"hep" poems
During a walk through the hallway
of the primary school
I find hallways
filled with turkeys and leafs and stiff scrawled characters.
What is Mr. Smith's class thankful for?
Flowers and toys and cars and dresses and pink and purple and soccer and skirts and barbies and family.
How could you sum up all of the things you are thankful for in one word?
At the end of the hallway I am faced with a choice:
*What are you thankful for?*
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What am I thankful for?
Happiness, and family and security and nature and
friends.
I am thankful for friends.
I am thankful for laughs and chatts and cries and sobs and games and smiles.
I am thanful for ****** contortions and 80s dance sessions,
for inabilty to speak.
I am thankful for hobos, eating on the side of the road,
and for devious scheymes of intoxicatation.
Hep beni anlayan bir arkadaşım var müteşekkirim
and who listens to my sob stories.
I am thankful for singing in the rain.
And styling hair in the sink
for screeching and howling
and hissing.
I am thankful for obkirchergasses,
for Ströcks and for ice cream plarlours.
I am thankful for mentos,
and walnuts.
I am thankful for bad lip readings and hilarious youtube vidoes.
I am thankful for unknown languages and nymphs
and for eloquence.
I am thankful for good taste in music
and for strong opinions.
I am thankful for dancing indian pirates with demon chicks and fireballs.
I am thankful for two-headed teenagers and barbeques.
I am thankful for God and healthy choice prayers,
and Hawaii get aways.
I am thankful for huge, hanging sweaters and crazy, funky leggings.
I am thankful for deep talks about the world's lack of beauty
and for poetry buddies.
I am thankful for dodgeball playing mice,
and poor old wenches.
I am thankful for pirate and mermaid adventures.
I am thankful for the looks we get:
looks of loud disapproval,
and whispers of quiet exasperation.
I am thankful for golden men and loud singing,
for crazy dances with crazy cousins and cute brothers.
I am thankful for Aunt Jemima.
I am thankful for banging on metal bars with rocks and shouting at the top of our lungs.
I am thankful for climbing over gates in order to not step on cracks.
I am thankful for amazing humanities teachers.
I am thankful for a laugh when the day is over.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
How those kids manage to fit all of their thankfulness into one word is beyond me.
Even the one-word things we are thankful for, must be described with a million words.
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 7:42 AM UTC
When you no no want eat Lemmon
'cause it no no not taste sweet
You should not have sugar candy
It's not healthy as can be...Now!
There are new Thai Fruits discovered, in the Tropic Jungle heat!
All them lovely Thailand Fruits! Make you mouth say" Tutti Fruit, Ah!"
All exotic and delicious.. at first one is so suspicious... cause it taste so crazy wild
But, even good for baby child...
Big banana grow for monkey Yes, Thai Fruits tastes so fun funky!
Mango for Bangkok street dancing, All Thai Fruit best for romancing...
GrapeFruit great for big-big ape! Thai Fruit, in my my milk-shake!
Grow head hairy with Strawberry! Dandy Fruit lovely big Cherry!
Melon make wild man go yell... Thai Fruit put you in love spell
Guava flavor in coffee Java yes, Thai Tree found in Bahama!
Now, we eat up all da fruit, lovely-lovely Melon Fruit!
cuase it makes sweet-nectar juice! Cleanse your Healthy body loose!
There are new Thai Fruits we eat discover deep in Jungle heat!
We love spicy Thailand Fruit! Make you mouth feel Tutti Fruit!
"Yum Yum" sez baby child...
Get Fruity Now! Sweet & Sour! Hep Hep Hurray!
Thai Fruit, yum yum yum!
Don't need no *** *** ***
Feeling Fruity all over, sensation of all flavor...
a brand new taste I now savor .... Mmmmmmmm Deeelicious!
Thailand Fruit is now: what we all Favor !!!!
Thai Fruit Taste, the one we love...
All the many are so nice...
