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"grata" poems
Ganders...gargantua--ensconced in far-fetched space... (attrition)...LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT... ROUND THE CORNERS OF PERPETUITY...predilections. A soul's inalienable fracas...on bend and knee...hop...and whoop...miasmic gargoyles poppy-wreathed... for all-too-lucid dreaming...chanting etceteras of bare riff raffs. Golden breastplates...weeping willow wings...empurpled-- fending fang trumping lines of: yuck, cluck, claw and kook. ...Listless eyes...alphabetize...think a blind oracle's informed absentia...holy and bovine. Redolent airs...perspiration of spume's most distancing shore-- eyepieces for the specks and logs in the oculos of brothers and sisters. As dust to dust doth not settle...heart's yonder score...nay cease of interstice...off-world amorousness. Gather ye yarrow sticks...hurl them at days...roofless arcady... live into the spectra of their worlds, come friend or foe...Fate's foundling. Lines strung as prayer beads...curs-ed beads...forget-me-nots enclosed in letters baiting Long Farewells, in the great literary correspondence of authored and Author. ...Ye gorgeous gargoyles come perch and push. Persona non grata...the wide world...unisex prodigal...All--returneth. LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT...(attrition)...ROUND THE CORNERS OF PERPETUITY. NEBULAEIC FANFARE...come perch to push...lo...ANGELS!
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Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
Gorgeous Gargoyles
“Top of the Morning to ‘Yuh, Guv’nuh.” Oh, to be father of a Cockney flower girl, To be Eliza Doolittle’s Dear old Dad, Alfred P. of that surname. Oh, to be a cockney dustman, On this fine day, Another fine day in Northern New Mexico, as I Sell my daughter to ‘Enery Iggins, or Some equivalent Princeton poofter. I am Rhett Butler, Daring blockade-runner, Persona –non-grata For any decent Family—including my own, Charleston Carolina. In time, I crave Social acceptance for Bonnie Blue—my ill fated Would-be equestrian offspring; I surrender my daughter to the Upper Class.
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May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 1:40 PM UTC
"My Fair Tara Lady"
They wanted a curriculum vitae In absentia I decided to ad lib Ad nauseum Ipso facto, lie and deceive Exaggerate, mislead et cetera Hardly a bona fide Modus operandi They caught me in flagrante delicto Requiescat in pace, (RIP) my chances Now I'm persona non grata Mea culpa
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Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
Semper in excretia, sumus solim profundum variat
Vale Decem, Honore res quara, Emerio, Alter altera, Vale Decem, Emerio, Alter.... Alteri...te.... Vale Decem, Vale Stragem, Valde Temptua, De glorio.... Vale Decem, Vale Decet, Honora res quara, Alter cerna... ...Armis, Grata tunc, usquera, emani, Vale....(x12) The translation from Latin.... Farewell Ten, Because of your honour, It's well deserved, This other one, Farewell Ten, It's well deserved, This other one, This other one of you, Farewell Ten, Farewell Carnage, Intense trials, Concerning pride, Farewell Ten, In a very proper way, Because of your honour, The next seperation.... ....Is by force of arms, Flow out all the way with joy, Farewell (x12)
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Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 9:39 AM UTC
Vale Decem
Rey de Gloria yo me rindo Rey del cielo levanto a Ti mi voz Que mi adoración sea grata a Ti Mi deseo es adorarte Mi anhelo es tocar tu corazón Que mi adoración sea grata a Ti No hay nadie como Tú No hay nadie como Tú No hay nadie como Tú, Señor! (2x) Rey de Reyes Señor de Señores Exaltado seas hoy Mientras me acerco a tu trono Glorifícate! (2x) Rey de Gloria yo me rindo Rey del cielo levanto a Ti mi voz Que mi adoración sea grata a Ti Mi deseo es adorarte Mi anhelo es tocar tu corazón Que mi adoración sea grata a Ti No hay nadie como Tú No hay nadie como Tú No hay nadie como Tú, Señor! (2x) Rey de Reyes Señor de Señores Exaltado seas hoy Mientras me acerco a tu trono Glorifícate! (2x) Glorifícate! Glorifícate! Glorifícate! Glorifícate! Glorifícate! Glorifícate! Glorifícate! Glorifícate! (Glorifícate!) (Levanta tu adoración al Rey!) Glorifícate! Glorifícate! Glorifícate! Glorifícate!
