"kosovo" poems - Hello Poetry

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0

Dec 21, 2019

Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC

maxneumann

The World NEEDS HelloPoetry (Please Make A Contribution.)

196

.*if, and however many mistakes i made in typo... attempting to compete with Spawn, using the black panther... ****** please... it's like that "healthy" competition of butter, using margarine... Black Panther isn't Spawn... Spawn is... Spawn... yeah... thanks for ruining my 12" wish fetish... i was so dying... to... i was never going to **** an English girl to begin with... thank god.* you're seriously going to "correct" me using black panther.... seriously? spawn was the ******** to what.... to whatever you're doing these days.... i don't want to be the blank panther... **** being black panther... ************ i want to be *spawn".. ******* quasi-nigger... john coltrane... you a mariah carey back-up singer or some otherwise alien whacky alien-backlog? compared to spawn... the black panther looks like a ******* ****** wing guy... for what's deemed 12"... black... mire like bleak Parthenon... some columns, no spirals... waste of time... black Panther, what? so Spawn... was just a waste of time? Spawn was the gran-daddy where the Batman was the daddy given the Joker was the gran-gran-daddy... you get me? Miles Davis too much for you? the blank panther is such a ***** move... it's like... come Kosovo... when expecting Sarajevo... ****** this **** will not stick... high flying **** if you think this will become a ******* pancake... no, ****** take your blank panther back to Yakanda, or whatever... your Spawn was cooler than Lego Batman... **** your white ***** and leave me to my existentialism of... making a "heroic" exit.. akin to Elvis... but more or less minding Roy Orbison in a sing along. p.s. lego batman movie quote: black panther ***** spawn go go go! spammy!

0

Oct 31, 2018

Oct 31, 2018 at 12:02 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

spawn, *****

.*if, and however many mistakes i made in typo... attempting to compete with Spawn, using the black panther... ****** please... it's like that "healthy" competition of butter, using margarine... Black Panther isn't Spawn... Spawn is... Spawn... yeah... thanks for ruining my 12" wish fetish... i was so dying... to... i was never going to **** an English girl to begin with... thank god.* you're seriously going to "correct" me using black panther.... seriously? spawn was the ******** to what.... to whatever you're doing these days.... i don't want to be the blank panther... **** being black panther... ************ i want to be *spawn".. ******* quasi-nigger... john coltrane... you a mariah carey back-up singer or some otherwise alien whacky alien-backlog? compared to spawn... the black panther looks like a ******* ****** wing guy... for what's deemed 12"... black... mire like bleak Parthenon... some columns, no spirals... waste of time... black Panther, what? so Spawn... was just a waste of time? Spawn was the gran-daddy where the Batman was the daddy given the Joker was the gran-gran-daddy... you get me? Miles Davis too much for you? the blank panther is such a ***** move... it's like... come Kosovo... when expecting Sarajevo... ****** this **** will not stick... high flying **** if you think this will become a ******* pancake... no, ****** take your blank panther back to Yakanda, or whatever... your Spawn was cooler than Lego Batman... **** your white ***** and leave me to my existentialism of... making a "heroic" exit.. akin to Elvis... but more or less minding Roy Orbison in a sing along. p.s. lego batman movie quote: black panther ***** spawn go go go! spammy!

64

Holocaust Poem: "On The Slaughter" by Chaim Nachman Bialik loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Merciful heavens, have pity on me! If there is a God approachable by men as yet I have not found him— Pray for me! For my heart is dead, prayers languish upon my tongue; my right hand has lost its strength and my hope has wilted, undone. How long? Oh, when will this nightmare end? How long? Hangman, traitor, here’s my neck— rise up now, rise and slaughter! Behead me like a dog—your arm controls the axe and the whole world is a scaffold to me although we—the chosen few— were once recipients of the Pacts. Executioner, my blood’s a paltry prize— strike my skull and the blood of innocents will rain drenching your pristine uniform again and again, staining your raiment forever. If there is Justice—quick, let her appear! But after I’ve been blotted out, should she reveal her face, let her false scales be overturned forever and the heavens reek with the stench of her disgrace. You too arrogant men, with your brutal injustice, suckled on blood, unweaned of violence: cursed be the warrior who cries "Vengeance!" on a maiden; such cruelty was never contemplated, even by Satan. Let innocents’ blood drench the abyss! Let innocents’ blood seep down into the congealing darkness, eat it away and undermine earth's rotting foundations. Al Hashechita ("On the Slaughter") was written by Chaim Nachman Bialik in response to the ****** Kishniev pogrom of 1903, which was instigated by agents of the Czar who wanted to divert social unrest and political anger from the Czar to the Jewish minority. The Hebrew word schechita (also transliterated shechita, shechitah, shekhitah, shehita) denotes the ritual kosher slaughtering of animals for food. The juxtapositioning of kosher slaughter with the slaughter of Jews makes the poem all the more powerful and ghastly. Such anti-Semitic incidents prompted a massive wave of Eastern European emigration that brought millions of Jews to the West. Unfortunately, there have been many similar slaughters in human history and the poem remains chillingly relevant to the more recent ones in Israel/Palestine, Rwanda, Bosnia and Kosovo. Keywords/Tags: Holocaust, poem, Bialik, translation, slaughter, massacre, God, prayer, executioner, hangman, blood, innocents, justice, false, scales, injustice

0

Mar 12, 2020

Mar 12, 2020 at 4:00 AM UTC

michael-r-burch

Chaim Nachman Bialik "On The Slaughter" translation

Holocaust Poem: "On The Slaughter" by Chaim Nachman Bialik loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Merciful heavens, have pity on me! If there is a God approachable by men as yet I have not found him— Pray for me! For my heart is dead, prayers languish upon my tongue; my right hand has lost its strength and my hope has wilted, undone. How long? Oh, when will this nightmare end? How long? Hangman, traitor, here’s my neck— rise up now, rise and slaughter! Behead me like a dog—your arm controls the axe and the whole world is a scaffold to me although we—the chosen few— were once recipients of the Pacts. Executioner, my blood’s a paltry prize— strike my skull and the blood of innocents will rain drenching your pristine uniform again and again, staining your raiment forever. If there is Justice—quick, let her appear! But after I’ve been blotted out, should she reveal her face, let her false scales be overturned forever and the heavens reek with the stench of her disgrace. You too arrogant men, with your brutal injustice, suckled on blood, unweaned of violence: cursed be the warrior who cries "Vengeance!" on a maiden; such cruelty was never contemplated, even by Satan. Let innocents’ blood drench the abyss! Let innocents’ blood seep down into the congealing darkness, eat it away and undermine earth's rotting foundations. Al Hashechita ("On the Slaughter") was written by Chaim Nachman Bialik in response to the ****** Kishniev pogrom of 1903, which was instigated by agents of the Czar who wanted to divert social unrest and political anger from the Czar to the Jewish minority. The Hebrew word schechita (also transliterated shechita, shechitah, shekhitah, shehita) denotes the ritual kosher slaughtering of animals for food. The juxtapositioning of kosher slaughter with the slaughter of Jews makes the poem all the more powerful and ghastly. Such anti-Semitic incidents prompted a massive wave of Eastern European emigration that brought millions of Jews to the West. Unfortunately, there have been many similar slaughters in human history and the poem remains chillingly relevant to the more recent ones in Israel/Palestine, Rwanda, Bosnia and Kosovo. Keywords/Tags: Holocaust, poem, Bialik, translation, slaughter, massacre, God, prayer, executioner, hangman, blood, innocents, justice, false, scales, injustice

36

unlike these other migrants - i remember Ilford, during the Balkan war, and the Kosovo refugees - who didn't bother to remain... refugees having this superiority complex over economic migrants... somehow victim-hood is a better economic model than skilled labor... i didn't assimilate into the English culture, i wasn't spoon-fed this multicultural ******** where some ******* Somali could speak down to me because he was bown und bwed in Cuntish Toown... ****** can brown-beat me down with his exotica... up to a point... i haven't been brain-washed by some ideology of assimilation / integration... i never assimilated or integrated into the English "culture"... i'll let you know... sprache über kultur - *meine treue ist zu es ist sprache, nicht es ist volk, sogar wenn ich haben zu sprechen deutsche*! i was never assimilated or integrated into the English "kultur"... i acquired it, and by acquiring it, i acquired it to deviated from what was being prescribed... by a ghost consensus... i never signed up to some ******* Somali brown-beating me as some minor, the always inferior, "eastern", "European"... not a chance in hell... *hölle erste, besagt streit? zweite*! ...and why do you think i'm seeking escape in tickling German? i'm not exactly bugging the Ottomans - after all... one of the Axis powers... and i love my Turkish barber... i can't imagine any other ethnicity to have perfected the trade of the barber... who... whittle east African subsaharan Muslim with no knowledge of the Saudi slave trade of Bangladeshi workers?! mouthing off his over-priced privilege position in England?! bingo! no no no... i'm not assimilated, wenn es kommt bezüglich die krone? mein antwort "bezüglich" eine krone? die ich von gott: ist der ein und erst krone! i didn't integrate or assimilate into this "kultur"... i made a claim for this sprechen... da ist nicht kultur außen die zunge! which is why i have to tease German, the old father... of the English tongue... because? because i find the English language plagued... and i'm puritanical at herz.

