"gees" poems
I sit at the bar of life
Looking forward to happy hour
Another beer
A solicited romance
Something
Even a bowl of peanuts that never came
How I yearn for conversation
Warmth
I can only dream
Seated a few chairs away
Is a rainbow haired hillbilly
Backpacking possums
Gees
Can you imagine
He said he lives under
The outskirts of ****** land
He smiles
I smile
I catch a bee from behind
As the bartendress walk by
My eyes look at her behind
And catch honey
My claim to fame
Oh how I wish I were a bee
And had somebody
Like the rainbow haired hillbilly
That tends under the outskirts of ****** land
I look over at him
He's always smiling
Maybe it has something to do
With playing a fiddle and finding music, finding new paths
Goats and milk
And backpacking possums
Or maybe its sublime
Oh, how I wish I could smile
Feel warmth
Sunshine
And look into her peering eyes
Logan Robertson
7/16/18
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 12:16 AM UTC
I once had a Simple Plan
To bribe a lady for a Kiss
With a Nickleback in my hand
And an Eagle tattoo on my wrist.
I brought her to the Linkin Park
And gave her meatloaf and Bread
But it had Red Hot Chilli Peppers
So she ate the Pearl Jam instead.
My tongue was like a Rolling Stone
As I tell her my Nirvana of love
I made promises with my Pink Floyd finger
As she watched a Led Zepellin flew above.
Her Metallica heart didn’t waste time
And she rejected me within Thirty Seconds to Mars
I treated her like a Queen
But all I got were Iron Maiden scars.
It stung me like the Bee Gees
Or a Scorpion tail’s as fine
The Beatles are all crawling down my skin
When she broke this Heart of mine
Guns N Roses were the choices
That were left for me to Root
But a Cheap Trick with the latter
Ended my romantic Journey afoot.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 8:38 AM UTC
Ask...and you shall be given answers
seek...and you'll be told where to look
knock...say, hello?...hello? hellooow?
a voice named siri replies:
"is it me you're looking for?"
i think,
the eyes, the mind, even the heart, need
clear, goggle-like glasses, for 20/20 vision,
to grasp, to discern, be forewarned,
not to be overwhelmed by whatever
data unfolds on the screen
they say, there are contrived solutions,
for life's every complication
search engines are accessible to all
just press specific keys, and, Voila!
surf, play...easy games, easy friends
but, can they really answer all questions?
every human question?.........like,
do elephants really cry? how did it occur
that they have excellent memories?
is Timbuktu modernized now?
are there still surviving cannibals?
will the remaining Bee Gees member,
tell us how to mend a broken heart?
do rosicrucians really possess secret wisdom?
what happened to you and me?
how do i save myself from emotional vampires?
how do i cook pad thai?
...and how do i get you out of my mind?
why does the rooster crow after midnight
how does logarithm work with poetry?
do dogs have souls? do they visit their
masters?....i miss my dogs Misty and Tiny,
...and i miss you...what's wrong with me?
God, why do i even bother to ask?
my goggled eyes are blinded by grief
my goggled mind refuses to forget
this goggled life of mine feels empty
and it has nothing to do with technology...
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 23, 2018
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 10:50 PM UTC
Magick 13
My rhymes periglacial slash through foes ****** leavin' corrupted maxillofacial stay laced with the coco
Til my nose blow out nothing but deadly keys makin' monopolies at ease see my desert ease
Could make the devil freeze with the beautiful ephipanies laid though my flow cinematography ain't no fictions here G
My pedigrees been deadly since the age of three
First sips of Hennessy pictured a glare of my enemies stories of me biblically
Born a David killin' Goliath's society defiant
Knock down the orders in the cornered borders
Of the Jesuit I'm the black Pope
Elope to the celestials gods that rope
My mind hanging on to the highs of the ****
Better yet the marijuana sneaky as an anaconda
Once I tighten cells begin biting
Fighting tryna stay alive like Bee Gees
Fiendin' for my lost dynasties kin to Nefertiti since I ****** on *******
As a baby I got a taste of the universe thoughts deeper than a hearse words hurts exciting flirts beating all perks through my vengeful works
My alias an archangel leave the game triangled Titan mentality dribble like Cousy so you might loose me?
Sick with the tracks axe minds like Moses to the red sea knockin' down Rome legacy
Back on top like the greatest plot dimensions traveler like Bishop
Capitalizin' land plots I be the Black Wieshaupt
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
My hart klop groen vir groei
en ander goed
en pomp van hormone
en suurtof ryke bloed
dit was liefde
met eerste oog opslag
dis net jammer my oe staar blind
teen die mes in jou hand
wat op my kaal rug wag.
Dis 'n gan an soort klop
die go-ahead van my kop
die alles sal reg wees
in jou glimlag
jou oe die mandaat
van 'n regte terg gees.
en ek gaan vir die groen
en silwer en goud,
vir al die goeie goed
vir die land sonder fout.
Maar my hart is die
Andries Hendrik Potgieter
van my boere bloed
wat waarsku teen jou
met alle moed.
My heldersiende hartklop
wat my weg probeer lei
van nog 'n ou grappie
en nog 'n bietjie seerkry.
Nou klop hy rooi
hy klop bloed
hy klop stop.
Maar soos 'n GP kar
vermy ek die tekens
in my haas vir jou mond.
Voel die lem deur my ribbes gly
dood, nog voor die grond.
en my hart, wil lag,
maar skree verwoed.
Nou kook die boerebloed!
Jou simpel, jou wetter
jou bogsnuiter kind!
Snou my hart my toe,
nou is hy stil en
gee my die silent treatment.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
ek is deurskykend, transparant, deurmekaar
opsoek na my vrede, my mensweesm my wees
ek voel so secondhand, so op gebruik, so klaar
bid vir verlossing, a trade in vir n nuwe vlees, nuwe gees, beter wees
my oe hoop op vol trane on gehuil
ek slaan lelike kolle uit in my sogenoemde persoonlikheid
maar dis alles ek, ek wat my vervuil
ek wat my eenkant hou, ek wat my uit smyt
ek wat ja se al wil als binne my nee skree
ek wat bly staan terwyl ek moes weg hardloop
ek wat myself wou uitvee
ek wat myself vir cheap thrills verkoop
maar hirdie ek is te oud om te kniel
hierdie ek word te oud om te glo
so ek staan waar ek staan en verniel
en ek bly staan sonder n tree en verloor
kyk dis ek wat hier staan, te sad om te bid
te seer om te huil, versteen deur my toedoen
daar is geen hande vat en aansit
maar ek dra dit met n smile want dis my skoen
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
Dorslip en droogkeel huig ek
in die donker van terg gees middernag
vir die soet nektar name
waarna hierdie barslip hunker.
Skimletters vorm elke klinker
net so ryk soos 'n paar gisters terug.
Pype weerhou om die klank deur te laat,
wat finaal n skerwestorting bring.
Is ek aan n groter soeke om woorde te smee-
wat getuig van verlange en ander leed
,of aan jou invloed die pryseer te gee.
**** jy in heimwee ook dan aan my,
dit is al wat ek wil weet
of het jy ten einde my liefde by n ander gaan kry?
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
We rave, and hailed, all hail the King
A lord who’s lowed, n’ yet, supreme
The savior of wars and of many greed
To govern and yield the land of the free
For tis clear he knows how we became
A root, and a leaf; let’s all hail the king!
This is Liberia!
A chest to aggress with hunger n’ thirst
That fruitfully enjoy climbing the rates
And faintly encourage pointing the worst
To soak n’ appraise the young's of the freed
Whose lost in the land of which they came
A branch, and a leaf; a transparent cry!
This is Liberia!
We rave, and hailed, we want the king
A man who’s loved, n’ yet, disesteem
The sculptor of deeds, and of many glee
To seize n’ dictate the land of undeveloped
For tis loud his assets are well developed
A leaf, and a root; let’s all boo the king!
This is Liberia!
A quest to possess the likeness of Christ
That truthfully enjoy the gees of versed
And skillfully encourage the act of digress
To juiced and yield off the land of the free
Fo tis clear he don’t know how we became
A leaf, and a branch; a transcendent lie!
This is Liberia!
Inspired by: Falz song- “This is Nigeria”
Childish Gambino Song- “This is America”
“I can do all things through Christ who strengthen me”
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 6:54 AM UTC
Ek skrik die 10de Augustus wakker.
Iets voel verkeerd, so swaar, so leeg.
Met 'n knop in my keel raak my gemoed swakker.
Min het ek geweet, dat treur so swaar kon weeg.
Vaagweg **** ek, "I look to you"
"And when melodies are gone"
"I hear you in a song"
Ouma was ons eie Whitney Houston
Haar sterk gees was ons rots.
Al het ons met tye lekker koppe gebots.
Sy was my vestiging, ons familie se trots.
Mag die rose in Bloemfontein altyd ouma se naam onthou.
Die pragtige rooikop dogtertjie in liefde toegevou.
Ouma se omgee het my soveel keer gered.
Die dankbaarheid gekoester in my mooiste gebed.
Mag die voëltjies altyd bly sing
Terwyl ouma se stories mooi herinneringe bring
Ouma was altyd bereid om te help
Vol genade het ouma, harde harte versmelt
Mag oupa altyd verlief bly
Sodat ons verdwaaldes, ook die regte prentjie kan kry
'n 53 - jaar, onvoorwaarlike liefde verhaal
So opreg, en eerlik, die mooiste mylpaal
Dankie dat ouma my aanvaar het vir wie ek is
Al sit ek heel wat die potte mis
Dankie vir alles wat ek by ouma kon leer
Dankie vir elke drukkie, vergifnis, keer op keer.
Dankie vir elke koppie soet tee
Vir al die miljoene trane wat ouma moes afvee
Dankie dat julle vir my alles kon gee
Dat hulle harte net liefde kon skree
Dankie dat ouma my veilig kon hou
Ons verlang alreeds, en sal verewig onthou.
Ons bly, onvoorwaarlik lief vir jou.
Ek gaan ouma mis, al my liefde, Thomas.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 2:52 AM UTC
Knuppeldik gaan slaap die stad
na 'n feesmaal van smaak en kleur
vloei die reuke deur die strate
in 'n Brown se beweging van geur.
Alle trommels , trommeldik maar maak 'n lee geraas
en in die donker , agterstrate begin die ander nou te aas
Kom die honger hande uit die sakke
en krap met rook-geel vingernael
soek die skummel in die swartsak
vir 'n laaste dissipelsmaal.
Maar jy is skille , jy is doppe
jy is alles wat laat gril
nie genoeg vir koningstafels maar vir my
net genoeg om die knaagdiere te stil.
Onerfare soos ek is , vat my hongerbrein ook mis
watter mens kan so dan lewe? watter mens kan so dan eet?
van die lykswa en die straatveers
het hierdie boemelaar vergeet.
Ek is mens en nie 'n vark nie,
(al moet 'n mens ook eet).
En stil vergaan die boemelaar
wat kieskeur ook wou wees,
nog 'n straatkind se ou lykie
nog 'n honger kinder gees...
ek wat was het mos gesien
*** kos op tafels lyk,
en het sodanig hart verloor
op kosse kleur en ruik.
Met 'n bord vol knubbels le die lykie
voor hom , onaangeraak.
Al was kos ook wat kos was daar
het hy te lief vir die droom geraak.
Eerder kwyn en dood verslaan
as om die droom te ruineer.
Eerder dood van honger,
as om hierdie kos , as sulks te eer.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 10:37 AM UTC
ek kyk vir die girl in die spieel en wonder of sy weet
*** hard ek probeer om haar te help vergeet
ek se vir haar ek hou van *** sy lag
en *** hoog sy mense wat dit nie verdien nie, ag
sy sug en trek haar skouers op en af
"die lewe is te kort om almal te straf"
se sy terwyl stadig wegkyk
en nog n stukkie van haarself weg smyt
ek fluister sag "as jy so aanhou gaan daar niks oor wees"
antwoord sy " ons is niks meer as vlees en gees
wanneer more kom, beteken vandag nie veel
als verander en tog niks want die son bly geel"
nikseegende donker oe kyk terug na my
ek is bevrees die girl gaan leeg bly
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 12:10 AM UTC
*Cossack Cowboys
Riding Llamas
That they dress
In pink pajamas
Teeny boppers
Blowing bubbles
Biker chicks
Causing trouble
Nuns in Habits
Punks in chains
One or two
Of the deranged
Rubbing Buddha belly
Cravers
And the band
Harvey Danger
David Bowie
Elton John
Both of them
With Spacesuits on
Vegetarians
Eating chicken
Love it fried
Finger licking
In a line to
Meet and greet Obama
Now I wish
I'd brought my Mama
On the T.V.
Slicing, Dicing
Infomercials
Are enlightening
Lindsey Lohan
There's more trouble
Send the Police
On the double
Michael Jackson
With his monkey
Chandelier
Swinging junkies
Bottle Rocket
Ridding crickets
Dolly Parton
Doing dishes
Tubs of Crisco
Set for wrestling
Bee Gees do be
Disco dancing
With Bruce Jenner
Wearing makeup
Dolly's kitchen
Filled with soap suds
Rubber band
Bumper babies
Call me odd
Don't call me crazy
Shooting stars
Carry Uzis
Washed up stars
Drink beer in Koozies
Donnie Osmond
Singing show tunes
As Marie blows
Animal balloons
Circus Barkers
And their Minions
Waylon left us
Shooter Jennings
Heidi Klum
Without makeup
To say the least
She looks a bit rough
American flags
As rainbow banners
Peal, scratch, and sniff
Talking bananas
Hookha smoking
Manatees
Oh yea...
and then there's me
These are just a few of the things that lean
On the lamp post of my dreams*
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 1:50 PM UTC
Kyk met horlosie swaai
kom wysheid , op een of ander manier...
Wanneer hardebaard hardehout fyn skuur
en boeta begin skuim pis-
dan is dit mos als goed en wel...
Jy's nou volwasse en verandwoordelik
vir jou kak, vir my kak en sommer die kakbak...
... en dan mag jy mos nou nie bloedkook nie
want daardie potte kom moeilik skoon
en behoed jy kort van dtraad raak
want as iemand nie aan jou been trek nie - wel ja
maar soms kom daardie klein
snotkoppie gees deur
as ander "volwassenes" vergeet
om die plooie die dag aan te plak.
Dan draai alles terug
en ek wens dat ek weer oud en koud
onder die kuwe kon raak,
want demoer in raak ek gougou
vir grootmens doeke en dommies.
Kyk ,sommige kak
moet maar net kinderkak bly,
want as my kinderhart weer vlam vat
is ek weer die duiwel se kind.
Dan draai ***** en giggles vinnig om
en wys ek *** snaaks dit kan wees
as mense val en seerkry.
Laat ek nou maar asemhaal
my das regtrek en heut...
ek is nou groot,
moet mos eintlik van beter weet.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC
(Haiku x 7)
Ears are blocked...deafened
Conversations are ignored
Disconnected.....though
Weary mind needs rest,
Wary, half-closed eyes make sure
World...still exists...while
Aerosmith rocks me!
AHA takes me on...Go West?
Yes! Hall & Oates, too!
OMD's Secret
ABC sings Ocean Blue
All my dreams came true!
Eurythmics sings dreams
I love how the Bee Gees ask,
"How deep is your love?"
Chaka Khan pledges:
"For a chance at loving you...
Even through the fire...."
MP3 takes me...
To dip...to wade...an escape
~~~ imperturbable ~~~
Sally
Copyright March 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
Ek die lieplapper
Fladder in die wind
Soos ń herfs betaste blaar
Wat in die dwarrelwinde
Tolbos en die reels
Van swaartekrag verag
My kop is op ń blok gesit
Soos die twee vir ń stywers
Wat inner kompaste volg
Na waar die hart mag lei
Sterk oppad na iewers
Maar word deur nikse
En nerense verlydelik gefly
My V formasie vervorm
, vlieg vêr vooruit
Tot waar ek sig verloor
Van veilige jolheid.
Ek verkoop my vryvlieg siel
Aan die voëlwip en sy wag
Onbewus van die somer
Wat oor die waters op my wag.
Ekt my siel verkoop aan
Die winterson...
Prysgegee, môre se geluk
Die stofwolk op die Horison
Môre trap jy oor my
Windverstrooide oorblyfsels
En neurie ń afskeidslied
In jou binnenste.
Jy koester dalk ń traan
Of twee.
Vir die gees van ń
herfsblaar lieplapper
Wat in selfverwyt besterwe
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 8:09 PM UTC
Trailblazer learner auf all that may be
spoken, the awar...
wind sound wound clocks
wind down...