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Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 7:19 PM UTC
Miel San Marcos - Glorificate
.as i once explained the concept of a seasonal diet to a pair of english pensioners, citing the Essex strawberry harvest, counter the Spanish winter imports... certain graveyards, in winter, can unnecessarily compete with museums, stressed as focal points during summer. who is here, to, expect... comfortable? i sacrifice the aspect of museum, in order, to find a second tier of peace... within the confines of cemeteries' exfoliation of statues...     weathered, slightly hidden...   in guise, of half living, half dead... yet all the more: ever watchful, that persistent...       prosecutor stature... with death... the sole "ambiguity" of a...     jury;          a jury... with a persona non grata?! mon deus!               but one answer: je suis mort! since? it is really hard.. to re-appreciate revisiting museums at this point... whatever the ancient in modern terms focus for the pre-Byzantine marble...       the open air extravaganza of statues in a Slavic cemetery?   weathered, chiseled by a shyness? teased out of existence?                  primordial in a focus of being haunted?!   well... museums have nothing to offer, given this fleshed out excavation.
0
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 9:32 PM UTC
ditto motto gratis
the relationship held sacrosanct form an identity's disjecta membra a confluence of fallacies made anthropomorphic body diminshed by nervous exhaustion mind abandoned to melancholy obsession scattered hapharzadly in front of those whom had once offered solicitude filled by yearning to be stoic, saturnine, sangfroid passsing glances, chance encounters aren't caustic to the indifferent incondite hopes nurtured by solitude clinging to the idea that all is bitingly internicine misplaced in the droors of time
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Sep 16, 2010
Sep 16, 2010 at 4:17 AM UTC
Persona non grata
(this festive traditional Central-Italian dish serves entire populations of citizens)     INGREDIENTS:      ♦  faith in God if unavailable, any stable moral-ethical framework can be used      ♦  esteem for traditional cultural values      ♦  willingness to say what you think      ♦  hatred of Political Correctness 1)   Wake up in the morning and breathe rinse your mind and other ingredients well from previous day’s brain-washing 2)   Refuse to believe media propaganda ask friends/family members to ignore mainstream media & close Facebook accounts 3)   Believe that God created Man and Woman in Genesis 4)   Refer to God as He main ingredient, beware of fire if Feminists/Genderqueer activists are near stove 5)   Define family as 1 man + 1 woman joined in marriage producing children let ingredients simmer. Add a pinch of absolute Biblical doctrine if desired 6)   Critique Cultural Marxism in ALL its overt & disguised manifestations 7)   Dissent from the One-World Techno-Narcissist mindset algorithms and search-filters complement this dish, but feel free to serve it on its own Persona Non Grata pairs well with a full-bodied Tuscan Chianti, or Montepulciano, but is especially enhanced by any vintage where the Grapes of Wrath are stored.
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Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 5:55 PM UTC
Persona Non Grata
trudging from lombard pawned ring to pay back long debt Esta es mi vida. wonderful friend sent a letter: dont send me poems I dont love poetry Caminando por la calles. On the streets Lanterns blinding  eyes while I need darkness Yo tener enemigos en todos el mundo letter from court to pay penalty 1200 euro for spraying graffities in Friedrichshain Esta mi vida es afuera un campos de batalla. i am hungry I pick from some wheelchair near entrance of supermarket one banan towards me run and attacks me a huge drunkard beat out from my hands banan slaps in brow and I fall on snowed pavement feel no pains he stays over me and yell: Sie klaute banane, Nutte!! I low whisper: yourself schweine backe.. jump from spot and imaginary bite the **** of his imaginary gun El mundo es maravilloso I possess no more a laptop i spilled wine on it being taken aback of one scene of pure ********** of one lovely  guest in my flat how now to write manifesting defending verses? Politico de mierda que gobierna el pais. Internet shop whole night over beneath of buzzing of casino machines I sit and write the letter to imaginary dad to imaginary lovely mom to sweet sister or brother well,  I have nobody of them though would I be orphan I guess my existence were not so dismal Yo tengo el mi fierro por disparar. I writing email to american situationist his nickname is rasputin I saying him, that I am situationist and I am recently became persona non-grata and I better die than land in loony-bin need your aid. he answers with a link about  a war in Irak my solar plexus clenchs tight Puta yo no necesita usted! Esta mi maniera, Caminando por la calles, Listo para morir, Esta mi vida es terminada. ***** Friedrichshain- urban district in Berlin Sie klaute banane, Nutte!- she stole a banan, Whore!(german) schweine backe- pig's **** (german) (thank you Alessandro P. for lesson in spanish) Esta es mi vida. This is my life. Caminando por la calles. Walk on the streets Yo tener enemigos en todos el mundo.I have enemies allover the world Esta mi vida es afuera un campos de batalla.This is my life outside for the battlefield El mundo es maravilloso The world is beautiful Politico de mierda que gobierna el pais. Politic in this land is merde Yo tengo el mi fierro por disparar. I have my iron for shooting Puta yo no necesita usted. Bitch, I dont need you Esta mi maniera, Caminando por la calles, Listo para morir, Esta mi vida es terminada: this is my attitude walking through the streets to search for death my life is finished
