"guten" poems
To my Sisters and Brothers in Arms:
Hello, Hola, Guten Tag etc. and Salutations
For the Tribulations and Trials we've Endured...
...I'm sure by this Present Frame
You all (or most) know who you
R and what you THINK? You're
Supposed to B DOING.
I'll start to unwind and
Integrate slowly from here on -->
This Q.C.[O.I.^3]
I already have a ready (but nearly untapped)
Network that should be able to
Mesh me into the Bigger Picture,
At both the Local and Global Scale.
Chow, for now (or until I get bored/BOAR'D/Barred?!/Abroad again);
I'm sure to see you (or you'll see me) down the track sometime SOONISH!!!?
P.S. Would someONE look after me missus until I make it Home?
Hasta pronto, me Amigos.
Col
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 6:39 AM UTC
Bonjour
buon giorno
guten morgen
despabílate amor y toma nota:
sólo en el tercer mundo mueren cuarenta mil niños por día
en el plácido cielo despejado flotan los bombarderos y losbuitres
cuatro millones tienen sida
la codicia depila la amazonia
buenos días good morning
despabílate
en los ordenadores de la abuela onu no caben más cadáveres de ruandalos fundamentalistas degüellan aextranjeros
predica el papa contra los condones
havelange estrangula a maradona
bonjour monsieur le maire
forza italia buon giorno
guten morgen ernst junger
opus dei buenos días good morning hiroshima
despabílate amor que el horror amanece
2k
What's called "Good Morning" in English,
"Guten Morgen" in German,
And "Bon Matin" in French,
Is called "सुप्रभात" in Hindi and pronounced as "Suprabhaat!"
I had been studying all night,
And probably now I'll sleep.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 7:48 PM UTC
Das Leben ist eine weite Reise, so sagt man,
eine weite Reise über das Meer,
ein Anstieg bis auf hohe Berge,
ein Hinabsteigen bis ins tiefe Tal.
Das Leben ist eine Reise, so sagt man,
eine Reise ohne Wiederkehr,
die jeden Tag nur vorwärts schreitet,
bis zum letzten Lebensziel.
Das Leben ist eine Reise, so sagt man,
die einen Anfang kennt und auch ein Ende,
voll Gefahren und auch vielen Mühen,
mit guten und mit schlechten Wegen.
Das Leben ist eine Reise, das weißt du,
deine Reisen, die du unternehmen musst,
die allein dir aufgetragen ist
und die nur du zu Ende bringst.
Dein Leben ist deine Reise, das weißt du,
mit vielen Stationen von Anfang an,
sie alle kennst du und sie prägen dich,
was aber kommen wird, ist noch verborgen.
Dein Leben ist eine Reise, das weißt du,
mit vielen Windungen hin zum letzten Ziel,
geh nur mit Mut und Zuversicht,
blick doch nach vorn bei jedem Schritt.
Das Leben ist eine Reise, das ist dir und mir bekannt,
ich wünsche dir, dass du das Ziel erreichst
und dass dein Weg geleitet sei
von treuem Schutz und Segen.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
Where I’m from,
unlike what Willie Perdomo says,
she might know
where I was from.
Where I’m from,
we love the breath of whispers.
My mom would sing and rhyme
in the ears of my little sisters.
She would hum and mumble,
my dad would whistle,
they would never grumble
until we fall asleep.
Where I’m from,
we greet with
"guten morgen"
to everyone in the breakfast’s table,
and we smile and say,
"takk for maten"
for those who serve the food.
Where I’m from,
we play with colors for Holi,
we fast Ramadan,
we celebrate Christmas.
Where I’m from,
we wish you Happy birthday
in more than 90 languages,
and these are the advantages;
we make you a strawberry cake,
we even make you a card,
but we might throw you in a lake,
or prank you very hard.
Where I’m from,
we say,
“Ni hao ma?”
For the person living next door,
when we leave
we say,
“hasta luego mi amor.”
Where I’m from,
we love the breath of whispers,
she whispers,
“habibi, waheshtini.”
I reply,
"I missed you more,"
and add
“Ma armastan sind.”
Where I’m from,
the smell of your kisses
plays with my senses
so,
I could hear your hair,
I could taste your beauty,
I could see your wintry smell
and I could touch the echo of
I love you
spelled out from your mouth.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC
They hang limply from the walls as
Old friend DECAY settles
Suburbia Mexicana neons and
Obscene jabs in raspberry
Demonizing the scalp of an 18th cake
The lipstick is not dark enough to
Carry a meaning here
No scent lingers as the calendar turns
Another year burnt to death as
We move further away from coincidence
And desperately memorize the lines of a
Modern work, every brushstroke an intellectual
Marvel so if we stare enough it will enfold on
Itself to glass
Guten morgen, Herr Schicksal!