Like Mangosteen herb spice
We all want Thai Fruit now, is the flavor in our mouth...Sugar Chocolate Candy can go south... '
'cause dem no don't tastes as sweet...
Theres the new Thai Fruit we discover in the Jungle fill with heat!
It is the lovely Thai Thai Fruit! Make you go go Tutti Fruit!
It is exotic and delicious.. Now no one is suspicious... cause it taste so yummy wild
We feel like baby child... Yep, it make all go hog WILD!!!
(c) 2009 David Wayne Clare all rights reserved in perpetuity - Intellectual Property use by permission
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 3:00 AM UTC
I
On the Coast of Coromandel
Where the early pumpkins blow,
In the middle of the woods
Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
Two old chairs, and half a candle,--
One old jug without a handle,--
These were all his worldly goods:
In the middle of the woods,
These were all the worldly goods,
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
II
Once, among the Bong-trees walking
Where the early pumpkins blow,
To a little heap of stones
Came the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
There he heard a Lady talking,
To some milk-white Hens of Dorking,--
''Tis the lady Jingly Jones!
'On that little heap of stones
'Sits the Lady Jingly Jones!'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
III
'Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly!
'Sitting where the pumpkins blow,
'Will you come and be my wife?'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
'I am tired of living singly,--
'On this coast so wild and shingly,--
'I'm a-weary of my life:
'If you'll come and be my wife,
'Quite serene would be my life!'--
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
IV
'On this Coast of Coromandel,
'Shrimps and watercresses grow,
'Prawns are plentiful and cheap,'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
'You shall have my chairs and candle,
'And my jug without a handle!--
'Gaze upon the rolling deep
('Fish is plentiful and cheap)
'As the sea, my love is deep!'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
V
Lady Jingly answered sadly,
And her tears began to flow,--
'Your proposal comes too late,
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
'I would be your wife most gladly!'
(Here she twirled her fingers madly,)
'But in England I've a mate!
'Yes! you've asked me far too late,
'For in England I've a mate,
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!'
VI
'Mr. Jones--(his name is Handel,--
'Handel Jones, Esquire, & Co.)
'Dorking fowls delights to send,
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
'Keep, oh! keep your chairs and candle,
'And your jug without a handle,--
'I can merely be your friend!
'--Should my Jones more Dorkings send,
'I will give you three, my friend!
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!'
VII
'Though you've such a tiny body,
'And your head so large doth grow,--
'Though your hat may blow away,
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
'Though you're such a Hoddy Doddy--
'Yet a wish that I could modi-
'fy the words I needs must say!
'Will you please to go away?
'That is all I have to say--
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!'.
VIII
Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle,
Where the early pumpkins blow,
To the calm and silent sea
Fled the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
There, beyond the Bay of Gurtle,
Lay a large and lively Turtle,--
'You're the Cove,' he said, 'for me
'On your back beyond the sea,
'Turtle, you shall carry me!'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
IX
Through the silent-roaring ocean
Did the Turtle swiftly go;
Holding fast upon his shell
Rode the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
With a sad primaeval motion
Towards the sunset isles of Boshen
Still the Turtle bore him well.
Holding fast upon his shell,
'Lady Jingly Jones, farewell!'
Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
X
From the Coast of Coromandel,
Did that Lady never go;
On that heap of stones she mourns
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
On that Coast of Coromandel,
In his jug without a handle
Still she weeps, and daily moans;
On that little hep of stones
To her Dorking Hens she moans,
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
4.2k
• • •
Bigo, yan ako labing-limang araw bago ka dumating
Pinaasa sa mga susunod na araw na hindi naman pala makakamit
Niloko sa hindi malamang kadahilanan kung bakit
Panay ang tanong sa isipan kung bakit ako pa ang napili
Na nananahimik at wala namang balak manakit
Sabi ko tama na't huwag nang umasa pang muli
Dahil sa henerasyon at ikot ng mundo ngayon,
Ang makatagpo ng taong kayang suklian ang pag-ibig na meron ako
Ay parang inaabot ang langit sa liit kong ito
Pero mahirap nga naman talagang pigilan [minsan] ang nararamdaman
Na kahit ilang araw pa lamang ang nagdaan
Umaga, tanghali, hapon, gabi habang naghahapunan
Ay laman ka na lagi nang aking isipan
Hep hep hep!
