"matka" poems - Hello Poetry

.#metoboot. X O X O X O X X O who the **** was i supposed to be calling? #: but there's no phone-number and there's no telephone... let me just call up a trend... a meme... funny funny... not so funny... it's still amazing how existence drags essence along with itself... and that essence is neither a priori, nor a posteriori, to compensate existence, being neither of the two. since why should existence be a priori to essence, or why essence should be a posteriori to existence... oh... wait... why essence should be a posteriori to existence? that part... so why does the notion of knowledge exist, or the fact that some 100 year old old **** gives life advice about how he has a 20 year old lover, and he shoots a down trip of ***** of 1cl each day? it's still a drag experience, no, not Brighton drag queens... existence drags essence into its ontological conclusion... mors mater... muttertod... matka śmierć... mother death; and? last time i heard? she's the ultimus virgo, she's the (do you couple adverbs with verbs, or verbs with nouns in german? can you couple adverbs with verbs? ah... ad- Latin prefix: toward... sure... an adverb + a verb sounds better than an adverb + noun) hence? letzemaljungfrau, ostatnia niewiasta, the last (or the lasting) ****** she can't exactly fake ******* over someone to a dead pulp of prior to tadpole whipped / egg white cream. *

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Nov 2, 2018

Nov 2, 2018 at 12:27 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

telephone call: matka śmierć

.#metoboot. X O X O X O X X O who the **** was i supposed to be calling? #: but there's no phone-number and there's no telephone... let me just call up a trend... a meme... funny funny... not so funny... it's still amazing how existence drags essence along with itself... and that essence is neither a priori, nor a posteriori, to compensate existence, being neither of the two. since why should existence be a priori to essence, or why essence should be a posteriori to existence... oh... wait... why essence should be a posteriori to existence? that part... so why does the notion of knowledge exist, or the fact that some 100 year old old **** gives life advice about how he has a 20 year old lover, and he shoots a down trip of ***** of 1cl each day? it's still a drag experience, no, not Brighton drag queens... existence drags essence into its ontological conclusion... mors mater... muttertod... matka śmierć... mother death; and? last time i heard? she's the ultimus virgo, she's the (do you couple adverbs with verbs, or verbs with nouns in german? can you couple adverbs with verbs? ah... ad- Latin prefix: toward... sure... an adverb + a verb sounds better than an adverb + noun) hence? letzemaljungfrau, ostatnia niewiasta, the last (or the lasting) ****** she can't exactly fake ******* over someone to a dead pulp of prior to tadpole whipped / egg white cream. *

73

I was always weirdly rebellious as a child. As a teen I never pierced my tongue, Snuck boys over the house, Or stole candy bars from the convenience store. Not me, when I was little I would refuse to take my naps. I'd fake sleeping and then sit there and hum to myself, Waiting for my matka to come back and check on me. I cut my own bangs, Even when I was five. Even when I was five the day before school pictures. Matka wasn't pleased. I didn't want to learn the Polish I was being taught. I wanted to be different. I didn't want chocolate milk like everyone else. I wanted plain milk, Not sweet milk. Everyone liked sweets. I didn't like the sun, Because everyone liked the sun. I liked the rain. I wanted to be different. My favorite word was podnóżek. Do not be fooled, It is nothing pretty. It means footrest. I liked it because it was different. I wanted to be a rebel. The coolest rebel of all. One who fakes her naps, cuts her hair, drinks plain milk, and enjoys the word footrest. The coolest rebel of all.

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Jun 5, 2013

Jun 5, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC

itsfinemom

The Coolest Rebel of All

I was always weirdly rebellious as a child. As a teen I never pierced my tongue, Snuck boys over the house, Or stole candy bars from the convenience store. Not me, when I was little I would refuse to take my naps. I'd fake sleeping and then sit there and hum to myself, Waiting for my matka to come back and check on me. I cut my own bangs, Even when I was five. Even when I was five the day before school pictures. Matka wasn't pleased. I didn't want to learn the Polish I was being taught. I wanted to be different. I didn't want chocolate milk like everyone else. I wanted plain milk, Not sweet milk. Everyone liked sweets. I didn't like the sun, Because everyone liked the sun. I liked the rain. I wanted to be different. My favorite word was podnóżek. Do not be fooled, It is nothing pretty. It means footrest. I liked it because it was different. I wanted to be a rebel. The coolest rebel of all. One who fakes her naps, cuts her hair, drinks plain milk, and enjoys the word footrest. The coolest rebel of all.

31

Memories of this lady never leave my mind. she wasn't a rider, but acted better than one, riding high above many hurdles in life...fear never took her away from her responsibilities... when the fuse in the main switch gave way, and dimmed the old house, this lady braved the dark...armed with a flashlight and pliers, she replaced the burnt fuse with a new one and brought light back.....each time the old-fashioned flat iron overheated, she easily replaced the glass-like insulator inside, so it could right away be used again... whatever needed repair---garment, tools, the fence, the house...ripped, or with holes, she mended and patched...even blind-hemmed a torn relationship once...yes, she mended cracks...was always in the midst of broken vases, gluing pieces back together, so she may put water and lovely flowers in it... nothing was impossible for this gentle lady... she moved mountains for her loved ones, always persevering and ingenious, life became less difficult...she painted their young minds with a mix of hues, so they may appreciate and be grateful for rainbows and yellow sunrises, learn to accept black, gray, unhappy moments, and be thrilled by fiery orange sunsets.... this lady is indispensable...and irreplaceable, SHE, and others like her, are called mama, muter, mom, mum, majka, inay/nanay, mae, matka, madre, mom....ahh, the list is long... Sally Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan May, 8, 2020

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May 7, 2020

May 7, 2020 at 8:29 PM UTC

sally-a-bayan

SHE

Memories of this lady never leave my mind. she wasn't a rider, but acted better than one, riding high above many hurdles in life...fear never took her away from her responsibilities... when the fuse in the main switch gave way, and dimmed the old house, this lady braved the dark...armed with a flashlight and pliers, she replaced the burnt fuse with a new one and brought light back.....each time the old-fashioned flat iron overheated, she easily replaced the glass-like insulator inside, so it could right away be used again... whatever needed repair---garment, tools, the fence, the house...ripped, or with holes, she mended and patched...even blind-hemmed a torn relationship once...yes, she mended cracks...was always in the midst of broken vases, gluing pieces back together, so she may put water and lovely flowers in it... nothing was impossible for this gentle lady... she moved mountains for her loved ones, always persevering and ingenious, life became less difficult...she painted their young minds with a mix of hues, so they may appreciate and be grateful for rainbows and yellow sunrises, learn to accept black, gray, unhappy moments, and be thrilled by fiery orange sunsets.... this lady is indispensable...and irreplaceable, SHE, and others like her, are called mama, muter, mom, mum, majka, inay/nanay, mae, matka, madre, mom....ahh, the list is long... Sally Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan May, 8, 2020

35

Make no mistake; My mother wanted to raise a wolf. And just as the bone-white moon rises, into the possessive arms of night; I was pulled from between her legs, and into her screaming embrace. First thing she taught me was to bare my teeth; I rose to womanhood howling.

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Jan 27, 2019

Jan 27, 2019 at 3:21 AM UTC

CrimsonRiot

Matka

Make no mistake; My mother wanted to raise a wolf. And just as the bone-white moon rises, into the possessive arms of night; I was pulled from between her legs, and into her screaming embrace. First thing she taught me was to bare my teeth; I rose to womanhood howling.

8