"brutus" poems
All you have to offer me is broken English
but what you get in return is a broken heart!
"Hi cute pic u me friend?" you ping me randomly;
I am sorry dude,my picture didn't respond!
Not just you,but all the guys from your clan
have a typical dressing style that I can note from your photos.
A smug face,bright colored clothes,unkempt hair;
cigarette burnt lips and alcohol shot eyes!
Don't judge me, I am just sharing my observation
but I appreciate your perseverance of sending multiple messages!
"Hey u","Reply and expect* me","Don't put scene^","Fraandship#??","Change new pic"
and all I could think of is "Not happening bro!!"
Wondering why I wrote this ode to you?!
You are a hero man! An unsung hero in your own world!
When science and technology advances,when countries and continents fight and make up
all you can think of is this random girl who is ignoring you!Talk about goal-oriented!!
You have a dumpy old computer with an internet connection and a Facebook account
and you want to have girls who you don't even know;You are more ambitious than Shakespeare's Brutus!
You get irritated looks from all the girls you stalk,
Yet you are unaffected as you never get to know that!!
I envy your spirit, I envy your hard-work!!
Burning the midnight oil to get ignored by girls you don't even know!
Though you stalk this much, in reality you are shy to even talk!
You are a mystery, a dark knight I might say!!
Whatever anyone says, I know you wont give up!!
You are a big challenge for all those privacy setting developers,
you creep and crawl through the web so much and still
you always remain -A random stalker!!
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
O blessed night I am feared
For I am a black man who can't shake spears thrown at him on the daily.
High courts let us get clipped by Brutus- clipped by brutes in fact a loose noose can hang you from any platform
Oxygen doesn't transcend class
Eric wasn't the first nor last unable to Garner breath
I... Cant... Breath.
Bill Cosby's first words after sentencing
Sandra Bland's last thoughts before being propped up
I ride around my city feeling Gray inside, DEAD inside wondering if convenient transportation is worth my life.
Othello ruled this nation for eight years yet noble souls are still treated as peasants.
I mean if all the worlds a stage, then why do they play us only when we're players or when the play, us.
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 11:30 AM UTC
“Completely under the impression she would resume her status outside” he thought..
maybe my own words betrayed me as the knife entered Brutus
Unhinged,
could the mind play a game, it saw the movies but did it Saw 5?
Animals huddled around the man made entry salivating at the idea of another chance,
ravenous they paced hungry for a sole sight
What could be for dinner?
If an appearance not made would both beings have to consider drastic measures. A voyage? A continental trip to parts unknown? Meeting ghosts are not my style but Anthony Bourdain was surely welcome.
Was that a twitch from the ****
all beings in the area stood at attention awaiting a response from the opening. Informal gestures and gazing eyes they dampen any doubts of their desires.
“How dare they keep us waiting”
the impatient thoughts arose out of the sandy concrete mixture. Those who knew of the situation stood steadfast and steady — this might be it
No “read” stamp,
hope has begun to dwindle.
I too wished of a different outcome but life demands transitions.
Aug 11, 2022
Aug 11, 2022 at 11:44 PM UTC
It was great for a time
*** and wine
Wine and ***
Then commitment and open and shut curtains.
Special delivery of child made the bond complete
Six months down the line
Breast feeding was action watched from a distance
Intimacy was a tired look
The neighbours cat looked hot
Killed the lonely nights
Killed the commitment outright
Got to know the lawyer through rapid bank withdrawals
Weekly child visit watched over by Brutus
Bar visits watched over by the world's condemned
Special occasion became a twice yearly treat
Birthday and Christmas, bit of hate thrown sideways.
Then the new man.
Felt good for her.
Maybe some pressure off.
Maybe missed that lobotomy bar lecture.
Years dragged the hate forward.
Time moved on.
One day I wrote her a letter expressing my anger.
She wrote back in triplicate.
I wrote back in double triplicate.
She sent a thesis on men and *****
Suddenly without thinking, we had dialogue.
After a while, we moved on from the anger.
We became human again.
