"bil" poems
“Will you please leave the light on?”
Said the young Boy to his Dad.
“I’m kinda scared at night time, but
I hope that you’re not mad ‘cuz when
I am grown up big like you, I won’t be afraid no more
Then you can turn the light off and even shut the door.”
“It’s not the dark that scares me.”
Said the Father to his Son.
“It’s the early hours of morning
When the light has just begun
To creep in through the window,
Push the darkness from the room and
Sweep away the shadows like an
Illuminating broom.”
“So why’s the morning scare you, Dad?”
“I really like the day. I get dressed and Mom makes breakfast,
I get to watch TV and play.
Sometimes we go out shopping and buy groceries and stuff,
She might buy me an ice cream cone – if I’m good enough.”
The Father laughed, sat on the bed, and held his small Son’s hand.
“I wish I could explain it, Son, in a way you’d understand.
At night the dark can hide the truth, I dream and make big plans.
Then morning brings reality to my castles built in sand.
While you and Mom have breakfast, I have to go to work.
I have RE-SPON-SI-BIL’-ITY and duties I can’t shirk.
People there DEPEND-ON-ME. I don’t want to LET-THEM-DOWN.”
Dad suddenly stopped talking when he saw his young Boy frown.
“It sounds like you don’t like your work.”
“You should stay home with Mom and me!
Then you can help make breakfast, and it’ll be us three.
We’ll have a really good time - you won’t be afraid of day.
We’ll help Mom do the dishes, then we’ll go out and play.
Maybe you can pitch some ***** and I can learn to bat?
‘Cuz please don’t tell her, but you know - Mom isn’t good at that.
But she can go out shopping, and we’ll stay home alone,
And, DAD, if you are REALLY good, I’ll make YOU an ice cream cone!”
Dad leaned over, kissed his Son, and said, “I think I might.”
“You said some things that I forgot, and I think you got it right.
I know you and Mom DEPEND-ON-ME, and
I have RE-SPON-SI-BIL’-ITY
To help her make the breakfast and to help you learn to bat,
And maybe I’m afraid of day ‘cuz I’ve been forgetting that.
So tonight I’ll leave my light on
And I’ll leave your light on, too.
And tomorrow morning, when it’s light, I’ll stay home with you!
PwL 1990 to 2015
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 12:14 AM UTC
Ingen ****** med mig, en københavner
For jeg er immun over røgen fra de
Gule og blå kameler - selv når
Du presser dem ned med din tunge,
Og du fortæller mig hvor skøn du
Synes min kolde krop er.
Du euforiserer dig selv
med Hash fra Christiania.
Og lidt *** fra Vesterbro
Ingen ****** med mig, en københavner
Imens jeg dækker øjnene til, og
Svinger ud foran en bil på Blegdamsvej
Når jeg bander og svovler, over idioterne i
Deres benzinslugende miljøforurenende biler
Jeg cykler, hvor jeg vil - for cykelister
Har da førsteret, selv på Lyngbyvejen
En fredag aften.
Ingen ****** med mig, en københavner
Når jeg tager et sip af min lunkne Latte
Og læser min egen halvkvalmende poesi
Om mit efterårskolde kærlighedsliv
På en lille kaffebar uden WIFI på Nørrebro
For jeg er langt foran, på farten og lidt sejere end
De andre poetiske narcisister
Fra Nordjylland
Ingen ****** med mig, en københavner
For jeg har skandinavisk gennemsigtig hud
Sjasket lyst hår, og fregner så mange at du
Bliver grøn af misundelse
For jeg er storbyens dronning
Så kan du bare fucke hjem til
Dit provinshul.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
Mirrored thought full breach horizon
Yearning drawing bridging cry
Intimate complete attraction
Now the moment true imply
Cast aside mendacious forethought
Resolute round purpose fly
Epiphanic thought emerging
Doubts foul gibbous banish say ....
