"manoeuvre" poems
every morning i walk my terrier
through a winding half-mile,
but i think he’s the one walking me:
he’s always in a sprightly haste.
i don’t know how many tail wags
i miss in between slow, drowsy blinks.
elsewhere, the earth is walking her moon,
both zipping around their own usual orbit.
in the city, the suited adults manoeuvre sidewalks,
dispensing brief greetings, sparse on chatter.
punctuality is a battle through suitcase-wielding phalanxes.
overlooking the bustling crossroads, a greyed man sits,
****** from cigar compounding existing inertia.
limbs in inactivity, mind far from monotony,
slowly drifting towards a familiar wraith
in a different hurry: the one for reunion.
i think about us and wish the same.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
Wake up
Got the shakes
Get some black mirror
Brush teeth
Get washed
Get some black mirror
Feed yourself
And the kids
Get some black mirror
Out the door
In the car
Get some black mirror
Seat belts on
Drive kids school
Get some black mirror
Signal
Manoeuvre
Crash
Blood spilt
Kids crying
Get some black mirror
Blue lights
Loud sirens
Get some black mirror
Hospital
Waiting room
Get some black mirror
Wife arrives
All in pieces
Share some black mirror
Police arrive
Handcuffs
No more black mirror
In a cell
Shaking
Need some black mirror
In the dock
Quaking
Because of black mirror
Everyone else
In the court
Getting some black mirror
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 7:35 AM UTC
I again got stuck in the bridge today
In the Upper Plateau bridge-
The bridge across the lagoon.
Stuck, with no breathing space to manoeuvre
All three lanes facing forward, chock a block
Cars of all sizes and costs strewn around
It's always like that, faced ahead on the wheel
Neither space to turn left to see anything right;
Nor to the right, for anything left...
When on the steering wheel
You are responsible, not just for your actions;
But the whole world around.
For the car in the front, back and the
Sides, who cannot move until you move.
Slowly you realise, 'it was never a
Bridge across for ever"
There has been this urge,
Many a time, to break out and run, though
You are stuck in the bridge, no room to
manoeuvre
Often it's like a circle eating itself;
Beginning losing the end and vice versa!
But then comes the thoughts of the school fees, the maintenance, the rent and the upkeep
You are stuck on the bridge, mate
Stay put, until the snarls open its own
--------////
All rights reserved (c) A K Kalesh Kumar 2016
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 7:41 PM UTC
I wish I was an aurora.
My performance will be a blissful rare site.
I'll dance from sky to sky unhindered at night.
My manoeuvre making spectators gasp.
Witnessing me sing will render luck bright.
I wish I was an aurora,
My lovers would camp despite freezing just to peek.
They'll try to touch me but fail.
They'll hold me dear only to lose me instantly.
I'll be their memory, remembered vividly.
I wish I was an aurora.
I'll be the goddess of dawn.
I'll be the chariot of light in darkness.
I'll harbour revolutions in lives.
I'll enlighten everyone as my own.
I wish I was an aurora.
I'll be valued and worshipped by some.
But I'm not an aurora,
I'll die insignificant and glum.
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 5:39 AM UTC
Killing me softly;
with
his heart;
Killing me softly;
from the start.
Nothing can trap me in the dark;
Though his wicked words pull me back in;
time an time again.
For he is the darkness;
And I forgiven him for all his sins,
Even though he breaks my aching heart;
From him time an time,
His rhyming notes manoeuvre me in;
With every single line.
He is forgiven;
For breaking my walls of steel,
Sometimes thinking about him;
makes my heart feel ill.
It doesn't matter that darkness captures the light.
lovesickness couldn't get any worse;
but It just might.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 4:33 AM UTC
Je tremble des lèvres et des cils
Tout en moi se raidit, je bande
Je suis possédé
C'est Ma Phénicienne qui est à la manoeuvre
C'est ma diablesse qui se manifeste
C'est Jézabel, muse fatale, qui est à l'oeuvre
C'est l'esprit de Jézabel qui m'infeste.
Telle Anat, la Cananéenne, la Sanguine,
Ma prêtresse de Baal, ma Sidonienne
Se farde les paupières d'antimoine
Et se coiffe langoureusement postée à la fenêtre.
Ses yeux de gazelle me dictent les mots
D'une rare luxure
Que je dépèce comme une meute de chiennes lubriques
Ses lèvres entrouvertes dégoulinent
De mots adultères
Et la débauche s'empare de mon trône.
Et le désir me piétine de ses chevaux emballés.
Mais **** de m'apeurer à l 'approche du combat qui s'annonce
Je m'agenouille et je vénère ma guerrière,
Ma prophétesse, mon YHWH
Ma souveraine et seule voix sur terre
Vierge de toute armure ou parure,
Jézabel, mère d'Athalie,
Jézabel dont je suis l 'homme de paille,
Le prostitué rituel,
Le moine poète
Qu'elle a défenestré !
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 2:07 AM UTC
If You LIKE Coc' ...
REMEMBER This Quote ... !!!
You May One Day ...
Just ... End Up Broke ... !!!
******* Gives Lows ...
As Well As ... " Highs " ...
And Has ... DESTROYED ...
Some Peoples' ... Lives ... !!!!!
That's ...
NOT A Joke ... !!!
So ... Trust Me Folks ...
If You LIKE ... Coc' ... ???
I'm ... NOT The Bloke ... !!!!!
To ... " Offer It To " ... !!!!!
I'm ... WARNING YOU ... !!!
Don't Make Me HAVE TO ... !!!
Give You ... " Clues " ...
Don't Make Me HAVE TO ...
BREAK ..... The News .....
Like ... " Coc' Misuse " ...
To ... Make You Cry ...
Into ... TISSUES ... !!!!!!!!
" Coc' Heads' " ....
As I've ... Said Before ...
Talk NONSENSE ... !!!
So I ... Ignore ....
The Words They Speak ...
So ...
What's The Score ... ?!?
Could This Be ... " Why " ...
The World's At War ... ?!?
Has George Done Coc' ... ???
Ask ... Michael Moore ...
I'm ... NOT Sure ... ???
But DO ... ABHOR ...
Those Who LIKE ...
Their ******* PURE ... !!!
Because Reality's Lost ...................................................
To Them ... Fa' SURE ... !!!!! ...
They Live In ...
... " Dreamworlds " ...
And ........... Ignore .....
Those Who SUFFER ...
And Are .... " POOR " ....
Until Their ... HIGH ...
Ain't There No More ... !!!
They Probably Snort Coc' ......
Yeah ... Off The Floor ...... !!!?!!!
They Use Their Nose ...
Like ... DYSON Hoovers ...
That's The Place ...
The ******* Goes ... !!!
PEOPLE ....
That's A ... BAD Manoeuvre ... !!!!!
These Are People ...
I ........................ AVOID ....... !!!
Because They Get ....
SO ... " PARANOID " ... !!!
of Men Like ... ME ...
BELIEVE ..... " BIG V " .....
Because I Talk ... REALITY ... !!!!!
Is That ... " You " ... ?!?
Or ... Are You Cool ... ???
With The Way ...
I Get .... INTO ....
Things Like ... THIS ...
Through Poetry Scripts ...
While Coc' Heads' Go ...
On ... " ******* Trips " ... !!!
Why Do People ...
Go To ... THIS ... ???
Just To Get ....
AWAY From ................ Things ... ?!?
Things That They ...
Should NOT ..... Dismiss ..... !!!!!
I've ... Sampled Yes ... !!!
But Now ... RESIST ... !!!!!!
And Use My Nose ...
To SNIFF ... Good Prose ... !!!
NOT To ... " Sniff " ...
Old Charly's .... Coc' .... !!!
And Mix With Folks ...
Who Are ... A JOKE ... !!! ...
I Don't NEED THAT ...
To ... Get A High ... !!!
When HIGHS Can Come ...
From ... NATURAL Sights ...
... " Countryside " ...
Or ... NATURAL Thighs ...
On A Girl Who ... Treats My Eyes ...
To ... Visions of ......
A ... LOVE FILLED Night ... !!!
WITHOUT ******* ... !!!
I DON'T ... Supply ... !!!!!!
Sorry Girls ... !!!
Are You ... SURPRISED ... !!?!!
Please ...
DON'T ASSUME ... !!!
I'm NOT ... THAT GUY ... !!!!!!!
Black Men Like Me ...
Are ..... " RARITIES " ..... !!!!!
That's Advice ...
I'll Give ... FOR FREE ... !!!