I actually liked writing her letters and receiving them.
We never got back together.
But the letters kept us close.
Sometimes there would be a kiss at the end.
The little bit of love I probably never deserved.
I would mention it to her in my next letter.
Even an *** deserves a solitary kiss now and again.
The bar room lawyers would probably agree.
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 9:14 AM UTC
Can you answer my question?
No no you can't
You have tried and tried
I have tried to help you
To the best of my ability
If only you trust me
I have lost all my hope
Especially for you
If only you wouldn't treat me like cap
If only I would've listened
My misery is real
My misery is life
My misery male you smile
My misery make you you..
My misery is gone
I left you for someone better
But you left me
I just found my love
I'm sorry
For my misery is me
And you can't break me
I'm invincible and real
I'm almost like Hercules
And then I turn to Brutus
I stabbed my misery
Just like Brutus
Et tu brute
Then fall Caesar
Caesar is just like my misery
Only I'm not sorry for killing him
Aw yes if only you would have listened
To the wolf
That whispered in your ear
Kind of like a birdy
Yet more deadly
My misery was blind
And weak
And I was strong
Powerful
Invincible
My might was stronger than yours
And them I slew him
For my misery was wrong
It had enslaved me
I won
I'm a winner
And I can't be beat
No one will rise against me
For I'm Caesars reincarnated body
I rule with love and honesty
But now my misery is back
It's weak
My love is real
My misery is fake
I notice my sister
Her words echo
That's why no one likes you
Just stop picking on her brat
That's all that's matters
My siblings now
They are the wolves whispering in my ear
But they are not my misery
My misery is caged in the back of my mind
That's why I love my sisters
They protect me and make me humble
That's why my misery is gone
MY MISERY IS GONE
IT'S SAVED AND WE ARE HAPPY
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
an ancient lyric, come to haunt,
no longer a shield, now thinner,
of gossamer consistency,
a tissue-thin papyrus,
“my poetry to protect me”
the poem words always were
a clarinet reed, capable of singing,
a highest pitch voice for turning
blades of clean steel clean away,
now blunting paper bunting, penetrated.
re-formed my shield, re-purposed,
into a stabbing instrument offensive,
my poetry pricking tearings in my worn
thin fabric tapestry, woven from linen
excuses of why I can’t, why couldn’t I.
this is life. moats becoming drowning
pools, castle walls reversed to entrapments,
wrecking machines, boulders hurling,
medieval defenseless against modern rhymes
giving away to free verse horde onslaught.
too late to apologize to myself, alas, my words,
my protectorate, island redoubt, now ruined
by doubts treachery breech birthed from within,
these verses hollow point bullets engineered,
Caesar’s words clarified, you, et tu, are Brutus
too, two, for the price of one, betrayer and betrayed.
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 5:44 PM UTC
You call me a friend, as you pull out a knife you stab me in the back.
Not once but twice, friends for life but that's a straight up lie
you don't have a clue about ride or die.
Every couple months you brought somebody new into our group
But at the end it was always me and you.
Asked for my forgiveness when you sinned. Had me questioning like who am I?
But once to many times
I said,... "don't worry its fine."
Who would had thought you were plotting behind mine.
Took the dirt from where you digged out my grave to throw on my name.
You said it and you meant it till death do us part.
You wanted to steer and me not be there for the ride. You wanted the name and everything that came You were my partner in crime,
who you let blind your eyes. You didn't see my vision. Et tu, Brute? You betrayed me like Brutus
did to Julius.
Like judas did to jesus.
You kissed me on the cheek for several gold pieces.
Tell me if
You don't get the anomaly of my metaphor. If this was juice I'm Raheem and your Bishop. Is crazy how much I actually miss you.
All those new people and I'm the only one wishing you. ..... well wherever you are..... whethere is heaven or hell.
What you did was betrayal
and in my grave you buried yourself.
Til death do us part you said it and you meant it.
But here I stand
Hennessy on hand
With the same gun that held the bullets in your lungs.
This was a friend of mine
Till death do us part
In heaven or hell I'll be your ride or die... bang
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
Hail in peace wherever you abode now, dear Nadine Gordimer
You white daughter of Africa, the pen-mistress of July’s people,
You are the lover of July, your holy months of literature
That similarly gave a ****** grave marriage to Maziz Kunene
The African saint of orature; And Okot P’ Bitek, the lion of Gulu,
July have wedded you to the sombre grave in the Jo’burg,
As its apparatchik, the menacing jaws of death feel humdinger!
O! Dear little daughter, cursed are the jaws of death
They have kept on wooing and wooing you relentlessly
They have yearned for your betrothal with mad jealous,
For your iconic position in white African literature,
In which you stand with soldierly embrace a Nobelite,
They have now taken you to their inner chamber nuptials in death,
Before anything; let them now pay dowry to your bothers;
J M Coetzee, Alex La Guma and Dennis Brutus,
For there’s is a competent herds boy, a black shepherd;
Ezekia Mphalele, his living soul will keep the cows
Off down Corner B of the troubled African Image.
Say hello for those you are with in the current realm,
Say hello to foremen and fore daughters of Africa
Those that chose to visit the realm of ancestor precociously;
Say hello to them; Angelo Maya and Doris Lessing,
Let their caged birds and blooming grass sing uproariously,
Marriama Ba and Margaret Ogola, African girls,
They had a long letter and the source of the river from black dialectics,
O! Dear old baby Nadine Gordimer, stand firm in face to face with nothing
Other than the present time you’re in; the Africa’s realm of living dead
To sing the ballads of anti-apartheid both in heaven and on earth,
The only true testament of your footprints on the global sands of times
That Nadine Gordimer, July’s white-African daughter is deadly alive!
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
Rather I did, once. No longer.
We were magnetic, tectonic.
Constantly and consistently converging.
Unfolding.
Seamlessly (it would seem) arranged on
Memory's golden stage.
But today, tomorrow,
Where moves are flimsy and unsure
Lines drop from lips in silence,
Unraveling like gauze,
As we both wait for alarums that cannot sound.
I feel anesthetized, don't I? I—
And the curtain will be merciful.
A breath of disdain perhaps, disastrous.
Your touch is autumn.
I eclipse the sun, suffocate you from it.
Take your warmth.
Leave you colder than Ophelia
And bloodier than Brutus.
My inadequacy was once your balm,
A catechism to ensure another world
That we both know isn't sound.
The very least you can do is become like Icarus
Who was beautiful in his fall
And silent at his end.
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 6:21 PM UTC
Writhing, the screeching leviathan demands
And I cave to save the aching from tricky time slopes
Pained craving
Wavering but
Hit and
It’s all loosey goosey goodness
Sensing silent magma pulse, whoosh the tummy tingles
Droopy ears gape-face giggle no more nowadays
A stern turn in old age the silly phase of
Too bright, neon common numb tongue rambles
Secedes into introspective
Crowded walks, broken talks strung into threats clustered and
Flung like monkey **** at many-stabbed ego, Brutus?
Strangers will eat you
The professor thinks I’m funny because
I know the answers in class
The other day Dingus
And Whoseewhatsee tried to alley mug and hurt and end
And money!
No, rocked nose ran dude! Fine
Trying not to fear the outdoors, though
The arthropods and phantoms tell me ***** jokes
And not to eat my candy
Books melt into soupy mercurial elixir
I slurp them and belch
Educating myself in a barn ******* knowledge
On loud faces; empty meat
Where you can hear the jingly metal
Thing when you shake it, it’s dead no flower
They don’t always like me
But
I’ve got the jeepers creepers behind my peepers
And a million lightyears to burn
Truth is worth dying
Four **** sow
Izzeny thing these daze
Maybe it was a bust from the start but there’s
Always art
Quieting the plague that revealed
Not so good after all
Tiny thorns and all-consuming
Waves of red-get-out wrenching, gutted like a fish
Overcome, that never went away or found
A place to sit
Memories arthritic grind a grim gray whetting stone
Reduce with juice-cloud, grape teeth cough will never find a home
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 4:51 PM UTC
Suddenly, it's not love anymore, it's a memory.
I'm alone, drunk in a bathroom and my thoughts don't crawl to the section of my brain where you are located.
You don't have a place in my blood, I can count on one hand the times I've said your name in the last year.
Does that make a sinner because you were once my God? I'd swallow every syllable uttered in my direction, scripture licked from my lips, and wipe my face clean with your affirmations.
And I was clean-bogged down by a perpetual hangover and hands that won't ever stop shaking and hair that never smelt like anything other than your cologne and cigarettes- but I was clean, I was saved.
And every time I knelt before you, I was saved again and again.
So call me unfaithful because I have forsaken you, though long after you did me, and you did, you did.
You've been gone so long, I can't even remember what your voice sounds like.
All I have is a memory of a grin plastered on a face, all teeth and a head reared back: gleaming, mirth incarnate.
But that image can't force me to perform ceremony in your name anymore.
My eyes will only water, no streams fall down my face.
The earth you walk on now is scorched, by women who no longer see your face any time they close their eyes. You are Moses in a desert with no followers, just an endless mirage: a girl who will never love you beckons you further and further. And I am sure you are thirsty.
Then, call out my blasphemy, I swear I won't hear your accusations over the litany of curses muttered along with your name.
I am Judas, I am Brutus, in the last circle of hell, for I am betrayer of the only religion that ever made me feel whole.
But I couldn't spend another prayer on my knees.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 6:39 PM UTC
Popeye I see you downing spinach
by the can
your cartoonist heart giving strength
over Brutus
adds so much to my cooking spinach
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:46 PM UTC
*O come
gentle persons all
and listen to the woeful tale
of an unfortunate lover*
1
I pitied Cinderella
and knocked at her door
when everyone was away
and I sang:
*Come, run away with me
and I shall look after you -
all the days of my life
all the days of yours*
Get lost, she said.
*I’ve a premonition
of glass slippers
and Princes and castles*
2
And so I went to fair Verona
to see if Juliet would
give me her hand
but it was her father
who showed me the toughness
of his servant’s hands
3
And ah, I went to Rapunzel
and I said: *Oh, let down your hair
and I’ll come to you;
and I’ll find a way for both of us
to run away to better lands*
Get lost, she said
*You don’t look like a man
who can afford to get
me the best shampoo
and golden diamond-studded hairclips -
new ones everyday
for my hairdo*
4
And so I waited
for Cleopatra
till Brutus and the conspirators
stuck their daggers into Caesar
and I went to her mansions
but the guards seized me and they said:
*You ever heard of Cleopatra’s needles?
Where’d you like us
to stick them in you?*
5
and so, desperate,
I went to **** myself
back in Verona
in the family crypt of the Capulets
and woe is me -
I really don’t know why -
but I’m thrown into prison now
*‘for the ****** of two’*
Oct 10, 2010
Oct 10, 2010 at 9:51 PM UTC
I wander down the path
Seemingly still and quiet
No shadows in sight
But a light so bright
What could be, this Enigma?
I’m mesmerized, so transfixed
And with its grace and beauty
It rejects every stigma
my Invigoration
simple conjuration
of feeble elation
becomes condemnation
an exacerbation
of lost contemplation
falling to the floor i find myself
beyond salvation and left to starvation
I did not choose this, to feel this, or to be thrown away
My intentions are gold, no ill will in sight
but they choose to see what they want
HARK!
A figure engulfs the horizon
Shrouded and concealed from the world
It charges forth as a familiar phantom
It strikes me back as I stagger away
Its cloak blackens the sky to my dismay
as air evaporates bleeding my mind astray
but hope is in sight for I have found a knife!
again and again, Brutus would be proud
for the pool beneath the figure must end my strife
and to the figure, I remove its cowl
lo and behold, the face is my own
reality then breaks at the seams
to have this fate, I couldn’t have known
lost and diluted much like my dreams
My hands remain red
Trapped in my own head
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 8:16 PM UTC
A general and statesman,
reformer and conquerer,
summoned to the senate,
and hastily issued a petition
of which to bring back a senators
banished brother.
The Dictator Waves him off,
and Cimber grasps his shoulder,
“Ista quidem vis est!”*1
Cascas dagger is drawn,
swiftly toward the neck it darts,
yet caesar nimbly catches such
attack,
“Casca you villain! What is this you do!?”
Casca fearing, cries “Adelphe, Boethei!”*2
Then like the wolves descending on
a lonely foe, they lunge and leap,
Brutus too…
Caesar at the sight of him,
averts his eyes and makes for the door,
unable to escape he falls upon the floor,
“Kai su, Teknon?”*3
The man who was harried,
crawled to the steps, and
saying nothing,
Caesar dies…
The Lower steps submerged in the
Emperors crimson blood,
the body cold, limp,
lifeless,
had at by the vultures,
armed with knives, and
stabbed times twenty-three.
The conspirators proud,
marched through the streets,
and announced to fear-struck
citizens,
“People of Rome! We are once again free!”
Yet, no one came out…
for now.
until, Three hours passed,
and only then,
was the fallen mans lifeless,
corpse drenched in blood,
collected and cremated.
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 10:35 PM UTC
*i've become as lazy as composers
when writing titles,
example of tautology is as lazy
as beethoven's ninth symphony...
yeah, grand... but what a dull title!*
so i was reading this article
about bim adewunmi
about the singer laura mvula...
and you know how it goes...
leftist liberals tend to write
tautological spaghetti,
likened to bim's example:
'short-haired, dark-skinned
black girl', bim, we get it...
could have said rancid cinnamon
for all i care...
tautology is a logic of adding
more salt than the salt required
so it doesn't taste too salty when it
does... i could also proof-read
other journalists...
restaurant critics are the best laughs,
esp. when reshuffled like
a ****** cabinet of the labour party
to the opinion columns...
then it's not called opinions section
but table talk... a bit like saying:
do i woo the sea back into this oyster
before i gulp-down-the-hatch-it?
well what do you expect,
free democracy and subsequently
free journalism has a judas kiss /
brutus stab at everything,
why not laugh at it as a useless
get up in the morning read a newspaper
be pulverised by stories from kingdoms
far far away and opinions of people
who'd send ******** dubbed
soldiers off to the slaughter fields of Flanders
so they can keep erectile egos ready
for a salary readied...
journalists always divert the heat & fire
to the politicians... while
journalists get away with satirising themselves,
and i dare say, they are the clumsiest
satirists of themselves,
the most wonky ready to dismantle itself
noumenons in existence.
- journalist: huh?
- the public - (elvis') aha uh um (frolicking
without the stiff upper lip).
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 7:50 AM UTC
Et tu Brutus?
Betrayal of the greatest.
Just like our friend Judas.
Sat and watched you lose us.
It was a sunny day,
And the pool was all Sparklin.
We had some pizza.
Our favorite was cheese.
I was young but older than you,
Brothers we were, surrounded in a world of new.
We went outside, our first mistake,
Played around, like pirates, we would fake.
Then if just for fun…
You threw it all in, your diaper into the din,
Being your elder, I brought it back on,
So the game went, over and over.
So the die was cast, together,
As I brought your diaper out,
Of the aqua blue pool.
Who would ever know, that I was the fool.
Out of reach this time.
Out of care.
How could I protect you now,
I barely had hair…
I should have been there,
Shoulda been me,
Why did you feel,
You should be,
The one who jumped after what was lost,
The die was cast, and alone you lost.
I still remember,
Even now,
The look on your face,
Under the water’s curtain.
A look of pain,
Maybe of peace,
But mostly questioning,
In your blank debeing.
Long I sat there,
Long, I misunderstood.
Long, I called for you,
Spencer return with your hood.
Sank you did,
As did my heart.
I got my mother,
Shock tore her apart.
Still now I ponder,
Still now I wonder,
What could have been,
If you never wandered.
But the failure was mine.
I’m the big brother.
It should have been me, instead,
You fell to the Ocean’s daughter.
Now I must add myself, to this short list.
And if you find yourself asking this,
Et tu Justin, be not remiss.
For I have sinned, my brother’s last kiss.
Jul 5, 2010
Jul 5, 2010 at 5:12 PM UTC
****
I slipped
and
fell backwards.
Stood up on my own two feet
so as not to look awkward
but I staggered with an Obama like swagger.
I beg of you,
**** please, can we go a lil faster?
For my life expectancy
I am not the master.
I got kids and bills
legacy of a broke *******
If I was Cancer
it'd be a disaster
cause Medicare don't take kindly to me
I owe badly.
Sadly, it's the truth
and I'ma King
and yet still get treated like
I don't have a dream!
Beams of light hit this planet
so beautiful and amazing
and yet we still take it for granted
having all these babies
without no savings.
Gotta steal and not ****
to get by lately.
Call my creditors maybe
hopin' to get a better rate
on my **** cravings.
Feel like I'm from K-Pax
stuck like Kevin Spacey.
Hate me if you want.
I don't give a ****
You can live my life
I'll take yours and run a muck!
Dear Abby,
please don't confuse this
I really don't wanna do this
suicidal thoughts are useless.
Proved foolish
clueless is what I am
to sucka's actin' dufus!
Radio Raheim,
I know he rocked two fist.
My Mama could really give two *****
I'm too ******
Abused by a ****
she ain't
taken no ****
She too ruthless.
You can call her Brutus.
If I'm taken too long
then go to another booth den (then)!
Two pens,
write with both hands.
Call me Ambidex-trian. (Ambidexterity)
If you Mexican
maybe you can request again.
Send me back from Iran
holdin' two cans.
Livin' on the streets
beggin' like po man.
Served this country
and can't get a helping hand.
Take a stand!
Remember when we used to believe in
Unite We Stand?
Yeah right!
What a joke we plan!
When words spoken to those just a slogan.
Big ups to Joe Rogan!
Knockin' nigga's out
wit' one blow man.
These words I deliver
like the local post man.
So-cam
I mean So-com
That's my sons favorite game...
Jun 17, 2011
Jun 17, 2011 at 1:34 AM UTC
By the old garages near the railway sidings
slipping or sliding, through the tiding hiding
away, or near to the solemn aspects of ******
with ease, she can tease the eve of your heave-
** or go, no, stay, she says, just today, or all
of your tomorrows shall be forgotten
Lonely was the name on a tag, lagged, left
forgotten at the bottom of the river, where
she lay, today, floating away-
But he stays, the way his spirit lays, let( )down
or all around this town, how it lingers;
the memory of love or lust on drunken Friday
nights by the fright of old Frank Alight, setting
alight the houses in furor, or moor the more
he bores by the moored shore of that amour
armoured, charmed, alarmed at the speech
patterns in the night sky, as she lay down
to die, or to cry, questioning why, Frank
could try and do this, Brutus, brutally
mutually assured destruction, social construction
or constriction, the friction of hands
around the throat, she never floats, just sinks
corpses stink, porous ink stained every lane
leading to the place where in disgrace, he beat
her face, and replaced the lace, in the place
leading to the lake
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 4:54 PM UTC
How many of you out there
Can remember your dreams?
I cannot remember too many of mine.
The dreams that I usually remember
Are the scary dreams.
I once had a dream that I had a puppy.
The puppy was a mutt but he was in
My dreams.
I did not know at the time but I was talking in my sleep
about him.
His name was Brutus.
In the dream I was screaming out,
"Get rid of him, Get rid of him."
I had another dream where I was
Being chased by people from
The future of the apocalypse.
I believe that dream meant
That Jesus was chasing me, and that He
was coming back to take us with Him
To heaven,
So that we could have a chance to be saved.
I believe that I was saved when I
Walked out of an abusive situation.
I had to walk thirty miles with my two
Children for seven hours, until I
Found somewhere for me and my
Children to stay at until I
Could get back on my feet.