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Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
Death on me
trudging from lombard pawned ring to pay back long debt Esta es mi vida. wonderful friend sent a letter: dont send me poems I dont love poetry Caminando por la calles. On the streets Lanterns blinding  eyes while I need darkness Yo tener enemigos en todos el mundo letter from court to pay penalty 1200 euro for spraying graffities in Friedrichshain Esta mi vida es afuera un campos de batalla. i am hungry I pick from some wheelchair near entrance of supermarket one banan towards me run and attacks me a huge drunkard beat out from my hands banan slaps in brow and I fall on snowed pavement feel no pains he stays over me and yell: Sie klaute banane, Nutte!! I low whisper: yourself schweine backe.. jump from spot and imaginary bite the **** of his imaginary gun El mundo es maravilloso I possess no more a laptop i spilled wine on it being taken aback of one scene of pure ********** of one lovely  guest in my flat how now to write manifesting defending verses? Politico de mierda que gobierna el pais. Internet shop whole night over beneath of buzzing of casino machines I sit and write the letter to imaginary dad to imaginary lovely mom to sweet sister or brother well,  I have nobody of them though would I be orphan I guess my existence were not so dismal Yo tengo el mi fierro por disparar. I writing email to american situationist his nickname is rasputin I saying him, that I am situationist and I am recently became persona non-grata and I better die than land in loony-bin need your aid. he answers with a link about  a war in Irak my solar plexus clenchs tight Puta yo no necesita usted! Esta mi maniera, Caminando por la calles, Listo para morir, Esta mi vida es terminada. ***** Friedrichshain- urban district in Berlin Sie klaute banane, Nutte!- she stole a banan, Whore!(german) schweine backe- pig's **** (german) (thank you Alessandro P. for lesson in spanish) Esta es mi vida. This is my life. Caminando por la calles. Walk on the streets Yo tener enemigos en todos el mundo.I have enemies allover the world Esta mi vida es afuera un campos de batalla.This is my life outside for the battlefield El mundo es maravilloso The world is beautiful Politico de mierda que gobierna el pais. Politic in this land is merde Yo tengo el mi fierro por disparar. I have my iron for shooting Puta yo no necesita usted. Bitch, I dont need you Esta mi maniera, Caminando por la calles, Listo para morir, Esta mi vida es terminada: this is my attitude walking through the streets to search for death my life is finished
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The universe that i know contains infinite infinities The more i travel the more i see and more you think There's an abyss of abraxas in dylan dog's comics Here's an enstraged ghost of che on the motorcycle We made it plausible for the pagat ultimo's elegance sake We seek for the most Beautiful to crash us like soft waves The immortal Beauty is the terror for the mortal passangers The immortal Elegance is shown as an unforgettable life's style You want the depth, you play games, cast spells, and reinvent You want to become a persona grata, the gravity ***** you in Today i thougt how nice is to draw a bit for a change Today you didn't like to have hollidays from a belief I have to acknowledge the worthwile sands of time I have to succumb to universal subconsciousnesses Mine unimportance is a hanging shall on a tied stallion Mine thoughst fly high as two falcons toward your star Thine tea is served with blood, sweat, and entrapement Thine turtle is a giant alive planet, a colourful mounted One
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Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 10:38 AM UTC
Two glasses of Tea
Sumida en la ironía esboza un apático gesto y en el nicho indulgente de la discordia se encuentran sus ojos ingratos. La Dama clorótica seca sus lágrimas, ejecuta con elegancia la centímana que acoge ramales de negros liros a sus cianóticos pabellones ¡Cuan grata la dicha pérfida del desencuentro! Profesa la peste con umbría renitencia, en la lúgubre sobre-voz que estremece el canoro fúnebre en Pico de Roma que delata en cada suspiro la cólera rancia del abandono Que perfuma con néctar de Belladona el fino sosiego de un paño de seda. Fruto pródigo que espeta la terca laconia de sus nefastas palabras Porque solo un ósculo que terse el crúor de sus labios bastará para convenir su silencio. Sauzal que atraviesa su boca añeja y estéril como la yerma Y quien fuera una bella rubescente hoy besa el miasma maldito que proclama a la urdimbre. su maligno efluvio letal Mañana serás el fantasma, el fantasma de ojos velados. Mañana serás la nada y negros serán tus huesos.
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Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 11:58 PM UTC
La Dama Clorótica “Alegoría a la pintura homónima de Samuel van Hoogstraten”
Não há no mundo inteiro, Sensibilidade nobre e grata, Amor terno e verdadeiro, Fio de ouro e prata. Amor que alguém sente, Carinho sempre infinito, Prazer inédito e constante, Flores, ramo bonito... Nossa mãe Maria, Flores doces e reais, Beijos dados com alegria, Querida por mim e teus pais. Vic Alex
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Apr 19, 2010
Apr 19, 2010 at 3:39 AM UTC
Cada gesto é como uma flor....
Mi vaso lleno -el vino del Anáhuac- mi esfuerzo vano -estéril mi pasión- soy un perdido -soy un marihuano- a beber -a danzar al son de mi canción... Ciñe el tirso oloroso, tañe el jocundo címbalo. Una bacante loca y un sátiro afrentoso conjuntan en mi sangre su frenesí amoroso. Atenas brilla, piensa y esculpe Praxiteles, y la gracia encadena con rosas la pasión. ¡Ah de la vida parva, que no nos da sus mieles sino con cierto ritmo y en cierta proporción! ¡Danzad al soplo de Dionisos que embriaga el corazón! La Muerte viene, todo será polvo bajo su imperio: ¡polvo de Pericles, polvo de Codro, polvo de Cimón! Mi vaso lleno -el vino del Anáhuac- mi esfuerzo vano -estéril mi pasión- soy un perdido -soy un marihuano- a beber -a danzar al son de mi canción... De Hispania fructuosa, de Galia deleitable, de Numidia ardorosa, y de toda la rosa de los vientos que beben las águilas romanas, venid, puras doncellas y ávidas cortesanas. Danzad en delitosos, lúbricos episodios, con los esclavos nubios, con los marinos rodios. Flaminio, de cabellos de amaranto, busca para Heliogábalo en las termas varones de placer... Alzad el canto, reíd, danzad en báquica alegría, y haced brotar la sangre que embriaga el corazón. La Muerte viene -todo será polvo: bajo su imperio- polvo de Lucrecio, polvo de Augusto, polvo de Nerón! Mi vaso lleno -el vino del Anáhuac- mi esfuerzo vano -estéril mi pasión- soy un perdido -soy un marihuano- a beber -a danzar al son de mi canción... Aldeanas del Cauca con olor de azucena; montañesas de Antioquia, con dulzor de colmena; infantinas de Lima, unciosas y augurales, y princesas de México, que es como la alacena familiar que resguarda los más dulces panales; y mozuelos de Cuba, lánguidos, sensuales, ardorosos, baldíos, cual fantasmas que cruzan por unos sueños míos; mozuelos de la grata Cuscatlán -¡oh ambrosía!- y mozuelos de Honduras, donde hay alondras ciegas por las selvas oscuras; entrad en la danza, en el feliz torbellino: reíd, jugad al son de mi canción: la piña y la guanábana aroman el camino y un vino de palmeras aduerme el corazón. La Muerte viene, todo será polvo: ¡polvo de Hidalgo, polvo de Bolívar, polvo en la urna, y rota ya la urna, polvo en la ceguedad del aquilón! Mi vaso lleno -el vino del Anáhuac- mi esfuerzo vano -estéril mi pasión- soy un perdido -soy un marihuano- a beber -a danzar al son de mi canción... La noche es bella en su embriaguez de mieles, la tierra es grata en su cendal de brumas; vivir es dulce, con dulzor de trinos; canta el amor, espigan los donceles, se puebla el mundo, se urden los destinos... ¡Que el jugo de las viñas me alivie el corazón! A beber, a danzar en raudos torbellinos, vano el esfuerzo, estéril la pasión... A ti que me reprochas el arcano sentido del amor que va en mi verso fúlgido y hondo, lúgubre y arcano, te hablo en la triste vanidad del verso: tú en la muerte rendido, yo en la muerte, ni un grito apenas del afán del mundo podrá hallar eco en la oquedad vacía. El polvo reina -EL POLVO, EL IRACUNDO!- Alegría! Alegría! Alegría!
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1.5k
Balada de la loca alegría
Mi vaso lleno -el vino del Anáhuac- mi esfuerzo vano -estéril mi pasión- soy un perdido -soy un marihuano- a beber -a danzar al son de mi canción... Ciñe el tirso oloroso, tañe el jocundo címbalo. Una bacante loca y un sátiro afrentoso conjuntan en mi sangre su frenesí amoroso. Atenas brilla, piensa y esculpe Praxiteles, y la gracia encadena con rosas la pasión. ¡Ah de la vida parva, que no nos da sus mieles sino con cierto ritmo y en cierta proporción! ¡Danzad al soplo de Dionisos que embriaga el corazón! La Muerte viene, todo será polvo bajo su imperio: ¡polvo de Pericles, polvo de Codro, polvo de Cimón! Mi vaso lleno -el vino del Anáhuac- mi esfuerzo vano -estéril mi pasión- soy un perdido -soy un marihuano- a beber -a danzar al son de mi canción... De Hispania fructuosa, de Galia deleitable, de Numidia ardorosa, y de toda la rosa de los vientos que beben las águilas romanas, venid, puras doncellas y ávidas cortesanas. Danzad en delitosos, lúbricos episodios, con los esclavos nubios, con los marinos rodios. Flaminio, de cabellos de amaranto, busca para Heliogábalo en las termas varones de placer... Alzad el canto, reíd, danzad en báquica alegría, y haced brotar la sangre que embriaga el corazón. La Muerte viene -todo será polvo: bajo su imperio- polvo de Lucrecio, polvo de Augusto, polvo de Nerón! Mi vaso lleno -el vino del Anáhuac- mi esfuerzo vano -estéril mi pasión- soy un perdido -soy un marihuano- a beber -a danzar al son de mi canción... Aldeanas del Cauca con olor de azucena; montañesas de Antioquia, con dulzor de colmena; infantinas de Lima, unciosas y augurales, y princesas de México, que es como la alacena familiar que resguarda los más dulces panales; y mozuelos de Cuba, lánguidos, sensuales, ardorosos, baldíos, cual fantasmas que cruzan por unos sueños míos; mozuelos de la grata Cuscatlán -¡oh ambrosía!- y mozuelos de Honduras, donde hay alondras ciegas por las selvas oscuras; entrad en la danza, en el feliz torbellino: reíd, jugad al son de mi canción: la piña y la guanábana aroman el camino y un vino de palmeras aduerme el corazón. La Muerte viene, todo será polvo: ¡polvo de Hidalgo, polvo de Bolívar, polvo en la urna, y rota ya la urna, polvo en la ceguedad del aquilón! Mi vaso lleno -el vino del Anáhuac- mi esfuerzo vano -estéril mi pasión- soy un perdido -soy un marihuano- a beber -a danzar al son de mi canción... La noche es bella en su embriaguez de mieles, la tierra es grata en su cendal de brumas; vivir es dulce, con dulzor de trinos; canta el amor, espigan los donceles, se puebla el mundo, se urden los destinos... ¡Que el jugo de las viñas me alivie el corazón! A beber, a danzar en raudos torbellinos, vano el esfuerzo, estéril la pasión... A ti que me reprochas el arcano sentido del amor que va en mi verso fúlgido y hondo, lúgubre y arcano, te hablo en la triste vanidad del verso: tú en la muerte rendido, yo en la muerte, ni un grito apenas del afán del mundo podrá hallar eco en la oquedad vacía. El polvo reina -EL POLVO, EL IRACUNDO!- Alegría! Alegría! Alegría!
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Grata la voz del agua a quien abrumaron negras arenas, grato a la mano cóncava el mármol circular de la columna, gratos los finos laberintos del agua entre los limoneros, grata la música del zéjel, grato el amor y grata la plegaria dirigida a un Dios que está solo, grato el jazmín. Vano el alfanje ante las largas lanzas de los muchos, vano ser el mejor. Grato sentir o presentir, rey doliente, que tus dulzuras son adioses, que te será negada la llave, que la cruz del infiel borrará la luna, que la tarde que miras es la última.
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1.1k
Alhambra
Crecí               Para ti.         Tálame. Mi acacia Implora a tus manos su golpe de gracia.               Florí               Para ti.         Córtame. Mi lirio Al nacer dudaba ser flor o ser cirio.               Fluí               Para ti.         Bébeme. El cristal Envidia lo claro de mi manantial.               Alas di               Por ti.         Cázame. Falena, Rodeo tu llama de impaciencia llena.               Por ti sufriré. ¡Bendito sea el daño que tu amor me dé! ¡Bendita sea el hacha, bendita la red, Y loadas sean tijeras y sed!               Sangre del costado               Manaré, mi amado. ¿Qué broche más bello, qué joya más grata, Que por ti una llaga color escarlata? En vez de abalorios para mis cabellos Siete espinas largas hundiré entre ellos. Y en vez de zarcillos pondré en mis orejas, Como dos rubíes dos ascuas bermejas.               Me verás reír               Viéndome sufrir.         Y tú llorarás. Y entonces... ¡más mío que nunca serás!
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951
El fuerte lazo
I walked back to the past and it stared at me who are you? why did you visit here? are you invited?--speak honestly Don't you remember me? I was the mischievous lad who used to play tricks on you at your compound?--you called me 'notoriously bad' How presumptuous you are billions of kids had been here before there was nothing special about you don't you knock on my door any more It would do you mighty good if you don't return again--persona non grata- you are no longer the kid you were and your company I desire not--stay away, stay away far!
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Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 2:47 AM UTC
I WALKED BACK TO THE PAST
Miki Féher Olho para o céu do Deus Infinito, Sorriso do menino com amor. Povo magiar e vermelha dor, Povos sem raça e com a mesma cor. Miki Féher este foi o teu grito… Sucumbiste for força dum apito, Deixaste o mundo sofredor. Tua juventude terna e grata, Sem ouro nem prata. Nosso Deus não maltrata, Empolgaste multidões, Para sempre em nossos corações… O nosso Deus te dá sossego no paraíso, Pois para se tornar a viver, morrer é preciso! O Benfica canta teu sublime fado, Pois o destino estava traçado. Cordiais Cumprimentos Victor Marques 28 de Janeiro 2004
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Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 8:06 AM UTC
Miki Féher
A shallow home a stationary time, conversations with emptiness, works and worms its own persona non grata. Twisting against the walls, the planes of my pavilion. Echos the shallow steps of space. Step by... Step... Another foray into the fog, stumbling in a savage circle. how long will the endurance last with lungs empty, eyes shut. Tomorrow maybe the exit will be found. Tonight there is only the bitter pondering, the pounding of feet. Step by... Step... The longest hallway. Lingering lights. Perhaps the misty morning door should be closed. maybe...
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Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 6:32 PM UTC
Night time into day.
Sigue, sigue blanca estrella, Por el cielo en que naciste, Sin dejar ninguna huella... Siempre te hallaré más bella, Siempre te hallaré más triste. Hoy vengo con mi dolor, Cual antes feliz venía; Mas ya nunca, astro de amor, Ceñirás con tu fulgor Ni su frente ni la mía. Tú cruzas por ese cielo, Dando con tu luz la calma; Yo cruzo, por este suelo, Llevando en mi desconsuelo Lena de sombras el alma. Dame, dame tu luz bella; Que en esta alma sin amor, Tú sorprenderás estrella, En cada nube una huella, Y en cada huella un dolor. Tú que has escuchado el canto De mi primera pasión, Acompaña mi quebranto, Y alumbra el amargo llanto que brota del corazón. ¡Horas del primer cariño! tú las miraste lucir, Cuando ante tu luz de armiño, La niña en brazos del niño Soñaba en el porvenir. ¡Dulce amor! ¡grata ciencia! ¡Blanca luz! ¡Delirio ardiente! ¿Por qué huyes de la existencia, Cuando una dura experiencia Va marchitando la frente? ¡Aquellos goces extraños, Aquel esperar en Dios, Sin recoger desengaños, Aquel pasar de los años Sin perturbar a los dos! Todo, todo, blanca estrella, Tu tibia luz alumbró; ¡Edad de sueños aquella, Envidiable, dulce, bella, Que para siempre huyó! Celia, al expirar el día, Por estos sitios vendrá, Ya no como antes venía, Que aquella alma que fue mía, Pertenece a otra alma ya. Antes ¡ay! ¡cuánto embeleso! Sollozando de placer, Dejaba en mi frente un beso; Por eso, estrella; por eso No quiero volverla a ver. Ahora, dulce y cariñosa, En otro sus ojos fijos, Tendrá su boca amorosa La majestad de la esposa Para besar a sus hijos. Con tus rayos blanquecinos Alumbra siempre su hogar; Aparta nuestros caminos, Y ¡ay! que sus ojos divinos No aprendan nunca a llorar. Si sigues, tú, blanca estrella, Por el cielo en que naciste, Sin dejar ninguna huella... Siempre te hallaré más bella, Siempre me verás mas triste.