Insp’ration resolute within here
Bursting forth bright intellect
Loosing dogs full purpose forward
Encroaching far reach treaded path
Resolute’ness biting grasping
Endless boundless seeming lost
Blazing purposeful grasp grimly
Energise strong inner soul
Capa’bil’ity strong purpose
Clear thought con’quering foul
Abandon dissolute mist darkness
Intersperse directive steer
Levelling where once lay mountains
Onward pushing prancing laugh
Voices raised fair joyous chorus
Ethereal reaching hands entwine
Yearning warmth transcending distance
Over hill and Moorland track
Understand where strength in thought lay
Accomplishment find perfect peace
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 5:15 AM UTC
biler kører stærkt forbi ude på Ringvejen
barn cykler rundt og råber på et fremmed sprog
flere biler kører forbi
computertasterne siger de velkendte klik’s, når jeg skriver dette
barnet cykler frem og tilbage
jeg kan høre cykelhjulets tikken
der bremses hård op på cyklen
en motorcykel i det fjerne gasser op
og en bil kører forbi ude ved blokkens gade
et andet barn i det fjerne råber: ”Papa, papa…”
der er fuglesang af fuglearter jeg ikke kender
og efterårsvinden suser i de gule trækroner
der er fodtrin nedenfor mit vindue
tunge skridt der bliver slæbt hen ad jorden
trafikken står aldrig stille
der vil altid være lyde at høre
(Marolle)
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 9:21 AM UTC
"man kan, hvad man vil"
det sagde du selv
da du tog mit hjerte i dine lune hænder
efter 6 måneder i den evige
kulde
du og jeg
dig og mig
vi er så meget
men lige nu, er vi ingenting
længsel er vores drivkraft
kærligheden er skrøbelig
og vi skal passe på
så vi ikke knuser den
igen
lad os prøve igen
lad os elske igen
det føles som gamle dage
når dine øjne smiler til mig
og minder mig om
hvorfor jeg hoppede i det blå hav
de består af
til at starte med
lygtepælens skær krammer
din mørkegrønne bil
med duggede ruder
fordi vi trækker vejret istedet for at
snakke
jeg forsvinder i
lyserøde skyer
når du fortæller mig
at du har savnet mig
inden du trækker i mit halstørklæde
for at lade vores læber mødes
jeg ser ikke andet
end hvad vi kunne blive
du og jeg
dig og mig
igen
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC
I skolen skriver jeg sagprosa,
og rækker flittigt hånden op i dansktimerne.
Jeg smiler til lærerne på gangen
og kommer med åndssvage sarkastiske kommentarer,
som de alligevel i et-eller-andet omfang,
finder humoritiske.
Jeg løber ture ad hovedvejen,
og løber mod bilerne,
i håbet om,
at en-eller-anden vil lægge mærke til den tåre,
der løber ned af min højre kind.
Når jeg kommer til den sidevej,
hvor min dansklærer bor,
vender jeg hovedet,
kigger,
og efterfølgende leder jeg i mængden,
efter en sort bil, der kunne være hendes.
Når jeg kommer til stranden,
standser jeg brat op.
Tager musikken ud af ørene og prøver at få tiden til at stå stille.
Når jeg kommer hjem skriver jeg digte.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 1:54 PM UTC
Enter In
Stand now before the heavenly gates
Made clean by the blood which expiates
Come now before the resplendent throne
Lift your voice in praise with trumpets blown
And here bowing down in adoration
Come one come all and enter in
Open my heart open my mind and soul
Help me to focus on the final goal
To be as one in spirit and in flesh
With Christ the Lord whom I so bless
That I may learn and grow and be taught
And reflect Him in action and thought
Come to love Him who loves so deeply
Know the one who knows you so completely
Lose yourself in the sea of total surrender
Find healing in the arms strong and tender
S e e s-t-a-bil-i-ty becomes the center
When
HE
——————————
The doors | | are open wide
| |
| |
| |
So just
ENTER
IN
And when you do:
STOP
for a moment
.
.
.
.
Inhale deeply and fully the subtle scent
Of change in you on the smallest scale
And in your bones know that love will not fail
Should the earth crumble and sun lose it’s fire
His burning love for you shall not expire
Dare to enter in more deeply today
Open yourself more freely
and be
s
w
e
p
t
away
Nov 20, 2024
Nov 20, 2024 at 11:32 PM UTC
Kemm hu b’ saħħtu l-baħar
Qatt ma jaqta nifsu
Bil-mewġ dejjem jiżfen
Mar-ritmu tal-kurrenti
Kemm hu b’ saħħtu l-baħar
Qatt ma jieqaf jikkumbatti
Ħadd u xejn ma jwaqqfu
Jew jibdilu d-direzzjoni
“Kemm hu b’ saħħtu l-baħar”
Ma nista naħseb xejn għajr hekk
Kemm ngħir għalih
Kemm nixtieq inkun bħalu
08/02/2016
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC
mennesker lukket grundet konstruktionsomstændigheder
som telefoner med 50% strøm
en tom bil i landevejsgrøften med ødelagte vinduer og
alle ens værste forestillinger pakket nydeligt sammen og
tapet inde i en
våd flyttepapkasse
omme på bagsæde;
kompakt og støvet og angstprovokerende
venter på at blive åbnet på den værst tænkelige dag
fotografier printet på bølgepap
garnnøgle-følelser, sammenrullet
den forskudte personlige relation
øjeblikket
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 1:58 PM UTC
og så lever vi ufornægteligt videre i vores bizarre eksistenser
uden retning
i en fremmed bil på en ukendt vej med 93 km/h
motorvejs-lampelys under himmelen, under skæbnen
skabelse, mørkegrøn, eventyr, sump, nysgerrighed, oprigtighed, damp,
fornyelse
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
med tårer i øjnene hiver jeg luft ned i mine ekspansive lunger, husker
husker: det er bare nu'et. det er blot en brøkdel.
og en dag vil jeg have glemt dette øjeblik, dette blink med øjnene, forbipasseret fortvivlelse og forvildelse og utilpashed
og en dag vil jeg have varme, gyldne minder lokaliseret bag øjenhulen, bag drømmene
og jeg vil have hængt hvidt vasketøj op, jeg vil have talt med en vred bille, kørt i en lyseblå bil og købt mine egne øko-appelsiner.
jeg vil have klippet mit hår mindst ti gange, foldet fingrene om en andens krop, om en andens ømheder, en andens tanker, jeg vil have haft et hundrede forskellige par sko på mine to fødder, set nye vidundere og nye lavpunkter
og det smelter sammen og alt det ubehagelige fylder mindst
men lige nu kaster ubehag lange skygger
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 4:59 PM UTC
// Internal System Log: CORRUPTED
// Status: [St@bil!ty = ]
// Emotional Containment Protocol: UNSUCCESSFUL
⸻
BEGIN REPORT:
Input()Input()Input()Input()Input()Input()Input—
[[TooMu.ch//Prcssing]]
[[Intake>Breathe>Breathe>STOP]]
[[Overload threshold breached: 147%]]
[[SILENCE REQUESTED—but no mute function exists.]]
:: Ceiling fan = bl@des.
:: Light = thorns behind the eyes.
:: Voice (x3) = collision.
Smell-of-metal
Sound-of-thought
Feel-of-cloth
= same weight
!!!
Every thread = a scream.
Every hum = a map of somewhere I cannot go.
I f e e l t o o m u c h
B@ckgr()und noise reclassified: Hostile
Texture = LANGUAGE
Light = WEAPON
Breath = HEAVY::LOUD::VISIBLE
⸻
MEMORY ATTEMPT: BLOCKED
Recall = corrupted.
Syntax folding in on self.
:: error_rpt ::
“it’s_too_loud”
“it’s_too_now”
“i_was_built_wrong”
[[Containment sequence failed.]]
[[Masking loop frozen mid-loop.]]
:: Body = too connected
:: Skin = antenna
:: Thoughts = UNIVERSE EXPERIENCING ITSELF
Request:
—s h u t d o w n—
—p a u s e—
—decre@se awareness—
ERROR. No exits.
⸻
Voice modulation: SILENCED
Eye contact: NO ACCESS
Tongue: SYSTEM JAMMED
Hands: mimic comfort sequence [looping…looping…]
Body: offline
Presence: simulated
Pain: everywhere
Witness: no one
⸻
:: Let them call this dramatic
:: Let them call this a phase
:: Let them call this poetry
:: They are not inside this moment.
—
! s o m u c h i n h e r e
…still…
i do not want to leave.
i just want it all
to
slow
d o w
n
⸻
[TRANSMISSION: TERMINATED]
Final ping: [[I_am_still_here]]
Recovery window: unknown
System will reboot once internal volume falls below threat levels.
Aug 1, 2025
Aug 1, 2025 at 8:30 PM UTC
Żmien ta’ ferħ w ’nnoċenza
ta’ sempliċita u purezza
Żmien ħieles mill-inkwiet
u mżejjen bil-paċi fis-skiet
Dak li dejjem smajt
u dak li dejjem tgħallimt
Pero m’ huwiex dak li esperjenzajt
m’ huwiex dak li ngħatajt
Mingħalihom li tawni kollox
Mingħalihom li ma naqsuni f’xejn
Mur għidilhom kemm battejt
Kemm minħabba fihom soffrejt
Noħlom bi tfulija
sempliċi u pura
Nixtieq li ġejt mogħtija
bidu ta’ ħajja sura
16/04/2009
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 12:34 PM UTC
dear sir,
this was my jacket, a fine coat it is.
it held me tight an kept me from fright.
in the wind we would go, bright sun would shine down as I'd
cruise all over town.
I'm gone now, the coat hangs limp.
a constant reminder to my wife so fine of the life I left behind.
I plead with thee,
do not tread my path.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC
oh liberty,! oh freedom , let me be at your expense, I am dying to get to know you, I am only getting started, I am only getting comfortable, not even the age of the **** of the joke on friends, not even there yet, not even there, still young, still full of life, still full of whatever I need to be! still full of pos a bil a ty, separated out and its a hopscotch word, a bit up surd, lovers met around the chocolate fountain possessing their fate, and I possess my fate with a keyboard, keys and musical keys, working with the fingers, a knack for songs, good memory
God, I live in a palace! God, he is not dead, he is relocated, he's weaving through the music, satanitc verses are met with heavenly melodies and hes meant for it, cherish it, whose got the better of me?
no no no, you’re up for surrender to his power, you’ve fathomed it, talked about it, debated it in your silly little politics course, you’re meant for this discussion, it is what you were born for, out of the foul mouthed, out of the obscene, the gestures are hidden, their in between every phrase, uttered out at a key, uttered out over a particular suit and tie and way of being
Surge surge surge! its meant for it!!!
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC