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Cate Dec 2014
I hear my last words
lose themselves
hanging from the precipice
of a precise demise.

Looking for nectar,
I pick at thorns and scabs
you name your regrettable yesterdays
though I won’t find any syrup
In your horseradish skull.

Tuesday’s malaise will spread
across the week turning sour and heavy.
Summer to fall I thought I had it solved.
Fall to winter,
I know nothing at all.



12.13.14. Cem copyrighted
edited 6.15.16
Obadiah Grey Jun 2010
Mi fatha

Mi fatha wer a miner,
a big owd man wer ee,
wi  an eart so bold it wer solid gold
en that wer plain te see,
al si thee yung un he wud sey
as off te pit eed trot,
mi mam ed never know if eed be
cumin bak or not.

**** denaby pit e wud gu
a dank en dusky hole,
twer not much gud fer a man like im
ee wer’nt a ****** mole!,

bak brekin werk wer hewin coyel
en freekinin dark en all,
en colliers werst neetmare
wer wen th roof ed fall,
trapt **** pits n’ha way tu dee
en that ah’m tellin thee,
tis gud advice tu stop up top
ah’l tell thee that fer free,

ah’l allus remember copper  
e cem a knocking
mi mam she fear’d werst
wen ah’la sudden
a flooda tears did berst,

n’ha th pit ed got mi fatha
ee wer’nt cumin om at all
twer th coliers werst neetmare
th roof.. ed ad.. a fall.

Alan nettleton.

translation for non yorkie's

My father was a miner
a great big man was he,
with a heart so bold
it was solid gold
and that was plain to see,
I’ll see you young one he would say
as off to the pit he’d trot,
my mother never knew
if he was coming back or not,
down denaby pit he would go
a dank and dusky hole,
it wasn’t much good for a man like him
he wasn’t a ****** mole,
back breaking work was hewing coal
and frightening dark and all,
the colliers worst nightmare
was when the roof would fall,
trapped down the pit is no way to die
and that I’m telling thee,
it’s good advice to stop up top
I’ll tell you that for free,
I’ll always remember the policeman
came a knocking,
my mother she feared the worst ,
when all of a sudden
a flood of tears did burst,
now the pit had got my father
he wasn’t coming home at all,
it was the colliers worst nightmare
the roof it had .....a fall.

Alan nettleton
Rui Serra Jul 2014
Jorge abriu a porta do alfarrabista e um cheiro húmido invadiu-lhe a mente.
- Boa tarde. Bradou uma voz rouca do seu interior.
- Boa tarde.
- Então o que o traz aqui?
- Procuro um conto.
- Sim, mas de que tipo?
- O que procuro deve ter cem palavras.
- Que especificidade.
- Pois sim, tem alguma coisa?
- Huummm, deixe ver.
- Agradeço que veja se não tem por ai algum guardado.
O livreiro abriu a gaveta e retirou do seu interior o palavómetro. E após algumas medidas, eis que surge um conto, assim como este, com cem palavras, nem uma a mais, nem uma a menos.
Cate Mar 2015
I hereby resign myself
To lie in a bed,
Overheated and always tired,
Next to a body that I never touch
And never
Touches me.

I will drive the miles
And spend the money
On a friendship I can't afford
And be ignored
When it's convenient
Like the all the rest
of casual acquaintances.

I will pick up every odd shift
For a few more dollars
That surely
won't be in my pocket
For very long.

I will sing the same sad songs
On the occasion
I might at last
Have made it to the shower
Because although I still have water
I might've lost power
And still done nothing
To fix it.

I'll be the texts
At 5am
When the rest of the world
Is sleeping in bed
Likely dreaming and spooning
With breaths regulated
By their cyclical,
routine naïveté.

I'll be the cold body next to
No one
When the morning comes
In the next state over
In the back seat of my car
Wishing I had enough gas
To take me further.

I resign myself
To second place,
The hell for the always over looked.
I'll read another book
And wonder how easy
Fictitious lives must be
Only spanning two hundred pages
Of tastefully flawed existence
With a diligent persistence
To come out better in the end.

I'll stand lonesome as a highway ****
Blown in on the back
Of some filthy bird
Who dropped me off
And never noticed my missing,
Never knew I was with him.
I will never flower.
I only wither.

Cem
Cate Dec 2014
We left on the excuse of
Wanting to listen
To
"Just one song".

