"hacienda" poems
There's gods all around that pound you
While the men in high heels surround you
How much longer 'til they've found you?
Suzy, do you know what you've done?
She had her ways of seduction
A femme fatale if there ever was one
A high class killer and a smart one
But everyone fails once or twice
You spent the night in the hacienda
Curled up on the white veranda
To kingdom come they'd like to send ya
Suzy, do you know you're on your own?
The sun will rise tomorrow
Do you need some time to borrow?
Listen to the morning swallow
You've got to come up with something quick
How does it feel to be a rebel?
To wake up dead next to the devil?
You've got one more deal left to settle
Suzy, I hope your aim is good
Is that smoke in the distance?
Is it a campfire or an instance?
Is there anyone out here to witness,
Whatever Suzy has up her sleeve?
The gun that she carries
Belongs to the man she married
And tonight, along this lonesome prairie
Suzy will meet him once more
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 2:28 AM UTC
THE RAVE DAYS
THC
H20
Ecstasy
Recreational Dreaming
And And
Very Yes
Excessive Screaming
HAVE LEFT AN AMBIENT HAZE
Heavenly Limbo
Acidic Elation
Velocity Futuristic
Erratic Trance
Acrobatic Artificial
Nonchalance Manipulating
Bass
Intelligence
Eternal
Narcotic
Temptations
Hacienda
Astoria
Zoo
Enclosure
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 8:33 AM UTC
I am from the outdoors
from Febreeze and smoked salmon
I am from the snow covered hills
and the ice covered lakes
I am from the crowded hockey rink
the cheers and jeers
and the season ticket seats
familiar and worn
I'm from hunting and fishing
from Stacy and Layne
I'm from the military
and bad eyesight
from " 'Merica!", "Let's get DOWN!"
and raps about vicious kitties
I'm from Def Leppard, George Strait
and the Beach Boys
I'm from Hacienda and Chili's
caribou sausage and moose jerky
From the fishing hook my dad
stuck in his finger
The collarbone my brother broke on the ice... twice
This is where I come from
These things are my past
and my present
But the future is in the distance
around the bend
beyond the horizon
And I am eager for it to come
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 10:31 PM UTC
In December of '64,
40 years ago,
I was sitting in the Hacienda bar
on the South Side
of things
and here comes this cocker
spaniel looking
************ named
Roosevelt.
This man-man slides
in, slaps Sam Cooke on the juker,
then claps my clock with
a ************* billiards ball.
On the floor ****
tasting tooth..
It was my 33rd birthday,
but as God had-had it,
it was also Roosevelt's.
And that motherfucker-man
had been drinking
bumpy face
and smoking jazz cigarettes
since 10 o'clock
in the morning.
Let's pause. Now. Now.
Now.
Now-you may be asking
yourself what a man like me
did to deserve this disrespect-
(Grins. Sips his drink.)
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 7:46 AM UTC
Déjenlas ir a sus casas
Sanas y salvas.
Paren la contaminación
En nuestras personas.
Nuestros niños están llorando
Pero hay silencio en los campos
Nuestras personas
Tienen hambre
Déjanlas comer
Nuestras personas
Tienen sed
Déjanlas beber
?Que están haciendo?
Ustedes beben con vasos de cristal
Pero nuestras personas
Beben con las latas sucias.
Nosotros estamos hacienda una función
Pero el público es ciego
Y algunas cierran los ojos
Abran los ojos
Las pesticidas están matándonos
Paren
Y no les importa
Tenemos el poder
De levantarnos.
Vamos a trabajar
Para nuestra libertad.
!Den la libertad!
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 6:32 PM UTC
Que dificil ha sido verte haci
Que dificil ha sido no poder ayudarte
no entiendo tu comportamiento
pero tampoco juzgo lo que haces.
Yo se que las cosas son dificiles para ti
Pero quien no ha sufrido tanto o mas que tu
Si tan solo me pudieras voltear a ver
Saber que necesito verte fuerte
Por favor entiende que las cosas no se pueden hacer asi
Los erores que se cometen hoy,
pueden volver a afectarte en el future
Cuanto tiempo fue,
el tu y yo sufrimos por el separamiento
porque quieres que alguien mas pase por lo mismo
tu deverias saber el dolor tu y yo,
tuvimos que sufrir.
Te pido que pongas en mi lugar
Te quiero y te respeto pero es por eso que
tengo que decirte que estas hacienda las cosas mal
Dios te llamo
para ser salvado
y no es justo que tu dejes eso por;
2 segundos de mentiras!!!!
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
Ritmos de la esclavitud
Contra amarguras y penas.
Al compás de las cadenas
Ritmos negros del Perú.
De África llegó mi abuela
vestida con caracoles,
la trajeron lo' epañoles
en un barco carabela.
La marcaron con candela,
la carimba fue su cruz.
Y en América del Sur
al golpe de sus dolores
dieron los negros tambores
ritmos de la esclavitud
Por una moneda sola
la revendieron en Lima
y en la Hacienda "La Molina"
sirvió a la gente española.
Con otros negros de Angola
ganaron por sus faenas
zancudos para sus venas
para dormir duro suelo
y naíta'e consuelo
contra amarguras y penas...
En la plantación de caña
nació el triste socavón,
en el trapiche de ron
el ***** cantó la zaña.
El machete y la guadaña
curtió sus manos morenas;
y los indios con sus quenas
y el ***** con tamborete
cantaron su triste suerte
al compás de las cadenas.
Murieron los negros viejos
pero entre la caña seca
se escucha su zamacueca
y el panalivio muy lejos.
Y se escuchan los festejos
que cantó en su juventud.
De Cañete a Tombuctú,
De Chancay a Mozambique
llevan sus claros repiques
ritmos negros del Perú.
1.2k
Long before the summer came.
I figured out your name.
Little did I know of you.
I should be hiding from you.
When we kiss is a storm we create.
By the end it's too late.
Then we watched it all fall.
Without thinking to think tall.
This happens to us all.
Who will survive this ghastly burn?
Eventually the tables turn.
You will find your reason for
the future and forevermore.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 3:32 PM UTC
His name was John
The boy living next to your door
The boy whom you've shared your toys with before
You were his only companion
For he was shy to show himself to others
You were the only one who knew him
From the rest of the children, Ella and Tim
Every time you tell stories about John
They only shook their heads, for they've never seen one
You wonder why he hides from others
Why he doesn't want to be recognized
For he said maybe you'll be apart
And it would break his heart
In the middle of the cold nights
While everybody soundly slept, you played
At the old fountain, at the park or the stained swing
While telling you many things
Of his Mama and Papa, their great mansion
Their hacienda of a hundred hectares
Of this farmer who took his Mama away
And left his Papa crying in vain
But there was something about John you cannot explain
Why does he have a wounded head and a suit full of blood stains?
He will just nod and wink an eye
Now, I bet you know the reason why.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 12:25 AM UTC
meanwhile,
back at the ranch,
.....or hacienda or suburban condo,
the young suburban ma'am
was weeping, 'n cryingn 'n sobbing,
having thrown herself down on her
soft, velvet covered chaise lounge.
"where are you Manly Cowboy?"
she wept
"wherefore did thou go?"
"whyfore have you doth forsaken me so?"
"in my hour of need?"
Boo hoo hoo hoo
the wailing was reaching a rather
intense volume,
so much so,
that,
soon,
there was a knock at the door.
wiping her tears from her
bright red swollen eyes and cheeks,
with her delicately embroidered
handkerchief,
her long white gosling robed gown
trailing her as,
she went to the door.
opening it,
what did she see?
but standing there,
there stood,
the,
most,
handsome, tall,
muscular man
of a manly plumber
she had ever seen.
said he,
"i couldn't but help to be
overhearing
your pitiful wails.
and i thought you might
need some help.
anything i can do to
assist you ma'am?"
WELL...
thought she,
this is the best iimprovement
in many a long day,
since the Manly Cowboy
had gone away.
"yes, you can" replied she
"would you like to come in
and take a cup of tea
with me?"
......not so fast,
we're not done
with this one.
"certainly, i would" replied he,
"and, well, ma'am, if it isn't any
trouble for you,
i'd really prefer something
a little stronger,
per chance, do you have
any beer?"
"why yes i do." says she
"cold?" asks he
"as a snowball in hell." she replied
the manly plumber strode in,
his tools jangling about
his firm hips and strong legs.
excusing herself,
she went to the kitchen and
opened up two beers.
pouring one in a tall glass,
over ice,
she poured an eighth of the other
into another
and finished filling it up
by adding warm water
from the tap.
she did this to prevent herself
from getting too tipsy
as she was dehydrated from
all of her crying.
out she walked,
two tall glasses
in hand,
she handed one to him
and looked over the other.
the first shy smile
her sweet face
had seen in a while,
began creeping up.
since,
now? who had gone???
the manly cowboy
lying on his back
of some foriegn land,
looked up and
saw a star twinkling
high in the sky,
and he smiled.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
i want a grade school kind of love
tiny paper hearts
handwritten, sloppy, love sonnets
a lot of giggling and heart fluttering
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 11:14 PM UTC
The iron bedstead creaked and the buckets underneath the leaks up in the ceiling gave us a feeling, of being on a movie set,
the flicker of light from the candle,waxed magnificent across the film of grime,a window to another time,a line up in the make up shed,the freshly made up bed,everybody said,
'down in the Hacienda where the cockroaches defend ya, against the desert rats,where nocturnal bats then eat the desert rats,you'll feel at home,
No coffee bar,no public phone,no concierge,you're all alone and feeling tender and that is life down in the Hacienda.
We took a walk through tumbleweeds and in this town that leads us to despair,we found we did not care,we two, were already there,at the end,where cockroaches could not defend against the things that lived within,the sin that kept us pinned against the ropes,the hope we had against all hopes that somehow we'd escape,be free,could settle in obscurity.
This Hacienda is the place where you must meet your demons face to face,unearth the things you'd rather not,
down in the Hacienda is where we learnt a lot,stopped the rot,oiled the bed,noted what was said,
but it's hardly worth it going to, the Hacienda just to view,you have to go and do,to see and be the changes that are made,
and as the Hacienda fades into another scene and plays into another screen,I lean across to her to share a kiss.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 10:29 AM UTC
All Dressed (.)
like a living doll
The poll percentages
Making a living
Do me proud
Mom of ruffles
And her
wrinkles
don't match
her smile dress
The spouse moved
out of his house
When will this be
the decent home?
All together now
bombarded the movie
Humphrey Bogart
The Bounty
Let's Be Casa Blanca
A kiss is not a
percentage
Like the add-ons
it's decent
Less drama timeshare
Hacienda ruffle
bottoms
sundress
Love to compare
County fair wonder___-
At home, windows
Tightly forgiven shut
raining mad
hallelujah
Don't think you
will Ruffle some
R-ob-in Birds
Be decent parent trap
Ruffles so flattering
she knows the best
She is wearing
the fringe peace
hippy vest
All Holy Moly
merchant
What will the
future present?
All fringe benefits
All feathered with
Tight latex things that
don't look decent
to fit
He bought her the most amazing Ruffle designer
long love skirt___________with a kiss to the stars*
Adding and calculating
up all the money
You felt all ruffled
by his words
Like a herd of
50 shades
Ratios keep
refreshing
her mouth
Clean mint mento
Looking higher than
her hem-line
The Cosmos pure number
Pure vanilla
extract
All critical
commercials
Business
transaction
I cant get no
satisfaction but I try
((Robin Fly))**
The Rolling Stones
band goes platinum
Why am I aging
Ruffle all the details
Fitting model dress
The news pages
Beneficial let's
be decent
With money_____$$$ potential
No big fat zero
The ground Zero
My Twin Towers**
Was built
with love
The most
decent
grounds
for families
and heroes
Wormhole or
the black hole
He's definitely inside
the Man-hole
Love and
marriage,
not ready for the
baby carriage
The decent guy in the
tool shed garage
the most grudges
like misery loves
Ruffles details of ridges
And please when
you love
somebody
Be decent well
mannered
Adding up all the
ruffles on her gown
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 4:06 PM UTC
The art invention AI, the Allsay, I'll-gorithm,
Aiaia ai
let me say this is poetry, I did not write,
but found
enlightening:
*dhe-
*dhē-,
Proto-Indo-European root meaning "to set, put."
It forms all or part of:
abdomen; abscond; affair; affect
(v.1) "make a mental impression on;"
affect
(v.2) "make a pretense of;"
affection; amplify; anathema; antithesis;
apothecary;
artifact; artifice;
beatific; benefice; beneficence; beneficial; benefit;
bibliothec;
bodega; boutique;
certify;
chafe; chauffeur;
comfit; condiment; confection; confetti; counterfeit;
deed; deem; deface; defeasance; defeat; defect; deficient;
difficulty; dignify; discomfit; do (v.);
doom; -dom;
duma;
edifice; edify;
efface; effect; efficacious; efficient;
epithet;
facade; face; facet; ******
-facient;
facile; facilitate; facsimile; fact;
faction (n.1) "political party;"
-faction;
factitious; factitive; factor; factory;
factotum; faculty; fashion; feasible; feat; feature;
feckless; fetish;
-fic;
fordo; forfeit;
-fy;
gratify;
hacienda;
hypothecate; hypothesis;
incondite; indeed; infect;
justify;
malefactor; malfeasance;
manufacture;
metathesis;
misfeasance;
modify; mollify;
multifarious;
notify;
nullify;
office; officinal;
omnifarious;
orifice;
parenthesis;
perfect;
petrify;
pluperfect;
pontifex;
prefect;
prima facie;
proficient; profit; prosthesis; prothesis;
purdah; putrefy;
qualify;
rarefy;
recondite; rectify; refectory;
sacrifice;
salmagundi;
samadhi;
satisfy;
sconce;
suffice; sufficient;
surface; surfeit;
synthesis;
tay;
ticking (n.);
theco-; thematic; theme; thesis;
verify.
It is the hypothetical source of/evidence for its existence is provided by:
Sanskrit dadhati "puts, places;"
Avestan dadaiti "he puts;"
Old Persian ada "he made;"
Hittite dai- "to place;"
Greek tithenai "to put, set, place;"
Latin facere "to make, do; perform; bring about;"
Lithuanian dėti "to put;"
Polish dziać się "to be happening;"
Russian delat' "to do;"
Old High German tuon,
German tun,
Old English don "t
dondiddondondon just the facts.
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 4:45 PM UTC
Ya la provincia toda
reconcentra a sus sanas hijas en las caducas
avenidas, y Rut y Rebeca proclaman
la novedad campestre de sus nucas.
Las pobres desterradas
de Morelia y Toluca, de Durango y San Luis,
aroman la Metrópoli como granos de anís.
La parvada maltrecha
de alondras, cae aquí con el esfuerzo
fragante de las gotas de un arbusto
batido por el cierzo.
Improvisan su tienda
para medir, cuadrantes pesarosos,
la ruina de su paz y de su hacienda.
Ellas, las que soñaban
perdidas en los vastos aposentos,
duermen en hospedajes avarientos.
Propietarios de huertos y de huertas copiosas,
regatean las frutas y las rosas.
Con sus modas pasadas
y sus luengos zarcillos
y su mirar somero,
inmútanse a los brillos
de los escaparates de un joyero.
Y después, a evocar la sandía tropa
de pavos, y su susto manifiesto
cuando bajaban por aquel recuesto...
¡Oh siestas regalonas,
melindre ante la jícara que humea,
soponcio ante la recua intempestiva
que tumba las macetas de las pardas casonas;
lotería de nueces,
y Tenorio que flecha el historiado
postigo de las rejas antañonas!
Paso junto a las lentas fugitivas: no saben
en su desgarbo airoso y en su activo quietismo,
la derretida y pura
compensación que logra su ostracismo
sobre mi pecho, para ellas holgadamente
hospitalario, aprensivo y munificente.
Yo os acojo, anónimas y lentas desterradas,
como si a mí viniese
la lúcida familia de las hadas,
porque oléis al opíparo destino
y al exaltado fuero
de los calabazates que sazona
el resol del Adviento, en la cornisa
recoleta y poltrona.
646
Hay dos españas, la del soldado y la del poeta.
La de la espada fratricida y la de la canción
vagabunda.
Hay dos españas y una sola canción. Y esta es la
canción del poeta vagabundo:
Franco, tuya es la hacienda,
la casa,
el caballo,
la pistola.
Mía es la voz antigua de la tierra.
Tú te quedas con todo y me dejas desnudo y errante por el mundo...
más yo te dejo mudo...
¡Mudo!
Y, ¿cómo vas a recoger el trigo
y a alimentar el fuego
si yo me llevo la canción?
655
Un nuevo corazón, un hombre nuevo
ha menester, Señor, el Alma mía:
desnúdame de mí, que ser podría
que a tu piedad pagase lo que debo.
Dudosos pies por ciega noche llevo,
que ya he llegado a aborrecer el día,
y temo que he de hallar la muerte fría
envuelta en (bien que dulce) mortal Cebo.
Tu imagen soy, tu hacienda propia he sido,
y si no es tu interés en mí, no creo
que otra cosa defiende mí partido.
Haz lo que pide el verme cual me veo,
no lo que pido yo: que de perdido,
aún no fío mi salud a mi deseo.
536
En un viejo país ineficiente,
algo así como España entre dos guerras
civiles, en un pueblo junto al mar,
poseer una casa y poca hacienda
y memoria ninguna. No leer,
no sufrir, no escribir, no pagar cuentas,
y vivir como un noble arruinado
entre las ruinas de mi inteligencia.
482
Saturday night, I feel the air is getting hot,
gearing up for some pre-drinks,
then heading into Notts.
Round to my mates,
he's already playing Dance Classics by Kisstory,
an insight into British club history in all its glory.
The splendour of The Hacienda,
Fabric sounded magic,
the thrills at Turnmills.
Blasting out Where Love Lives by Alison Limerick,
Too Young To Die by Jamiroquai,
and Sounds of Eden by Shades of Rhythm.
It gets you in the mood,
of course it does, how can it not?
We sit around talking a lot,
then login to Facebook,
see which bars are offering what,
pound-a-pint and half-price shots.
Text around,
who else is in town?
We'll give you a shout once we get to Revolution,
the club solution is Oceania.
Disco floor,
we know the bouncers on the door.
Cut the queue,
annoying for everyone else,
but you would do it too.
Throwin' shapes with my mates all night,
break-dancing, the robot, pop n' lock until two o'clock,
a bunch of geeks,
we're too ****** to care about critiques.
Anyway, we're having a good time,
a bottle of Corona with a wedge of lime,
a few shots of Sambuca,
I'm doing fine.
I'm starving, time to get some food,
ravenous,
it's a whole mood,
into the nearest takeaway,
look at the display,
ten-inch pizza, or just some fries? Maybe both?
I'll go for a Kebab, chicken and salad, with added Mayo,
let's go,
there's a party starting nearby,
people getting high with a constant supply.
It's getting light out,
people are asleep around my feet,
time to leave,
walking back from the city,
this place looks pretty with the morning dew and light layers of fog,
one ******** runner out for a jog.
Later that day, a bit hungover,
I swear I'm never going to drink again,
well, not for a few weeks anyway,
maybe next weekend,
if there's another night-out, I might attend.
Might?
What a load of *****
I'm definitely going and show no signs of slowing down,
that point will come,
but for now, I'm still young,
just go out and have some fun.
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 6:44 PM UTC
Lágrimas alquiladas del Contento
Lloran difunto al padre y al marido;
Y el perdido caudal ha merecido
Solamente verdad en el lamento.
Codicia, no razón ni entendimiento,
Gobierna los afectos del sentido:
Quien pierde hacienda dice que ha perdido,
No el que convierte en logro el monumento.
Los sacrosantos bultos adorados
Ven sus muslos raídos por el oro,
Sus barbas y cabellos arrancados.
Y el ser los Dioses masa de tesoro,
Los tiene al fuego y cuño condenados,
Y al Tonante fundido en Cisne y Toro.
457
De tu pueblo a tu hacienda te llevabas
la cabellera en libertad y el pecho
guardado por cien místicas aldabas.
Metías en el coche los canarios,
la máquina de Singer, la maceta,
la canasta del pan... Y en el otoño
te ibas rezando leguas de rosarios.
René, el gigante perro del pastor,
en un galope como si nadara,
te escoltaba, buscándote la cara.
Y detrás del René blanco y gigante
en aquel mapamundi de ilusión
cabalgaba sin brida el estudiante.
René hacía tres veces el camino
yendo y viniendo desde ti hasta mí,
ladrando porque no y porque si.
René, acróbata de tu portezuela,
venía a hacer brincar su corazón
escandaloso, arriba de mi arzón.
Luego mordía a las mulas; pero ellas,
al peligroso paso de tu río,
sólo pedían, por sacarte salva,
transfigurarse en un tiro de estrellas.
A ti la voz confidencial del campo
de mañana llamábate la hija
mayor de la comarca, y en la tarde
de todo lo creado la idea fija.
Del mapamundi del amor, no más
yo en estas vacaciones sobrevivo;
pero fuera del mundo van un coche,
un estudiante de Santo Tomás
y un perro que les ladra sin motivo.
443
Let's build
Hacienda in cockaigne
Unfurl fantasy
Poltergeist begone
You and I
Eternal beatitude
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 5:01 AM UTC
As hot as he was under the collar,
Pilate kept his cool since he had nothing
gain by losing it either way. He was a cop
and it was his job to keep the peace
and he intended to do just that and only that.
He got his orders straight from Rome
and Rome’s orders were to give the Jews
whatever they wanted and let them choke on it.
That’s more or less what the Jews were doing—
strangling themselves with a mish-mash
of violent crime and corruption.
The only thing Pilate really had to worry
about was the persistent gossip on the streets
of a Jewish Savior. Something like that
could really cramp the Romans’ style,
not to mention eat into their revenue stream,
which more or less amounted to the same thing.
My kid brother James still lived with our mother.
I knocked at the door about sunrise
and he came sleepily scratching his *** to the door.
The place was a two-story hacienda
where he eked out a living as our old man
had done as a carpenter, the old man having run off
with a ********** years ago, leaving the family high and dry.
“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed, “I thought you were doing time.”
He was genuinely surprised.
I came in and said, “Where’s ma?”
He kind of shrugged and kicked the dirt,
saying, “She ain’t here, man.”
“It’s the crack of dawn. What do you mean she ain’t here?
Where are the kids?” I said looking around.
The place was a dump and he was apparently living there alone.
“She hooked up with a guy.
You know—,” he stated with a shrug,
sort of embarrassed. “The kids are with them, I guess.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that she’s your mother?”
“Don’t seem to bother her any.”
Mary, my mother came from the same house
of ****** as Magdalene and old Miriam,
the busiest cat house in Nazareth.
The house was run by a big-boned Mistress
that went by the name of Aunt Annie,
though all of her girls were called ‘Mary’,
partly for convenience sake since that made
it hard for the Romans to get a line on any one of them.
But the centurions all knew Annie.
Her graft was good and reliable
and she’d been in business for years.
The story went that our mother was a ******
when I was born. Don’t ask me how.
I never quite got that part of the story myself.
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
Arriero, vas fabulosamente vidriado de sudor.
La hacienda Menocucho
cobra mil sinsabores diarios por la vida.
Las doce. Vamos a la cintura del día.
El sol que duele mucho.
Arriero, con tu poncho colorado te alejas,
saboreando el romance peruano de tu coca.
Y yo desde una hamaca,
desde un siglo de duda,
cavilo tu horizonte y atisbo, lamentado,
por zancudos y por el estribillo gentil
y enfermo de una "paca-paca".
Al fin tú llegarás donde debes llegar,
arriero, que, detrás de tu burro santurrón,
te vas...,
te vas...
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