"dana" poems
* *You was like,
need your help...
I was: Yes,*
*Help you Odo-Ban
and ***** jeans
my only soap.*
*Help you Odo-Ban
and ***** jeans
my only soap.*
EAT MY BISCUITS!
u V p
****
*Those my biscuits,
Ban-dana Jean...
my comely soap.*
(k) NIGHTED
*Help you Odo-Ban
and ***** jeans
my only soap.* *
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 5:37 AM UTC
It hath yet to clear away
from the skies of the bereaved
hearts: of family and friends,
neighbours and colleagues, church
members and associates--the
sudden pall of smoke of sorrow
that arose a week agone, precisely
on the Lord's Day last--from the
debris of deaths of the Dana plane
accident in Lagos, Nigeria.
When that evil bruit first
on the radio i heard, like lead
sank fast to the very base of
the sea of woe, my heart; and
wailing was i within like a child
that's bereft of breast milk. I
could not my tongue find again, for
words were as sand heavy in my
mouth. All earthly pleasures did de-
part my thoughts at once, losing
all known appetites for ecstasy
For the 153 souls that perished
in the ill-fated plane crash, when
upon a two-story building with its
belly fell; killing 6 more people
besides the number aboard the aircraft
who, like everyone else on that Sunday, were
having a nice day in their various homes.
of whose tale amongst the unfortunate
victims should i tell thee: Is it
of the bright, warm and lovely lady
that came from the US to celebrate
her brother's wedding with her children
and died along with her family whole--
husband, two kids, and a set of
twins, mother, and two cousins? Or is
it of those who had gone to visit their
friends but met their death untimely
in that damaged building? Or is it
of the air hostess that was to get
married next July? Or is it of the very
reverend Cole and his darling wife?
Or is it of the brass hats, professor,
corps member and top civil servants? I can
not exhaust the tragedy's list! It's too
great a tale to be told by me--the
sad loss of precious lives like mine!
And for 3 days in grief hung the country's
flag in a half-flown position, lowering
its high head in ashes of sympathy
as the nation at large did mourn
the dead and condoled with their families.
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 1:16 PM UTC
mila sedi na wc solji. prebira dlacice po brezuljku. nekako odvratno ali radoznalo trazi one pod zemljom
gusto groblje-guste misli:
dve prodavacice prodaju sok od sargarepe, na smenu- jedan dan jednoj plati jednu cenu drugi dan drugoj drugu. cuti. zakopa to u zeludac. guta vazduh namazan budalom. cuti. plati. popije samar i sok.
na ulici razmazano oker govno, kao kanapei na srebrnom tanjiru.
preskace, obilazi ga ona. preskace, obilazi ga i pas. kisa pada, oker krem gubi gustinu, pas nece pod kisobran juri senke i zapisava skupocene alo tepsije onih kojih se i pauk plasi.
zanoktica o vrh narandzastog jezika- rekapitulacija popisanosti i pogresno usmerene finoce. krv stedljivo iz nokta curi natapajuci nepce a mrmlja da sledeci put ce...
ali verovatno nece. jer ne razume tu gadnu nepravicnost. jer to je samo princip. mozda i hoce. jer princip je i sve.
dopire krik playback narodnjaka- komsija stigao sa posla, investitor umesto izloacije sigurno je kupio dzipa.
masina se centrifugom lansira u orbitu svake sekunde- privezala bi se za nju toaltet papirom....
aman, idi uci.
bolje ces se osecati.
kraj prozora cuje se ono dete sto svira trubu.
makar jos ne moras da trazis posao. eto imas vremena da smislis sta zelis da budes.
na kraju krajeva nemas urasle dlake. i da, auto ti je parkiran divlje pokupice ga pauk sigurno. i nemas dozvolu. kese za govna su u gepeku.
trebas psa izvesti.
sutra kupices sok od sargarepe, po ne zna se kojoj ceni.
rekla bi imas princip a i lenja si.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 4:01 AM UTC
it's the morning of Tuesday
June twenty fifth, and the fog, again
rolls in against lima and listlessly scales the escarpment
and Dana (like I) high on ******* and circumstance
has gone with Chris and Cameron, to watch from the cliffs
(this time something loose has shifted, and I hope they kiss).
and Corey is here
asleep to my left
tired from a whole day of travel and
Dana calls her an insomniac but
I think she's at rest.
And an empire is how she took off her shirt
and gold is the way she doesn't object
when I trace maps in her back and put an ear to her chest.
because I don't know who this is or why
my fantasies fixated here, but they work, unbidden
behind purposed eyes
buena vida es buena ficion y
good fiction is impossible to expect.
like when under your skin, New England, dunes
drift and dance to the hand at your neck.
because I have everything I could ever want and for
me in my figured out life, these flighty daydreams aren't problems but
more like preproduction films to maybe see, to get lost in, given breath and a bit of sunlight.
because I have never heard Corey complain or object and until I do I
will continue to give to her everything I have, will continue to
try to understand the invisible hairs at the base of her spine.
try to reward what goes unrecognized.
because we're all bent up patchwork machines, and
I'm sure Corey crumbles inside as much as I, but
when you fly to peru and lay with certainty your head against mine,
into a stranger's neck, and lie still
when you could struggle to explain but don't even try
when you are beautiful, but keep on going still...
the ******* can't what my hands will,
in walking the staircase of her spine.
keep me watchful, and up all night,
to try in fingertips to recognize,
that you are beautiful and someone needs
to see you to sleep. to feel you to fly.
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 6:04 AM UTC
i have not wrote to you in a while now
the stress upon my hands has became too much
every hollow bone has snapped
shards of my structure penetrate the restraints of my emotion
‘the flood gates have been opened’
my brain screeches like an old freight train
everything was silent throughout my body
like the seconds before a grenade explodes
violently;
these waves of raw, untamed passion
rushed me and bashed me in my face
i tried my best to defend myself
but I am too overwhelmed
to battle this demon
perspiration appeared on my brow
a cold sweat covered my corpse
almost as if my body used the skin as a medium
for tears of anxiety and distress
my eyes twitched and darted
from subject to subject
a burning sensation covered the area of my forearms
almost as if fire ants were gnawing on them
i look down to see no ants;
but my own fingernails digging into my flesh
a rose- colored liquid seeped from these wounds
i then soon realized why i no longer write to you
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 11:59 AM UTC
please, may i run?
with a wind in my lungs enough to fuel a truck speeding down
the highway and headed west to a place where imagery and
songs make lasting impressions; even on those who have never been there.
please, may i run?
grow tired of only dreaming in my sleep and with
blank stares at walls during NA meetings listening to a
fifty year old child speak of his glory days.
Please, may i run?
i need to be somewhere in order to be and it's
gotta be far from here because here there is no being.
please, may i run?
until the souls in my shoes are no more and left unjudged
for their actions or lack of.
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 4:53 AM UTC
Remember
Back in the day
When those parties
In Venice
That say would have 25 people or so
Walking through?
Now they were
Too big
Over-packed with
50-200?
With frat boy vibes?
Dana Rick and I
Arrived at one
And I thought a
At the sliding glass door
Oh God
And quickly escaped to the kitchen
Cutting through the living room
Where there was the make shift bar
Nothing much in the
Fridge
Anyway
I made my drinks
And turned around
To cross back
And somehow Dana was there
In front of me
She raised her hands
And wiggled through the bodies
While I
Said
NO
I will dance
When I feel like it
I choose
So I began to follow
And every elbow knees hip and arm
Reached out to touch me
Knocking all the contents out of
my little plastic cups
And though
I got to the other side
Contemplatively
Looking back
Empty
The three of us
Went to stand on the side of the house
Safe
By the water meter
And I laid down my cups
Laughing
So the moral of this story
Although I think it’s obvious
Is to
Go
With
The
Flow
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 3:05 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, God brings into your life the people that you need-- then takes them away when no longer needed but rather wanted--so aching to realize a life savior after years:]
Dana Dana
she child she friend
tanned with a brown horizon skirting
down her face down her drowns curling
from the first rays from the kid days
brought to her no she brought to me
above from the heavenly skies below from the wild seas
off the chain not ought for a long stance for a remain
yet that year that she guided her love to me
things I never thought a life saving would be
a miraculous human when no one cared in miserable matters
a lucky charm when the whole bracelet was scattered
now not in the place to stay she been destined to leave
yet I wish I told her how much she meant how much I feel
hearts ache when the Disney twinkling stars she visits
in the nights so pure so nice memories trail they miss it
-------ravenfeels
Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 5:06 PM UTC
Has de beber
Totalmente este situacion
Complentamente en los sentidos de tus antepasados
Has de creer
Totalmete en el poder del ser
Solamente en un gran pasion
Has de saboriar
Totalmente los rayos del sol y la luna
Unicamente en los brillantes rayos de la alma
Has de cantar
Brevemente de los llantos
Frequentemente con tus amantes
Has de bailar
Rapidamente como los ojos del joventud
Lentamente como el sabiduria de los antiguos
Has de ser
Puramente un amalgacion
Tranquilamente tu propio verdad
Has de tocar
Suavemente al mundo que has alimentado
Firmemente al mundo que te acose
Has de saber
Hoy siempre se terminara
Y manana tienes la gracia de comenzar
Has de entender
No es el mundo que te trata de danar
Que el miedo nos dana mas que nos protégé
Has de amar
Sin ser egoista
Sin ser imbecile
Has de…
Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 6:08 PM UTC
If death did not wear black would he be taken so seriously?
If one literally wore one's heart on one's sleeve what would be the medical implications and would your friends still take you seriously?
If it is true that 'the beat goes on', is it any wonder that 'the rhythm is gonna get ya'?
When Dana sang 'All kinds of everything remind me of you', did she include rubella and death metal in this?
If a tree falls in a forest and there is no one to hear it fall does it make a sound? If a man plays cello in a forest do the trees mark him out of ten?
If the simulacra is real then surely all one needs to do is to pay more attention? If one pays more attention, how much should one tip?
Descartes stated "I think therefore I am". What on earth was he thinking?
Mans awareness of his mortality created the need for a divine being in order to facilitate the concept that there is life after death. No one can say definitively if there is life after death. Does this paradox create a dizzying confusion? Is this confusion a lot like spending too much money in a carnival?
Britain's Got Talent: in a population of approximately 60 million, one would certainly hope so.
Is the concept of the omnipotence of god applicable if priests are unavailable for confession?
Is this a question?
Is the presence of a question mark the only thing required to ensure that something is a question? Seven cherubs aluminium? Is that a question!
The concept of 'keeping ones feet on the ground', by which we mean to not get carried away with success, for example, can never be difficult if one accepts the laws of gravity.
What sounds lie in the spaces between keys on a piano?
Any identifiable stimuli?
Apr 15, 2012
Apr 15, 2012 at 6:01 AM UTC
After the painting by Dana Schutz
Notice the lid’s up on my piano,
to keep the strings dry.
Instead of a pool on the shiny black
hood the water just slides away.
It rains blue rain
here on the prairie,
big clouds, blue rain
coming down in arrows.
My hair’s a mess,
but I don’t care
bare-foot pianist me,
firm fingers on the keys,
you see I’m playing
Frederic Rzewski’s
Winnsboro Blues,
those **** Cottonmill Blues,
*Oh Lordy,
You know and I know,
I don’t have to tell,
Work for Tom Watson,
Got to work like hell.*
For James who likes his poetry with music
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 2:35 PM UTC
I see a girl with long blond hair,
So much like yours I stop and stare,
With a quizzical look she walks away,
I just stand there with nothing to say,
So many girls remind me of you,
How they move, the things they do.
I watch the sun set in the sky,
Reminding me of times gone by,
How we sat on the beach hand in hand,
Us two lovers sitting on the sand,
So many things remind me of you,
Of days gone by, when we were two.
I miss you more than you'll ever know,
I'll never understand why you had to go,
Sometimes it seems likes some kind of test,
How Heaven only takes the best,
But understand though we're apart,
You will always remain in my heart.
02-24-10.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 6:13 PM UTC
I’ve been waiting
for ever
for someone
to get you drunk
So I could read
the words on
a screen that I
really needed to
hear from your mouth
The night I knew
you got the alcohol
choked down your throat
I waited up for
these texts from you:
I miss you.
I miss you so much.
I miss seeing you everyday.
I miss waking up next to you.
I can’t stand the idea of being away from you.
I wish I stayed.
But all you will say
the next time you see me
—if you ever want to see me is
“I hope my texts didn’t wake you up”
They didn’t.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 2:48 AM UTC
The Saturn Ball, on Saturday June 8th, 2013
You see kids nowadays are having so much fun and these kids
Are inspired by the great Saturn Ball which was started by Peter
Sargent, and Scott McDonald, whose current earth lives are
Enjoying psrying together as well as tying each other up, and
On Saturn, Peter and Scott are having a big party where they
Had dancing girls like Marilyn Monroe and Elizabeth Montgomery
And also Dana Reeves as well,,and Peter Sargent is as *****
As a toad, and he is trying to get in the head of Brian Allan, because
He liked how Brian was nice to him before he died, and to get into
His head in the form of his best friend Patrick, you see Peter
Sargent died to get into Brian's head to make sure he doesn't poo
His pants, because I actually was cool to his point of view
When he saw me in the Page Tavern all the years ago
And it was about that time, when Patricks voice was getting
Into full swing, and it was driving me crazy miss daisy
Before then Scott McDonald died and also got into Brian's head
And he chose Patrick's voice as well, but he was the voice saying
Brian is not like us, Brian is not like us,,Chris used to be like us
When he was really really young, but Brian isn't like us,no way,,no fear
The thing is, Peter and Scott aren't worried how they use these voices
They just want to make Brian be cool to a young dudes point of view
Because, Scott thought Patrick was weird, and didn't want to be
In the same room as him, and despite me trying to talk to him
Scott wanted just to tease me, cause I wanted to be like Patrick
And there was only one opportunity and that was to die and get unti
Brian Allans brain and push Patrick's voice trying to tease him
Scott said, I am not a family person anymore, I want Brian to suffer
So we'll turn Patrick against him by holding our own Saturn ball
And Patricks voice was also Peter Sargent trying to put into Brian 's
Head that Patrick was Joining the young dudes
To tease Brian, I couldn't understand this, and I said
Leave me alone Pat, but his voice was Peter Sargent
Saying to Patrick, you are like us, and Brian Allan is a little shy boy
Who has no known friends, anyway, Patrick is the innocent party
He still likes me, you know it was Peter Sargent who planted his
Voice from the sound of Patricks voice to bug the **** out of Brian
But the main reason was that, Brian had it give up beer
And work on himself, and eventually he will figure it out
Peter Sargent, and Scott McDonald, who got into
Brian's brother Chris's voice in trying to make Chris doing what I did with Patrick
Which means Patrick mucked with Chris as he would muck with me
But hello, it was really Peter Sargent and Scott McDonald
And in the last two days, Peter Sargent and Scott McDonald are
Holding the first ever Saturn Ball, and everyone is partying all night
And Peter Sargent is pushing onto his brain, and the earth life
I somewhere on earth going through a lot of trouble
Peter Sargent cracked open the wine bottle and everyone partied
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 8:28 AM UTC
Dana: there’s skin, bed, today.
Snow we’d make.
Land, air, sun… wrote rain.
Running, tired, west.
Cold winter half started.
‘Sweat’, says summer.
Gonna, moments ago, die.
Hit. Lie. Believe.
Broken. Felt. Sat. Lives hurt.
Fragile tomorrow wind:
Hell outside.
Fucked flowers.
Eat brittle regret ***
Lima couldn’t Damian;
break wave forever.
Kind times, leaving wondering days.
Dead drive; fly hard, wishing legs.
Lights turned bones.
Growing rich soon, lines
raised: broke fog.
Easy fighting names.
Drove car. Dinner. Worked.
Survive Monday, certainly.
Hung grief. Drank *******
Expect usual ceremony rocket:
Sarah. Puck. ******* Cusco.
Connor, Corey: we’ve gone.
Stone **** hot soft body.
Dying, wanting. Undress.
Tied. Nights used.
Dawn gave secret pause,
Painting blood poems:
likely self story.
Gods weak, fall asleep.
Surely meaning darkness happen.
Suppose **** stayed, brought knowing?
Shower…
Mountain hair.
True thousand strings, grasp getting
Gently heard. Endless floor.
Sand.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 4:16 AM UTC
Da dana da da dana da,
Da dana da da da;
Dana da ddana da,
Da dana da dada.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
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Rachel Contreni Flynn
The Yellow Bowl
Dana Bisignani
Bankruptcy Hearing
Gary Metras
Lint
Jeff Worley
On Finding a Turtle Shell in Daniel Boone National Forest
Lucille Lang Day
Tooth Painter
Nancyrose Houston
The Letter From Home
Lyn Lifshin
The Other Fathers
Joette Giorgis
(Untitled)
Tim Nolan
At the Choral Concert
Picasso
Kathy Mangan
The Whistle
Michelle Bennett
Western
«6789»
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
podseti me kako radiš očima ono
dok sediš na šolji
podseti me molim te
slobodan sam dva dana
ipak
moja je soba čistija od tvog tavana
čak šta više
pićemo iz čaša
čistih
imam sve
a nije užeglo
dođi bela
da vodimo ljubav
da jedemo smoki
pijemo pivo
dođi i
samo još ovaj put
okupaj se
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 8:58 PM UTC
For Dana
Woman
Sister
Mother
No matter the title or label
None fully define that which is
You
That which is
Dana
Studying your hands I’ve learned
all things are possible
even though you make them seem effortless
Studying your soul I’ve learned
true strength is limitless and unmatched
Studying your arms I’ve learned
true love is unconditional
Thank you Dana
for being the first woman in my life
Thank you Bennie
for being the first sister in my life
Thank you Ma
for being my one and only
Mother
©Christopher F. Brown 2015
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
Venice parties
You know those
200 in a space made for 50?
A monster that
You had to
Protect yourself from?
Three of us
In the living room and I got
To the Kitchen. For safety.
Serving adequate, and me
on my way back
Drinks in each hand
Bodies through Dana leading
Her arms above her head
bouncing she won’t spill a drop
The other hands follow
again, me with
stubborn arms
refusing
thus liquid contents emptied and
Sticky
the floor underfoot
Splashed
Outside
The water meter stood laughing
told us about the flow and to go with it
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 3:02 PM UTC
Wake, read, work
and Repeat.
Sounds like a movie
instead of coffee
with my father
distant
with David Lehman
on March 30
living The Best Years of Our Lives
reading again David
things I've forgotten
things We'll only remember
living in the Matrix
of references and inside joke,
literature search
and transposed multiplication
instead of regularized
algorithm
how funny our dad
is who knows only trees
and the bitter cold as Winter
sets in my lips are dry
what do we say
skin like parchment
how funny our Dad
who only knows
streams of information
shows as allegory
"Shaka when the walls fell"
what's a good movie
quote for Failure?
The Titanic?
always the sinking
is corrupted with an interlacing
Rose at the bow
dreaming of forever love
We dads aren't Dana Andrew
We don't even know
who
that is and don't care
We're frantically Raising
Arizona blossoms in concrete
soil two beautiful
daughters
We CK Lewis Dads
Lehman time is
over time to take a shower, work
and Repeat.
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 7:41 AM UTC
and at the end of this session, i'm going to gorge on homemade banana cake, and a glass of milk; hmm, so that's that.
hannah hallysem, chloe vevrier, rosalia verne, dakota skye, nadine jansen, milena d., katrina jade, alison tyler, sasha foxxx, noelle easton, shay fox, kourtney kane, aletta ocean, lexi belle, aria giovanni, maritza mendez, silvia loret, laura lion, ashley graham, latex lucy, alexis texas, dana dearmond, abella danger, karmen karma, jezebelle bond, keisha grey, karmen grey, jelena jensen, carmen croft, aneta buena, ines cudna, ewa sonnet, emma green, louisa marie, ivy nedkova, karolina pliskova, emma green, louisa marie, ivy nedkova, rooney mara, claire forlani, kelley scarlett, malina may, amirah adara, phoenix marie, foxy di., kenya lust, kiera winters, christy mack, paige delight, faith nelson, darya klishina, sand morris, alysha newman, silvia saint, adele stephens, deven davis, ewa wyrwal, tanya song, synn wagner, christina lucci, hunter leigh, lynda leigh, gemma atkinson, mulani rivera, sarah harding...
all those "expectations" mingling with a babuska...
gotta have a babuska after a list like that...
looks nice, doesn't it?
see how honest other people can become...
that's as honest as you're going to get:
i'm hardly an out-of-the-closet gay / intellectual...
and this is hardly the most desireds genetical "encyclopedia"
worth reciting...
but at least there's no closet,
and certainly no skeleton in it...
to be honest, i'd love to see a compendium of
a woman's favourite *****
oh sure, i can switch off...
i just start thinking about cow *******
and milk sacks; not that hard;
ugh... furr... itchy... stroking a cow is like
scratching your skin after the barbers...
milking a cow: ah... another subject
of investigation...
why do men not bother being
breast-fed, to out-compete the babe?
seems a shame to leave a vacuum for
capitalism to not investigate, don't you think?
Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 10:01 PM UTC
For once, my head had nothing to say.
like a regular at a local pub,
if I ask for my "usual",
the result is my brain offering
a flood of it's cyclical thoughts
all clamoring to be heard at once.
But this time,
there was only silence.
It feels like I’m dreaming,
the atmosphere thinner than I remember,
while still trying to remind myself of reality
and I'm hoping to god
that the cliches concerning
the fleeting nature of life
maybe hold some kind of truth.
Every time there’s an upswing,
and my stomach hops up into my chest
because I’ve finally reached my pay-off,
something knocks me back
and clips chains that tether me to stability.
all the donations
all the condolences
all the "support"
don’t mean a ******* thing
if they don’t give me back my peace of mind -
and I'm scared that nothing ever will.
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 10:48 PM UTC
the sun came out today
Old mister screach-ee
he burned my brain
same lesson he always
teach me
I hate him most
For that one decade
I lived 100 miles south of LA
And never went to the beach
Carlsbad Village
East Pointe Ave
Dana and *****
best neighbors I
ever had
Now I have new freaks
And i fit right in
Now when Mr Screach's
Rays are far-reaching
He always finds
my skin
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 11:04 PM UTC
Please tell me how I'm wrong
Please tell me that you're right
Please explain to me how you didn't break my heart
Please tell my friends that I'm okay
Please understand, I've thought this through
Please, I want to say these things to you
If they're wrong, tell me why, and then I'll believe you
But so far, you've just told me they're wrong
And asked me to get on with my life
I'm sorry I'm hung up
I'm sorry I can't let go
I'm sorry that you're the only person that meant a **** to me
I'm sorry that I wasn't cool with the way you wanted to live your life
I'm sorry that even now, you mock, and despise me
I'm sorry that this poem will do nothing
But I hope that it will tell you
Something that you need to know
You're not always right
I'm not either
I find out when you are when I listen to you.
Do you find out that way too?
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC