"illa" poems
Libera me, Domine,
de morte aeterna
in die illa tremenda
quando coeli movendi sunt et terra
dum veneris judicare
saeculum per ignem.
Tremens factus sum
ego et timeo,
dum discussion venerit atque venture ira:
quando coeli movendi sunt et terra.
November 21, 1976. 11:00 P.M.
With nothing
he packs his suitcase, turns
to his own personal prophet
and watches and waits
and waits, he will wait
for an hour.
And finally
the prophet speaks
in monotone, three short syllables.
He opens the door, careful
not to wake dad.
Turning the corner,
the suitcase jars the door ajar.
A stirring from upstairs.
Remembering the face of madness
behind the pulpit
behind the door,
he races out, fearful
of footsteps drawing louder
and with them, promises
of pain.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
Here as I sit
At this empty café
Thinking of you
I remember
All those moments
Lost in wonder
That we'll never
Find again
Though the world
Is my oyster
It's only a shell
Full of memories
And here by the Seine
Notre-Dame casts
A long lonely shadow
Now, only sorrow
No tomorrow
There's no today for us
Nothing is there
For us to share
But yesterday
These cities may change
But there always remains
My obsession
Through silken waters
My gondola glides
And the bridge, it sighs
I remember
All those moments
Lost in wonder
That we'll never
Find again
There's no more time for us
Nothing is there
For us to share
But yesterdays
*Ecce momenta
Illa mirabilia
Quae captabit
In aeternum
Memor
Modo dolores
Sunt in dies
Non est reliquum
Vero tantum
Comminicamus
Perdita*
*Tous ces moments
Perdus dans l'enchantement
Qui ne reviendront jamais
Pas d´aujourd´hui pour nous
Pour nous il n´y a rien
A partager
Sauf le passé
Tous ces moments
Perdus dans l'enchantement
Qui ne reviendront
Jamais
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 6:02 AM UTC
Abandon me to the depth of Darkness and Despair
let me too sink into that dreamless endless sleep
only to awake at the drop of six feet and the sound of falling sand-
when the stars loose their light and the moon fades to Darkness
with the sun dimming at the passing of each day
only to be stopped at Dies Illa-
still i will endure;
Suffering life
loving all but
loved
by none
To dream -
to dream
to hope -
to die
to sing -
to quiet
to die -
to die
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
Manuel del Río, natural
de España, ha fallecido el sábado
11 de mayo, a consecuencia
de un accidente. Su cadáver
está tendido en D'Agostino
Funeral Home. Haskell. New Jersey.
Se dirá una misa cantada
a las 9,30 en St. Francis.
Es una historia que comienza
con sol y piedra, y que termina
sobre una mesa, en D'Agostino,
con flores y cirios eléctricos.
Es una historia que comienza
en una orilla del Atlántico.
Continúa en un camarote
de tercera, sobre las olas
-sobre las nubes- de las tierras
sumergidas ante Poseidón.
Halla en América su término
con una grúa y una clínica,
con una esquela y una misa
cantada, en la iglesia de St. Francis.
Al fin y al cabo, cualquier sitio
da lo mismo para morir:
el que se aroma de romero,
el tallado en piedra o en nieve,
el empapado de petróleo.
Da lo mismo que un cuerpo se haga
piedra, petróleo, nieve, aroma.
Lo doloroso no es morir
acá o allá...
Requiem æternam,
Manuel del Río. Sobre el mármol
en D'Agostino, pastan toros
de España, Manuel, y las flores
(funeral de segunda, caja
que huele a abetos del invierno)
cuarenta dólares. Y han puesto
unas flores artificiales
entre las otras que arrancaron
al jardín... Libera me domine
de morte æterna...
Cuando mueran
James o Jacob verán las flores
que pagaron Giulio o Manuel...
Ahora descienden a tus cumbres
garras de águila. Dies irae.
Lo doloroso no es morir
Dies illa acá o allá;
sino sin gloria...
Tus abuelos
fecundaron la tierra toda,
la empaparon de la aventura.
Cuando caía un español
se mutilaba el Universo.
Los velaban no en D'Agostino
Funeral Home, sino entre hogueras,
entre caballos y armas. Héroes
para siempre. Estatuas de rostro
borrado. Vestidos aún
sus colores de papagayo,
de poder y de fantasía.
Él no ha caído así. No ha muerto
por ninguna locura hermosa.
(Hace mucho que el español
muere de anónimo y cordura,
o en locuras desgarradoras
entre hermanos: cuando acuchilla
pellejos de vino derrama
sangre fraterna). Vino un día
porque su tierra es pobre. El Mundo,
Liberanos Domine, es patria.
Y ha muerto. No fundó ciudades.
No dio su nombre a un mar. No hizo
más que morir por diecisiete
dólares (él los pensaría
en pesetas). Requiem æternam.
Y en D'Agostino lo visitan
los polacos, los irlandeses,
los españoles, los que mueren
en el week-end.
Requiem æternam.
Definitivamente todo
ha terminado. Su cadáver
está tendido en D'Agostino
Funeral Home. Haskell. New Jersey.
Se dirá una misa cantada
por su alma.
Me he limitado
a reflejar aquí una esquela
de un periódico de New York.
Objetivamente. Sin vuelo
en el verso. Objetivamente.
Un español como millones
de españoles. No he dicho a nadie
que estuve a punto de llorar.
1.7k
(Release Me!)
***
I'm the illa Killa Vanilla Consilla
Know That
I be the dope deala and deli meat Grrrrilla
like a Mystical street Thrilla
The Miracle Manzilla
A Mothra villian Chilla
If you rashin like pencil scratchin
for tongue tappin I cure like
penicillin the Wolf and Ben Stiller
I'm a hot steel on flesh wound heala!
(sssiizzzzle)
(Bang Bang)
Wake up to phone ringing
I'm head slinging
cloth stacking on a body
I'm sleep lacking
stay on track AND
(click clack)
My engine blows steam to
organize the regime
*** when I'm working
and writing
I am typing
and crying
*** this Job is dying me colors
like slashing my back and
(click clack)
They beast master and calls stack
I get my slack
between breaks and phone clack
and back track
to where the last ink slapped paper
and draw back from vapors
that ventilate out my ears
like kids caper through streets
with Halloween treats
I'm riding rails
like open sails
like blowing gales
it's raining hail
I'm screaming Hell
In this cube E Cell
(Toot Toooot)
My grey matter is burning
My soul coal is churning
like a witch on stick burning
(Crackle Pop Snap)
Release
(To get Back)
I Master peace
cause my mind's eyes flying
the call cue is dying my fingers fly
no longer trying
to typecast
I drive fast
then Breakfast
for den her
Then
(sshhhhhhh)
The universal remote
is on mute
transcending this dome
my transcendental home
It's my cue
To slip into
the zone
I sip a bit of foam
my cup of coco from
thus releasing my thoughts with YuuHmm
(slurp slurp)
I think for others Daily
Rarely given space or time or Air We
All must trust the Wind gust of
dust and skin gone so scaly
Yet I slither as slow as snails to my home
for me in my dome
to slip into the zone
I sip a bit of foam
from my cup of coco
thus releasing me with an
(Ohm)
of work for others Daily
Rarely given time or space or air WE
all must trust the Wind gusts of dust
and skin gone scaly
So we slither as slow as snails
to a home
for me
deep in my dome
sipping on the zone
bit off coco cup foam
slow snails slip
(Ohm....)
I master peace
Wind
(Release!)
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC
Ya oakland lets gather all the black men
And load em up with guns and ammunition spittin'
Nothing but hundred round clips
Plus extra
Open up the scriptures
To crack the pressure
Break textures
Through the necks of fake messiah
Spittin' flows hotter than a california fire
I am hip hops sire
Even made the devil retire
Punishment and sin goes together
Like birds flock together
In stormy weather we can endeavor
Much more than an overcome
Mlk had a dream
But then got murdered son
In cold blood souls stuck in mud
They say im holding a grudge
Naw just a middle finger to the judge
Cuz the system gotta problem with the people the color of fudge
yea homes I said it before came through the door
starting war making gore
through the white house as I pour
out a blessing
ease their pain
with the bullets testing
nerves they couldn't dodge or curve
my potency or prodigy which be deadly
gotta proteges
that be my lil babies
gotta teach my sons
how to be a man
hold them nuts
without use of their hands
crazy come as crazy goes
I go for the jugular cut throat quick with the knife as I smote
my own justice
**** the police
and they can quote this yea I wrote this
maybe get a sentence from this
but ill get dismissed
uh got my apes to guerillas getting hella illa
turn bodies ice ice baby like vanilla
born a cap peela
on the for reala
got a pile of dollaz
talking bout scrillaz
uh reach the minds of the minorities
then eradicate the system who holds the authority
as the revolution starts boostin-
let the guns began shooting as souls began to get lootin' uh
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 12:38 PM UTC
"deformis puella! discesserit ab illa!"
eyes gone pale (for lack of light)
a sniffle is heard in the depths of night.
and whilst the candle shrinks, there becomes
a soft quiver of sound, the voice which barely hums.
"non omnis moriar."
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 11:38 PM UTC
The imposer of all rules,
The most powerful,
Ar-Rahmaan, Ar-Raheem,
He is the most merciful and gracious,
The creator of this universe,
The flawless shaper,
Al-Malik, Al-Quddus,
He who is Great and perfect in every way,
The supreme bestower,
The sustainer, the provider,
Al-Mu’min, Al-Qaabid,
He who is superior to all of mankind and has all rights,
The magnificent one,
The sublime one.
Al-Ghafoor, Al-Waasi',
He will forgive us and we know, only He knows best.
The imposer of all rules,
The most powerful.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 2:04 PM UTC
Tantum tempus temporis
quoniam aliena femina in meo cubiculo dormivit;
ecce illi quantum dulce somnus est.
Quanta etiam libera somnia sunt.
In alia aetate mundum certe rexit
vel optimo regi in matrimonio fideliter ducta est
qui iuxtus flumen psalmos luce lunae scripsit.
**** me iri foras egressum et spatiatum
Nihil occurit hic, nihil umquam fit.
Praeterea si incedat iam volat me narrare;
habeo nihil, praecipue erga quicquid erat.
Viam cepi aviam
qua celeres non superant;
dignis praemia sunt
qui verbum veritatis distinguere possunt.
Hospes solus me docere potuit
praeclaram orem iustitiae contemplari
et videre oculum pro oculo, et dentem pro dente.
Nisi duo homines in mansionem,
Est nullus in viso; verem exspectant,
proinde quasi ver plaustro accederet.
Mundus deleretur ea nocte
sed meae amicae aequum esset;
illa meo cubiculo dormiret *** revenirem.
Meridiano me promoveo
adhuc in obscura parte viae;
in angustos corruere
et constans manere non possum.
Alius mea ore dicit
sed solum meo animo audit,
calcas omnibus etiam tibi feci
quibus tamen careo.
Ego et ego
In creatione quo ingenium alicuius
nec alicui ignoscit nec excolit.
Ego et ego
unus alteri dicit nullus et videre
imaginem meum et vivere possit.
From "Bird's Nest In Your Hair" by Brian Jobe
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 10:03 PM UTC
Would be the day I
finally define who I
am - a winter day.
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 2:29 PM UTC
Scio hunc non
Scio quod durum
quid per illa verba in occulto
et optima sunt
Non *** Latino
haec sunt idem
Im 'non boken
posuerunt in monumento
Non sum abierunt
ego autem mortuus sum,
capti a verbis victima
in caput meum
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 8:53 PM UTC
Quis sum ego?
Vir, poeta, amator.
Aut ego iustus amissa sum?
Ego feci nomina illa usque.
Dec 28, 2024
Dec 28, 2024 at 9:14 PM UTC
Det var en sak jag ville säga
En sak som plötsligt blev flera
Det är så det brukar gå
I mitt huvud, råkar allt förändras
Jag vill att du närmar dig
Inte för att det är en hemlighet
Men för tiden det ger mig
För att samla på mig tillräckligt med mod
Jag vet inte hur du kommer reagera
Jag hoppas att du inte tar det illa
Fast, jag vet det inte kan hända
Borde jag hellre ha använt tro, tycka, eller tänka?
Det finns inget som är säkert
När du är i området
Det här matar problemet som blåser upp lite mer varje dag
Eftersom du är här, fast i mina tankar, oavsett vägen jag tar
Det känns nu som jag har sagt för mycket
Jag är förvirrad, helt enkelt
Kanske, blir det bättre om jag håller tyst i alla fall
Jag blir rädd, jag blir kall
Jag behöver värma mig
Kom fortare, hjälp mig!
Det är bara en sak som räknas
Bara en sak, jag lovar
Det var en sak jag ville säga
En sak du ska veta
En sak bara
Det är faktiskt en fråga
En fråga till dig
Som ungarna skulle säga
Får jag en chans på dig?
Feb 26, 2020
Feb 26, 2020 at 4:59 AM UTC