"interpreters" poems
The Jewish brothers in Defiance were definitely tough.
One wanted to **** many Germans, the other to save many Jews.
The German soldiers were expendable, unmarried, unremarkable.
Each little death was very little, a little spittle in a big wind.
Fast forward to my friend's son's bar mitzvah or daughter's
coming of age ceremony. Food is abundant, the music frenetic,
the rabbi paid. Gifts generous but not obvious.
Wealth does not obviate death and we know it.
Here too we have natural leaders. Youth basketball coaches,
school principals and, again, interpreters of prayers. When
violence comes to the neighborhood they are who we'll first look to
for governance and guns. Unless have you read The Admirable
Crichton?
Boredom, boredom conflated with loneliness, may be a sign
of good luck. To live a good length or light year away from man's
bad breath, allergenic perfumes, sickening flatulence and shed hair.
But you are drawn back into the debate about perfection by your own
********
While teaching at the old city jail I have learned this: only meditation
upon the periodic table can save your soul. From itself.
Imagining the world without the self will make you whole.
What else is there to say. Do less until one thing's done well.
After the war the brothers started a small trucking company
in the Bronx. Grateful for such peace, the accounting
was relaxing. They thought back to how they met their wives, naked
before the bombs and bullets. How they lost and found themselves in
what happened.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
Sweet girl! though only once we met,
That meeting I shall ne’er forget;
And though we ne’er may meet again,
Remembrance will thy form retain;
I would not say, “I love,” but still,
My senses struggle with my will:
In vain to drive thee from my breast,
My thoughts are more and more represt;
In vain I check the rising sighs,
Another to the last replies:
Perhaps, this is not love, but yet,
Our meeting I can ne’er forget.
What, though we never silence broke,
Our eyes a sweeter language spoke;
The tongue in flattering falsehood deals,
And tells a tale it never feels:
Deceit, the guilty lips impart,
And hush the mandates of the heart;
But soul’s interpreters, the eyes,
Spurn such restraint, and scorn disguise.
As thus our glances oft convers’d,
And all our bosoms felt rehears’d,
No spirit, from within, reprov’d us,
Say rather, “’twas the spirit mov’d us.”
Though, what they utter’d, I repress,
Yet I conceive thou’lt partly guess;
For as on thee, my memory ponders,
Perchance to me, thine also wanders.
This, for myself, at least, I’ll say,
Thy form appears through night, through day;
Awake, with it my fancy teems,
In sleep, it smiles in fleeting dreams;
The vision charms the hours away,
And bids me curse Aurora’s ray
For breaking slumbers of delight,
Which make me wish for endless night.
Since, oh! whate’er my future fate,
Shall joy or woe my steps await;
Tempted by love, by storms beset,
Thine image, I can ne’er forget.
Alas! again no more we meet,
No more our former looks repeat;
Then, let me breathe this parting prayer,
The dictate of my bosom’s care:
“May Heaven so guard my lovely quaker,
That anguish never can o’ertake her;
That peace and virtue ne’er forsake her,
But bliss be aye her heart’s partaker!
Oh! may the happy mortal, fated
To be, by dearest ties, related,
For her, each hour, new joys discover,
And lose the husband in the lover!
May that fair ***** never know
What ’tis to feel the restless woe,
Which stings the soul, with vain regret,
Of him, who never can forget!”
2.6k
Pestered and pursued
by unknown foes
A topsyturvy land
where snakes can have horns
and cows can have fangs.
Night'mares' where the day's stallions
make mountains out of molehills
A chance to witness greek mythology-like creatures for real
For dreamland tis a place for the unreal and surreal.
Those hair-raising scary scary dreams
beset with horrified silent screams!
We do try to interrupt nightmares, pinching ourselves
With relief wake up to see there aren't any horrid elves.
We also try to interpret dreams filled with mystery
But gifted dream interpreters like prophet Joseph
Are now part of biblical human history
All in all, dreamland's fascination
for extra-ordinary exaggeration
and tall-tale imagination
Where myth and legend come to life
An amalgam of fiction or real strife
Where assorted monsters of the mind
reign supreme in that REM sleep of our kind.
Yet on the other hand the wishful, wistful sweet sweet dreams
where fantasies form mirages bordered by fanciful seams.
Where castles in the air that humans build, float gently down to earth
only to shoot back up unto nowhere from the awakened one's berth.
In dreamland a pauper girl can be a princess or fairy fair
for daydreams extend into the night and linger on there.
A quote I took to heart and it to console all and sundry
'that if your sweet dreams don't come true, don't you fret
for atleast your nightmares didn't come true either,
so just heave a sigh, by and by.
Every night let us all just fly away and escape
And lo behold the extraordinary world of Dreamscape
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 7:02 AM UTC
***** is the only language I know
Burning brightens anguish that grows
Like the blinding light the sun shows
A star providing life
While simultaneously burning me
As I dream of turning free
Floating here I sail a sea
Of words that hurt
And kick up dirt
Of actions that keep stacking
Of factions that keep attacking
Of agency that I'm lacking
To change any of these things
Or the sorrow they bring
The sun's assault through trees
Scorches the dirt off of me
In a world on fire
Incinerators are the cleanest places
In a hateful empire
Interpreters are unwelcome faces
And we continue to count the paces
Until we master mudslides
And we continue to erase the traces
Of our humanity under dirt
We live in this sandstorm
Brought by man's scorn
We attempt to grow corn
But the dusty fields remain barren
When the sun that used to activate photosynthesis
Now burns all the young seeds to a crisp
The seeds are now manufactured
As people wait for the rapture
Unable to see salvation starts here on Earth
And it starts with us cleaning up dirt
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 7:57 AM UTC
"Don't work with the Americans."
"Don't help the Americans."
This is what some of the Afghan interpreters are saying
After their poor treatment by the United States government
The Afghan Interpreters are angry
And they have a right to be
After most U.S. troops have left
Some are stuck hiding in Kabul
The Taliban tell the local people
That they are infidels
The Taliban **** many interpreters
The Afghan Interpreters struggle
Only about 30% get their visa
Some only have enough money
To make it to Greece
They live together
Barely any money
No hot water
Persecuted by the local police
One interpreter saved the life of an American soldier
The soldier helped him put together his visa packet
His visa took three years!!!
This interpreter had fought with them for 7 years
Had saved the lives of five American soldiers
Had been the personal interpreter for 12 U.S. senators
One interpreter
Did not leave on a flight approved by the U.S.
He had to leave on the next flight
Because the Taliban was threatening to **** him
Thankfully the U.S. soldier
Had a place for him to stay
And could give him some money
The soldier promised him
He would help him get resettlement benefits
Even though the U.S. government stated
He was not eligible to receive his benefits
Because he did not arrive on a U.S. approved flight
The Vice Interviewer
Learns from the lawyers working for the interpreters
That there is a massive bureaucracy
The Department of Defense doesn't consider them veterans
The soldier tried to get a bill introduced
That would streamline the process
And increases the number of visas
To help the Afghan Interpreters
No legislation regarding immigration was introduced
Because of bickering among Republican members
The program ran out in September of 2014
So now thousands will be stuck in Afghanistan
One interpreter that was interviewed
Was stuck in Afghanistan
Working as a taxi driver
Fearing for his life
Many of the Taliban prisoners
Have been released
Now he fears for his life
He doesn't know what will happen
6,000 applicants
For 280 available visas
As of July 2014
May God bless the Afghan interpreter
Trying to live his life in peace
May God bless the Afghan people
It seems things never change for them
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
would be walking in the snow, alone
and the soft padded movements under your feet
will ask me questions others wouldn't dare to know.
you
would sit next to me on the bus
and ask how i read without getting sick
and i would throw words up on you.
you
would be in a bookshop
in the metaphysical section
and you would show me thick paged dream interpreters
and i would show you the cover of ****** Astrology.
you
would be lost in a song
throwing glances at me from stage
and the passion that spews out from being on top of everything
everyone's listening.
you
would compliment my brain
and not my body.
i would try to impress you with both.
you
would be smoking a bowl under blacklights
and i would ask for a hit
of you, of you.
[who are you? where are you? how do i find you?]
Aug 20, 2010
Aug 20, 2010 at 9:43 AM UTC
Do you know how much I want you?
I yearn for a spiritual connection with you, bound with strings of trust
You’re the sunshine to my day, my craving for coffee in the morning
I think about you while breaking up blueberry muffins and sipping on freshly squeezed orange juice
You’re the ginger to my tea, the extra sugar that I sneak in on the days I feel like I need the extra rush
I long to crush you in my palms, remove the buds of uncertainty, roll you up in affection and inhale you like you were the last molecule of oxygen inside of a **** chamber
I want you.
Thinking of you is as sacred as my cups of Milo on a rainy day
The smell of rain drops colliding with the soil make me coil up into the corner of my mind that you’ve rightfully claimed as your own
I crave you
Crushers and ice cream do not compare
Our conversations fulfill me, I’m satisfied by your every thought
Your eyebrows are the interpreters of your deepest ponderings.
Your smile Is the wrecking ball smashing down wall of security, you tumbled into my life knocking me over in the process.
I landed face first.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
Joseph is a gifted mind, given a coat by his father, and visions by God.
After getting out of prison, Joseph is brought before the Pharaoh , as the Pharaoh believes that Joseph is a "dream interpreter".
Joseph explains that he does not interpret dreams, he just tells what he sees in his visions, and that the visions are from God.
Pharaoh continues on to tell the 2 dreams he's had constantly:
One of 7 good ears of corn eaten up by 7 bad ears. And the next of 7 healthy cows being swallowed up by 7 sickly cows.
Pharaoh has had so many of his royal interpreters try to decipher his dreams and none of them could do it. So when he heard about Joseph, he found himself all out of options.
And Joseph delivers with this interpretation.
The 7 good ears of corn and healthy cows represent 7 years of feast, 7 years of plenty. And the 7 bad ears and sickly cows represent the 7 years of famine that will follow after. And Egypt may not survive if nothing is done.
So what can be done?
Joseph comes up with this plan:
During the years of plenty, take all the grain that Egypt has and store 1/5 of it underground. And then during the years of famine, give the 1/5 back to the people.
The plan saved Egypt from starvation and Joseph was made second in command to Pharaoh, and he continued to lead Egypt to great success.
This concept of "storing the fifth" can be applied to happiness as well.
When things go wrong, or the world is completely against you, find something you know makes you happy...
And store it somewhere you can find it later.
A good movie, your favourite comfort food, a conversation with an old friend. Something that calms you down and brings you back home.
And right now, I may not be in the middle of a 7 year famine, but I am working through a starvation of my own. So I am picking up the nearest shovel and I am digging for my stored fifth.
Problem is...
I still have no idea where it is.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 4:49 AM UTC
we sit here caught twixt history and text
interpreters of one more well-told tale
another weight that's added to the scale
of knowledge what wisdom comes unvexed
by normal suffering in the context
of work and study long before we ail
or fade into the dark with one last wail
that's the hard question leaving us perplexed
the act political we cannot doubt
must be for us the central urgent norm
for making easier the chance that curled
within the force that bids each one to shout
the truth and nature of the rising form
is the bright hope of an emergent world
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 11:09 AM UTC
If God were to say, "Dear, would be my pleasure
to grant your heart's desire within reason"
I wouldn't hesitate, I wouldn't give a second thought to my decision
And I would hope God wouldn't think I was asking too much or being selfish, when I ask for this unique gift
A gift of speech, of words, of understanding of all languages, a gift coveted by interpreters, scribes and poets alike
In my imagination there is no better gift, than a gift of understanding of all languages, every spoken tongue
O' to have a special gift, an exceptional ability to communicate verbally with any individual alive, and animals, too
Would I find this overwhelming, or would this just be way too cool?
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 10:23 PM UTC
wash it wash out wash it wash out
let it turn
hoot and a holler
bottled up all day
and like bubbly bottles burst
take my toll
fierce, almost fictional
but never hostile
transcend your barriers and let your impulses take you towards the next side of the room
and then back again
its over and over and over
hear the trumpet whail its sorrow
circling, round, round, round
love, a mist, love to die for
unseen unconditionl surrender
ooohohohoaoh
e,njoy a gin and tonic, and ,dress that ,was fash,ionable at ,som, e point b,ut is in deeper,ate ne,ed of ,recur ,,, , , , rence
the glasses are thick and so is t he smoke that lingers above conv,eras,--------tions and weaves be d,, tween the textu--------res of the deep green trees and their abundant philosophical relatab======le language and you fall into their ro000000000ots, you drUUUUUug their holes and youuuuuu lOOOOOve the earth the same way you love a compliment
Ahhh yeahhh!!!,you're looking the best you have in your life
there is a melody somewhere in the background but your attention is on the person in from of you, the enthusiasm in their voice, and how quickly you are able to agree with them
anticipate like disneyt, tpoets businesses, bartenders, bar menders, cleansers inspectors interpreters judgmenters allocate the spenders reaching out for new vendeor whose the best the lesser??
LET ME GOOOOOOOOO
its warm man, you have a smoke?
swomen, lights, some monument sky high lithe buddah lights little u[p with orange with luck on straight spinnings what was that? take another drink, hey whats your name? I'm from california you like surfing politics I odn'tk know I need to meet my friend
fix fix fix do I need to finish that paper? fixixixifiixx what will my mother say????
you met another guy who is dancing with a girl and he is cool and he is gesturing towards you with his glass of champagne and you
tilt up ystaree he cbottole of beer, but his kindness lingers as you stare into your glass andI smile when? wrong time go away fog forward gly He cracks a really funny joke about your smile
HAHAHHAHAAH
The movie, the movie, those time when I am removed from things and the
My mind balloons and its... delicious
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
Certainty of semper fi, 'n'
om-ly believe 'n'
groan of assent
struggle
to rise…
-- listen
the strangest of stories are told
as real as ever, the common idea, ever
after time has lost its
thread to our
temper ai re
ality in ifity was.
Those were the days, ifity was.
We were as you imagined,
in your imagination,
but really, we were all outlaws,
on the run…
what did your family think Wagon Train was about?
We was runnin' from the letters of the laws,
the man behind the star,
the man on the horse,
from old boogaswishery tales fairtold
to meet
the doubt, double mind, entende re, eh, follow or
fall
by the wayside and wait, one day
you wake and find the path is paved thirty chariots wide,
and you are
not surprised, that state,
surprise,
being an undifined or undivined, okeh, wordminded
state- stretched to this point --
flex-stress tested to thnthdgreeeee,
to
get most from extra eas y'
pay attention
points to
the definity of devininity, as shobbolethic,
- no pass, no se --
is it in the accent
that makes the difference,
or the proof?
Unique as differing may be random as mathic edgery
interpreters of times after all
was said and done,
one more.
Like not missing
a tittle or a jot, yet being
wise as jumpstarts means were to stick shifts,
shockingly, retro real… virtually
be the character, see the luckies rolled in your sleeve…
it was so easy to steal a car,
almost as easy as on TV. But not if you always
carried the coil wire in your pocket,
so those were the ones you watched for, next time,
coil wire in hand,
it was easier than on TV, you knew the care was stolen
before you stole it,
that's like answered prayer,
if y' askt me.
Patience 'n' faith, wise as was
imagined.
at the time.
The coil wire is the worm at the core.
Grease monkey kings know this story, it is in our
initiation to the mystery in the pistons.
Dec 27, 2020
Dec 27, 2020 at 8:29 PM UTC
There is God
And then,
Interpreters of God.
Aug 2, 2023
Aug 2, 2023 at 12:20 PM UTC
So sick of getting discouraged by the way my own hands write lies for no body but my eyes alone to see. I do not create metaphors in the way I speak for interpreters to breathe, I only bleed to feel. I want to be whole again.
The saddest thing ever written about a girl and her words are the ones written to rid the ink on her quill.
- from stained hands and a broken heart
At least if I stand in your shadow mine won't scare me.
wish I were a book so id at least have a spine
Please tell me why my eyes feel hollow and my cheeks are sunken in.
Don't tell me I told you so because I already know and I won't say I'm sorry because I would do it over again a thousand times.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 1:27 AM UTC
So sick of getting discouraged by the way my own hands write lies for no body but my eyes alone to see. I do not create metaphors in the way I speak for interpreters to breathe. I may have forgotten how to write but god these words still whisper in my dreams. "WE GET IT POETS, THINGS ARE LIKE OTHER THINGS" a stranger in the audience yells in the middle of my memior , I am sorry sir but you are an ******* like that of the gods greatest devils and I pray that you will stop. I should stop, but I have ink in my veins, and my smiles are composed of similies.I have a voice as small as a mouse but as loud as a lion. I look up at the stars and all I see are fallacies, oh god, look at the red herring. The constellations are making fun of me. How I wish I were a book so at least I'd have a spine. I cower in the land of fiction novels hiding from the people that are better than me. I know I'll never have the taste of Walt Whitman or face the horrors of Mr. poe but ********* how I want to. I'm afraid that if I don't figure out my purpose as a writer I'll forget how to speak to you and we'll grow apart like leaves on a tree in winter so glue a pen to my palm and make me dance and hopefully words will relearn how to waltz across the page. Its the very fiber of my being and I can no long use this double helix as a crutch.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 7:28 AM UTC
CORTÉS
But how to learn their Tower-of-Babel tongues?
I think I have an inkling. Sandoval,
Bring me that Díaz from the footmen’s ranks-
A proud alumnus of this school of vice. Exit Sandoval.
Young Sandoval shows promise of promotion,
But, Alvarado, you’re my confidante,
As well as in effect my deputy.
We must concur about these Indians.
They are not possibly the “natural slaves”
Of which the pagan Aristotle spoke,
And can be raised to all the dignity
Of sons of Christ.
ALVARADO I’ll take your word.
CORTÉS Take God’s.
Enter DÍAZ.
DÍAZ God save you, captain! What mighty business of state pulls my
rare proficiencies away from tent-tying?
CORTÉS
So Díaz,
Twice now have you arrived in Cozumel
With this old villain, who reveals to me,
When last you pitched your tents, a year ago,
Your fleet encountered awestruck Indians,
Who nodded at the whiteness of your hides
And uttered, “Castilán . . . Castilán.”
Who came before, that they knew you by face?
DÍAZ
Some say that eight years past, lost in the fog,
A Spanish galleon shattered on these reefs.
Her ribs discharged a dash of castaways
That disappeared into these gloomy woods.
ALVARADO
And thus within hide our interpreters.
DÍAZ
So: Castellano . . . Castilán.
CORTÉS Well done.
Commune with these glad-handed Indians,
And sleuth it out through means of pantomime
If any of our cast-off countrymen
Might swelter yet in this unsparing clime. Exit Díaz.
ALVARADO
And as regards your noble savages?
CORTÉS
I shall induct them to the host of Christ.
I’ll give them scissors, candles, silver mirrors,
With tops and kites to cheer their little ones.
As your bombastic threats have scattered them,
I must so kindly call to coax them back.
ALVARADO
With prayer and kindness- Save us all! Kind words!
CORTÉS
Speak now, or hold your peace. . .
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 5:23 PM UTC
Some understand what happened
someu understand where things are going
some understand history
some understand language
some understand systems interacting
gears turning
some understand humor, ha ha ha hahahahah
some understand politics
some understand bowling
some understand indulgence, weather, snowing
some get little things that are hanging from houses that we never glance at
some are slow or stagnant but smart
some are quiet but insightful
some are obnoxious but loving
some serious but strong and good humored
some wide spreading but suffering
a little cocky but relevant
some boring but hard working
some over dressed but good at listening
pictures, pictures, pictures
scholars
interpreters
winners, losers
judge, do
do
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
*letting go of mind and body
out of this dichotomy a world of flowers blooming
forever is in the choosing
to see the water’s beauty from inside our hidden towers
thousands of broken flowers
threatening to reveal the truth that we are returning
to the burning days spent singing in old cathedrals
streaking naked in the woods
dreaming upright streams of cottonwood
treetop dancers stand upon the crashing boughs
deepen their stance and make flashing elbows
your feathers are wet as yesterday’s snow is melting
how many years till the pelting of the sun with arrows and stones
commences to cover up our coats
of fur, tooth, breath and bone with armor
your faith is cheap so you repeat the weakness of the elderberry
your syrup stealthily dripping, stripping, ripping
a wealthy dreamer hungry for the sun-dried lobotomies of love
the watershed depends on nothing yet it remains
ugly and unsteady and ready to drop you without warning
love is deeper than still water
it is all about alabaster and descending melodies
the viola serves his daughter’s laughter
in symphony’s ancient slumber
projecting this imperfect world as a boy masters his box of toys
stepping out into the abyss like gargoyles on the corners of rooftops
i stop and wonder how we plundered so much of the universe
despite the treasures that were never uncovered
did we misplace our souls in the bargain
in stolen mansions deep within the forest
stallions cast shadows on straw covered blankets
asleep in thyme’s meditation
i deliver the delicate feathers of the mother
to swarms of stormy eyed children drifting in meadows
forests of wildflowers matching our emotional temperament
again we separate the wheat and the chaff
the oat and the staff of ancient Syria
stood tall and bowed before
all the youthful interpreters
foregoing is ambitions cursed gesture*
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 12:40 PM UTC
for the times
I said the wrong thing
for the gagged silences
I Iet speak for me
for poetic interpreters giving
insecurities creative license
for the things I knew
and didn’t say anything
for letting my fears fester
until they exploded
for the days wasted
and nights tormented
for my sudden releases
on this karmic rubber band
and, most of all, for
how it’s so hard to be
the one thing we both so
desperately need
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 11:50 PM UTC
When I want to know something, I call
someone from the explanation folks
Strangers are my interpreters
and my guides in the web
Be my brother, my sister
give me a real kiss
'We are family', we are birds
of a feather, we fly together
over the net that binds us
to what we know
: our golden rule
Have Hand In Hand Trust
in yourself and the things you do
Sep 17, 2021
Sep 17, 2021 at 6:27 AM UTC