But when we arrived at the place
That kept us from the outside
We decided to go ahead and drive

And I've never had a smile so big
I was actually scared
My face might rip

And I could die
Or we could drive off a cliff
Or smoke a laced spliff
It makes no difference to me

As long as you're around
Even if that means muddling through
The week
In our seperate towns
Until one of us can come down
For the weekend.  

And we're too loud
But it's only because we're used
To trying to bridge the distance
With a vocalized insistence

That we'll find a way back
Even if it's back roads and red eyes and runny noses

I know how it goes
And I've chosen to stay
When I would usually take the easy way
I'd be out and gone
But we're leaving together
And with you
I try to do less wrong.

Last night
one more song
Turned into a vulnerable
Sob
And awkward consolation
Turned to snot on my shoulder
And the comfort of
Human warmth.

I would address how we should go forward
But I know it doesn't matter

I'll see you again
And you'll catch my spinning head
And I'll hug you
And hug you
And never get enough

Sweet thing,  
You're the good stuff.


12.20.14 cem
Because you can't have a best friend and not write an awful poem for them. For my sweet sweet girl. You know who you are! (For everyone else this was stream of consciousness you can judge me idc I know it ain't great)
Cate Jan 2015
I am spreading myself out across the splintering voids of the crackling civilization
One borrowed hair tie,
T shirt
Bobby pin
At a time.
I am the little presents and treasures
You keep for no reason
And you are my mix CDs.
You are the summer when i
Was most like the trees- swaying and bending in the vaporizing heat
Of an august afternoon.
I am ashes scattered to the wind
Begging to begin again
With an old friend.

Cem 427a 11015
Cate Jul 2015
Do you remember what it felt like?
that first time you felt something.
what was it like?
before grass was just the potential for stains
and a hiding place for bugs
that bite and itch
long after the day is over.
do you remember?
the way the air felt rushing through your window
the first time you noticed the seasons
and chose your favorite.
I can’t recall the angst of choosing an outfit
or the nuisance of tangled hair and chewing gum.
all i remember is the afters-
after i fell I had scabs for two weeks
after he left,
I wasn’t sure where I fit in.
After I switched schools,
After I learned how to do my makeup
After the sessions just…
stopped.
after they told me I had flat feet
after I wasn’t good enough to dance
wasn’t fast enough to dive
wasn’t keen enough to pitch.
after my lines weren’t crisp enough
my circles weren’t round enough
my words weren’t big enough.
wasn’t cheery enough
loud enough
sweet enough
wasn't
pretty
enough.
I don’t remember how it felt when I looked at him the first time
or how it felt learning his name
his hobbies
and his favorite sports team.
I hardly remember what it was that made me so happy
I just remember
holding his hand too much
and the sweat that always seeped between our adolescent awkwardness.
I remember what it felt like when he took too much though
when he was suffering and
so was I
but helping him was all I knew as a distraction.
I remember the strange faces and the late nights
and the police wondering what a
fourteen year old girl
is doing across the bridge at 2am.
I remember the drop from my window to the frosty ground
i remember the bite when my ankles hit
I remember the pang when I slipped.
What about sorrow?
do you remember what your heartfelt like
when it was still light?
when all those childish metaphors fit just right
and there was no need for anything other than trite rhymes.
what was it like when we trusted everyone?
when plastic bags
were just for snacks
and it was never a question where your drink came from.
When did my beanie baby turn into a switch blade?
I’m carrying around mace
like a safety blanket.
when was our innocence taken?
when did we get so hostile?
so sore?
so depressed?
How long is the list of things we just
“live with”?
Because it started with your ankles and then it was your shins
now your entire lower body is
caving in
that’s not even mentioning
what’s beginning in your head.
you used to think everything worked out-
at least eventually.
But everything is getting worse
your parents
your brother
your country…
it’s a divorce from practicality
that has spawned this disturbing reality.
I would change my mentality
but it’s been created to keep me safe.
at least that’s what they say
and I repeat to myself.
because now I remember,
i remember the things that keep me away
from the bus stop
from the gas station
from 202
from downtown.
I remember what happened
up the hill
on 35
out past the churches and the sea of dried corn.
I remember the sound
of the cicaidas
and your breath
and the sirens
I remember you telling me I was a hot mess
and I told you 
i needed to rest
when I was really depressed and you
never really questioned my sanity
the way you should have.
I wonder when I’ll decide
that I’m not getting by and I'm
fooling myself with the lie I've
sold to ease the burden on my weary soul.
I don’t have a home and
yes,
I’m alone.
But I live with it
I live with myself
I live with the scabs and the scars and the bites and the scratches
with the blurred vision and tired tendons
I live with it because
what else
is there to do?
I can’t get through to you
and neither of us
want me to.
copyright:CeM 10-2-14
Cate Jul 2015
You say you need a doctor
We'll send a helicopter
Because my love is dry
And I won't even try to save you this time