Unlike Guys ...
Who ... Like To Advise ...
Girls To Come ...
For ... "Coc' Filled Nights" ... !!!
Just To Get ...
BETWEEN Their Thighs ... !!!
Ladies ...
Here's Some ...
More ... " Advice " ...
A LOT of Them ...
OH YES ... Are White ... !!!!!
Are You ... " SURPRISED " ... ?!?
Come On Now Girls ...
...... PLEASE .......
DON'T You ... LIE ... !!!!!!
Some of ... YOU ...
Know of ... These Guys ... !!!
Words I Write ...
May Make Some ........................................................... "hide" .....
Could That Be ...
Because I'm ... RIGHT ... ?!?
Words Like THESE ...
May HURT My Life ... ?!?
Because ... ******* ...
Is Now ...... SO RIFE ...... !!!!!
Coc' Deals Make ...
Some Men USE KNIFE ... !!!
Come On People ...
Is This ... RIGHT ... ?!?
If ... " Your Child " ...
Ends Up ... INSIDE ...
... A COFFIN ... !!!
Over ... Debts That RISE ...
Because ... ******* " ...
Became ... Their Life ... !!!
That's NO WAY ...
For Kids To DIE ... !!!!!
But Happens Now ...
OH YES ... That's Right ... !!!
And Has Gone On ...
BEFORE ... My Time ...
Trust Me Folks ...
That Is .... NO LIE .... !!!!!
I Sometimes Recite ...
These Words I Write ...
Because of Things ...
" Within My Sight " ...
Things Like THIS ...
I DON'T Dismiss ...
Because ...
Life Is Something ...
I Would .... MISS .... !!!!!
If It Ended ....
Because of ... " Coc' " ...
And That's NO JOKE ... !!!!!
So ...
Hear This ... CLEAR ... !!!
I'm NOT A Bloke ...
Who'll ... Hear You Out ...
" If You ... Like Coc' "
Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 6:59 PM UTC
The shadows of time move over us
Like clouds rushing in to storm.
The water becomes irresolutely churned
Taking our souls with it
All the way out to sea,
Away from everything we can predict.
And while we are drifting, weathering the storm
The motion surges our intuitions
And we lose the premonitions of why we came here.
Through the eruption of thunder
Our voices are lost and we’re not listening.
In the snapping of lightening
We are blinded to the truth in each other.
So we rely on the unknown movements
As we try to manoeuvre the sails of our ship.
But there is no knowing if we can survive this.
It’s real but we thought it was a game.
And the heart beats in fear now
Rather than with the survival of adrenalin and exaltation.
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 6:42 AM UTC
There's a small vice on my heart
that you turned incrementally since the day we kissed
Always there was space to manoeuvre
wriggle
a gap to shift around in and say, 'That's better'
to comfortably fool myself that I was not caught.
But now, my dear....
Now the grip leaves me gasping
and that metal feels cold
and I cannot ignore it.
The trouble is
I kissed your elegant, beautiful face
and I guided your hand to that vice in my chest
and enveloped your fingers with mine
We turned those keys together.
I was so enamoured
and I wanted your love.
I told myself I could get out at any time.
Too late, my love
It was always too late
For we're kindred souls across lifestyles
and lifetimes
and my body knows yours like the taste of my tears.
I resign myself, then, to bleeding.
I resign thee to Fate and what she may decide
knowing only that never shall I be your jailor.
I refuse to allow
that wild tempest soul to be anything but free.
I am happy to be caught.
Though I writhe with this pain
and slumber eludes me in my misery.
For one thing I have realised
is the depth of my cowardice.
Although yours came out as tenored and trembling
you still had the bravery to speak the words emblazoned on your heart
the ones that threatened to fall from your lips
as my head lay perfectly in situ against your collarbone
and my heartbeat and breathing lined up with yours
in our quiet symbiosis at 3 a.m.
I danced around the words
flitted lightly, noncommittal
and said 'I think I'm falling in love with you',
which was a lie.
You are far braver than I
and to this day I've run
but you deserve far greater than that which I have meted out to you.
You deserve honesty.
You deserve the breadth and depth of what my heart aches to tell you
though I am frightened beyond words that the vice can go no tighter.
I love you.