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924
Confidencias a una estrella
Sigue, sigue blanca estrella, Por el cielo en que naciste, Sin dejar ninguna huella... Siempre te hallaré más bella, Siempre te hallaré más triste. Hoy vengo con mi dolor, Cual antes feliz venía; Mas ya nunca, astro de amor, Ceñirás con tu fulgor Ni su frente ni la mía. Tú cruzas por ese cielo, Dando con tu luz la calma; Yo cruzo, por este suelo, Llevando en mi desconsuelo Lena de sombras el alma. Dame, dame tu luz bella; Que en esta alma sin amor, Tú sorprenderás estrella, En cada nube una huella, Y en cada huella un dolor. Tú que has escuchado el canto De mi primera pasión, Acompaña mi quebranto, Y alumbra el amargo llanto que brota del corazón. ¡Horas del primer cariño! tú las miraste lucir, Cuando ante tu luz de armiño, La niña en brazos del niño Soñaba en el porvenir. ¡Dulce amor! ¡grata ciencia! ¡Blanca luz! ¡Delirio ardiente! ¿Por qué huyes de la existencia, Cuando una dura experiencia Va marchitando la frente? ¡Aquellos goces extraños, Aquel esperar en Dios, Sin recoger desengaños, Aquel pasar de los años Sin perturbar a los dos! Todo, todo, blanca estrella, Tu tibia luz alumbró; ¡Edad de sueños aquella, Envidiable, dulce, bella, Que para siempre huyó! Celia, al expirar el día, Por estos sitios vendrá, Ya no como antes venía, Que aquella alma que fue mía, Pertenece a otra alma ya. Antes ¡ay! ¡cuánto embeleso! Sollozando de placer, Dejaba en mi frente un beso; Por eso, estrella; por eso No quiero volverla a ver. Ahora, dulce y cariñosa, En otro sus ojos fijos, Tendrá su boca amorosa La majestad de la esposa Para besar a sus hijos. Con tus rayos blanquecinos Alumbra siempre su hogar; Aparta nuestros caminos, Y ¡ay! que sus ojos divinos No aprendan nunca a llorar. Si sigues, tú, blanca estrella, Por el cielo en que naciste, Sin dejar ninguna huella... Siempre te hallaré más bella, Siempre me verás mas triste.
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70
I gave to her a lady ***** demise, her bullet was ironically engraved with names and words she felt too lame to say. I chopped her limbs in ratio per lies and so her blood set sunset into skies, then scattered pieces far to mountain caves where none will seek to travel but the brave- so blame the social scene, should she uprise. And all the ghosts are standing to their feet, there is no room for martyrs at this dance. Renewed ambition tastes so ******* sweet; I switched it up, though she had made her stance and she could once have made my ruse complete but bloodstains say she didn't stand a chance.
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Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 12:40 AM UTC
Modern Persona Non Grata
she was a former witness of jehovah I ain't much on casanova couldn't find my GPS flew over her cuckoo's nest her perspective compromised my countermeasures plagiarized maybe the moonlight sonata? worldly persona non grata emasculated superpowers rain man never counted flowers just kept running up that hill terminating her goodwill yes it was something that I said another joke over her head obstinacy will duplicate a failure to communicate so many times I tried to love her the gibson to my danny glover some animals just are more equal pray to jehovah for a sequel
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Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
Femke Fatale
let me rant awhile for what good it may do to open the valve if only briefly for as one wave after another of sheer indignity is reported survivor guilt courses through me yet even this was not mine to choose for I don't happen to have been born Jewish or black - and that doesn't make me more - or less - worthy of dignity but I can observe closely what it is like to be pilloried and persecuted for one's peaceful contacts and communications holding personal beliefs at odds with a regime and a rage courses through me on contemplating 'man's inhumanity to man' - though written long ago that the world would be so, where hatred would replace kindness, love, empathy I deplore the way an ideology of one disturbed, possessed person can lead to millions donning a uniform, henceforth labelling one sector of humankind 'persona non grata' to be mercilessly pursued in legitimized genocide, even savaging little children frightened lads caught on the run made to hold arms for food mamas with babes in arms forced to watch them dashed to pieces then buried alive underground their infant cries still heard while their mothers were ***** - as beleaguered, beautiful Estonia was brought to it's knees... and I weep and rant feel knives in my gut blood pulsing swift - then take hold of myself seek to understand, if that be possible, even a smidgen of such distorted thinking to delve into the mind of a hateful deviate for but a moment and remain intact so I scan his written mantra and come to see that all deeply held convictions must have at its core RESPECT lest it attract the weak and easily led, or those forced into submission seeking to simply stay alive and they find themselves taking part in a forest fire of polluted propaganda a flood of merciless devastation, while their deluded leader continues to spout forth venom in the distorted notion that they would actually be acting in society's best interests or worse still: 'in the name of God' (Acts 5:39; Hosea 4:1-3)
0
Feb 16, 2019
Feb 16, 2019 at 5:30 AM UTC
dynamics of genocide (strong themes)
let me rant awhile for what good it may do to open the valve if only briefly for as one wave after another of sheer indignity is reported survivor guilt courses through me yet even this was not mine to choose for I don't happen to have been born Jewish or black - and that doesn't make me more - or less - worthy of dignity but I can observe closely what it is like to be pilloried and persecuted for one's peaceful contacts and communications holding personal beliefs at odds with a regime and a rage courses through me on contemplating 'man's inhumanity to man' - though written long ago that the world would be so, where hatred would replace kindness, love, empathy I deplore the way an ideology of one disturbed, possessed person can lead to millions donning a uniform, henceforth labelling one sector of humankind 'persona non grata' to be mercilessly pursued in legitimized genocide, even savaging little children frightened lads caught on the run made to hold arms for food mamas with babes in arms forced to watch them dashed to pieces then buried alive underground their infant cries still heard while their mothers were ***** - as beleaguered, beautiful Estonia was brought to it's knees... and I weep and rant feel knives in my gut blood pulsing swift - then take hold of myself seek to understand, if that be possible, even a smidgen of such distorted thinking to delve into the mind of a hateful deviate for but a moment and remain intact so I scan his written mantra and come to see that all deeply held convictions must have at its core RESPECT lest it attract the weak and easily led, or those forced into submission seeking to simply stay alive and they find themselves taking part in a forest fire of polluted propaganda a flood of merciless devastation, while their deluded leader continues to spout forth venom in the distorted notion that they would actually be acting in society's best interests or worse still: 'in the name of God' (Acts 5:39; Hosea 4:1-3)
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98
I swear these birds do not fly on wing The sky is heavy Undiluted gravity Unbecoming gravitas A party in the sky Persona non grata And what becomes? Theatre where the stars won't act The comedy of tragedy Lives uncompelling melodrama A panorama Forgetting the hope Of kaleidoscopes I know these birds will not sing Spring has come and gone Now the underbelly dreamers Are left to whither with fault Sweltering festering heat Summer suns to burn our skin And leave us only wishing that we could be cold again That the leaves should shrink and fade And all the trees are dead These songbirds of a winter ending I held such hope aloft And saw a symbol in their flight I saw love inside a light A beauteous sight But even glorious wings Fade from my eyes In solemn nights
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Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 1:11 AM UTC
The Birds Fly No More
see, i'm with the kids, cheese, down with the kids, they write in acronyms and emoticons, i just incorporate many symbols that make sense. oh, wait, now i know, it’s because you’d say ‘miu’ for μ rather than onomatopoeic cow **** like you say miusic rather than moosic - it’s the same in russian, an invisible softening of the m - hence mьusic: or just the invisible hovering i, littera non grata - or an iPod: the mishandled judgement concerning advertisement strategy. in other words, given a mathematical sense of what was being said: akin to f(x): ь(x + ~y), the Russian indicator of a grapheme (e.g. æ - strange that this grapheme should balance on -sh, as in ash, tongue swallowing antics in practice); as in the case of mьusic, whereby x = m, and ~y = u, due to the insertion of i.
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May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 6:12 AM UTC
mьusic / littera non grata