"coupe" poems
Life outlined by higher power
Just few friends, without a lover
Mind that doubts your every move
Talent that's not self-doubt-proof
Social anxiety that hinders your story
A lust for approval and unattainable glory
Afraid to talk, afraid to be seen
A picture of future that's but a dream
Nearing an asymptote of self-destruction
Unable to perform basic human functions
A coupe of rhymes, and just a "fine friend"
a crater in heart that requires a mend
What can you do? These are cards you were dealt
But where is the fire that your mind will melt?
Dec 8, 2021
Dec 8, 2021 at 4:32 PM UTC
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Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 7:32 AM UTC
Ce que j'ai ressenti quand j'ai écouté ses chansons
True sorry
Sa musique t'envahit
Te coupe le souffle
Rien que des sentiments graves, étouffantes
Il te prend par la main
Et t'étrangle soudainement
Il te caresse dans ta gifle
Il est avec toi
et t'abandonne quand tu le désires le plus
Il est là
Sur des vibrations sonores hors norme
Ce qu'il fait t'exaspère
te rend malade
Il ment sans même rougir
L'improbable c'est lui
L'horizon , les jardins vivent dans
ses imaginations
mais il aime me montrer ses démons
Nomade Slang
Je me balade dans tes pensées
Je veille sur tes routines plates
Ton âme danse dans cet espace
Je te voix heureux mais effrayé de
ce monde et ne montrant que ta tristesse
Essentielles
La mer, le vent chaud
les gens qui passent
Tout est familier
Tu revoit ta jeunesse
A l'aise dans un coin
Ce que tu es ne te ressemble plus
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 2:01 PM UTC
Do you remember days gone by
When car songs ruled the radio
Think about the passing years
Where did these songs all go?
Little Honda, Duece Coupe
I miss my GTO
I miss the beach boy harmony
Where did the car songs go?
The Little Old Lady From Pasadena
My Hot Rod Lincoln...oh
Daddy took my t-bird away
Where did my car songs go?
Way back in the sixties
The car song, it was boss
Where has the music travelled
It's this generations loss
Do you remember days gone by
When car songs ruled the radio
Think about the passing years
Where did these songs all go?
Little Honda, Duece Coupe
I miss my GTO
I miss the beach boy harmony
Where did the car songs go?
Hot Rods, and dune buggies
The cars would go go go
Where are the car songs hiding
Does anybody know?
I miss my barracuda
My "Woody" was the bomb
There's nothing out there like it
Where has the car song gone?
The music they are playing
Just puts me fast asleep
I need to hear my car song
No more "Rolling In The Deep"
Do you remember days gone by
When car songs ruled the radio
Think about the passing years
Where did these songs all go?
Little Honda, Duece Coupe
I miss my GTO
I miss the beach boy harmony
Where did the car songs go?
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 11:46 PM UTC
a hot little betty
the engine ran quick an hot
and the miles did run by
a hot little betty
my little red coupe put so much highway behind me
that thought the world would run outa road
my little hot betty sweet and cool
ran so much highway
that thought road had become dream
so smooth her wheel
and she handles pavement like a lover
she handles road like they good ole boys
lookin for a sweet peice
so easy to ride em
so easy to tool up one side and stroll down the other
thats my little red coupe
my little betty
dressed all in black
like johhny cash
dressed like im gong to a funeral
from my neatly trimmed hair
to my black dress shoe
im a natural behind the wheel
im a natural at everythin i do
im a hot engine lover
a cool customer
and tonight you can find me out on route 66 of the soul
in my little betty
in my little red coupe
cruisin the moonlight mile
lookin for a girl like you to take the co-pilot seat
and look so drop dead betty boop
in my little red coupe
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 7:59 PM UTC
Je voulais tout supprimer et puis me pendre
J’ai préféré écrire
J’ai marché dix kilomètres dans un Paris assommé de tristesse
J’ai vu des enfants aux crânes ruisselant de sueur, des vieux puant l’urine flétrie et des amoureux aux manches rétrécies par l’infinie similitude de leurs journées d’hiver
J'ai erré dans le froid glacial d'une banlieue endormie
Failli tomber trois fois
Souri à une gamine en manteau couleur rose bonbon
J'ai pas mangé, ingurgité un litre de vin sur le balcon des enfants morts
J'ai pas parlé, je me suis juste évanouie
J'ai voyagé dans vos souterrains les yeux rivés vers les étoiles
Le lapin suspendu au fil à linge de la cave se vidait de son sang dans la bassine rouge
Tu peux ****** sur moi, je ne dirai rien du tout
Tu peux me fracasser la tête contre ton sale radiateur poussiéreux, je ne dirai rien du tout
Tu peux me cracher dessus, je ne dirai rien du tout
Tu peux tout me dire, je promets je ne dirai rien du tout
Tu peux me frapper encore un peu, encore plus fort, tu peux te venger sur moi, sur la tête de ma sale conne de mère, je te jure, je ne dirai rien tout
Je ne dirai rien du tout
Embrasse-moi et puis après si tu veux, je te laisserai faire tout ce que tu veux
Tu fais quoi, là
Fais quelque chose, fais-moi quelque chose
T'es une jolie fille, intelligente en plus, tu fais juste un peu peur de temps en temps, quand t'écris, tu fais peur
Alors coupe-moi les mains
Je t'en supplie, coupe-moi les mains
Je promets je ne dirai rien, je ne dirai rien du tout
Tu peux ****** sur moi, je ne dirai rien du tout
Tu peux me fracasser la tête contre ton sale radiateur poussiéreux, je ne dirai rien du tout
Tu peux me cracher dessus, je promets je ne dirai rien du tout
Tu peux tout me dire, je promets je ne dirai rien du tout
Tu peux me frapper encore un peu, encore plus fort, tu peux te venger sur moi, sur la tête de ma sale conne de mère, je te jure, je ne dirai rien du tout
Fais- moi mal
Fais- moi très mal
Je ne veux juste pas y aller.
(Alors sauve-la)
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 6:49 AM UTC
Back in nineteen
eighty-five when we
had a turkey for president
and all that jive
Back then
I had a blue duece coupe
and a flat in Brooklyn
I was a low-life **** daddy
and you were a classy ****** then
Back when
you had a **** little bobbed haircut
and a social addiction to black tar ******
a best friend named China White
and a body that was outta sight
Back when
you introduced me
to your sister
and she crushed me
from the start
and I ****** her on our wedding day
and it broke your little heart.
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 9:17 AM UTC
concentration camp of my emotions
every statement i make gives the feeling of fake. its been less then a day and already i want to say, **** this is tough I’ve almost had enough. i have to lock down my thoughts like there are spotlights searching for any escaping expressions. I’ve put limitations on my own emotions all I’m allowed to show is pity for my self, hell id rather off my self. the situation isn’t a cold war the glass cover over the launch button is shut, crisis averted we can all go back to being automatons emotionless, cold like stone statues buried under the field. i can’t even share what is going on in my head without a censor bar blocking because i feel like its too shocking and it would be mocking the proposal i composed. I’m allowing myself to believe in a false sense breathing in false cents. I’ve never felt so uncomfortable to talk to someone who, when we walk made me feel….. well a lot. this situation is unbearable but i don’t know how to coupe without my fix. my mom said i need new kicks because theres holes in it but my heart is fit for a good stitch but nobody has a sewing kit. why do i continue to push when the door says pull i guess I’m just not on the ball when i fall. i don’t check the ground first. i didn’t look to see if there were matts to brace my impact, no i just fell and said “oh well” i sprained my leg but broke my heart. I’m in a camp where my emotion is lined against a wall and publicly shot on the spot, red lead hits the spot as emotions drop motionless its pure hopelessness and god **** do i miss it already. the word freedom has no meaning, theres no formal greeting in prison just keep your head down and hope for the best walking in a crowd wearing similar striped attire all tiered looking somehow wired to string strung and hung down from the set. the puppet masters pet. i don’t know where this all will go but i know……….. i don’t know but I’ve lost hope years ago.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
earlyish
in the mourning
the moon
begins to rise
to the
dirtiest
consorting
in the room
between the thighs
forbidden fruit
from a filthy city
that ruins lives
so the troupe
snipped ribbons
ripped ties
flew the coupe
and found suit
elsewhere
Hell
thought it was provoking
when they
caught em
smoking loosies &
tagging in
elementary school
bathrooms &
peeping ****** movies for free
mercy me, a perturbing
flea ridden circus
ballyhoo at
high noon
just
look between
the alleyways
like pearly gates
adjacent to
& facing toward
the gallow stage
saved for traitors
& may I say
these are unhallowed days
triple x files.
furious grady stiles
walked the
daily eighty miles
to the liquor store for
his quick pick or maybe just
a curious
eye sore for bored out tricks
on the nearest corner &
the queerest gory ***** flicks for
a nickel a dime a quarter
&please;
- mind the camera -
hammer
sickle
sanskrit
star
prison bar
stripe
flock stickered on
the flickering light
mock bicker then its
quiet on the farm tonight
doesn't seem right
the sicker sheep seek
sleepless nights
in the street
took Darwinian flight &
a diving leap
to diamond minds
thicker fleece &
meaner teeth
drinking on cheap forties
sneakin up on sweet
***** mother glory
lordy.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
Twisting
Slithering
A never-ending chaotic morass
Winding through
No sooner does the light of dawn bleed over the horizon
Than the shadowy form of dread
Eclipses and quenches the fledgling beam
Waging a constant battle
Darkness always seemingly victorious
or...
Ba da da ba
Juxtapose the extremities
Daddy-o
The slicker downs a bottle of rye
Hits the open road in a beat up coupe
Off to see that daring young man
On the flying trapezoid
Zoom - zap - yowza
Upside
Downside
Thru the water
Ellipsis!!
Awakening
Comes
Slowly
But
Inevitably
Like
the inexorable process
Of
continental d r i f t
Self-awareness
Dawns upon the unsuspecting soul
Crashing down
Edifice of substance
No more.
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 10:46 AM UTC
Thèmes
Choix d'un thème pour un album ou une carte vous aidera à affiner votre choix de materials.Who est le public visé? Est la carte ou un album lié à une fête ou un événement important? S'il n'y a pas une personne en particulier ou un événement associé au projet, l'adoption d'une couleur ou un motif régime prévoit unité et balance.Examples de thèmes populaires incluent: vacances, bébé premier, anniversaires, obtention du diplôme, animaux, années scolaires, les anniversaires, les mariages, roman, prix, favoris (cadeaux, livres, films, émissions de télévision, des jouets ou des modes), le
jardinage, les vacances, les partis, les sports, souvenirs et mementos.After choisissant une conception unifiée, trouver des documents qui illustrent votre message. Matériaux
Les matériaux les plus indispensables sont cartonné, papier, colle, outils, stylos, et des embellissements de coupe ou photos.Cardstock robe soirè peuvent être achetés individuellement ou en packs de valeur; packs de valeur sont utiles si vous créez plusieurs albums et cards.Cardstock et du papier ordinaire est disponible dans des couleurs unies ou du papier patterns.Patterned peut être utilisé comme arrière-plans, des bordures, ou du papier de coupe embellishments.When, sauver les restes pour des projets ultérieurs, vous pouvez embellir d'autres projets ou utiliser de plus grandes chutes en photo mounts.For une aspect texturé, papier de déformation;. carton est plus facile de se froisser si vous appliquez quelques gouttes d'eau adhésif, des outils et des stylos coupe sont très variées. Les types de base comprennent liquide et le bâton de colle, du ruban, des ciseaux, tondeuses, des marqueurs et des albums de pens.For de pigments, toujours utiliser des matériaux sans acide qui ne traverse pas le pages.To créer bords bordée sur les pages de scrapbook ou des cartes, utiliser des ciseaux spéciaux, comme puncheurs. ondulées et de la vallée de pointe, ou en forme embellissements
améliorent le thème choisi albums et cards.Cutouts, des autocollants, des rubans, papyrus, vélin, les timbres et les citations sont des choix populaires, citations peuvent être employées par achetées quote-livres, manuscrites ou tenue mere de la mariee imprimées à partir d'un ordinateur Photos personnaliser n'importe quel projet de robe soirè métier;. ils peuvent être imprimés à la maison, ou développés par des boutiques et drugstores.Photos d'impression en ligne sont généralement organisés par ordre chronologique, en collages ou categorically.Categories incluent, mais ne sont pas limités à: des événements, des activités, des familles, des couleurs, des particuliers ou actions.Although ce sont des techniques de mise en forme les plus populaires, vous devriez Étalez vos photos seront cependant mieux s'adapter au thème de l'album ou carte.
http://www.modedomicile.com/robe-de-soir%C3%A9e-c-5
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
Le matin - En dormant.
J'entends des voix. Lueurs à travers ma paupière.
Une cloche est en branle à l'église Saint-Pierre.
Cris des baigneurs. Plus près ! plus **** ! non, par ici !
Non, par là ! Les oiseaux gazouillent, Jeanne aussi.
Georges l'appelle. Chant des coqs. Une truelle
Racle un toit. Des chevaux passent dans la ruelle.
Grincement d'une faux qui coupe le gazon.
Chocs. Rumeurs. Des couvreurs marchent sur la maison.
Bruits du port. Sifflement des machines chauffées.
Musique militaire arrivant par bouffées.
Brouhaha sur le quai. Voix françaises. Merci.
Bonjour. Adieu. Sans doute il est **** car voici
Que vient tout près de moi chanter mon rouge-gorge.
Vacarme de marteaux lointains dans une forge.
L'eau clapote. On entend haleter un steamer.
Une mouche entre. Souffle immense de la mer.
1.3k
*Trouble on my mind, as my pen cries.
The Sun has gone home, so I sit trapped in the night alone
Listening to sad songs, wishing I can go home, but my home is long gone.
It’s not to my convenience actually its rather inconvenient, and in it I can’t find meaning.
A betrayal of emotions you may deem it treason.
My pen cries blood on the paper and love is the reason, love is the issue.
Well among my issues, the negative in my life is not only mental but physical.
Not only financial but spiritual, so these words I’m giving to you,
Is all I have to give to you, the weight of the world is fine.
Its breaks my back so I cry, but I’m a Man so these invisible tears I hide.
Hope that my shoulders become stronger so I can walk a little bolder.
If only they knew the world weighs me down like a boulder.
Attempting to anchor my life for a little longer.
Though I pray for strength so by the morning I’m little stronger.
In the night she only wants me to hold her.
To soothe her pain, so I take her load on all the same.
The pressure of this stress is getting insane.
Like a potato is in my exhaust, and it’s getting ready to blow my brain.
So I grit my teeth; until I chipped my tooth.
A portrayal of me in truth is a bird that flew the coupe
But the others can’t fly and there’s no rug or magic carpet ride.
So they fly aboard the wings of me, until I fly low, Hold On.
It’s been this way for so long, and I need an outlet.
So I imagine flying on the imaginary rug alone.
My mind plugs into my heart, and finds love, but I’m still alone.
Late night visions of my home it ***** that it’s gone.
Though these memories, hold on,
Like a leech or a parasite gnawing at my dreams in the night.
So I don’t sleep I just think and I write
Continue to fight even though my will was broken long ago.
My hope was taken long ago, but
My faith remains strong so I still pursue on.
Hold on, can you hear it?
My spirit trying to escape and getting no where
Life’s not fair but this enchantment called love keeps me there.
It keeps me here, but my mind wonders.
Thinking what’s up yonder or will I be a father,
When will I be home again?
However I sit here alone again. Wishing for the impossible
Though I was taught everything is possible
So I’m going to hold the world on my shoulders until I’m in the hospital.
Or six feet beneath the Earth in a casket
This isn’t a fear of mine so I find no reason to mask it.
Life is short, but this can’t be too much that I’m asking
My dreams are usually of me getting blasted
Head on the ground face down bleeding out letting life out as it ends.
But what if the world’s on my shoulders and my life ends?
A sad soul to the end even though I’ve grown into a man.
Life is what you make it no matter your beginning or end.
Most wish to do it again, I only wish I knew when it ends.*
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
All hope was lost when I was alone,
I cried a prayer that reached the throne.
Addicted to tears shaped like the cross,
I wept aloud and found that which I lost.
Like a baby without a breast
I was hungry and starved, I needed to rest.
Weak without food I could barely see,
that The King had prepared a feast right before me.
Bestowed a place at his table,
I found grace that was fatal.
"Eat and drink and be joyful,
by faith my hope is bountiful."
When Jesus made me cry,
I knew, that for me he had to die.
By grace, through faith we are saved,
by the blood that Jesus has paid.
Completely God and completely man,
this Jesus was killed by human hand.
A sacrifice he was,
Jesus loves you, just because.
Resurrected from the dead,
Jesus is alive, no matter what is said.
Living and strong,
Jesus is with you, all your life long.
Jesus is building his house so big,
he wants you to come and see his Kingdom gig ;)
You are loved.
You are blessed.
In the Kings righteousness,
you are dressed.
Sep 17, 2020
Sep 17, 2020 at 10:38 AM UTC
O vraie et lamentable image de la vie !
La joie entre par où la douleur est sortie !
Le bonheur prend le lit d'où fuit le désespoir !
À ce qui naît le jour Dieu fait place le soir ;
La coupe de la vie a toujours même dose,
Mais une main la prend quand l'autre la dépose,
Hélas ! et si notre œil pouvait parfois sonder
Ces coupes de bonheur qui semblent déborder,
Ne trouverions-nous pas que chaque joie humaine
Des cendres et des pleurs d'un autre est toujours pleine ?
Du village de sa naissance, le 20 juillet 1800.
1.2k
A tranquil & serene sunny afternoon
Lying on the couch,
Watching the sun go down.
My black cat kneading,
Rhythmically pawing the
Front of my pants.
What’s going on here?
Some-sort of Animal Kingdom *** signal?
Some zoological parallel to ponder
Whenever one tries to
Make sense out of one’s own
Polymorphous perversity?
But I digress.
I listen to the M/C
Music Choice Channel
Which Comcast.com - Comcast®
Gives out free, from the Basic Tier on up.
Jazz, not Smooth Jazz,
And certainly not The Blues:
“I think I’ll give up livin’
I think I’ll go shopping instead.
Think I’ll give up livin’
Think I’ll go shopping instead.
Gonna buy myself a tombstone
And pronounce myself dead.”
Again, I digress.
Another sunny afternoon in Bernalillo;
Bernalillo, New Mexico:
Where Coronado bivouacked,
Prior to saddling up again
On his fabled quest, his search for
The 7 Golden Cities of Cibola.
It’s nice to be back.
Got in last Thursday evening,
After an 11-hour Honda Civic trip--
The coupe packed to the gills
With household items—
And 2 cats sharing a
1-cat cat-carrier.
(Sarcastic) Please.
Did somebody say, “Meow?”
Digress, I doodle-lee-do.
Kelly came over Friday night.
What a treat!
I cooked Italian.
Saturday night to the Tamaya Resort,
Specifically, The Corn Maiden,
Certainly new and un-starred as-yet,
By sane suave critics who decide
Such things;
Sautéed asparagus on
Sunday morning, and
Off she goes again to
Canyon de Chelly
(pronounced: DA-SHAY)
Arizona: one of the more
Cosmopolitan cities on the
Vast high mesa that is the
Navajo Reservation.
So what’s my point?
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
Not just anything will do,
I want the '66 coupe.
The Corvette
That is deep maroon.
It will gleam in the sun,
With its masculine curves,
Fiberglass weight,
A throaty burn.
I will have it,
One of these days.
I will not settle
For a lower taste.
I will park it on some road,
At two in the morning.
I will be so alive,
My heart will be burning.
The stars will be masquerading
Across the soft summer night.
I will be with someone special,
Looking up to the sky.
Our lips may lock together,
Like our hearts already are.
I met this soul long ago,
We have come so far.
Maybe, the next morning,
We will drive it to a cafe.
We will talk endlessly,
There is always so much to say.
Me and this other half,
Will run away for awhile.
To the coast, up north,
Anywhere that she smiles.
The Corvette
The '66 coupe.
I don't you have yet.
I will find you soon.
But I already have my love.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC
Un jardinier, dans son jardin,
Avait un vieux arbre stérile ;
C'était un grand poirier qui jadis fut fertile :
Mais il avait vieilli, tel est notre destin.
Le jardinier ingrat veut l'abattre un matin ;
Le voilà qui prend sa cognée.
Au premier coup l'arbre lui dit :
Respecte mon grand âge, et souviens-toi du fruit
Que je t'ai donné chaque année.
La mort va me saisir, je n'ai plus qu'un instant,
N'assassine pas un mourant
Qui fut ton bienfaiteur. Je te coupe avec peine,
Répond le jardinier ; mais j'ai besoin de bois.
Alors, gazouillant à la fois,
De rossignols une centaine
S'écrie : épargne-le, nous n'avons plus que lui :
Lorsque ta femme vient s'asseoir sous son ombrage,
Nous la réjouissons par notre doux ramage ;
Elle est seule souvent, nous charmons son ennui.
Le jardinier les chasse et rit de leur requête ;
Il frappe un second coup. D'abeilles un essaim
Sort aussitôt du tronc, en lui disant : arrête,
Ecoute-nous, homme inhumain :
Si tu nous laisses cet asile,
Chaque jour nous te donnerons
Un miel délicieux dont tu peux à la ville
Porter et vendre les rayons :
Cela te touche-t-il ? J'en pleure de tendresse,
Répond l'avare jardinier :
Eh ! Que ne dois-je pas à ce pauvre poirier
Qui m'a nourri dans sa jeunesse ?
Ma femme quelquefois vient ouïr ces oiseaux ;
C'en est assez pour moi : qu'ils chantent en repos.
Et vous, qui daignerez augmenter mon aisance,
Je veux pour vous de fleurs semer tout ce canton.
Cela dit, il s'en va, sûr de sa récompense,
Et laisse vivre le vieux tronc.
Comptez sur la reconnaissance
Quand l'intérêt vous en répond.
1.1k
will you live with me in poverty?
will you stay with me till broke?
will you take my hand and walk with me?
will you hate that I still smoke?
will you let me buy my cigarettes
when it’s them or food to eat
will you let me dodge my student debt?
will you help me steal and cheat?
will you let me write on anything?
even our own ***
will you hold me down and call my name?
will you be my worst regret?
will you tie your fingers in my hair
on the nights that I can’t sleep
can you watch strange films with me?
can you stand my brazen cheek?
will you run away when I get scared?
will you stay here when I go?
will you judge my nasty vices dear?
will you laugh at all my jokes?
can I bite your neck all night
can I wear your clothes
do you mind that I can’t cook a thing?
do you mind that I can’t even sing?
do you care that I can’t stand myself?
do you think that I’m an easy fling?
Will you leave me when I do too much
or will you hold me while I shake
will you let me wear more ink than cloth?
will you hunt the demons that I’ve got?
will you help me **** my darlings true?
will you love me when my beauty’s through?
will you hold my skin while it rots off?
will you drink my blood when it’s got clots?
will you cut me open when I’m dead?
will you share for free what I have said?
will you keep my heart in a glass jar?
will you sell my teeth at a bizarre?
will you read my bones to know your fate?
will you let my innards dress your cake?
Will you take all that I’ve ever done
and show it to the midnight sun
can you leave me lying on the ice
so I never know true paradise
For I want to wander this ****** place
until your body’s in decay
and when you can’t stand another day
I’ll deliver your sweet coupe de grace
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC
Salut ! bois couronnés d'un reste de verdure !
Feuillages jaunissants sur les gazons épars !
Salut, derniers beaux jours ! Le deuil de la nature
Convient à la douleur et plaît à mes regards !
Je suis d'un pas rêveur le sentier solitaire,
J'aime à revoir encor, pour la dernière fois,
Ce soleil pâlissant, dont la faible lumière
Perce à peine à mes pieds l'obscurité des bois !
Oui, dans ces jours d'automne où la nature expire,
A ses regards voilés, je trouve plus d'attraits,
C'est l'adieu d'un ami, c'est le dernier sourire
Des lèvres que la mort va fermer pour jamais !
Ainsi, prêt à quitter l'horizon de la vie,
Pleurant de mes longs jours l'espoir évanoui,
Je me retourne encore, et d'un regard d'envie
Je contemple ses biens dont je n'ai pas joui !
Terre, soleil, vallons, belle et douce nature,
Je vous dois une larme aux bords de mon tombeau ;
L'air est si parfumé ! la lumière est si pure !
Aux regards d'un mourant le soleil est si beau !
Je voudrais maintenant vider jusqu'à la lie
Ce calice mêlé de nectar et de fiel !
Au fond de cette coupe où je buvais la vie,
Peut-être restait-il une goutte de miel ?
Peut-être l'avenir me gardait-il encore
Un retour de bonheur dont l'espoir est perdu ?
Peut-être dans la foule, une âme que j'ignore
Aurait compris mon âme, et m'aurait répondu ?
La fleur tombe en livrant ses parfums au zéphire ;
A la vie, au soleil, ce sont là ses adieux ;
Moi, je meurs; et mon âme, au moment qu'elle expire,
S'exhale comme un son triste et mélodieux.
1.1k
in OUR bed
in the coupe
under the stars
next to the fire i build you
on the desk
on the floor
up against the wall
on the kitchen table
on the hood of my car
in the pouring rain
on the beach
in an elevator
on a rooftop
on a bridge in the park
on a bench
on top of a mountain
in a theater
in the shower
on the dresser
on the sink
on the steps
on a pool table
in a hammock
at halfcourt
on a baseball field
in a hot tub
in the rapids
on a paddle board
on a horse and buggy
dressed as a Viking
on a bear rug
in a furniture store
under the fireworks
in the mancave
in front of mirrors
in a luxury hotel
in a ****** motel
in a castle
on a washing machine
in front of a fireplace
on an airplane
on a bed covered in rose petals,
white, pink and red
at sunrise
at sunset
under a rainbow
under a waterfall
under a full moon
in a tent
on a boat
on a ferris wheel
dressed as a clown
in a limo
in the ocean
in a pool
in a bathroom
on a bar
in a cab
as the ball drops on New Years Eve
at Burning Man
all over the world
for the rest of my life
this is where i want to make
sweet, passionate love to you
I cannot wait to check them off 29
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
She would hank up on my left side
Listening to my breathing
Like You, she loved to grabble
To take care of my health, You're cared about it too
Unlike You, she’s got an apprehension of old science fiction movies
And she often stared at me while I was dozing or watching a film.
Jokingly, I would draw her attention:
- Look! Advertising for "Elvita cakes"!
We were laughing.
I understood that stare.
Because of You.
While we were walking in the winter, you wanted to be on my right side
And You would let me slip my hand into the pocket of your coat.
I'd watched you tread, with rosy cheeks
Hair pulled into a bun
I would stare.
You would ask - what ?!
Nothing, I would answer.
(your smile, you fool)
In the first months we photographed ourselves
With a cheap film camera
And photos were in color
On photos, You turn out magically.
I brought along the album with these photos of you
While I train traveled in dawn, for the semester verification.
I stared, while the coupe was empty.
In the city I bumped into a former, older, more experienced colleague
We both worked in a bookstore and his father teached literature.
I told him about the new poems, the new job after old bookstore and that I'm in a relationship.
I showed him your photo, the most beautiful one.
He froze.
Then he said with a smile:
You are going to be so ****** up when this relationship ends ...so ****** up.
And he, as always, was right.
I was *******
I didn’t tell you about the album and the train
I let you speak about musicians
You were not pleased because I didn’t understood the song of Leonard Cohen completely
And I wasn’t pleased not knowing for the comicbook which will essentially explain the two of us.
You become cold, distant.
You left in February, after the literary evening
You were a bit surprised that I gave You a book, gift with a dedication
Although I was (un) consciously conscious of what awaits for me soon.
I didn’t complicate.
I got up, kissed You on the forehead, and I went towards the station and to take a bottle of beer.
Where are you going, You asked. Pulled me by the sleeve. Tightened me.
We struggled for a few seconds. Stopped.
You wanted to see me off, to see how the train departs slowly, leaving
How train wagon becomes a point in the distance that disappears in the fog.
Of course, it was your way.
Now we both have a cult episode of Dylan Dog
Comicbook called " The Long Goodbye "
There is also a scene at the train station
And I finally realized Leonard
After the first empty bottle.
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 7:06 AM UTC
Tout près du lac filtre une source,
Entre deux pierres, dans un coin ;
Allègrement l'eau prend sa course
Comme pour s'en aller bien ****
Elle murmure : Oh ! quelle joie !
Sous la terre il faisait si noir !
Maintenant ma rive verdoie,
Le ciel se mire à mon miroir.
Les myosotis aux fleurs bleues
Me disent : Ne m'oubliez pas !
Les libellules de leurs queues
M'égratignent dans leurs ébats ;
A ma coupe l'oiseau s'abreuve ;
Qui sait ? - Après quelques détours
Peut-être deviendrai-je un fleuve
Baignant vallons, rochers et tours.
Je broderai de mon écume
Ponts de pierre, quais de granit,
Emportant le steamer qui fume
A l'Océan où tout finit.
Ainsi la jeune source jase,
Formant cent projets d'avenir ;
Comme l'eau qui bout dans un vase,
Son flot ne peut se contenir ;
Mais le berceau touche à la tombe ;
Le géant futur meurt petit ;
Née à peine, la source tombe
Dans le grand lac qui l'engloutit !
954
My thirst remains steady while your breathing gets heavy,
Moist was your choice beging for more in a passionate voice
I'm kissing every part of your body with my lustful lips
With every ****** I give you you twirk your hips
Multiple **** faces with multiple **** places from side streets to out of coupe drops from off the banks of beaches to on roof tops
Little mommy went hard in the paint and bared none, but big daddy go harder in the paint and that's why we won
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
I don’t care that my parents don’t
like you, because the way your unruly
blonde-brown hair matches the way your *****
pants sag makes the buttons on my corsets
and 100 button boots pop,
onebyonebyonebyonebyonebyone.
I’ll meet you in the backseat of that Coupe De Ville
in the cargo hold. You can rev my engine,
and leave handprints on
more than just the back window. You can
show me how to spit off the bow of
The Titanic but, I can show
you how I …
I have only known you for one day,
but these last 24 hours have felt like a
lifetime. If for some reason this ship
hits an iceberg or something
and we find ourselves clinging
to half a door lost in debris
THERE WILL BE ROOM FOR TWO.
Jack Dawson,
I will never let you go.
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 2:26 PM UTC