What's your alibi
Tell me,
will you smile the whole time?
watch me choke down your lies
Cem 7.15
Cate Dec 2015
Out of                            touch
Out       of love
      
                   maybe simply
into complacency,

I watch your gaze
-
-
-
falling
past recognition

and I know
It was never your intention

but it's becoming hard
not to mention

If I speak up,
will you listen?

or will you               only hear
the last breaths

of my words
******* up oxygen

like the sound of some
half-hearted     kissing

and I'll wonder                      how
it took                                             so long

to notice
the obviousness

of                            
                                              (something)
missing.

                        I've never been
good at submission.

Cem 12.26.15
Cate May 2015
Do you think that you'd need
some sort of apology
When you come to me
While I'm still dreaming?
Do you think this could make
an awkward autopsy
Because I'm too dizzy to be
Agreeing?

Caught on the hook
You played it
right by the book.  
You took your time
And little of mine
and now I'm the one
Left leaving.

And screaming
And trying,
But not really believing
In anything
but a bereaved blessing,
All forgotten and festering
Though unnoticed,
Still attesting
To it's wasteland existence.

Porous, dry and without pigment
Like the skin of an overgrown pigglet

Time for slaughter,
Courtesy of the indignant.
In death too *****
To be a meat worth eating,
Your glory days
Of **** wallowing wonder
were fleeting,

And you knew it from day one
But it wasn't till near seventeen
You began to come undone,
Got a little high strung
And grew a knife for a tongue
Plunged straight into the heart
With snide remarks and whispers
Of text messages
Left off the charts
And I'm left in the dark

To inside jokes
Of feigned friendship
I suppose I'm waiting
For what you forgot to mention.

Yes,
You've always had
good intentions
Just
... no direction
And little discretion
I'm sorry,
I'm sorry...
But I must change direction.

Cem 5.4.15
Cate Jan 2015
There she  lies
Wide awake in this cellar of her  nightmares;
A prison army camp
Stamps it's boots across her
Charcoal heart;
It's remnants will be spread across
Many eras. Smudged mascara
And a sallow face
She will replace you
Because she was trained to.

Cem 420a 11015
Serafeim Blazej Jun 2017
Marinheiro, marinheiro
Se eu te disser, companheiro
Que a vida não vale a pena no mar
Você desiste de velejar?
Marinheiro, marinheiro
Se eu te confessar, companheiro,
Que estou a duvidar
Você insiste em me acompanhar?
Marinheiro, marinheiro
Se eu esbravejar, companheiro
Você me aceita sem lutar
E me ajuda devagar?
Marinheiro, marinheiro
Se eu gritar, companheiro
Você me resgata de me matar
Ao insistir em não respirar?
Marinheiro, marinheiro
Você é meu fiel companheiro
Você consegue nisso acreditar
Mesmo que eu esteja a titubear?
Marinheiro, marinheiro
Você, companheiro
Vale por cem cargueiros
Cheios de nosso companheiros.
04/03/2017.
Cate Mar 2016
You're not hiding anything tangible
Just secrets, building,
Mortar for this wall behind your mandible.
You view your vocal chords
As a noose
Stretched too loose,
And you swing free
At the base of minor key
Haunting melody that repeats
While jarring words behind your jaw
You will never speak
Pile higher
Higher higher
Until we drift asleep.
Cem dec.18,2015
Cate Jan 2015
It's no wonder I've found myself lonely
when I perpetuate
my inevitable fate
by always walking away.


cem 11015
Cate Mar 2015
oh,
to drift away.

that's all I want
from this place.

I feel sickly
my thoughts,
still bickering.