Sinabi nang saglit!
Masyado kang makulit
Hindi ka na bata na dapat pang paluin sa puwit!
Pero eto, seryoso na ulit. . .
Bakit ba kasi umaasa pa nang paulit-ulit?
Eh nasa harapan na nga yung sagot na wala ka naman ngang ****
Kahit sa totoo lang may konti nang sakit
Nakakatawa lang din minsan, ano?
Hindi ko lang sigurado kung yung tadhana lang o pati ako
Na alam namang mapaglaro
Pero sinasabayan yung agos kahit alam na hindi sigurado't [minsan] delikado
Risk taker nga ako, hindi ba?
Pero may kaduwagan sa aking kalooban at ayaw ko pang bumigay
Kasi hindi ko pa kayang mapalayo ka't baka magpaalam na nang tuluyan
Kaya dito na muna ako sa isang tabi,
Na muli nalang maghihintay sa iyong susunod na mensahe.
• • •
Oct 4, 2020
Oct 4, 2020 at 5:55 PM UTC
Hayal rüya diyarı hep saçar,
Ateş olur ki buz ve buz ateş.
Hayal Alemde her ne yok ne var,
Güneş olur ki ay ve ay güneş!
Lakin bu dünya hep hayır değil,
Zira ki var orada harıstan,
Zalim diken dolu gıcır değil,
Sorar gönül: o nerde gülistan?
Nazik zaman ve sert zaman döker,
Ve aynı an hayal eder devam,
Katar güzel görüş katar zalim keder,
Ve de olur onun için selam!
Yalan söyler o pembe tozlu gül,
Şaşırtılır zavallı her gönül.
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 2:11 PM UTC
You leave the apostrophes to someone else, I can't even make it in to 'im', instead I'm writing papers about the Oneida and Jonestown murders.
The television is on, the air purifier
is dying. I can hear the ***** fan belt of my laptop on the fritz or the fizzy bubbles of
The Cranberry Redbull that I'm trying.
I could be a great sport. Ya know, anything you want.
Jump to.
Make the Miso soup, clear off the kitchen table, buy brand new markers with no recent pictures drawn into their nibs.
Throw in comfy pants. I don't know what else I have to offer, a clean bath? Some books? A magazine?
The weather is exciting, we could call get Pneumonia or at least share a drink and catch Hep-C,
Put our children together to catch the gift of Shingles. A motorcycle toy for my Uritis it is better. The roses from the sweater paired with leather, leggings, and a kick *** song. Inside we can talk about his hair cut and going to California. I'm intimidated by you moreover when you tell me you can eat airplanes with only your bare hands. And even if I'm a bore, I still have Streptococcus. So seal and deliver. My cerulean goddess, with the best, thank thank you for the nightmare fever you stole from the words I wrote. And at the end of your book you don't have to cop out and fall along a crippled sky. With crippled words, verbs, and losers. Score cards of different colors. Tunics proud as the walk to the river we voted from Baptism to demon-voter. Stand and deliver, flora and fauna that threatens to eat our home.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 3:11 AM UTC
To say the least, I am lost and confused. Lost and confused in a city that is changing. A city that is growing. And I know it is, because I can feel it is.
Some days, sometimes even several times within the same day, I want to be at the center of the action. I want to be plugged into the social pipeline. A pipeline that leads straight from and directly to the gutter.
I think I just want fun. I know I want meaning. I think I know I want camaraderie. Friendship. Love?
At some points, I feel like all of this is pointless. It drags me down and creates a groove in which I neither fight to get out of, nor have to fight to continue on in. It's resistless and easy. It's not warm or cozy, but it becomes familiar and what's to be expected.
The lines between reality and imagination are ever-increasingly blurred to me. I do not know whether these people are pretending, or trying to hide, or pretending to try and hide who they are appearing to be. Are these walls really rotting and peeling or was it painted like this to look grunge?
I can no longer determine, cliche as it may be, if art imitates reality or vice versa. Is the music these people play directly resulting from and representative of them and their lives, or are they pursuing a highly regarded, in the hep world, a less fortunate and haggard lifestyle or "scene"?
Is the music and its energy a force, a presence, a power, an entity of its own? Inhabiting the body, possessing the mind, and flowing forth from the mouth of those without an identity of their own?
I don't know who I am. I know who I am to myself, as when I'm alone. But I do not know who I am to be or who I am to others. I have always found myself being drawn to mystics, magic, and power. But this is dangerous, weird, odd, foreign stuff. This is not stuff to be dealt with lightly nor to be done out in the light. It is shameful and secret and dark.
I am afraid. I am afraid of myself. I am afraid of the power I may possess, and I am afraid of the power that may possess me.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 6:06 PM UTC
They tried to bury Yahushua Alef Tav
behind a nice Platonic, less Jewish facade
Renamed Him Jesus the Alpha Omega
and chanted many HEP HEP Hoorahs
... beside His feminist-friendly god/mother
to the tune of many hail Marys
even freed Him from His own Torah
despite "think not I came to replace it"
But see, He's risen now
from every holy papal place
from every charismatic falsity
that preached pew-warming prosperity
He's restoring Israel
not gentiledom...
one lost sheep at a time
back into twelve chaste tribes
just as she was under Sinai's hupa
before the separation
He's elbowing aside modern pharisees
who refuse to know Moses
and therefore can't know Him
or follow His commandments
who really aren't into feeding lost sheep
Egyptians hate sheep
It reminds them of plagues
Leaven goes better with bacon
Aug 26, 2010
Aug 26, 2010 at 11:54 AM UTC
You mad genius, Hep cat with the small change jinglin’ in your pocket and razorblade at your throat
Jagged gravel voice crooning love songs about the Apocalypse and the gritty city streets
Crazy angel talking to God and dealing with the devil; raconteur to both
Dig that broken glass cry deep down inside rising out of your ragged mouth
Piano playing jazz, muddy beatbox boomin’, guitar wailin’ in the back alley
Car alarms and the thump thrump thump of the bass, city life and high nights
Crank up the noise and blow that sax, got Ol’ Scratch on your back and death hitchin’ a ride
Ya gotta keep the fire burnin’ ‘til the snake oil salesman slither on home to his whiskey bottle
Lyin’ with your dreams on, just keep playing that late night street corner diner song ‘til I’m gone
‘Til I’m dead, far, and gone
Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 7:13 AM UTC
I had a dream once
Circular in reason
Teasing me
Bruised and beaten
Sleeping
I wandered angelic
Dorothy and Alice
Through nightmare geographies
Landscapes cruel, beautiful
And strange
Talking crows
Enveloped my eyes
A crown of pearlescent feathers
Obscuring my vision and yet
I saw
A waterfall of tears
A guru on a lotus
He whispered
Whiskey breath and sleepy eyed
A hep cat hipster in hemp cap
Gin and tonic gripped
Like a life preserver
“All you need is love”
And I wandered
Lost
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
What will you
do with that gum
on your shoe
It's still
pretty good
mostly new
granted you
may get rabies
******
hep C
but since you
Opted out,
there's more gum
for me.
Apr 7, 2011
Apr 7, 2011 at 9:19 PM UTC
Somewhere between coffee and stupid talks
And infinite random city tours & walks.
The movie marathons and midday naps
Exquisite food and memories gift wrapped.
G-talk sessions and plane tickets to anywhere with you along
While in the journey, discovering our new favorite song.
Imaginary burn books and death glares,
Silent sentences spoken through stares.
