"cest" poems
Original French
Dictes moy ou, n'en quel pays,
Est Flora la belle Rommaine,
Archipiades ne Thaïs,
Qui fut sa cousine germaine,
Echo parlant quant bruyt on maine
Dessus riviere ou sus estan,
Qui beaulté ot trop plus q'humaine.
Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan?
Ou est la tres sage Helloïs,
Pour qui chastré fut et puis moyne
Pierre Esbaillart a Saint Denis?
Pour son amour ot ceste essoyne.
Semblablement, ou est la royne
Qui commanda que Buridan
Fust geté en ung sac en Saine?
Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan?
La royne Blanche comme lis
Qui chantoit a voix de seraine,
Berte au grand pié, Beatris, Alis,
Haremburgis qui tint le Maine,
Et Jehanne la bonne Lorraine
Qu'Englois brulerent a Rouan;
Ou sont ilz, ou, Vierge souvraine?
Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan?
Prince, n'enquerez de sepmaine
Ou elles sont, ne de cest an,
Qu'a ce reffrain ne vous remaine:
Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan?
English Translation
Ballad Of The Ladies Of Yore
Tell me where, in what country,
Is Flora the beautiful Roman,
Archipiada or Thais
Who was first cousin to her once,
Echo who speaks when there's a sound
On a pond or a river
Whose beauty was more than human?
But where are the snows of yesteryear?
Where is the leamed Heloise
For whom they castrated Pierre Abelard
And made him a monk at Saint-Denis,
For his love he took this pain,
Likewise where is the queen
Who commanded that Buridan
Be thrown in a sack into the Seine?
But where are the snows of yesteryear?
The queen white as a lily
Who sang with a siren's voice,
Big-footed Bertha, Beatrice, Alice,
Haremburgis who held Maine
And Jeanne the good maid of Lorraine
Whom the English bumt at Rouen, where,
Where are they, sovereign ******
But where are the snows of yesteryear?
Prince, don't ask me in a week
or in a year what place they are;
I can only give you this refrain:
Where are the snows of yesteryear?
9.4k
In a city full of fake thugs and now record beef they just settle it with 8 slugs
There rose a kid from out of Rogers parkway who kicks slow flows containing dopamine in the bars I slay like Dre Day I'm celebrating out the melon insane like dry water the sheep I'll slaughter like a psychopathic ********** with a daughter
Allow me to introduce Nero The Damphir psychotic and I kick knowledge like a field goal my pen is spinning the rumpelillest gold causing static with the lyrical automatic I splatter brains on the floor it's a nasty habit to endure.
I'm Chicago's poet I spit knowledge and split spines with the rhymes so solid no one will notice I roll this ***** up like the best cest and smoke it unless you take it off the wax and into the turf I'll make you taste the salt of the earth and after you're in the dirt I'll bear you like Paul you have no chance at all against me the pen is all I need to destroy then employ my victims my rhymes stay within them like That dude they net in juvenile detention center I'm centric on hip-hop that is I got love for cold crush sugarhill grandmaster flash and whodini Wu-Tang naughty by nature and Cypress Hill
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC
I woke up this morning
Sporting a Beret
Speaking in an accent
Parlez-vous francais?
With a scarf around my neck
A pencil thin moustache
Afraid I might have woke up French
A slight giggle to my laugh
With a strong urge for fresh Baguette's
I head to the grocery
I told my cat I'd be right back
He looked at me... Cest la vie
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
Sonnet.
Se voir le plus possible et s'aimer seulement,
Sans ruse et sans détours, sans honte ni mensonge,
Sans qu'un désir nous trompe, ou qu'un remords nous ronge,
Vivre à deux et donner son coeur à tout moment ;
Respecter sa pensée aussi **** qu'on y plonge,
Faire de son amour un jour au lieu d'un songe,
Et dans cette clarté respirer librement
Ainsi respirait Laure et chantait son amant.
Vous dont chaque pas touche à la grâce suprême,
Cest vous, la tête en fleurs, qu'on croirait sans souci,
C'est vous qui me disiez qu'il faut aimer ainsi.
Et c'est moi, vieil enfant du doute et du blasphème,
Qui vous écoute, et pense, et vous réponds ceci :
Oui, l'on vit autrement, mais c'est ainsi qu'on aime.
996
This is not going to go as planned. Talk about unsettling – I am completely without seat.
Afraid to talk, or I’ll throw up.
And I’m shaking on the inside
And clenching the edges of papers
In small, isolated seizures
And it’s rushing on like a freight train
Like a highway spun backwards
And I’m standing, alone,
Silent
And breathing heavy.
This is the moment when I fall back on alcohol.
When I imagine the soft fluidity of liquid bringing me into collapse
Seducing me, sedating me,
Tranquilizing my hip-hop-wired nerves.
All I want to do is scream, once, at the top of my lungs,
Into my pillow?
Could imply ****
Unsure if whether or not you will put your hands on me your eyes on me,
I don’t want that, can’t have that,
You haven’t earned that.
Don’t even know why you like me
Or if I do, if I should, why should I like you
When you’re tall and have a low voice
And might be depressed,
And I’m ****** up, too manic
Don’t wanna get into this cest pool
And really out of nowhere when you’re just about to bolt
You ask me, like it’s nothing,
If I’d like to go for a drink.
And I ****** well did want to go for a drink
Even though I don’t want to go for a ******* drink!
Because your hands are big
And sweaty
Which would ruin everything,
And I don’t know anything about you
Or me,
And I would just be saying the same, old, ****
And it wouldn’t be fun,
And we’d enter into the same, old, ****
Like playing a game of pool
And – whoops! – I showed too much cleavage, and hey, don’t you dare try and show me how it’s done,
With your hands on my hips,
Like that one time at work,
Which thrilled me.
I’m just a bundle of contradictions. And I don’t think this is right.
I’d really like to shut this off like the lights like the zone of electricity,
But it’s still there
And I bet you’re so calm.
And I’m sure I’ll smile, when it happens.
And I’m sure it’ll go ******* well.
I’m not taking a lick of joy from that,
Only anxiety,
Sallow, brown anxiety.
And great, ******* it, this isn’t going to work
Get me out of it
Climb out of my skull
Onto the pavement
Liquor me up, or I’ll never make it through this ****
It’s time to go. Man up. Grow some *****
**** me.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 3:35 PM UTC
They’re back
The Demons followed me here
I can feel their chilling breath on my neck
As if each goosebump were about to explode
With raging acid that could leak into my bones
Insomnia
Effortless attempts to sleep while
I’m being watched
Light seems to be the only protection
They hate light.
It makes them shiver
The warmth hinders their movements
Scattered thoughts leave me with no hope
My fingers shake at the idea
My fingers never shake.
I remember a time when demons didn’t exist
A time where sleep was accepted
Where thoughts were ignorant
They could be grinning in the corner
I wouldn’t have noticed
These songs keep me sane
The beating of the drums keeps my heart at pace
It hollows my mind from thoughts
Fills it with words of another
This cest pool is a dangerous game
Its focus, to annihilate all whom cross its path
Subliminal messages draw in its followers
Competing to claim the prize
Death .
Mar 5, 2011
Mar 5, 2011 at 10:28 AM UTC
Finding something to write about that's not you is quite hard these days. It's really odd, I know you don't love me anymore and I don't love you anymore (maybe) but you're still all I think about. I guess because you were such a big part of my life for five months. Then you moved on in a week and it's total naivety of the situation hit me. How could you possibly have loved me? You moved on in a week, I'm just an idiot. I wish I could talk to you about it, but you don't really care enough to give me answers, and that's okay. I can make assumptions as long as your fine with it. I snooped through your phone and read you and one girl's messages. They were a little more than friendly I'd say, but hey, it was your prerogative. Then there was the other girl, and I should have realized so much sooner you were falling for her, but there comes the naive thing again. We both knew, though, that we weren't going to last. You were falling out of love, and I could feel it. Love is like a game of tug of war and as soon as one side lets go, the one that's still holding on falls flat on their *** I mean truth be told, I was going to break up with you a month prior, but I didn't because I thought maybe we could fix things. Things were too far gone at that point though to really even be considered savable. I lost trust in you, you lost love for me. I wish for once you'd be honest with me though. Manned up and admitted you were falling for her while we were together. I wish that maybe we could be friends, but we definitely can't be right now because you're not open enough to be real with me. You're intimidated by my bluntness and mistake it for attachment. I'm moving on. Hell yeah it's hard. I mean, I loved you so much, but I can't change the fact that you don't love me. I'm not just going to hold onto something if there's no point. Anyways, it's probably better if we're not together. It's been almost two weeks and I feel better than I had in my relationship with you. You made me feel so insecure and ugly that I hated myself until you were near me. I didn't love myself because I need you to validate that I meant something more than flesh and bone. But you left and I grew. I'm learning to love myself more and more everyday. I don't let anyone step on me anymore ,and I don't let people disrespect me. Life's been really good, and I'm learning to live without you. I never thought I would.
