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Martin Narrod May 2014
They told me the only thing that could cure heartache was war, and since the war wouldn't take me I figure the only thing to do now is take up a life of crime. Gabriel Garcia Marquez says in Love in the Time of Cholera that the only cure for heartache is to find other hearts to break. Five years have passed and I still remember without fail the flint of a lighter, the squint of an eye, and the bell of your dress. I dream a dream each night, sweet variation of the story of you. It comes down to a letter sometimes, I go to the window well with a notebook and a pencil and I draft a sonnet, sometimes a verse, any form of an expression to idle the time it takes for me to find you. I know stars that haven't lived as long. The way I cupped my hands over your ears, the way rapture lived and loved, you kissing me in the shade of the palm trees up their on Notre Damen Ave. I know the curve of the Earth wrapped in the shades of the skin on your body. I live every day for the chance that I will meet you again.
Letter to an ex-girlfriend
Max Neumann Dec 2019
wieso es nicht gelang
wieso es gelang

als sie mich suchten zum liebemachen
als sie mich fanden zum liebemachen

wer von ihnen sang
wer von ihnen sang

sie kamen in scharen
mit freunden verwandten
all jene damen
all jene herren

ich weiß nicht wann
ich weiß nicht wo

doch ich weiß wie
ich weiß es wie

mir ist bewusst:
dichter und autoren werden
keine liebe füreinander hegen

(poet's note: my opinion on
the last three verses above has
fundamentally changed since i been
publishing here.)

liebe mich freund
liebe mich freundin

gib mir
schenk mir
suche mich
finde mich

ich habe mich auf der suche nämlich
versucht

kennst du, bruder, den weg?
den zugfahrplan?
die bedeutung der stahlstreben?

ich brauche eine antwort von
den damen
den herren

finde mich
suche mich
verschenke mich
vergib mir denn

ich schrieb über zivilisationen
von witterung und gier

witterung und gier
freunde sind zwischen dem glitzern
auf dem fluss versteckt wie perlen

sie aufzuspüren zwischen dem wittern
zwischen dem wittern
während des witterns

ich weiß nicht ob du weißt wovon
ich rede
ich rede

aber das ist in ordnung freund
aber das ist ok freundin

wir müssen bloß bruder
wir müssen bloß schwester
fragen

sie sitzen am gleis bei den zügen
sie sind immer da
wie der

“ICH-BIN-DA” aus der kinderbibel
meines sohnes

verstehst du das?
begreifst du das?
fühlst du mich?

viele afro-amerikaner fragen
“you feel me?” wenn sie
etwas ausdrücken und teilen wollen

ich liebe
diesen ausdruck
er zeugt von
etwas gutem, das manchen
menschen fehlt

auf der brust trage ich das tattoo
welches du abschriebst
in einer stunde aus

schatten
witterung
gier
ich wollte das
ich wollte dass

du zu mir kamst
zwischen den schatten
unter der gier
über der witterung

in einem augenblick des
“you feel me”

wie unsere häute glänzten
wie unsere augen glitzerten
wie unsere hände zitterten

wie wir…

ach komm!
was sage ich dir, freund
was sage ich dir, freundin

du weißt es doch dir
ist es bewusst denn du schriebst
mein tattoo ab in

ein buch mit perlweißen seiten
ein buch mit onyxschwarzen seiten

du bist perlweiß freund
du bist onyxschwarz freundin

du bist perlweiß freundin
du bist onyxschwarz freund

ich liebe habeshas
ich liebe äthiopien
ich liebe meine frau
ich liebe meinen sohn
ich liebe meine tochter

you feel me?
I don't know if I should translate this poem/song of mine into English. Not sure yet.

Check out "distances" which I wrote and translated:

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3404286/distances/

Today is a good day.
Walker U Jun 2014
It's fascinating seeing the same worn out faces
on the train
Day after day
Like a routine
Always the same sad look
same baggy eyes
burnt out from too much coffee
It's always the same dull smirk
on the few that are happy
Like a routine
The days don't change
I bet some of these people
Will die on this train
And before I know it
I'm out the doors
And off on the same routine
With tired eyes
And a worn out smile.
#train #blue #tired #eyes #smile
OnwardFlame Jan 2016
Its cold in my room tonight
Throat swollen, mouth tastes just like
Two days ago, weeping on my bed
Your face so red, eyes swelling
Like all the times I admitted
The hole that I am constantly trying to fill.

I remember just for a brief moment
Maybe because the past has skated through my mind
Via the interwebs tonight
I started to feel faint
As we stood, looking down at the performers from up above
We had to leave, you were so mad at me
Local dive bar by my old Philadelphia house
That my darkest past now resides and plays house in
Perhaps cooking stuffed chicken with goat cheese
And all the times I hopped in a cab and tried to leave
All the scratches and ****** marks, holes in walls near my head
Painted on me like cinnamon or paprika spices
Behind.
I remember sitting in the booth, across from you
My Artsy Cynical Bohemian
I was so much lighter before you drove your fingernails
Into the shoulder blades of my back
With black dust and pointed silver
But you didn't know you were digging up buried wings.
I can't quite pin point specific words that were said
But I remember feeling a deep neglect.

It feels like just yesterday
My life was completely different
Walking outside my little stairs
Cafes and restaurants all around me
Swiftly kicking my legs to the gym
Or a friends to smoke ****
Walking dogs all hours of the day
Sleep overs, red velvet pancake
Inking our notebooks with evocative thoughts, creations
So hopeful, full of dreams
Worried about the little things
Pumpkin spice, or all the boys I cried over
Everything feeling and seeming so complex
But so very small.

I wonder how it all fairs, without me now
As it takes me 45 minutes to get anywhere
In the icy windy city
And this is the most sick I have repeatedly been
Since I was a little kid
Mama wishes I was home so that she could take care of me
As I try to rationalize my love life
Or confusing "lack" of one over mobile devices.

I think this is the most alone I've ever been
If you could write that out just like I did
With my calligraphy pen, a sweet Christmas gift
From a dear friend
Who often sits next to me, deep in thought
His thoughts distracted, it seems as though he
Would rather be anywhere else
But we play drinking games, my eyes tantalizing
Passing out in the Lost Boys bedroom
As you read these words,
I want you to take a deep moment to think about
How richly good it felt for you to hold me in your arms
To cover me in forgotten kisses, caresses
As you fall asleep tonight
Embracing or running away from the image of my
Corn husk face
In your butterfly colored mind.

"Your body is bangin.' You have the body of a **** star."
Another said to me just earlier this week.
He's tried to see me several times since then
As I prefer my own company.

Its funny how my mind will imagine
And write stories
Doors closing in my face as new ones widely open
Back to you.
Lets freeze time for a singular moment
Walking past the train that sunny fall day
Damen blue line, your hand gently grazed in between
Where my wings use to--
Where my wings are--
Where my
What a sorrowful day that was.
You agree with me, you say
As we text across the bus or train
Adoring each other like strangers
Fleeting, intoxicating moments
And the hard cold fact
Is that I haven't felt this way
In a very long ******* time
And I don't know when I will again.

Tick ******* tock.
If I were a superhero
I would fly high into the clouds and give everyone lasting
Happiness.

Until something levels better comes along
I am reassured,
My throat welling up as if caught in a blender
That I dive into with blueberries, frozen banana
As you cuddle me, big white tennis shoes
But such a small frame
I see you and I see you and I begin to still
Even see you
For who and what you really are now.

Nina Simone
I watched her on my computer screen tonight
What a mighty, mighty woman
Worshipped, misunderstood
Beautiful, talent like a phoenix
Crooning her art into existence.

And there it is again
A fleeting moment of the past
And how hard I tried to make that
Into a lasting entity.
My God, I have spent my life
Trying to make it work.
Buying a drink, waiting for you
I remember the first time you almost left me
I was so ashamed of myself the next day
For having almost caused you to do such a thing
We met up on the street,
The Philly sunshine springing towards us
As you patted and tapped my *****, so lovingly
Like I would always be yours.

But we changed, or maybe we never really were
And I see the twinkling lights
Of when my mother smoked a cigarette in front of you
As you both inhaled and exhaled smoke
In what I wanted to be
Our fairytale story, purple cauliflower
And I knew deep in my heart
That you had no prominent plans
For our future.

My Little Peter Pan
You are the first to really
Do that
Since him
And there is a sense of such love, contentment
In those love taps
On the backside you deem:
"So Coppertone."

I worry and I fear my own ticking clock
Of being stuck or isolated in never fully moving forward
As powerful women sit merely feet away from me
Empowering and inspiring, living and dreaming
Having their art, their families, their love
I want it all.

But in time, in time
As I gaze at age 25
Lament not having this or that
So many text messages
You or he or they
Shield me from ripping your heart into pieces
As I lay next to you floating in a terminal of wine and whiskey
Men around me saying they have never encountered such strength
Such empowerment
How threatening.

When I was a little girl
I always broke the rules.
OnwardFlame Aug 2016
I'm late.

Need to get my hair and nails done
Pullin' 10 dollars an hour
We all know what I oughta be doin'
I kick up dirt, set paranoid fears aside
Own worst enemy, worry worry
I create visions and words in my head
A man on the train looks me
Up and down
Up and down
Up and down
Down and up

And I hopped on and thought
What will we do when
Our eyes are forced to meet again
But the cities so big
So large
Maybe never.

You were right
At last
I got a new boyfriend
And you never saw me again.

And for that I can let out a big sigh
At last.

I usher it all into place
With love
With power
With sincerity
And the most fruitful kindness.
OnwardFlame Mar 2016
Wait, wait for that morning
Blue line train
I order 8 dollar cocktails
Cheapest thing on the menu.

Everything evolving, changing
I jest but with depth
"It's the end of an era!"
And it is.

Someone new painted me up good just like a portrait
Such a beautiful mysterious face
He reminds me of love at 15.

But it's something about the cards in my hands
Right now
My ladies chime and sing a warning
Freeing song around me
Don't get caught up in the wrong.

So I don't, I lay among scales and rainbow fish
Movies and cameras flashing in my iris
25, wild, alive
So ambitious.

Sometimes I'll create a little pile
Of all those who done me wrong
I walk to work I walk to work.

Your car got towed yesterday
Didn't mean to read you the deepest poem of all
But no man has ever made me lose myself to sighs
The very first try.

Alas. Why fight.

I let my hair grow down my back
I hit the pavement, almost a full year
"We aren't talking right now"
A little fairy told me you said
I don't know if you replace me or hate me
But I continue to encourage myself

Not to care.

Damen blue
I across the street
Writing this on my cellular device
I nod and pulse
Ah. Ah. Ah.

I'm tired
Let's go drink coffee
With a good attitude
Cozy up in bed when can
Show up at work early
Kisses and wolf bites
I don't lose site of the swan.
enden er nær
enden på vores struktur-givne frihed
jeg har aldrig rigtig været andet end elev
først og fremmest
produktionens indlærte prioritering i min knoglemarv vi knækker uden skemaer over vores hverdag, hver dag er ikke vores
jeg har drømt om sommeren, om varmen og nu er den her den stikker
piskesmældssmil på solskinsform vi sveder
ingen gylden middelvej forude
vi fortsætter af den grå middelvej
slørede gråzoner
v a r m e b ø l g e r
jeg keder mig; jeg er overvældet
alt er for meget og
alt er for lidt
smiler til damen med demens i min gård, tænker på vejarbejdet på støvet
mine lår er klistret fast til stolen jeg føler mig
smaragdgrøn og rislende som en å

vi lukker af for verden de sagde ikke farvel til mig
er det kikset at være ordentlig? kan jeg tillade mig at smile til jer? kan jeg sige godmorgen uden at rødme over min akavethed?

TOLERANT ER IKKE ENSBETYDENDE MED SVAG

VENLIG ER IKKE SYNONYM FOR MINDREVÆRDIG

der ligger så meget forude og jeg kan ikke rigtig begribe det ikke forestille mig mere end det, der skal overkommes

en eller anden gang må det jo komme til mig

det der livsglæde

— The End —