Would you be so kind as to
Dissolve the peppermint stench
And leave the shower on?
I may see a reflection through the
Steam and like it more than yours
I never much liked chloroform or
Frosted roses
Settle on with
Delusions of Poland
And lazy eye tangos
With naked melodies re-vamped
By a 21st century greaser
Please don’t leave
Hail to Canon, brute of mine!
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 2:43 PM UTC
*and some animals didn't evolve, because they
thought higher things of the dream-world,
say bonsai felines, koalas, sloths, having
evolved we shouldn't have allowed a concern
for dreams, after all, there was mining to do,
wheat to harvest, concern for dreams obstructed
certain thing: firstly a privilege of the rich,
and when stated by someone of lesser "rank",
completely disregarded; trying to find the oedipus
but unable to find him: guten tag kaiser, wilhelm das zweite!*
i'd still prefer the laziness
of the diet of a panda
rather than complicating things
with food restaurant critics
and fussy eaters, i.e.:
eat this, or starve, your choice.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
Lieber, ist dies für Sie.
Ich möchte Sie , stark zu bleiben , und ich weiß, dass eine schwierige Aufgabe ist . nur daran erinnern, dass ich hier bin für dich, und ich werde immer hier sein. Wenn Sie das Bedürfnis verspüren, zu sterben , denken Sie daran , dass ich mit dir bin. Ich hoffe, dass Sie mich ernst nehmen , und meine Liebe ernst. Ich gehe nicht weg, und ich hoffe, Sie werden auch nicht.
Guten Morgen,
Gute Nacht.
my lover Mädchen
Von,
Bluten- Diamanten
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC
Hello. Guten Tag. Bonjour.
Its funny how just one word
can reveal someone who will know you to the core
Its funny how if you hadn't heard
You never would have noticed their flare.
You wouldn't have had the chance to flirt
You wouldn't have felt them care
You never would have hurt
But then again,
what would you be
without their love; their pain;
their memory
I can tell you now
I wouldn't be the same
because he taught me how
to love without shame.
~E.Y
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 6:29 AM UTC
It was a shiny day.
In contrast, I was shattered.
What news.
Directly broke my heart.
Tears could not stop flowing until now.
I may love to shop.
But I am not buying ********
Dear Paul William Walker IV.
You will be so much missed.
Race in paradise, Paul, Brian.
Ich weiss nicht warum.
Aber die guten Menschen leider oft zu früh gehen.
Ruhe in Frieden.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 5:00 AM UTC
Am die 24. März, sometime im der Zweitausend Jahren,
you held your farewell party;
invited sun, moon, house, ice cream,
me, friends: anything existent
and implored us
to bid your farewell.
Am die Morgen (24. May, 2012), you left.
Was was supposed to be eine guten Morgen
became a horrible dawn,
for it signified nothing less
than your nigh-permanent self-disappearance.
Now, am die Abend of 1. September, Zwanzig-und-vierzehn
I write this, in complete lament
Over the fact that
I could never accept your farewell.
9: 09 PM, you remain existent, indeed.
Reason cries out: LEAVE THIS VESSEL
Passion, retorts: You have long since left
Beauty mystifying
Lei, the unerring
Sorrow, O, Sorrow.
I no longer understand.
Have I gone mad?
Indeed, you may have.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
I wandered past her window, and whispered "Guten Morgen"
She looked up with a shiver, and said “I felt an *****
I smiled and said “Romantic!... Most likely t’was your heart?”
She shook her head. “Regretfully, it was another part”.
I was surprised; “Pray tell”, I said, “which ***** made you quiver?
Could it have been your brain? Your pancreas or liver?”
“I think not” she replied again; “T’was something I don’t need
The thing that has no function when I try to feed or breed:
It’s clear that you remind me of a still day on the wind farm.
To me you’re my appendix. In German that’s a Blinddarm”.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC
Hoffnung ist der Glaube an
Ein Ziel, dass man sich setzten kann
'ne Zukunft die man sich kreiert
Gedanken in den man sich verliert
´Ne Kraft die deinen Willen stärkt
Und auch wenn man es selbst nicht merkt
Sorgt diese ganz besondre Kraft,
dass man durch Hoffnung neues schafft
Doch Hoffnung kann dich leicht verleiten,
und zeigt dir nur die guten Seiten
So wird das schlechte erst verdrängt
Bis es dich plötzlich überschwemmt
Du denkst du könntest was erreichen
Deine Trauer weg begleichen
Doch dieses Denken war Zuviel
Letztendlich nur ‘n Gedankenspiel
So kann dir Hoffnung Stärke geben
Und lässt dich oft zu neuem streben
Verbirgt im Leben all den Schutt
Und macht sie sich damit selbst kaputt.
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 10:37 AM UTC
Split Personalities Inside My Head
All the voices in my head,
Have now become my only friends.
The only ones who seem to care;
The only ones who knew me back then.
Lost alone with me, myself and I.
Hello, Bonjour, Guten tag and Hi.
They’re there for me when things aren't alright;
They’re there for me when I feel on cloud 9.
Technically mad, but never bored;
By all of them I am adored.
My head is full with the old and young;
They’re my friends, my family, my only loved ones.
They’re all so different, yet they’re all the same.
They’re all made up; they’re a part of my brain.
But they act so real, in the way I behave;
I live four different lives every day.
One is good and one is bad
And one I believe is a woman
And the final voice inside head,
Is the only one who speaks reason.
The only one who speaks the truth to me;
The only one who I can believe.
You see this final voice inside my head, I know is the real me.
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 12:41 PM UTC
sie wurde
zum alltagsgegenstand
geliebt und gehaßt
zeichen schlechter zeiten
und beschränkungen
von manchen
gleichmütig angenommen
als neues mode accessoir
für andere
ein bedrohliches symbol
für vorschriften von oben
für viele
nur ein notwendiges übel
das wieder verschwinden wird
wir müssen sicherlich
unsere reflexe
beim anblick maskierter personen
überdenken
zumindest in unseren breiten
waren masken meist kennzeichen
von banditen und räubern
nun tragen sie die guten
und die bösen nicht
aber … wie sicher können wir sein?
es ist eine ernste herausforderung
aus den bewegungen der augenbrauen zu ermessen
ob du einem freund begegnest
oder nicht
May 27, 2020
May 27, 2020 at 5:32 PM UTC
Guten Tag
Hola
Hello
Wie gehts?
Como estas?
How are you?
Es geht mir gut
Bien
Good
Ya
Si
Yes
Nein
No
No
Tag
Adios
Bye
Liebe
Amor
Love
Bitte
Por favor
Please
Danke
gracias
Thank you
Three different ways to say things three different cultures
But we are all the same
We live our lives
Work hard
Take care of our families
Doesn't matter what Laungages we speak as long as we all understand the same laungage "HUMAN"
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 8:35 PM UTC
Morning Spider
What were you trying to say
from down the dry well
of the German coffee maker?
A brusque “guten Morgan”
unworthy of the finesse required
to defeat the hinged plastic lid,
****** off mate” belying
the English taste for tea,
begging bus fare for the Silk Road
transparent even without a bracing first cup.
A caution, then?
Don’t leave bags unattended,
know the warning signs of stroke,
sleep like a baby
with two-step authentication?
Choirmaster alone in the apse,
dwarfed by vaulting cathedral walls
soaring seamless into heavenly gloom,
where I hover on high, indifferent
god commanding flood water, bestowing
the random fly of mercy, deigning
to lower a spoon of salvation
while you weave a gossamer chorale, perhaps,
working the tiny shuttles your batons.
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 9:22 AM UTC
Morning Spider
What were you trying to say
from down the dry well
of our German coffee maker?
A brusque “guten Morgan”,
unworthy of the finesse required
to defeat the hinged plastic lid,
****** off mate” belying
the English taste for tea,
begging bus fare for the Silk Road
transparent, even without a bracing first cup.
A caution, then?
Don’t leave bags unattended,
know the warning signs of stroke,
sleep like a baby with two-step
authentication?
But your solitude, small bare bulb
of abdomen, put me in mind
of a monks tonsure, choirmaster
alone in the apse, dwarfed
by vaulting cathedral walls
soaring seamless into heavenly gloom,
where I hover on high, indifferent
god commanding the flood waters,
bestowing random flies of mercy,
deigning to lower a spoon of salvation
while you weave a gossamer chorale,
working the tiny shuttles of your batons.
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 5:58 PM UTC