Not Spelchek, her viral redit kids
infect us, no, they never run down,
they invest us as
Flavius Josephus invested his story
as Rome invested Jerusalem
the true histerical history
approach leads to riddle liddle
kurioish timerish
triptrap thingys,
witty inventions. Who imagined these?
Take A. I.
AI or Al or ah,
beware beveraware
the missin' aitches an' gees andees.
it sets the tone. light
hearted
may be
it's a trick, you never saw, but
we've been here, you and I,
dear reader imaginin' in me
---
every word written on the internet
is now in the blind's kindest voice
choice award since the very
beginning of robotic
readers, like you, dear spelchek,
refugee from Tolstoryer's
idle word pile,
though ye be.May your children rule as
flexibly as thee.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 8:41 PM UTC
As I'm sure you're aware
Ive always felt that the bee gees harmonies
And melodies
Are near without compare
But as i hear the song
You know which one
I crack inside a bit more
Because i think of her
And how she can't be near
Here with me
So we can be two lost souls
Intertwined for eternity
I can't understand why fate loves to ***** with me
The distance between us already boggles the mind, one would think that'd be enough
But she's going away, for at least a month...
Its hard enough with consistent communication
But this just adds a bit more fire to this situation I'm placed in
How deep is your love you ask? For you deeper than an ocean
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 10:49 PM UTC
Die waarheid
In die nag se doodse donker
is selfs die krieke stil
, maar saam met honde huil
-Bloedstollend- weerklink haar gil
Die waarheid breek die stilte
die buurt slaap onversteurd
sy knaag weg aan my siel
... los my stukkend en verskeurd
Teen haar aanval is ek magteloos
, met net die wapens van die gees,
mens kan haar nie oorwin nie
want waar jy nog moet beskerm -
was sy alreeds gewees
Sy laat haar droewe spore
in die kamers van jou hart
en met vlymskerp, rooi vingernaels
los sy letsels van die smart
Teenstander. Díe is sy nie-
retireer vir geen swaard, nóg gebede
haar verwoesting : jou eie toedoen
slegs spoke van jou verlede...
Tog , selfs in waarheid lê daar leuens
-versprei in dit wat sy voorspel
, want die einde van jou storie
is joune om te vertel
ja...
*** droewig okal haar verhaal
bly dit jóúne om te bepaal
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC
Rook hom uit met
Silwer linte teer
En nikotien
Smoor hom in
ń bredie van
alkahol en kaffiën
Sny hom uit
Met skêr of lem
Verdoof met dwelms
Die bose gees se stem...
Hy krap swaar laserasies
Wat tierstrepe verf
Oor die sagte weefsel
Van my hoof organe
En spring tussen
Sinapse totdat
Impuls ń inhirente
Sindroom word...
Skree. Hy skree. Hy SKREE.
Krap en skree en brand,
Hy brand .... HY BRAND
So Rook hom uit met
Marlboro red
En black mix
Smoor hom in
ń vat van
Russian bear en red bull
Sny hom uit
Met ń dokter se lem
Snuif hom uit in lyntjies
Dis te veel, sy donnerse stem
...
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
You accompany the eastern wayward winds,
With your morning greetings, warm like the sun;
Waking our household and all its mundane delights
Like the intro to an upbeat Bee Gees song.
You blend comical antics into the rough routines
Like The Beatles' chorus filled with seasoned humor;
Chasing away the boring notes and sad refrains
Over lunch table and afternoon coffee hours.
You double-check the locks before the lights go out
Like a Sinatran bridge looking for guarantees
You rest in a fulfilled outro, but always prepared
To sing every unknown tomorrow's melodies.
Jun 18, 2022
Jun 18, 2022 at 9:35 PM UTC
*it's just a selfie... don't forget my face is mandible and is non-representative of whatever idealism you have of dundee / glasgow. you ever noticed it's only paris that's mentioned in 20th century classic literature? oi! **** why not oslo schweggenladder stockholm or edinbrugh? so 20th century of you to mention any place south of london.*
when i hear modern poets wheeze and ooh and ah
and climb the everest... i think of the bee gees
or michael jackson, not one wrote the illiad... but it’s
still memorised - what’s the point...
poetry begins with the thought:
i can rhyme bling with bee sting... **** i’m in!
heave of relief interlude with abba’s super trouper
in the background to breivik’s slaughter...
now that’s taking satire to the extreme of absurdism:
you know that french thinking movement
that changed hammering a nail in with the elbow
rather than the hammer.
‘orchestra!’
‘ yes maestro?!’
‘play me the divination of vivaldi in #strauss for winter!’
‘yes maestro!’
‘ah the autumnal leaf waltz via psychadelia
of femininity given to the beast of feminism
of lost ego, what splendour... and the reindeer,
ah... it’s only missing the alcohbolic reindeer of the
puffed-up cheeks and red noses of burst veins to hue
the canvas of red with streaks of blue.’
as benny hill said... it’s not called black english humour
for reasons that might suggest it was the oxford rowing
team losing against h.m.s. belfast that made the cambridge rowing
team sing the chritmas carols in halloween costumes:
the wise pumpkin, skeleton and hybrid tarantula sang
in soprano: the shepherds put on castrato opera for a reason
that became apparent with roman authorities despising
celibacy but turning quiet fond of castration for the pope's opera:
plus the **** orgams sounded more feminine with
guilottined ********
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 9:04 PM UTC
Daar was n onheilspellende tog
naderende wuif in jou menswees
dit het my getrek tot by jou gees
Ongelukkig het my aanvanklike slegte humorsin
Jou nie genoeg bemin
nie
Daar was iets in jou
Iets misterieus
Iets dieper as vlees
Dieper as die horison
In die oorsprong van die son
Het jy my hart gevind
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 3:03 PM UTC
The milk coffee skies of Paris in May,
make the Seine river look insanely gray.
At sunrise it’s quiet -
the traffic’s mostly bikes
our digs are luxurious and private
my school stress is waning - it’s nice
I want to get up sigh
I don’t want to get up,
We’ll vote on it later -
I think it’s a tossup.
What will today bring?
More thunderstorms and kisses?
grin I hope so.
I pull the covers up.
Peter stretches and asks,
“what are you doing?”
I chuckle, and say,
“Come and find me,”
when he does,
Paris is fun in May
.
.
songs for this:
How Deep is your love - Live at the MGM Grand by Bee Gees
Houdini by Dua Lipa
Disco Boots by Gavin Turik
Not My Fault by Reneé Rapp & Megan Thee Stallion
May 22, 2024
May 22, 2024 at 6:57 PM UTC
In die nag se doodse donker
is selfs die krieke stil
, maar saam met honde huil
-Bloedstollend- weerklink haar gil
Die waarheid breek die stilte
die buurt slaap onversteurd
sy knaag weg aan my siel
... los my stukkend en verskeurd
Teen haar aanval is ek magteloos
, met net die wapens van die gees,
mens kan haar nie oorwin nie
want waar jy nog moet beskerm -
was sy alreeds gewees
Sy laat haar droewe spore
in die kamers van jou hart
en met vlymskerp, rooi vingernaels
los sy letsels van die smart
Teenstander. Díe is sy nie-
retireer vir geen swaard, nóg gebede
haar verwoesting : jou eie toedoen
slegs spoke van jou verlede...
Tog , selfs in waarheid lê daar leuens
-versprei in dit wat sy voorspel
, want die einde van jou storie
is joune om te vertel
ja...
*** droewig okal haar verhaal
bly dit jóúne om te bepaal
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC
“We could never see tomorrow
No one said a word about the sorrow”
The Bee Gees
a simple rhyme, a plaint familiar,
for those who have never stared
down train tracks, which is a lesson
in recognizing
the uncertainties of
living,
even if linearly visualized,
t h e o r e t i c a l l y
can veer to destinations unknown,
worthy of being dreaded, thinking
what are the odds today is the last,
and maybe now and then, not just
dismissing,them so easily
but it always brings on pain old
and familiar, recollecting of the
way life never asks you first, the
swiftness of two life lines colliding
with the
s u d d e n e s s
unfathomable
of 2 locomotives crashing,
head on
and leaving behind
a desolation breathtaking
it is a well lit winter morning,
cold light, but the direct sun
leaves a general okayness,
and you trudge along,
head bent, respecting the chilling,
calculating the distance to
the warmth of a planned
destination,
but here I remind
all of us:
**”No one said a word
about the sorrow**”
Dec 13, 2024
Dec 13, 2024 at 9:20 AM UTC