I'll leave the dishes
for another day.

cem
hi da s Oct 2017
não sei onde aprendi que o medo é irracional e é uma resposta do cérebro. teu corpo não sente medo e sim um órgão que mais parece um punhado de minhocas encurraladas.
por um tempo eu juro que achava não ter medo de morrer, talvez só um leve pavor de sentir dor.
e o tempo funciona mesmo de formas estranhas e complexas. houve períodos que não cogitava pensar em morrer, mas agora parece que tudo mudou e o pavor da morte surgiu acumulado.
esse medo é o do nada ou do tudo que pode vir depois. ninguém pode me responder ao certo. meus avós já mortos não voltaram em sonho nem deixaram uma mensagem sobrenatural sobre nada. talvez isso já seja uma prova de que a morte é de fato um grande nada.
isso tudo é assustador. pensar que tu só tem uma chance pra acertar. e só de saber que não vais mais experimentar o mundo é sufocante.
como pensar na morte tranquilamente natural se vários prazeres que o corpo em conjunto com a vida são as coisas que me fazem querer continuar?
não consigo aceitar que um dia eu não vou mais sentir o calor do sol tocando a minha pele. cheirar aquela brisa do mar assim que se chega na praia. ver alguém que tu ama muito tendo um dia bom e ver ela sorrir. ouvir pela primeira vez uma música boa. observar alguma peculiaridade no meio do caminho que aparentemente ninguém mais notou. olhar pra um por do sol e pensar que aquele tem todas novas cores e que cada dia um é diferente do outro. pensar a toa sobre coisas bonitas que acompanham a gente durante o dia. aprender algo. algo bom. fazer **** com alguém. fazer **** consigo mesma. rir sozinha. rir com alguém. dançar. conhecer alguém novo. chorar. escrever. desenhar. ver. ouvir. falar. gritar. gemer. sussurrar. fumar. comer. sentir emoções. pensar. imaginar. criar.
todo um paragrafo infinito de realizações que de repente para de funcionar. vivemos quase sempre menos de cem anos e ainda é pouco porque o mundo pra gente é absurdamente infinito. e tão grande que dá agonia pensar. viajar por todo continente e saber que não dá pra ver tudo. sobre todos os mais minuciosos detalhes. sufoco. me sinto sufocada e não tem nenhuma pressão em cima de mim, exceto por mim mesma. felicidade. vou parar por aqui.
Cate Mar 2015
I had a talk with the trees today.
I told them what I wanted
And they replied with
"Go on then,
run away.
Being at the top
Doesn't always mean you can see
All that much clearer".

Indeed they were right
It'll never be quite the same
On the way down.


Cem
Super rough draft yikes
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2018
post scriptum:

     sowiecka chmara...

sowiecki: szmer szarości...

wolna ręka
       na viß-à-viß
         obojątnego ciała:

co podobnie wita...

    "                 "
        moze... moze i moze...
    ale nie to: ...
                     inclusive of
        apparently without
a cliff-hanger.

        mordo-rył-śliną-w-***,
a potem:
         o czoło w
                          błoto:
              fú!
   (double stress on
the exclaimation mark)...

- by zbawić
                   Dawida,
  kim a nawet i kto,
     w, na zero zastygł
                  w posąg:

ruchomym na skinienie
          małpięj rękí...

   kim to wita jego niby-nikim...
'eno moi...
               a ja nadal:
w szereg!

   pytam: daleko tam do
podłogi fiołkiem latać
            poza gzyms?

dasz pióra?!
            (orthography
is... a case of actually applying
diacritical marks...
don't worry england,
russia has only butter to mind
in...

   back ь and forward я...
           apparently)...

                                  źle ci, człeku?!
to co ci w morde opętaną
do grzechu nad lud?!

       no własnie: mi to samo!
co?
              a co?            a
                                        gówno!

­serce mi gnije, i serce mi:
pęka...

         od jutra: nigdy od wczoraj!
to i czasem zapomne
                      tatuaż: precz...
a lepi świnski:
                            jeść, jeść, jeść;

co tam: grzemota?
                      niby rudy jid'y'ski,
a to tes, do kurwidołka gest...
                
               niby on: ń'cem!
        
                                хорошо?
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2020
an abbreviation of: sensible people
                                               "physics": meta-
            physics...
           and that there's a theatre of
ortho-graphy... no matter!
the trans- avenue is 'ere!
          von krafft-ebing is too!
19th century morality and today's
islam...
burroughs in tangiers in
the 1960s -
   two homosexuals should be legal:
in a... polygamous society...
because: wha' toa' dough?
                  never mind the red button:
nukes are nukes and...
           bellybutton piercing is:
beside kissing the frog to be prince...
jerking off is not akin to measuring
blood pressure... or... sugar levels...
it's an act of debility:
it's an act gateway ****...
knee sensation leading up to *******...
no clean shaven ***:
readily a goat made available among
the camel jockeys and...
      19th century: if *******
was a crime... so was... phallus worship
and a gamorrah passport when
eating: "flower patterns" of
"excess" skin... ******* was
as bad as oral ***...
             according to... a very respected
portion of signifying a noted down
period of history...
then again: what ***?
                          granny smithy was
about to be peeled for a pie...

    crayonner les portraits de tes trois imposteurs:
might as well be latin... the portraits
of your 3 impostors...

i must be a dumb dumbing down imbecile
i can craft an "answer"
to... the already solved solution

478531692
321796584
596248317
683157429
719423856
25486­9731
862975143
147382965
935614278....

          solve that i can...
loopholes and blind-spots and
cul de sacs... dodo avenues...

how a dodo is minded a tier above
a mammoth...
perhaps my affair with crosswords...
perhaps just english crosswords...
they're not focusing
on...

1across): forbidden writer given
external stimulus...
                
       PRO-SCRI-BED...
               from... prohibited?
      scribler: latin for writer...
              scribo: to write...
"external stimulus": pro...
            pro-scribed: contra prohibited...

  i'm bilingual and supposedly
schizophrenic: i'm already a quadratic of
language... i'll lean toward german...
and some russian...
hebrew and latin and perchance:
i find some greek?!

what are these... puzzle-wordings of...
mono-lingual people?!
an eczema...
crossword puzzles must be...
archeological findings of
mono-lingual people...
not with bilingualism:
the people who already have a crossword
puzzle in their head:
red is: czerwony...
blue is: niebieski...
the earth is: ziemia...
the sky is: niebo...

those real: "adventure" people...

7across) female organißation backed by
iron lady...
                     WIFE...

20across) this writer getting to stay endlessly
after party creates a row...
          DOMESTIC...

clearly the clue is... much more
complicated than the:
the cipher is more complex than the decipher...

some people just like complicated answers
to simple questions...
others... i hate... i hate these "people"...
that have a complicated question:
and the answer is so simple!

12down) sort of ******, getting a BSc
perhaps!
          first-degree...
                         of course it's FIRSTDEGREE...
thirst is another matter...

an obvious one:
2down) meadows covered in grass given up
      RELEASED...

       23across) scot offering a song at funeral...
ALASTAIR...
             alastair is also a greek baby name...
alias: alexander...
        defender / protector of mankind...
hardly a dirge singer...
          
   clearly not a focus for antonyms / synonyms...
me too dumb... me not good with...

11across) woodpecker and two mythological
figures flying around...
        YAFFLE
                  a green woodpecker...
   fair enough... the word went out of fashion...
but where does: two mythological figures
flying around come in... for the killer "clue"?!

how about this clue:
ol' term 'pecker: slot 'um shlang in 'im
poops pop zenith circa 1943:
charlie charlie... hail proctor!
how's that for a... 'ucking diguise?!

sure sure... just give me the *******
numbers...     if i had time for this sort of *******...
i'd still be speaking only one language...
forgive! no passport...
head-up-the-****-of: to the west!
hamburger mania! las vegas: swee'
chyl' o' mein...
you'll get the iota and the delta back...
when i see that...
chil' and the apostrophe do not...
allow you to venture into: chill... savvy?!
how's that for a crossword?!

of course: there's the suez and chyle...
sweet: chil': chyle: not chill:
ergo... child o'                          mind-Frrrreeeeze!
Siberian tundra: or the plateau near
bolshevik Belgrade...
come D'cem'ber...
   through: brrr... bi-nautical-collars!
smart doesn't get filtered:
stupid... on the other hand? does...
stupid from being irritated... ****'ed...
       part an' parcle:

imagine the faux pas of: 'nome...
   it's a bit like a colon and followed up
with italics: like so... double the already existing
emphasis?
apostrophe for the surd... 'nome and gnome...
'nife and knife...
      hell! "they" could have... said... so, n'est-ce pas?!

"recently": keith flint died...
yeah... but the brains didn't...
last time i heard... liam howlett...
i'm pretty ******* sure... no grand spectacle...
when that grand: event 'appens...
keith flint died...
but liam howlett is... the brains...
still alive....              nay ******! or... boVer...
for: fer... ferr  urn und fern uber yearn:
          theta: ******* twin of 'i love sophie...
and her sour cream-ups!

here's to "adventure"!
        and of course: any outlandish:
impromtu swabian:
            because the saxons never made it to
the prefix         anglo-.

— The End —