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 9:30 AM UTC
i've a plundering urge
to whom it is absurd,
the black teeth
the blood scribes
the woe, the whither,
the word
i felt seen from afar
telescoped warmth cups my right shoulder
and i expand from shrivel in your forgiving light
are you my soilmate ?
for you i prepare scents beading from my most sweaty regions
a moist sporing emits in nifty allium spritzes
i stammer to a standing position
and exercise my full height
sporting,
i swing and tap an annihilated aluminum bat
sounding out my specific code of fidelations
resonation through the ground
and suddenly you are near
receiving the humming
up the souls of your doughy bare feet
you shiver
i prance wildly and perfect kilter in my hips
i offer to preen you
i present you with a pyramid of spittle balloons
i **** myself a little
i sink my teeth into your side (it's not 'your jam'
but we recover the mood)
i give chase to you for you to be chased
and it's a wild kind of keen fun
and you are a madcap display of laughter and wide smiles
and within i feel a gordian nest
of some lust manoeuvre
(maybe we can copulate face-to-face ?)
pondering scars wounds that were much deserved
the white meat the bright stars delivered
who is rude to the rule of what is ours ?
i knew you
magnesium burn and unwholesomely dauntless
bold your portfolio always within an easy reach
your passionate simmering might you branded my eye
and now we're similar mites in a feather
simian partners surveying territory needs
and then you’re gone again
vanished
and we are distant minds that strike the hour together
like before
between our signals I am met with cross chatter
my hemispheres bicker
and retorting memories barrage
refunding the past
and taking you away from me
i am a mating dunce once more
i shrivel
May 31, 2023
May 31, 2023 at 9:00 PM UTC
long stretches of disappointing time
have turned you blind
to your dreams
X
well, in this time i have grown my vision
now i play life’s game
with better timing and precision
O
blind as you are
you’ll trip on your past convictions
flat on your face, full of regret
X
i pray
i don’t become blind
the older i get
O
resume to live by my unwise heart
manoeuvre to where
my unsure mind sees best
O
and this is how i see i’ll win,
where you have lost,
in the cruel game of life
O
(3 O’s in a row. I win!)
or
is my youth
my fall
X
and i’m unawarely
walking down the same blinding path
as you
X
will i see
that i’m blind
life has got me outplayed and i lost?
X
Apr 13, 2022
Apr 13, 2022 at 4:51 PM UTC
Nothing for nothing unless you put something in and what you get out is nowt like what you put in.
Three blind mice
didn't get very far
the Farmers wife drove
a Mercedes Benz
had a 40 gauge with a
telescopic lens,
blind or not the trio
got shot,
three blind mice.
Not relevant?
but the elephant in the room needs
room to manoeuvre and
who's going to hoover up later?
Randomness, a pick of sorts all more some less or
like a drawn out game of chess,
the elephant still leaves a mess,
the castle takes the Queen.
A cat went carol singing on a cold December night
couldn't read the words to sing so
stood under the light,
three blind mice
see what you've become
the words in a song sung under a light on
a cold and dark December night
well
I never heard such a thing in my life,
three blind mice.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 7:53 AM UTC
And sitting with you
I get to relive exactly where I’ve been before.
Only days ago.
Come full circle.
My flip-book details the same seconds of
unrequited confusion and unwanted heart to neglect.
Life is made up of cycles.
All it is
are cycles breeding more cycles;
circles one can choose to stop circling
to replace it with another.
It is the mixture that we cycle through;
the number of repeats,
the speed with which we tumble, and roll,
and dive head-first into an oblivion with all the colours
of artworks and fireworks, vibrancy and vitality.
The people who make up small cycles, large cycles,
the in-between lonely transition between new circles and loops
to contemplate, fight, submit under gentle lulls and thrilling loops,
that we educate ourselves to thrive upon, those that
we unlearn because of disappointment.
Each cycle doesn’t make it the
love affair it once was.
The friendship it could have been.
The tempting mirage of escape we were to each other.
The fuel and coursing fire that once was our motivation.
It doesn’t get simpler to manoeuvre the longer you cycle,
with you, without you, around you, for you, because of you,
too scared to lose you…
it’s still the same sticky sharp bend in the pipeline
the same foreplay of games;
‘now, who loves you most?’;
fingered silences’;
your heated chase and me always one step behind;
I have to branch off the loop
to prevent myself falling over you in the dark;
toxicity bubbling under surfaces red, raw,
swollen and teary;
I know my triggers.
My shotgun is you.
I know I feel something- to not feeling anything at all.
I may only be able to walk in circles,
but at least I can make them the right circles to trace.
I need that physical space; that walk-through
corridor in my head.
And now I get to sit with you,
realising I’ve been here all before,
not quite so long before.
Only days ago.
Come full circle.
And I think it’s time for me,
to be over your cycle.
On to the new circular track.
And the later loops and whirls I get to
embrace
on my rounds.
Well and truly,
over you.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 6:30 AM UTC
The time haply hath come for her to burn
Off the chaff, as the Arab Spring, in turn:
Plenty here are already living in earthly hell
Whose souls in lack and want daily dwell--
Sans meals, sans clothing, without electricity,
Without job, without warmth, and sans salary--
Who from heaven's providence good do fend,
Whose expectations and fulfillments on it too depend;
Yet this present president against the citizenry
Welfare hath gone ahead still the oil subsidy
Sensitive to remove, doubling and trebling forthwith
The price of things to a cut-throat level; he wit-
Less, meseems, is our economy dire to manipulate
Sensibly and cannot such consequence great calculate
Hence adding to our festering injury salt of hardship,
Who was voted into office to manoeuvre this ship
Out of doldrums, for whose victory lives perished
As their faithful flames into eternity vanished
During the ugly mayhem that did ensue after the
Presidential election of last Spring,
dying untimely.
This, sailor sterile, is our reward from thee, methink,
By making this giant vessel of Nigeria to deeper sink!
Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 3:46 AM UTC
Under your skin, I will rest, elevated
on ribbed, rigid cages of ribs containing
that one muscle confounding all;
here I will perch and observe
such a beautiful rhythm, concept of
constant contractions as my fingers will to
wrap around the chaos of capillaries, each
vacuous vein and every attesting artery
screaming as I squeeze, nails painted
ebony as rivulets exercise against my sins.
Your body is my rapture, yes every manoeuvre
fascinates these prying eyes, I will prise apart
the seams of your internal markers and search
secrets stashed in genetic poetry, discover
paltry physical proofs, truths of what went so
badly wrong that your mind drowned so readily
that you chose to diminish, turned off all navigation
headed steadfast, sure and glorious towards rocks
everybody warned you about; I must vivisect
this paradox, venture deep within the places you
refuse to look; inside your claustrophobic body
covert are the ***** secrets of sea sickness, of why
you chose to sink in love with me.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC
A Poem on Zugzwang :
Before your life ends up in Zugzwang
Learn to pin, Devoid of sins!
Skewer your thoughts,
Hope against odds.
Manoeuvre your troops and forces
Plant outposts and seal victories
Remember-
Numbered are your moments,
To post your deserving achievements!
Plan, Work Sail and Prevail
This is the way you must trail.
Chess is timing, so Is Life!
Move with a purpose, Have High aims!
Face the gale when
Defence is the demand
Hold on! Take charge and command.
Do the best and Leave the Rest
To God!
And he will save your position from the Critical Zugzwang!
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 7:38 AM UTC
Finally the rocks have stopped falling
I can manoeuvre around the rubble
A sweet scent of serenity with no sign of trouble
The battle has run its corse
The soldiers have returned home
Peace is on its way
My Love has been sown
The crushing storm has ended
The deep rivers run
A blissful state of rest
A joyful game of fun.
The pain has stopped aching
The hate has stopped hating
I can just be myself
Without all the faking.
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 4:18 PM UTC
A cloud of black on a landscape
Of purity, raindrops of red
Falling staining the floor below.
They move collectively , but the
Seniority is but one. They sense
The shifting of light to dark as
The moon bathes upon their
Dark silhouette.
Singing upon the wind, to the
Sky, they call to their pack, as
The hunt begins, they guide,
Manoeuvre their intended
To that point of no return.
The white shaded with moments
That pass, the quarry is at that
Moment, where life becomes
Death, when last glimpses
Of white teeth tearing upon
Its delicate flesh.
A moment and then it's over
They howl upon the wind,
Hunger still cradles their
Insides. Baffled, puzzled, as
To what was done. It released
Itself to the wind, fell to the teeth
Of the cliff and then was gone.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
A thousand ships sail towards sun
each one carrying the hope of life
each searching for the island of life
sails set high, urgency in air
cover the maximum ground
or drown in the star dust
burnt by sun, skin peeling off
they still manoeuvre the vessel
charting set co-ordinates
under the shade of stars
the last of the scions
the last of the czars
the last of humanity
all bundled up inside
scrouging over morsels
already inhuman
they are the lost hope
oblivious of the fire
concerned about nothing
they fight the trivialities
No redemption sought
yet the men at top
toil so hard
to set the right course
time will make them see perhaps
the cause that was already lost
May 31, 2010
May 31, 2010 at 3:53 AM UTC
I don't know how much longer I can hold on.
Hold on to feeling worthless -
hold on to an emptiness.
That is what life is for me;
Empty worthlessness.
It gets better, they say,
those who found meaning.
It gets worse, I say in return.
It gets worse living in my skin.
It gets worse with each waking day.
There is an unwanted tenant living in my mind -
one that keeps drowning me with the air I breathe.
The pain worsens with each fighting manoeuvre.
It feels like my body is rejecting me -
rejecting my mind.
I don't blame it, even I have had enough.
It's difficult to accept being like this -
I try to fight it,
but the joy of living has been ****** out of me.
This emptiness leaves me wondering -
wondering,
how much more of this pain I can take.
Aug 5, 2017
Aug 5, 2017 at 8:43 PM UTC
I was taught,
To hold my head high,
And laugh when people tried to pull it down,
You put a sword in my hands,
A helmet on my head,
And sent me to slay the dragons knowing that I could,
But even when I came back with my hair all singed,
I came home to a hug,
Because with a teacher like you,
I understood I could be the princess,
And the hero,
I could manoeuvre an axe made of steel,
At the same time as manoeuvring six inch heels,
You sort of wish my art wasn’t always covered in blood,
But I’ll still produce it because you taught me weird is good,
And that it’s okay to be different,
Although you still rescued me,
From several fashion faux pas,
Because I liked to make people laugh,
But we both know the difference between ‘with’ and ‘at’,
You didn’t want me to get hurt,
Tried to stop the inevitable,
But when I did get hit, and I did,
We could pin-point each pin and pull it out,
With ease,
Because they don’t travel far through thick skin,
I got that from you,
I got everything from you,
You taught me to throw rocks at boys,
Because at the end of the day I’d throw rocks at all of them,
There’d just be some that would tolerate it more than others,
Maybe even like it,
After all, you threw rocks at Dad and he married you,
I’ve asked you countless times to get off my back,
Only to discover sometimes you were the only one who had it,
You’re my anchor,
You’re my rock,
The net that constantly catches the,
Whiny,
Moody,
Temperamental trapeze artist,
Who keeps jumping after eighteen years,
Knowing that you’ll stop her from falling on her ****
When she misses the bar,
There’s so much more I could say,
About things that aren't poetic,
All the hard times and the ugly times and the sad times,
You stopped me from falling off the edge of the world,
By nodding your head,
And understanding,
You’re more than Superman,
Batman,
Wonder woman,
Anyone,
You’re my hero,
Forever and always,
Mum.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
So sad the cemetary stood,
Rows of identical crosses
Commemorating wasted lives
And pointless sacrifice for glory.
One rainlashed day I was there with a fat little **** I knew
To inspect her great-grandfather's grave;
A hero who had repeatedly groped his own daughter
Shortly before meeting death in Paschendael's slaughter.
My friend elegantly squatted, hovering o'er the grave
And performed a perfect Valsalva manoeuvre,
Depositing a well-aimed sausage thereupon.
"That's for you, you grandmotherfucker"
She gaily murmured sotto voce.
But tragedy struck: a defecation syncope
Caused her collapse, skull smashed on the gravestone;
*"I'm in the **** was her final tragic moan.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
Fall into an enormous jeopardy catastrophe hole,
seeking for a sacred love and some hopes,
its just too adamant to appease all,
the burdens but i’ll never fall,
as long as the faith saves me,
i’m giving my all.
Watching the ghastly sky in sight,
and the waves of the clouds seem fading,
the cloud manoeuvres gracefully as the wind blows,
and the thoughts of you emblaze my mind,
relinquish me idle helpless,
those ghastly cloud forever in sorrow.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC