"dva" poems - Hello Poetry

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

0

Sep 17, 2014

Sep 17, 2014 at 8:58 PM UTC

lovke

bela

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

18

Te noći, Tošić Milorad se prenerazio ugledavši ispred sebe Tošić Milorada, skarednu onomatopeju svoga bivstva. Iz očiju joj iskočiše dva sablasna, zubata penisa, pa samo sikću. Cele su noći nešto izvoljevali, ovi nakaradni isprdci bolesne mašte nesrećnog čoveka, te daj piće, te daj hranu, te daj cigare, a negde, tik pred zoru, jedan upita Tošić Milorada : - Jel ti stig’o kupus ?

0

Apr 16, 2015

Apr 16, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC

lovke

noć

Te noći, Tošić Milorad se prenerazio ugledavši ispred sebe Tošić Milorada, skarednu onomatopeju svoga bivstva. Iz očiju joj iskočiše dva sablasna, zubata penisa, pa samo sikću. Cele su noći nešto izvoljevali, ovi nakaradni isprdci bolesne mašte nesrećnog čoveka, te daj piće, te daj hranu, te daj cigare, a negde, tik pred zoru, jedan upita Tošić Milorada : - Jel ti stig’o kupus ?

17

1. Stuffed men who never made a single day Of training make brave speeches on this day Surely each one of them has his reward - A government SUV And bodyguards And a household staff And a clean, dry place to sleep And an income And medical care And a pension And a book deal And a library And maybe an eternal flame 2. And the nation’s enlisted daughters and sons Who sweat among the rocks, not on the golf course Have their reward from a grateful nation - Taking cover behind a blown-up Hummer They are the bodyguards They dig holes in the rocks and sand MREs contracted by the lowest brother-in-law bidder They stand-to all night under fire They are paid something less than the president’s special, um, assistant They will be ignored by the DVA Their eternal flame is the memory of a death-burnt friend They are dismissed as millennials and snowflakes By the Keyboard Kommandos who learned about war Just like our stuffed men in Washington By watching Patton over and over The stuffed men bray every hollow cliché, But this is what the stuffed men really say: “Thank you for your service; now shut up and go away Until we want another photo-op on Remembrance Day”

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Jul 4, 2018

Jul 4, 2018 at 9:35 AM UTC

lawrence-hall

The Stuffed Men Who Praise Our Soldiers on Independence Day

1. Stuffed men who never made a single day Of training make brave speeches on this day Surely each one of them has his reward - A government SUV And bodyguards And a household staff And a clean, dry place to sleep And an income And medical care And a pension And a book deal And a library And maybe an eternal flame 2. And the nation’s enlisted daughters and sons Who sweat among the rocks, not on the golf course Have their reward from a grateful nation - Taking cover behind a blown-up Hummer They are the bodyguards They dig holes in the rocks and sand MREs contracted by the lowest brother-in-law bidder They stand-to all night under fire They are paid something less than the president’s special, um, assistant They will be ignored by the DVA Their eternal flame is the memory of a death-burnt friend They are dismissed as millennials and snowflakes By the Keyboard Kommandos who learned about war Just like our stuffed men in Washington By watching Patton over and over The stuffed men bray every hollow cliché, But this is what the stuffed men really say: “Thank you for your service; now shut up and go away Until we want another photo-op on Remembrance Day”

34

žalio se sudbi svojoj klempavi klempo a ne vidi da je ušima dva sunca zaklonio creva rasuo po polju da nahrani gladno mu srce ne čuje on siromah grmljavinu ušima velikim svojim a hteo bi rosom gorkom mnoga jutra pelinom slatke sokove tvoje

0

Apr 27, 2015

Apr 27, 2015 at 12:58 PM UTC

lovke

klempo

žalio se sudbi svojoj klempavi klempo a ne vidi da je ušima dva sunca zaklonio creva rasuo po polju da nahrani gladno mu srce ne čuje on siromah grmljavinu ušima velikim svojim a hteo bi rosom gorkom mnoga jutra pelinom slatke sokove tvoje

14

U crkvi si ostala za nas jednu malu molitvu izmolila. Iz crkve izlaziš van dan je tako prekrasan za našu šetnju uz more baš je idealan. Skinula si cipele po pijesku si bosa hodala moj lijepi anđele. Na pijesku si dva srca napravila za ruku si me uhvatila poljubac mi poklonila. Na pijesak smo sjeli valove gledali zalazak sunca promatrali tako zagrljeni o ljubavi smo pričali. Mi smo dvije sretne duše voljena nema ništa ljepše od ljubavi naše. Stjepan Orlić

0

Sep 23, 2025

Sep 23, 2025 at 2:01 PM UTC

stjepan

MOLITVA ZA NAS

U crkvi si ostala za nas jednu malu molitvu izmolila. Iz crkve izlaziš van dan je tako prekrasan za našu šetnju uz more baš je idealan. Skinula si cipele po pijesku si bosa hodala moj lijepi anđele. Na pijesku si dva srca napravila za ruku si me uhvatila poljubac mi poklonila. Na pijesak smo sjeli valove gledali zalazak sunca promatrali tako zagrljeni o ljubavi smo pričali. Mi smo dvije sretne duše voljena nema ništa ljepše od ljubavi naše. Stjepan Orlić

22

convened in my living room summoned to a setcat to decide by voulbee or fratricide the next Father of Thieves. Blahznivee Semyon rises up like a winter sun over the steppe peels off his sable coat and hat he garnishes round after round of applause for his tattooist's magnificent skill, and the number of skulls etched in his skin one skull for every **** Arkady the Krahsnee comes to the front draws a cross across his chest, wipes caviar from his pickled lips sheds his necklace of bloated tongues ripped from the mouths of informants who sing and with a halo of bicycle chain whirling overhead steps drunkenly into the ring The display turns black chairs are pushed back ***** in every hand. The soldiers prepare with a toast and a prayer and a drop of blood from each man. Now squaring off Dva Rusahky: a fat taloostee, the other slim-tenki wade into the fray: bez nervee, t-shirts, boatkee or fear they destroy my hanging chandelier their bratvas stand around and cheer pass round smokes and mugs of beer. Černobog’s hammer sits inside a chalk line circle like an ******** waiting for a fist. Black stars collide shoulders knees torsos wheel thrown into ****** slabs hole punched and wire cut falling on cigarette butts nicotine thumbs empty eye sockets vitreous runs and pools seeps into screaming mouths through mangled cheeks. Teeth litter my rug like chiclets in berry jam. Here's a finger, make a splinter wounds are washed in chilled Żubrówka. Semyon lifts the hammer, the winner a new skull in his flesh, still wet when he buys my silence with a Russian dinner and a round of Russian roulette.

0

Feb 19, 2021

Feb 19, 2021 at 3:32 PM UTC

ephraim

The Russians

convened in my living room summoned to a setcat to decide by voulbee or fratricide the next Father of Thieves. Blahznivee Semyon rises up like a winter sun over the steppe peels off his sable coat and hat he garnishes round after round of applause for his tattooist's magnificent skill, and the number of skulls etched in his skin one skull for every **** Arkady the Krahsnee comes to the front draws a cross across his chest, wipes caviar from his pickled lips sheds his necklace of bloated tongues ripped from the mouths of informants who sing and with a halo of bicycle chain whirling overhead steps drunkenly into the ring The display turns black chairs are pushed back ***** in every hand. The soldiers prepare with a toast and a prayer and a drop of blood from each man. Now squaring off Dva Rusahky: a fat taloostee, the other slim-tenki wade into the fray: bez nervee, t-shirts, boatkee or fear they destroy my hanging chandelier their bratvas stand around and cheer pass round smokes and mugs of beer. Černobog’s hammer sits inside a chalk line circle like an ******** waiting for a fist. Black stars collide shoulders knees torsos wheel thrown into ****** slabs hole punched and wire cut falling on cigarette butts nicotine thumbs empty eye sockets vitreous runs and pools seeps into screaming mouths through mangled cheeks. Teeth litter my rug like chiclets in berry jam. Here's a finger, make a splinter wounds are washed in chilled Żubrówka. Semyon lifts the hammer, the winner a new skull in his flesh, still wet when he buys my silence with a Russian dinner and a round of Russian roulette.

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