"concorde" poems
We flew through
puberty and left a Concorde trail.
A signature of heat,
feats to fete the wonder in and the wondering
of where to begin.
But the Concorde trail tails off
eventually,
and after the screaming noise, of us,
the boys
when silence returns to the body, and it's
only the chimes of the clock that rocks us to sleep,
there is, I find a tiny piece of my mind, where
puberty keeps a notebook
I look at it, cringe,
squeak like the hinge of an old door,
look some more,
it fascinates me
consternates me
makes me laugh and cry,
the trying of and wanting to
and the wonder of wondering who.
The memory of most memorable events are
scorched into and run right through me,like
a stick of Blackpool rock,each name I've known
are written and imprinted on me.
Puberty and what comes next,will in the future,
I am sure be sent in hurried texts by
hurried men,who hurry on to marry wives,
have hurried *** in hurried lives
and after that,
who knows.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 8:13 AM UTC
Adam4's acquaintances who frequent
Foxholes as salivary soliloquy,
Usually suspected no second helpings
A dim ambience for an active bedroom
On battery powered candles
Concorde lighting
The carpet's edges chewed thin
Receding hairlines
And he uses me as bait..?
Our neglected puppy's teething
Nesting under California
King Mojo's hollowed cushions
Keeps him gnawing these nights
Misters and oil burners
I was mistaken, there are those
That revisit--reacquainted with him,
Must of shared a Starbucks,
As his Sasquatch hands
Rub wet platinum on his old fellow
Bears and their Cubs
Silicon smooth pets, house boys
Fished from the deep web,
Plagiarizing with their eyes the pleasures
Of Eurocreme
Bare back dreams, hours heave
The subtitled felatio scenes
I tell the old man, they only ***
After and mostly when
Most of the guest leave,
There is one hovering quick
To accommodate his
Ginger manly girth
I'll be out in the smoking section
At the side of the house
Through the slider door
From off the kitchen dining area
Where he had once
Replaced the table with billiards
For a Lenny and his troop...
His Samsung vibrates every time
I take a five to breathe
Chain smoke and self defocations grief
He posts another ad.
If only you heard
The vagrant shout
A banchee in my skull
For these off the street urchins
Plugged in to the internet's latest
For a place to squat
For winter will be cold
For them to just
****** off
And here I go again,
Assuming that these were decent folk
Come for the holidays
Between taint and pocket rocket
Wallets drain
When one lets the desperate
Indigents
Free range...
"What's there for dinner?"
**** chicken heads again?
Same ole same old dope...
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 7:50 PM UTC
La terra e a lei concorde il mare
e sopra ovunque un mare più giocondo
per la veloce fiamma dei passeri
e la via
della riposante luna e del sonno
dei dolci corpi socchiusi alla vita
e alla morte su un campo;
e per quelle voci che scendono
sfuggendo a misteriose porte e balzano
sopra noi come uccelli folli di tornare
sopra le isole originali cantando:
qui si prepara
un giaciglio di porpora e un canto che culla
per chi non ha potuto dormire
sì dura era la pietra,
sì acuminato l'amore.
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A perfect day, standing on the train platform to go home,
the late evening sun golden as a dragon's treasure,
when an earth-ending roar shifts eyes to the sky and
there to humble all,
the Concorde takes off from Heathrow,
almost straight up, its edges haloed by the light.
Beauty on wings.
In a few months this magnificent,
never to be bested machine of optimism,
will fly no more.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 8:57 AM UTC
Time sprouted wings.
It flew away again.
Faster than Concorde on a dash, very noisily, one quick breath,it's gone in a flash.
As indeed is life.
If you snatched it again, would you have the same wife?
Or husband perse.
Wish that it could be turned back, maybe so life could be reviewed?
Same old mistakes made again?
Who ever knows.
If we had our time again, would we want to change a thing?
(C) LIVVI 2014
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 2:10 AM UTC
Arriba el agua
abajo el bosque
el viento por los caminos
Quietud del pozo
El cubo es ***** El agua firme
El agua baja hasta los árboles
El cielo sube hasta los labios
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botswana has advised waiting to receive first gift of a concorde. the agreement is to station at dalton in south africa until north up to speed with customs considered safe internationally. i would like north africa to accept uk help in securing safer air flight areas in africa for everyone.
hebrew in south africa has asdvised happy to accept our ‘free market’ 1%in 1%out for mango for uk france and china and also north africa. kim has agreed with me to export olive oil to uk china and france from italy. kim also authorises all mango from africa to italy on ‘free trade’ 1% 1% agreement.
nigeria advises they are doing well with the hippo madame who was extradited from china due to wallowing problems at quoi. nigeria says madame is the most beailutiful hippo ive ever seen except when she decides the area is not long enough for her to bathe.
please remember shah of iran did deal for oil at 68p per litre diesel all around the world for 1000 years. he is such a lovely guy. he advises he has enough stock for a million years so the world can relax.
please note electric car will shortly be banned as unsafe in uk france and china. unleaded fuel is better than being frazzled in your electric car.
other news
i spoke to president of france and it was agreed france would not have opening to fish on uk waters as we have 4 million phoenetians who have moved to uk and when we looked at the figures there were enough fish in french waters for all the fishermen in france to gain wealth.
on a positive note when i advised the problem is we think the french hate us he advised they dont hate uk as much as everyone else which i found consoling. i have offered complete china airforce support to france if they are ever attacked.
choo has agreed he’d like deal with china but agrees it needs to be areas where chinese workers would not be threatened. fwoah dream puts balance of weight of decision on all trade based upon number of jobs it would create. remember china moving towards shorter hours for workers.
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 5:26 PM UTC
With loads of time to fantasize
About living the Bermuda paradise
San Tropez, Marbella and Capri
The French Riviera and the Mediteranean sea
Dyed blonde hair and teeth like pearls
Night club champagne 'In Crowd' girls
Dance in Rome and kiss in Paris
Luxurious lifestyle you learnt to cherish
Paparazzi socialite idle rich
Expensive sports car posing *****
Boeing, Concorde club class flying
Jet stream travel is electrifying
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 8:20 AM UTC
Seasonally effectively disordered
Winter,
A swarm to come,locusts too
**** the summer,remember cyclical?
let's be biblical
have a plague.
Vague?
I'm not,
there's a spot upon the end of what I tend to call a nose
****** knows why,
it's like a concorde rising in the sky,snotty too,
blue skies calling
inflations's falling it must be time again to vote them ******** down in Whitehall back in power,
what a shower of **** they are,we'll not get far with them at the prow,I don't know how we''ll get anywhere
**** it
I don't care.
A plague on everywhere and everywhere a plague and lets have a plaque to plagues and place it where
the sun don't shine.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
She who called herself Beauty told me, You can't tread water inside my gene pool
I replied it probably sounded better in your head, but out loud it seems cruel.
But I'm not in pools my mind is a Concorde jet ready to touch the skies
She laughed and said, I don't know what that plane is and I'm not surprised.
I said the Concorde was limited edition, and its speed was basically fighter jet.
The class of plane that is better wasn't made higher yet.
It is one of a kind, and so am I, because I'm a collectible
And what you call treading water someone who calls herself joined will call out Come walk on my waters Mr. Incredible.
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 8:01 PM UTC
Do you remember those seasons in the sun? Carefree days of laughter and fun..
Remember seeing Star Wars and Close Encounters with a soundtrack by ABBA The Bee Gees and Boney M.
Do you remember playing football in the park. Staying out riding bikes until dark. Remember Kevin Keegan, Bjorn Borg and James Hunt. Iconic images of Concorde's first transatlantic flight.
Do you remember watching Space 1999, Planet of the Apes and Dr Who from behind the sofa. Remember space hoppers and friendly village coppers. Endless lazy summer days soaking up the suns rays.
Do you remember Steve Austin, the Bionic Man. Getting a 99 with a flake from the ice cream van. Remember how cool were Starsky and Hutch and wanting a red Ford Torino.
I remember those seasons in the sun. I remember carefree days of laughter and fun.40 something years ago, where did the time go?
That little boy who cheered when the Death Star exploded, hid from the Daleks and danced to Rasputin and Ma Barker still lives within my memory and in my heart.
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 3:15 PM UTC
Ride in a Ferrari,
See the Seven Wonders of the world,
Travel in the Concorde,
Be in the Guiness Book Of World Record for writing the most poems,
Go bungee jumping on Victoria Falls,
And lastly see Serengeti Wildbeest Migration on hot air balloon.
30/7/2019
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 5:35 AM UTC
LA RAISON
Moi, je me sauve.
LE DROIT
Adieu ! je m'en vais.
L'HONNEUR
Je m'exile.
ALCESTE
Je vais chez les hurons leur demander asile.
LA CHANSON
J'émigre. Je ne puis souffler mot, s'il vous plaît,
Dire un refrain sans être empoignée ait collet
Par les sergents de ville, affreux drôles livides.
UNE PLUME
Personne n'écrit plus ; les encriers sont vides.
On dirait d'un pays mogol, russe ou persan.
Nous n'avons plus ici que faire ; allons-nous-en,
Mes soeurs, je quitte l'homme et je retourne aux oies.
LA PITIÉ
Je pars. Vainqueurs sanglants, je vous laisse à vos joies.
Je vole vers Cayenne où j'entends de grands cris.
LA MARSEILLAISE
J'ouvre mon aile, et vais rejoindre les proscrits.
LA POÉSIE
Oh ! je pars avec toi, pitié, puisque tu saignes !
L'AIGLE
Quel est ce perroquet qu'on met sur vos enseignes,
Français ? de quel égout sort cette bête-là ?
Aigle selon Cartouche et selon Loyola,
Il a du sang au bec, français ; mais c'est le vôtre.
Je regagne les monts. Je ne vais qu'avec l'autre.
Les rois à ce félon peuvent dire : merci ;
Moi, je ne connais pas ce Bonaparte-ci !
Sénateurs ! courtisans ! je rentre aux solitudes !
Vivez dans le cloaque et dans les turpitudes,
Soyez vils, vautrez-vous sous les cieux rayonnants !
LA FOUDRE
Je remonte avec l'aigle aux nuages tonnants.
L'heure ne peut tarder. Je vais attendre un ordre.
UNE LIME
Puisqu'il n'est plus permis qu'aux vipères de mordre,
Je pars, je vais couper les fers dans les pontons.
LES CHIENS
Nous sommes remplacés par les préfets ; partons.
LA CONCORDE
Je m'éloigne. La haine est dans les cœurs sinistres.
LA PENSÉE
On n'échappe aux fripons que pour choir dans les cuistres.
Il semble que tout meure et que de grands ciseaux
Vont jusque dans les cieux couper l'aile aux oiseaux.
Toute clarté s'éteint sous cet homme funeste.
Ô France ! je m'enfuis et je pleure.
LE MÉPRIS
Je reste.
Jersey, novembre 1852.
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Pendant que la mer gronde et que les vagues roulent,
Et que sur l'horizon les tumultes s'écroulent,
Ce veilleur, le poète, est monté sur sa tour.
Ce qu'il veut, c'est qu'enfin la concorde ait son tour.
Jadis, dans les temps noirs comme ceux où nous sommes,
Le poète pensif ne se mêlait aux hommes
Que pour les désarmer et leur verser son coeur ;
Il aimait le vaincu sans haïr le vainqueur ;
Il suppliait l'armée, il suppliait la ville ;
Aux vivants aveuglés par la guerre civile
Il montrait la clarté du vrai, du grand, du beau,
Etant plus qu'eux tourné du côté du tombeau ;
Et cet homme, au milieu d'un monde inexorable,
Etait le messager de la paix vénérable.
Il criait : N'a-t-on point assez souffert, hélas !
Ne serons-nous pas bons à force d'être las ?
C'était la fonction de cette voix qui passe
De demander à tous, pour tous, Paix ! Pitié ! Grâce !
Les devoirs sont encor les mêmes aujourd'hui.
Le poète, humble jonc, a son coeur pour appui.
Il veut que l'homme vive, il veut que l'homme crée.
Le ciel, cette demeure inconnue et sacrée,
Prouve par sa beauté l'éternelle douceur ;
La poésie au front lumineux est la soeur
De la clémence, étant la soeur de l'harmonie ;
Elle affirme le vrai que la colère nie,
Et le vrai c'est l'espoir, le vrai c'est la bonté ;
Le grand rayon de l'art c'est la fraternité.
À quoi bon aggraver notre sort par la haine ?
Oh ! si l'homme pouvait écouter la géhenne,
Si l'on savait la langue obscure des enfers, -
De cette profondeur pleine du bruit des fers,
De ce chaos hurlant d'affreuses destinées,
De tous ces pauvres coeurs, de ces bouches damnées,
De ces pleurs, de ces maux sans fin, de ces courroux,
On entendrait sortir ce chant sombre : Aimons-nous !
L'ouragan, l'océan, la tempête, l'abîme,
Et le peuple, ont pour loi l'apaisement sublime,
Et, quand l'heure est venue enfin de s'épouser,
Le gouffre éperdu donne à la terre un baiser !
Car rien n'est forcené, terrible, effréné, libre,
Convulsif, effaré, fou, que pour l'équilibre ;
Car il faut que tout cède aux branches du compas ;
Car l'indignation des flots ne dure pas,
L'écume est furieuse et n'est pas éternelle ;
Le plus fauve aquilon demande à ployer l'aile ;
Toute nuit mène à l'aube, et le soleil est sûr ;
Tout orage finit par ce pardon, l'azur.
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