This story seems like a dream
But it is reality.
Most people do not know what it
Is like to be me, because they do not
usually see what is really going on
Inside my head.
They have not walked in my shoes.
If I had the chance to change anything
It would be that I would never have
Dealt with anyone that would hurt me
Or my two children.
Dreams come and go but reality
Always steps in with the good and
the bad.
You need to take the good with the
Bad in order to survive.
You need to believe in God in
Order to go to heaven when you die.
It is God who can only save our souls.
I believe that I am going to heaven,
Because I am one of his chosen ones.
This is the only way to go to heaven.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 8:13 PM UTC
Our footsteps echo through ancient halls,
where here is everywhere
and every time is now.
Caesar’s twin-edged conquests are our own
as is Brutus’s fickle knife
and Marc Anthony’s cunning speech.
Plague steals across our Europe
like a remorseless highwayman -
rosies all ringed and falling down.
We wait in Wien's Kärntnertor theater
for Schiller’s An die Freude
to shine anew in Beethoven’s score
and are ushered in at Menlo Park
where Edison's tungsten faintly glows.
Tomorrow will bring sun to the night.
There's Jonas Salk at his microscope.
One more test will crack the code
to banish polio's scourge.
But nature’s caprice strews logs on our roads.
We are dashed by a Tsunami’s rage.
Katrina’s torrents have swallowed our homes.
Prides of warriors wade rivers of blood
and Darfur bullets tear into our chests.
Nuclear Toys ‘R Us shelves are fully stocked.
We are the heirs of each triumph and treachery.
We grasp the keys to tomorrow.
What have we done? What must we do?
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 5:35 AM UTC
.
Brutus
Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus Br
utus Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus Bru tus Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus Brutus Brutus
Brutus Brutus
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 10:24 AM UTC
As Cummings reminds us, death was never a parentheses,
or a question, or a way of leaving,
but mostly, an intimacy between this world and another.
Consider Caesar, and how he never asked why, or got angry,
or held it against him,
but instead looked up at Brutus with all the strenght that
could come from a dying heart, and said
"You too, my child?"
Some things are even too much for our world to hold.
Even war shows us that once it's over, you can never let any of it stay with you, and happiness works just like that too.
And now, even as you read this,
knowing that the most beautiful of things rarely ever repeat themselves,
you wrote to her saying
"I am still afraid of feeling so alive in a world
that never keeps anything forever"
but it does keep everything forever.
it takes all that it knows,
and puts it in people and we just look for the ways that will keep all of it alive.
And remember how when we die,
the body flushed rigomortus,
will cause the hand to cling to the last thing in its grip.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 5:52 PM UTC
Babble, babble, disloyal and troubled
Get out! Get out!
Who’s there? Why are you here?
How did you get in? My safe haven!
No, no, no! I’m hearing but not listening.
Invaders…on the inside forcing their way out.
People can’t know the fugitives I hide.
They made me do it! Not my fault!
Not my fault!
Whisperings, not of a lover.
Betrayal. **** you, traitor!
You promised me safety. You said I was supposed to feel better!
Where’s my prize?
I’m rocking, rocking, rocking…
Where are you?
All’s quiet on the eastern shore,
I’ll wait for you to come back, my Brutus.
This corner is not the same without you.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 3:07 AM UTC
My cat goes MEOW
Expecting food
Runs around the yard
Catching mice
Gives us allergic reactions
Gets cranky in stormy weather
MEOW MEOW MEOW
The cat goes meow
What is his favourite food
Whiskas
Fancy feast
Snappy Tom
The cats of Australia
Have made their choice
Snappy Tom oh snappy Tom
MEOW MEOW MEOW
MEOW MEOW MEOW
MEOW MEOW MEOW
Says the mother cat
Who just gave birth to 7 little kittens
Butch
Brutus
Sooty
Lucky
Snoopy
Cuddles
Jade
MEOW MEOW MEOW
Enjoy your food
Little ***** cat
Sent from my iPhone
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 7:12 AM UTC