Late night calls and whispers in the dark,
Threatening any guy who dares to break our heart.
Never judging each other and reading one’s mind
My love for ***** and your love for Wine.
“I am undateable” to “Open Up” monologues.
Putting up with the drama of all the loves lost.
Making pop culture references and finding it normal.
I don’t remember the last time we were ever formal.
Of making our fool in front of the ‘classy’ audience
And continuing doing that with elan and confidence.
Our love for wanderlust. Places far and bizarre.
To spend thrifting and getting broke in a hep bazaar.
Overeating and then cribbing about our weight.
To consoling ourselves that “him” is worth the wait.
Of nagging parents and relatives that crib.
Of closing our eyes and letting things slip.
Quick fights and quicker reconciliation.
Sharing deep secrets & deeper confessions.
It is between being mistaken for Lesbians
And being mistaken for Sisters.
Our ballad is a roller coaster ride that only goes up
Our ballad is all these things & more, ready to erupt.
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
Let's get high
why not said the dark angel
Don't cry just fill it with this.
Ignore it.
**** it.
Just do it.
Let's go home.
I'm lost.
Where's did the love in this world go?
I'm in pain
I'll just smile
Nod my head say "yeah its been a while"
"It's in gods hands" says the old man.
Why isn't god carrying me?
Let's share a needle
It's a secret that I got hep C.
Let's ****
What's love? When you got to get another hit.
You lost me at hello
but I'll stare until you say goodbye.
My mind runs
Ive been awake for days.
I'll stay in bed for hours.
I'll miss you,
even though I shouldn't.
**** you,
you know who you are.
Yeah I said it and I'll say it again
**** YOU!
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 4:52 PM UTC
Ikaw, ako, sila, tayo,
Panghalip lamang ba ang mga ito?
Hanggang panghalip nga lang ba?
O baka may tinatago pang iba.
Yung mga panghalip na panao,
Inihahalili sa ngalan ng tao,
Yung ginagamit pag di tiyak,
O may alinlangang hawak.
Dahil di ako sigurado,
Di ako tiyak kung ano,
Kung ano ang itatawag ko,
O kung sino ka nga ba sa buhay ko.
S'ya ba'y kilala ko?
Panghalip ba'y kailangan dito?
baka ako'y nagmamaang-maangan lang,
At sabihing di ko to alam.
Ikaw, yung parang naging kapatid,
Ikaw, yung simpleng nakaka-akit,
ikaw, yung saki'y nkapagpangaral,
Ikaw, yung sana'y sagot saking dasal.
Ako, yung kasalukuyang nagsusulat,
Ako, yung para sayo'y salat,
Ako, yung masasabing mangangarap nalang,
Ako, yung lupa't ikaw ang kalangitan.
Sila? sino nga ba yang sila?
Sila, yung iyo at aking nakasama,
Sila, yung sa buhay nati'y naging parte,
Sila, yung kasama natin sa pag abante.
Tayo, ito yung sakit sa ulo,
Tayo, yung si ko alam kung sinu-sino,
Tayo, yung ako at mga kasama ko,
Tayo, yung ikaw ba yan at ako?
Hep hep hep! parang mali,
Dahil yung ikaw at ako'y parang di maaari,
Wag naman nating kalimutan sila,
yung iba pa nating mga kasama.
Dahil yung tayong ikaw at ako,
Yung tayong sa totoo'y ninanais ko,
Yung alam kong di angkop sa pagkakataon,
"Tayo", ang etiketang di pa napapanahon.
Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 2:17 PM UTC
Eyes dry he concentrates every mark a testimony
A work of art to each who call but not seen
Its personal, cat or raven
To who takes his ink
Ink is ink but only those who live ink know ink
His time he spends making amends for those who tried before
Fools with no grasp of artwork or hygiene he abhores
Inky simply does his work and ignores the fool's and ******
What you see is what you get and if it's him it's perfection
Others ink like children no skill, no direction
So dont ask a master does it hurt or does he give a dizzy
If cheap you want and Hep c, and many an infection
Then go and find a amateur to ink and go in another direction
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
Sema oldu lacivert,
Sabah vakti olmadan,
Hava gibi olsun dert,
Sabah vakti olmadan!
Şehirleri gidelim,
Meydanları görelim,
Sokakları gezelim,
Sabah vakti olmadan!
Güzel güzel neşeler,
İkram eder geceler,
Duyulur hep nağmeler,
Sabah vakti olmadan!
Jul 6, 2017
Jul 6, 2017 at 12:34 PM UTC
Damla damla geldi yağmurlar gibi,
Bir hafif yağıştan aldım bir ilham,
Şairim öyle de yazdım tabii,
Ve kelimeleri döktü hep kalem.
Dağılmış, yayılmış mis kokular **
Ağaçlar yakarsan yanamaz ateş,
Boz bulutlar geldi, gelmedi güneş,
Bu bahar yağışı eder hep devam.
Böyle havalarda etmem şikayet,
O düşen inciler değil mi rahmet,
Akan yağmur bence güzel bir nimet,
Fikirler gibi havada gezer nem.
Böyle bir destan biraz başka olmuş,
Küçük yağışlar gibi kısa olmuş,
Bu sevimli inşallah sana olmuş,
Yağmurlu günlerde olsun sana şem.
Bir yağmurlu günde yazdım bir destan,
Ben böyle inşallah oldum bir ozan,
Boyle bir şiir görsün benim divan,
Okuyanlar duysun benden vesselam!
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 1:47 PM UTC
She glides up the staircase
Such a sight to see; angel face
Like she's stepping up to the heavens
The clouds seem to part but it's just the curtains
To welcome her, graceful being
I wish all could see what I'm seeing
The thoughts she elicits
Wondrous, inquisitive, illicit
She keeps me guessing daydreaming
********** distressing, caressing
Her skin smooth like a polished oak banister
With a body curvaceous spiraling
As her hand travels my heart stops sinister
I feel out of breath lungs failing
She keeps coming step after step
I hear the click of her heels, hep
Hep, hep-- but I haven't said a word
This hiccup betrays me; how absurd
Would I feel if she looks my way
And all I can muster is a shy "hey"
Look away quickly
Run run swiftly
But no I'm still here
She smiles; does she know? I fear
That she's aware I've been staring
Dumbfounded I collect my bearing
I snap to attention as she speaks
I feel the burn leave my cheeks...
© okpoet
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Mourn the Moon in the morning
for he had lost his night shift.
Let it be a warning
for the Sun shall rise at night.
Bright blinding darkness descend
on us, threatening to swallowing us
And every single star there is.
They'll be no wars,
just a simple surrender as
sunshine soldiers surround our souls
telling us our new roles.
What we thought we were,
we are not.
What we thought we weren't,
we are.
And if they say it,
it must be true
We act the polar opposite of ourselves
because of some solar energy,
some hot headed, gassed filled entity
has made us question our identities.
Is it our thoughts,
or actions,
that define us?
Our we confine to one,
or is the two combine?
I'm inclined to say:
I don't know.
I'm only learning how operate
in this world.
So many questions with no answers.
Just an obsession to understands
the oppression against us.
Doing so will hep us understand ourselves, right?
So send in the Sun,
mourn the Moon ,
and figure out the chaos born.
For soon it will be done with us.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
All this bone
will be sprinkled with rust
Through dust of collapsing cables
and trust
But we will be here
to love
as we must
We got time
sister
To love
as we trust
We got time
brother
To fall
as we lust
But no beat
nor x
nor world-winded hex
can fight the flight and ignite the light
Just lookin to the left
or right
We are up to come down
in our time to fall out
the go-round
in the games
about town
But the petals
and buildings
all bill for the dead
when stuffed
in long boxes
coats filled with lead
We once were and then not
Were but wasn't
in the eyes of the tried
and hands of the tired
and fight to be true
now severed for sake of
ordered bewilderment
left without cue
in the lies and the cries
of
sometime tomorrow
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 3:55 PM UTC
An old man
hair white with age
came to me
by the docks
excuse me
he said shakily
do you know Steven?
I must
deliver his gravy
I am
His gravy man
I turned
and heaved a sigh,
staring at my
reflection
in the water below
you silly fellow
I said,
I never told
my wife that
I have
hep-c,
you should not
ask me for
advice
Jun 7, 2010
Jun 7, 2010 at 10:36 PM UTC
Shady streets of Shattuck
and Telegraph, home to ever-present
drifters and hep, and ever-present woe
won't you sing beneath the stars and traffic lights?
for whether or not dawn is breeching, the moon
like a jealous sibling in cosmic conflict.
We need another glass
I fill mine with the good stuff
with a splash and to ignite a crutch
so that we might have pillows like
clouds of smoke to rest our restless, gaping,
restless, wicked, pinned pupils, we make
our own boundaries, our own expectations, which,
in and of themselves are beautiful articulations of
day by day. This moment we wave goodbye.
Spitting out ill-gotten thoughts, unfiltered
with hope and prayer that in the morning
we will be back at the old familiar station
dripping with contentment and familiar
that home is right under our feet. The Bart,
more like a vessel than I have ever known
who makes voyages feel like calmly strolls
through parks which lead us to San Leandro
to Oakland, to Daly City, to Ashby and Fremont
tasting and smelling home when we reach old San Jose
upon another transit that sways all the way
to Santa Cruz to home and relief, and the load lessens
to a stop, although I truly feel we've started over
to begin, although the bright, bright lights blink
off and on for me as we stray homeward, as if to say
"We will see."
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 9:51 AM UTC
kuşların senfonik
tweet’lerini banlıyor
çirkin martı vaazları
ve
çatlak sürahiden sızan
su gibi
kafam bi milyon
bugün
koca götlü martha
ile
kocası solucan fred
balkonda çiçeklere
spa bakımı yaparken
akşamdan kalan
jack daniels’ın son nefesini
yudumluyorum
akşama parti var
lacivert smo
çok mu havalı olur
bilemiyorum
tırt mı kaçar
blue jean gömlek
beyaz nike
nazar
geliyo hep
ona hiç
gitmediğim halde
peşimi bırakmıyor
yaşlı bunak
dişi ceylanların
skimoske beni
yakalayamaz ki
bakışlarını
meşgule veriyorum
eleği duvarda
hızlı bir uncu olarak
çünkü
son
romanımla meşgulüm
eften, püften
çatı çığlığımda
agatha sürmenaj geçiriyor
parmakladığım
her bir tuşta
sahi
ben de, merak ediyorum
katil kim?
akışına bıraktım hikayeyi
oradan oraya sürüklüyor
robotron adlı haspa
akşama sarkıyor gün
vantuzlamak için
kestane yanığı
batım dudakları
ve artık
uçan tenekemi almalıyım
rot balanstan
belki
birlikte intihar
ederiz
kim bilir..
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 3:38 AM UTC
when north
weird hep
exactly danced
grassy knoll
she'd wake
in bed
there then
flee Bondi
thereafter that
dramatize her
skin tan
with splash
of coconut
thus vacation
only hinder
her stay
here again
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC
İnsanlarda bir adettir tebessüm,
Dar zamanlarda kuvvettir tebessüm.
Yakut dudaklar ile akşam üstü,
Şüpheli yerde rüşvettir tebessüm.
Taze taze bahar zamanlarda ki,
Sevenlere işarettir tebessüm.
Dediler ki hep; bir dilsiz dil vardır,
O dilsiz dilde evettir tebessüm.
Tanıdıklara ve yabancılara,
Ey Mâhî deme: "zahmettir tebessüm".
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 10:05 AM UTC