSAPY...
all intra-racial slurs... historical grievances...
i guess that slur was derived from the word:
PAJAC... clown...
  
now i have two songs deafening me...
dua lipa's love again
and mabel's tick tock...
   although... when i see her next...

now for that lesson in Turkish...
                   hey... there's not time to sort of shy away
from touching from kissing from *******
in general...
i'm no donkey... that English nun type can pretend
to be dangling a carrot in front of my face
until the point i go all cross-eyed...
i could... sort of simp-it-out, but...
n'ah... i'm going for the alternative...
and there's always an alternative...
next time i see her... and that'll be soon...
i don't listen to her music choice...
i want something spectacular...
it's 18 minute of pure bliss...
                Jordi Savall... el cant de la sibil-la...
catalunya... montserrat figueras...
la capella reial de catalunya...
why? she really doesn't have to talk during
*******... it's enough that her
onomatopoeias and ****** contortions are
apparent... i don't need "god" or god in
the bedroom, there is no need for words...
i don't need an instruction manual...
            i want to keep it as animal as possible...
vowels, vowels and consonants coupled...
but no instructions... no ***** talk...
i want the eyes to speak... in myths...
                       i'll get my way: i'm sure of it...

now, of course, it might not be the perfect Turkish
grammar...

sen dedim: inshallah...
Khadra... hangi en anlam: en Yeşil... Jannah...
sizin isim: renk benim iris... yeşil

you said: god willing...
Khadra... which... who am i fooling?
i'm trying to translate like an idoit...
   i don't even know the basics... of... Turkish...
bacl to sq. one... throw a bunch of nouns about...
green is yesheel... Khadra is a name given
to girls... the green grass of paradise...
oh... she's most certainly the green grass of paradise...
give me two more of these and i'll tell you
to stuff my former fancy of having 72 Alsatian shepherds
for company for all of eternity...

the western woman will not have a Monopoly
on my libido... to hell with it....
i've seen what canvases are already "taken care of it":
most? interracial: fat... ugly... seriously... ugly...
beached whale types... pink hair and... running
on steam... or whatever it is that they're running on...
i'm trying to think: orange juice?! please let it be
orange juice? no orange juice?! ****...
go figure... pink feminist hair...
i wouldn't touch that **** with a mile long stick...
i might get herpies... i'm pretty sure i wouldn't
get any with a *******...
oh, i know who's banking that ****'s worth of an
"account"... the African fresh off the boat...
the gene pool geniuses...
i would be forever barking up the wrong tree...
nature: harsh reality: as long as i get the right
sort of ****... Western women's arguments:
oh... but these women are being exploited...
are they? £120 an hour? i'm working ****** shifts as
a security guard... travel for 2 hours each way...
get paid for 5 hours...

i don't we're at a time to: bargain...
Western women are not that much... to think about:
or subsequently engage with...
mad dog ladies... Dubai prone...
sorry... there's only so much time you can waste
on pretending-it nuns...
i think i'll rephrase that: throw some nouns at
her like hieroglyphics... since i can't find the appropriate
conjunctions...

— The End —