0

Sep 10, 2018

Sep 10, 2018 at 8:53 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

angst: sprache über kultur

unlike these other migrants - i remember Ilford, during the Balkan war, and the Kosovo refugees - who didn't bother to remain... refugees having this superiority complex over economic migrants... somehow victim-hood is a better economic model than skilled labor... i didn't assimilate into the English culture, i wasn't spoon-fed this multicultural ******** where some ******* Somali could speak down to me because he was bown und bwed in Cuntish Toown... ****** can brown-beat me down with his exotica... up to a point... i haven't been brain-washed by some ideology of assimilation / integration... i never assimilated or integrated into the English "culture"... i'll let you know... sprache über kultur - *meine treue ist zu es ist sprache, nicht es ist volk, sogar wenn ich haben zu sprechen deutsche*! i was never assimilated or integrated into the English "kultur"... i acquired it, and by acquiring it, i acquired it to deviated from what was being prescribed... by a ghost consensus... i never signed up to some ******* Somali brown-beating me as some minor, the always inferior, "eastern", "European"... not a chance in hell... *hölle erste, besagt streit? zweite*! ...and why do you think i'm seeking escape in tickling German? i'm not exactly bugging the Ottomans - after all... one of the Axis powers... and i love my Turkish barber... i can't imagine any other ethnicity to have perfected the trade of the barber... who... whittle east African subsaharan Muslim with no knowledge of the Saudi slave trade of Bangladeshi workers?! mouthing off his over-priced privilege position in England?! bingo! no no no... i'm not assimilated, wenn es kommt bezüglich die krone? mein antwort "bezüglich" eine krone? die ich von gott: ist der ein und erst krone! i didn't integrate or assimilate into this "kultur"... i made a claim for this sprechen... da ist nicht kultur außen die zunge! which is why i have to tease German, the old father... of the English tongue... because? because i find the English language plagued... and i'm puritanical at herz.

83

It’s 18 years later and I’m strolling down O’ Connell Street. I notice a rough-sleeper in a shop doorway. There is a queue for the bank machine contouring around his limbs as he lies face down on the hard ground talking loudly to himself. I remember how the investigators worked flat out in Kosovo, almost captive to the corners of fields and the cruelty of the events they sought to prove, the soil they touched became a membrane surrounding remote scars. They lay face down at times in abandoned crops, measuring tracks, listening for crowded spaces, recording the gossip of trees. They reminded me of Indian scouts from the movies, feeling for the signature of passing armies in the broken grass beneath their fingers. They were asking the dead for directions, the way somebody might search a cemetery, calling on long deceased relatives to whisper if they are close or not. Soon the world will discover another war crime and the skeletons of civilisation will once more bear witness to its own ****** As the Earth opens recent wounds I imagine the rough-sleepers as skeletons of society communicating with scouts, investigators leaning over precipices, contemplating what goes into the filling of a trench. Michael J. Whelan

0

Sep 14, 2018

Sep 14, 2018 at 5:23 AM UTC

michael-j-whelan

ASKING THE DEAD FOR DIRECTIONS

It’s 18 years later and I’m strolling down O’ Connell Street. I notice a rough-sleeper in a shop doorway. There is a queue for the bank machine contouring around his limbs as he lies face down on the hard ground talking loudly to himself. I remember how the investigators worked flat out in Kosovo, almost captive to the corners of fields and the cruelty of the events they sought to prove, the soil they touched became a membrane surrounding remote scars. They lay face down at times in abandoned crops, measuring tracks, listening for crowded spaces, recording the gossip of trees. They reminded me of Indian scouts from the movies, feeling for the signature of passing armies in the broken grass beneath their fingers. They were asking the dead for directions, the way somebody might search a cemetery, calling on long deceased relatives to whisper if they are close or not. Soon the world will discover another war crime and the skeletons of civilisation will once more bear witness to its own ****** As the Earth opens recent wounds I imagine the rough-sleepers as skeletons of society communicating with scouts, investigators leaning over precipices, contemplating what goes into the filling of a trench. Michael J. Whelan

24

http://tinyurl.com/ja52pq4 or some said: Lawrence of Arabia? yeah, sure, as long as Egypt remains Egyptology: and the Balkans or quasi-Slavs known as Serbs and pardoning Ottomans do one in on the Kosovo tribalism akin to: Albania here - yeah, i too was going to buy Allah-Las's third album, but then i thought about the Napster generation, then thought about Judas and then thought: well... you turn. *when Ramses destroyed Syria... you're?! you're a catastrophe!* second that.. never mind the **** or the caring ***** in uncle, great-grandchildren.... and that surrogate auntie named Alice. i gave my enemy a copy of *ecce **** - missing luck in terms of all those yesterdays - i never had the Golgotha crowd to create Evangelism or Islam which i count akin to Ma Ma Malachi's trip to Delhi he never had: stinking Calcutta: oh i don't mean the food, i mean the Swedes: who the **** puts iron into their curry?

0

Oct 9, 2016

Oct 9, 2016 at 12:24 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

as long as Egypt remains Egyptology

http://tinyurl.com/ja52pq4 or some said: Lawrence of Arabia? yeah, sure, as long as Egypt remains Egyptology: and the Balkans or quasi-Slavs known as Serbs and pardoning Ottomans do one in on the Kosovo tribalism akin to: Albania here - yeah, i too was going to buy Allah-Las's third album, but then i thought about the Napster generation, then thought about Judas and then thought: well... you turn. *when Ramses destroyed Syria... you're?! you're a catastrophe!* second that.. never mind the **** or the caring ***** in uncle, great-grandchildren.... and that surrogate auntie named Alice. i gave my enemy a copy of *ecce **** - missing luck in terms of all those yesterdays - i never had the Golgotha crowd to create Evangelism or Islam which i count akin to Ma Ma Malachi's trip to Delhi he never had: stinking Calcutta: oh i don't mean the food, i mean the Swedes: who the **** puts iron into their curry?

28

I School bag, blue shirt, hair parted on the right, Daal-rice, clock ticking away in delight; Cycles stop, wagons with seasonal crop, Get to her class before the gates shut tight. II The obsession froths beyond the eavesdrop, Secrecy brews a moral of Aesop; Friends don't yet know, the fear that the eyes show, Grows the need to shout it from the rooftop. III Geography is boring, the maps tow Useless details such as where's Kosovo; It's all pretense, the absorption intense, But her attention sets the world aglow. IV The wistful heart struggles to make some sense And accept pain at misery's expense; Then her comment, and the motives ferment, The surging tide sweeps over the heart's fence. V Evening is drunk with sunlight, the day's spent, Menthol erases the cigarette scent; She fades from sight, the mundanities write, A long ride back under the clouds' intent.

0

Dec 26, 2016

Dec 26, 2016 at 12:58 PM UTC

tamal-kundu

Infatuation

I School bag, blue shirt, hair parted on the right, Daal-rice, clock ticking away in delight; Cycles stop, wagons with seasonal crop, Get to her class before the gates shut tight. II The obsession froths beyond the eavesdrop, Secrecy brews a moral of Aesop; Friends don't yet know, the fear that the eyes show, Grows the need to shout it from the rooftop. III Geography is boring, the maps tow Useless details such as where's Kosovo; It's all pretense, the absorption intense, But her attention sets the world aglow. IV The wistful heart struggles to make some sense And accept pain at misery's expense; Then her comment, and the motives ferment, The surging tide sweeps over the heart's fence. V Evening is drunk with sunlight, the day's spent, Menthol erases the cigarette scent; She fades from sight, the mundanities write, A long ride back under the clouds' intent.

25

Kosovo Let it fall and rise Like Kosovo With respect and reverence Like Rome and the Byzantines Or Constantinople Give them liberty Impunity Immunity from the tyranny Of former countries Why must history Stubbornly refuse death

0

Sep 17, 2019

Sep 17, 2019 at 12:41 PM UTC

AspirationsAchieved2019

Kosovo

Kosovo Let it fall and rise Like Kosovo With respect and reverence Like Rome and the Byzantines Or Constantinople Give them liberty Impunity Immunity from the tyranny Of former countries Why must history Stubbornly refuse death

12