"hoa" poems
Then there are those times you write
Because otherwise the words will tear you up inside
Like supercharged particles
Of steam under pressure
Or uranium reaching critical mass
So you set to the task
Grab pen and paper
Or iPhone and browser
And start uploading your sins onto clean white sheets
Of loose leaf or LCD
As if possessed by some other self
Or non-self
Itself a fountain of diction
A percolation of syntax
Bubbling up and out so as not to **** the messenger
And lines flow
Kia ora koutou katoa
Nga hoa
Me toku whanau
My friends
And family
Be well
See well through this life
And her pitfalls
Tall walls and
Crash courses in experience
Standard variance and deviation from the mean
She can be mean
She can be cruel and unkind sometimes
But you’ll find rhymes to make lines line up like signs on the highway
And find even in grief there is beauty
Truth in pain
Life in suffering
There is no judgement inherent in these things and none at all other than that which we place upon them
Negative or positive are uniquely human conditions
Everything else just is
It sits within itself
Without apprehension of the fourth dimension
Not beating up younger selves for poor decisions made by poorly equipped versions
Nor fearing an abstract time hence
From whence march our fears about death
And a life well spent
And incontinence
And I think my phone bill is going to be massive
And I think my 2 minutes is up
And I think my 15 minutes is up
Where was I again?
Words have surfaced
Simmered and settled down
Beauty in the badness
Truth in the madness
Tiredness overtakes
Like post coitus
An **** of the monastic order
Intellectual intercourses subsequent exhaustion
And sleep calls ceaselessly
As if nothing else mattress
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 7:36 PM UTC
Guzar gay kaey din , kiay gham-e-jaanaan main hijrat
Aik wohi tou umeed thee apni, ikk wohi thee muhabbat!!
Tmhain maaloom hai meray ghar kay darwazay muqaffal hain paray
Jahan ikk arsay hawa chalti thee, jahan bastii thee chahat!!
Ab tou yun kharay hain shahrahon pay, kay faqeer ka sa gumaan hota hai
Jiss rastay say khusboo aati thee, tere gul-e-rafaqat!!
Aur phir yun hoa kay raat ki parchai gahri say gahri hoti chali ***
Aur hum dobtay chalay gay, madham saanson say taraf, tere rughbat!!
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 7:20 PM UTC
The puppy seemed happy to see me
when I seen her at the park that other day.
you coulda seen it right away.
So the shrink lady she say, so what?
Dunnno, jisayin' somebody seemed happy
after seeing me naked paraded before all
who may have noticed,
maybe not.
What if nobody noticed and I am happily
seen a naked thing I am
unnoticeable save for seekers of knowns
believed to be known or
knowable
by you, down in the slew, Bunyan's slough,
ya got iron in yer blood?
ya areckon.
Yer Uncle Sam needs ya, boy,
you leave that Kansas lass to
stare at those July buttermilk skies,
there's a war awaitin' for Rough Riders,
Arizona reared and steered
Say what, sir? Steered? Not me. Done my time.
Played footballs, by damtotell, at Fort Bliss,
I threw hand grenades,
Football was Ft. Huachuca, autumn, 1967
Bien Hoa was in the spring, one day after
My Lai, my country's legacy from my year
beyond the whole idea of war. History said,
if we are not the Redcoats, we are the Hessians,
at least.
Allegiance to a legion because they are many?
Perish the thought.
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 7:17 PM UTC
We have standards here,
no litter, eye sores
no bird feeders or
"off" colors-
you want a fence?
We can put that through to the HOA
get back to you in two years
I'm sure you'll still want it then.
You like cards?
We play and chat
like good little women,
eat sandwiches and the like
like our mothers did
back in the day
you know
when *** was a myth and the world was for only certain people-
you know
a time where the air was pure as bleach
but you'll fit in just fine,
we'll be good friends
follow our lead and you'll be a lady in no time.
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 8:46 PM UTC
lands of
Titans as
these Vikings
clash at
large with
their picks
and chosen
oars and
hoa ravished
atmosphere with
sea by
their front
and wind
at their
backs while
craters solemnize
the dunes
Aug 22, 2020
Aug 22, 2020 at 4:02 PM UTC
To the victims during the Boston Marathon, April 15, 2013,
Children of Boston
Children of Euston
Children of Kingston
Boys of Mesa
Boys of Tuy Hoa
Boys of Kalba
Teenagers of Kyoto
Teenagers of Toronto
Teenagers of Lesotho
Wives of Berlin
Wives of Kremlin
Wives of Yulin
Humans of the world
Let us spare one word
Let us pray,
From Larissa
To South Kensington
From Tokay
To Grafton
Humans of the world
Let us spare one word
For the children of Boston.
April 15, 2013
Montpellier, France
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC
E Tama,
how excited were you to meet a new friend.
He tino poha o te aroha e hoa.
Koda, e hoa
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 2:24 AM UTC
I didn't have the guts to be a rebel
All the counterculture called at me
Asking me to join
In living rooms with Goodwill couches
Owned by a friend of a friend of a friend
They reached out to me
Hands and hearts so open that they couldn't stop bleeding
Asking me to join them
To make what I felt
To do what I wanted
Regardless of whatever the rules said.
They asked me,
Passing the tokens of a shared insobriety
That sought out the essential truth beneath
A thousand and one layers of culture and biology and social pressure
That only ever manages to turn diamonds into coal
I don't have the testicular fortitude to forsake the gifts of my birthright
My middle-class hope
Of a sliver of land beholden to an HOA
Of a wife who loves me kind of and children that will hold me to an anachronistic social standard that will leave me wanting
But it could be mine
It could be a world of my own making
With love and joy and plenty
And the mediocrity and turmoil
That is essential to life whether it is good or bad
It could be mine
The true face of the world is violent
And life struggles unconditionally to enact it's will on a world
That has extinguished more species than are alive
We are mayflies in the cosmos waxing and waning
And no one cares
And no one guarantees that I will eat tomorrow
Let alone find love
Or persist in the presence of my ancestors.
I don't have the ***** to wager my little bits of happiness
Even if there is a slim chance to change a million minds or more
Call me a coward
Call me a pragmatist
In a century call me dead
Right now you can call me mostly happy
And I don't know if there is anything better
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 2:04 AM UTC
yay jo haal hoa sare- shaam hi,
siyah dasht -o- garibaan hoa,
Mjhay hasil naan tha jo kamal bhe,
Wo bay-sabab shikasta -o -jaan hoa..
aay rahbar -e-zindagi, yay kaisi taveel tar raat hai,
Naan amaan mili, naan hi koe imtihaan hoa!!
Wo jo pamaal kar gay meray khwab ko,
us hashar-e- jaan ka kia samaan hoa;
Yunheen gard main liptay bujhay khayal,
Shahr say jaanay ka yun ihtimaam hoa!
Yay rang nhn saraab hain,yay ehsaas say door paar hain,
Meray bayrabt say tootay pyaar main,Jo hoa tou bass yunheen hoa!!
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 11:56 AM UTC
I love you all most,
when you are at your weirdest,
I'd **** for you all.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
I read lots of Russian lit (in translation, of course) while in Viet-Nam
I understood poor, young Raskolnikov
And read all I found by Anton Chekhov
Remembered nothing about Bulgakhov
Heard naughty whispers about Nabokov
Thrilled to the Cossacks in old Sholokov
And then I learned about Kalashnikov –
This, I decided, is where I get off!
Moc Hoa (pronounced something like “mock wah”) is a now-prosperous town on the Song Vam Co Tay near the border with Cambodia. In 1970 it was rather down at the heels and was a center of military activity, including mercenaries presumably controlled by the C.I.A.
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
6 0’ clock
and the string of doors on the block
creak open in unison,
The briny smell of sizzling, leathery bacon accretes,
Seeping forth from pale shutters,
Peeling past the cars, stripping beige paint off the sides of houses.
The morning drizzle, forming tiny rainbows,
You would think it was acid rain,
melting away the plastic people.
Midday, after only an hour passes
and white wine splashes
like crashing waves in the crystalline stemware,
Where orderlies dazedly rescue their children from the montessories
Where power lines crack like whips,
So generously oozing sustenance to babes.
The civiliter mortuus, roam their undead domain,
Like a swarm of cockroach wasps
speed walking in parasitic pairs
darting through Safeway aisles,
Demolishing houses of white chocolate, and roasting sweet nothings
On the new George Foreman Grill ™ .
Every house on loan to apathetic debtors
They come to yours with their holy letters
PTA, … IRA … NSA … HOA
They proselytize, prioritize
Themselves over forest bears and wolves,
But where only hedge trimmers growl
The only Tuesday sounds are the behemoth
Devouring your trash,
And where leaf blowers asthmatically howl.
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 10:49 PM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The 7th of June, 1944 and 1970
My father beached at Normandy on the second day
(He was okay with having missed the first)
From there through France to Belgium in the mud
For a ****** Christmas in the icy Bulge
Munich, Buchenwald, Dachau, Zwickau
For me DaNang, Saigon, Ben Luc, Moc Hoa
I met a child in a Japanese army cap
But he wouldn’t sell it. We all have history
I wish I had that Japanese army cap
And that we knew what any of this means
Jun 6, 2021
Jun 6, 2021 at 10:25 PM UTC