Cest la vie
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 8:13 PM UTC
i struggle with life
Out of my control
Not of sight.
pain is all i feel
In my eyes it flows
Simple is what I want
I receive the ok
Settle for the less
I struggle with life
Who doesn't
but what can we do?
Cest la vie
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 4:51 AM UTC
threw your eyes
y became human,
y breath, and let go
anger and pain.
starting to feel
that i am not alone, that neruda
understood, in his poem
the queen.
theres more bigger than you there are
ther are prettier than you, there are
there more little than you, there are
but i named you mi queen, and no one
sees, your walking threw the air, no one sees
the red gold carpet that you walk on.
the loved one, queen of
mi empire of words, that no one
knows only her, every photo, breaking
our departed love, every smile in the distance
was my excuse to carry, each day.
and that she understand me.
but the secret is now semi public,
nights come with all the rush,
even then y can and must be cool,
loneliness is hard, the distance
it is the pain, remorse not,
only letting go is the chance,
be the beast, be the lion,
loving in secret, keeping the loved distance
that allowed me to love in secret,
even nigthmares are on your count,
nights and pain, making poems out
of life, and if not aloud me to do so,
pain killer nights to forget that
the light of mi eyes, is far away, and i need to touch
someone, so no lover.
but the need of your skin, the need
of my eyes, to see the objective goddess
that they love and desire, is like the need
for her smile, her strawberry jam smile.
its you, the lady that owns mi heart.
cest bonn, touche. being folish,
departed from the creeps in my brain,
the need for that most wanted, is poorly
tolerated, the fever is giant, and lonesome
of love is the poem, but always alone,
after all, the beast must go on,
in tree years or so, would y be free,
after the lies and deicit, after the hurm,
after all, the love is everywhere, and the friend
is more loved then ever, and the rest of mi heart
it suffers as always, and more this tree years,
all the clues given in this, all the mugle talkers,
respect is a need of the offenders, to feel something
it all, all is clear, love hurts, the need is clearer then ever
respect is and should be a rigth, human and animal.
time is no longer their option, and the flux of words are
stucked, in the eyes of the mate, holding a little
piece of my heart, all is clear, and the need of
pain is no longer my addiction, after all the pain,
y grew up, and decide to love, and split myself,
one too big, one too small, im a pig,
that love them both, the mate and the love,
all is clear in mi movi bubble, even the
clear is clear now, about it all, the two
pieces of my heart, le amour,ahh, le ami
adore, le belle chanson, la belle et la bette,
je sui la bette, cest tout la belle bette cheri,
mon petite bette adore.
all is ´past, never take the blame
for cowards, or say sorry for them,
never say sorry, for the hurm, you
never did, past is prologue, and love
can save the day after all.
je adore le pettite bette,
ladrona de corazones.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 3:22 AM UTC
My dad said,
Son...
one day your gonna want a family,
and it has been the curse of
the male of our line,
to take forever to decide
what they want,
and he gave me names,
examples and dates,
and I nodded along smiling,
seething,
He said,
Baby boy,
Little kid,
Go back to college and i'll pay your debt
as if he wasnt struggling to make ends meet,
as is.
He said, Do this,
or later you will come to regret,
and wish that you did,
and I shook my head.
AND I SAID.
I want to be sane and happy!
I shall have no regrets,
I have much too many!
Life has stolen everything from me,
making me who I am,
someone who finds no shame
in quit.
I have no drive or will,
what is success or money,
But prostitution of the human
driven by the dollar and
Societies judgmental mills
to ostracize those who don't fit the mold,
who don't want to dream,
who don't want to build,
Because being an American it seems,
Is being an individual,
as long as you are an individual,
they want you to be, and if your not,
they are french,
and cest la ************* vie.
And I said,
Dad, You are looking down upon me.
I may want a family, in fact I'd have one today,
if anyone was willing,
But I doubt anyone will love me,
and even if they did, I proclaim,
quite meatily,
We don't need money,
We will get by, the best we can
as everyone else does.
No better or worse.
Just, simply,
existing.
Hopefully,
Happily.
But no, he proclaimed,
you'll want a house some day!
Some where to raise your kids,
At least, if not college,
if that won't make you happy,
come work for me,
sell cars, get a beach house,
as a dad I felt his need to just
give me something,
because as he's never really understood me,
I think he's still always tried the best he could.
And on this, my perceptiveness got a hold of me,
and much to my shame
I Said; Yes.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
Amour, tu es trop fort, trop foible est ma Raison
Pour soustenir le camp d'un si rude adversaire.
Va, badine Raison, tu te laisses desfaire :
Dez le premier assaut on te meine en prison.
Je veux, pour secourir mon chef demy-grison,
Non la Philosophie ou les Loix : au contraire
Je veux ce deux fois nay, ce Thebain, ce Bon-pere,
Lequel me servira d'une contrepoison.
Il ne faut qu'un mortel un immortel assaille.
Mais si je prens un jour cest Indien pour moy,
Amour, tant sois tu fort, tu perdras la bataille,
Ayant ensemble un homme et un Dieu contre toy.
La Raison contre Amour ne peut chose qui vaille :
Il faut contre un grand Prince opposer un grand Roy.
601
The reasoning dribbles out in psuedo intellectual cadences falling from and into the blastema
Circumventing the logic that bonds thought and action
I ask why do i feel this way
Lost in transient blissfull tragedy
The willow is antique in the word play
The building and destruction beget begining
So why i ask
Sullen gentel futility reigns in a
Perfect transcendental mockery
The world as we know it shatters with every question that undermines the veil
A symboic statue growing with evety theory of existence
Do you push on do you believr
Do you have faith to comfort you in the darkened caverns of mind
You ask do i possess this or do it possess me
I sit upon this sidewalk
An animal we call mammel bet the truth is we shall never know
The cold air and sounds of a trucker and ill can do is say why
Does he wondet does he have a mind does he think
Or is he a happy idiot awaiting payment for his hours of toil
Nothing makes sense just a glimpse we inherited along the way
Love be thy prision of hope and dream
Ive loved and lost and never do i sigh
Its all a passing stream heading down the river of metaphysical nothing
Could i love again
Is it going to be real
Or again do i pretend
Cest la vie mon cherie
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 9:14 PM UTC
Forced away
Lured back
Back and forth
I fight both directions
As I fight
I split
Tear
Wider
Deeper
The ocean fits into this cavity
I've drowned
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 5:16 PM UTC
Its been days since i heard from you
The Last i saw was ur hair from the queue..
Your heart grew so big to be my muse
All these words in search of a clue
My nursery rhymes fails me
All I wanted was to be with thee
I wander the street at last
To be Free from the choices have made "cest la ve"
To break Free from self destruction
To make way for whats to come
That who i Had became will define who i Had become....
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 10:00 AM UTC
Pourquoi être triste
Cest quoi être triste
Et d'abord a t on mérite cette tristesse
Cette situation qui nous arrive ,nous accable ,nous laisse des séquelles psychic a vie
Faut-il d'abord la mérite pour qu'elle vient même
Malheureusement non
D'abord que personne ne l'appel
Personne ne la souhaite
Elle est la cerise sur le gâteau du malheur
Elle s'invite a notre joie sans demander
Mais alors faut il la laisser nous abattre, non
Se laisser accablé abbatu ,non
Se laisser vaincu, non
Pourquoi
Le malheur
La malchance s'il faut la cité
L'échec
Et son champ lexicale
Ne définissent rien
Ne sont pas en eux des mot de fin
Il en suivra toujours une virgule quand on cite le mal dans un conte
Un malheur nous laisse toujours une leçon
Une expérience et un nouvelle angle de la vie
Autant dire qu'elle est un tremplin pour mieux affronter, pour se recalibré
Je dirais encore que quand la catastrophe arrive
Quand la douleur à atteint son apogée
Quand la dépression même faisant corps avec la déception nous tendra la main
Quand toute force pour tenir bon et droit nous aurait laissé
N'oublions pas qu c'est dans l'ADN humain le concept de se battre alors
Courage a tous ceux qui traverse l'enfer
Parceque
"Si tu traverse l'enfer continue d'avancer : Wiston Churchill "
Tenons la goute de Courage qui nous reste à deux main ,et nos larmes s'y mellerons pour nous en donner une poignée de courage
N'abandonnons jamais.
Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 5:04 PM UTC