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"mistranslated" poems
those killers of innocents will die in their own blood not even mistranslated 72 houris can save them    the misguided fanatics of Paris    who shot happy civilians    with their Kalashnikovs    and then blew themselves up    will have discovered that    by now to throw terror and death into people’s daily lives is an abominable crime not a heroic deed those who instigated the massacre shall be punished accordingly fake heroes revealed as ruthless criminals shall face judgement in whose light their great deeds are shown as what they are ****** ****** yet – far beyond the proper punishment     required after cruel acts there is the need to look ahead and face the somewhat inconvenient necessity to     remove the roots of violence veiled as religion     speak up and stand up firm against fanaticized minorities         no matter in whose name the claim to act       bring peace to regions devastated by the dire games of politics we simply cannot allow a bunch of ruthless desperados to dominate our lives             * * *
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Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
Paris massacre (reposted on the occasion of its 1st anniversary)
She is her own island A porcelain memory with tendrils twisting through the brutally polite obsession of her few inhabitants She fancies herself abandoned-laughable! Doomed daffodils embroider themselves into her hair and frame her cold hands, pale arms (mortared, mistranslated) scars fingernails like moons slaughter foreigners and petrify the flea ridden.
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Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 4:11 PM UTC
My Piano Lit Apolgies
They said it couldn't last between two so similar. The way we both dream in space before crashing back on earth. We both like the same things- music, books, we even both want a dragon. We both hide our secrets behind a personality wall. They said it couldn't last between two so different. How I love sports- to be free, running, in the air. How you can show emotion with shapes on a page. Your attitude shields you- my knowledge protects me. They said it couldn't last between the two of us. In this 'accepting' society we would get hell. Where a mistranslated book led to years of suffering. Neither would want to see the other destroyed. They said it couldn't last between two so fragile. When I told you I loved you, and you said you loved me too. As we sat there you cried, and I shook with fear. But that day will pass and we can move on I hope. They said it couldn't last between the two of us. But how can it when it never began?
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 6:03 PM UTC
Last
I came back you wouldn't believe me Receive me as gods messenger I saw crucifixes You left me there on that cross Not listening to a word I said Left me for dead Like the wisdom of ages Shut in a books musty old pages. You thought I said the kingdom of heaven was within you It was mistranslated you are the kingdom and this could have been heaven If you'd worked together But instead you sever the ties and die reincarnated as yourself In a different body. To all who have ears and a mind which isn't blind We are the rainbow and white light All colours every shade arrayed in splendour a flame is still a flame away from the fire It still burns and the light yearns to burn in burning desire We all burn for love.
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Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 6:30 AM UTC
Jesus says
"Want/need/feel/blah" But our bodies makes noises when we are not around Are mistranslated        misunderstood        misused        mistreated Crack of the arctic knuckles crack -The whip on the horse to make it go faster -The egg on the bowl to keep your hands clean -The dawn that splices through skinny windows crack Blue I have noticed our Shadows How they snap on the sidewalk Like high-heeled claps and click Went my back when I stretched And I remember when this first started And I asked if I could lean on your shoulder sweet spot And I did for a while And resting next to your throat was noisy And we don't do that anymore And I don't do that anymore And There you go, that familiar sound (that same old sigh, that ticklish taunt, that numb noise - croaky crack) You would think "Anymore" Is a blah word Because that is what my feet said Blue You are not around anymore Our bodies aren't on speaking terms.
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May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 1:45 AM UTC
Just Noise
This silly shrill putting Clothes on hangers in my Head Judging me, myself by Conceptions I should have long Since shot dead Either way the formalities Leave you wasting time on Trivialities And my needs I cannot touch I cannot grasp what sustains me much It's like living up to someone's Voice and the Echoes linger still That get mistranslated as the Noise reverberates from the Wall's of a well. Such sounds I hear And all this hot air I'm just going to leave them there To burn the floor down.
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Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 4:56 AM UTC
To Write Freehand
you left and i waited my heart defibrillated i took you back my vision constricted i forgot your lies **** my demise i just didnt want to be disintegrated so i waited for you to change and the past be negated it felt like new you felt like home your words i mistranslated you took my heart and left it obliterated i took you back loved you right still all that love unrequited but now i’m reincarnated no longer the assassinated you left me demotivated but boy am I liberated i loved you with all that i had a love i never got back you can have it please keep it i dont need it i’ll just keep you blacklisted
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Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 10:22 AM UTC
Dearly Departed
Dabbling in to faith such a serious note, Corrupt is on the throne considered the God, Blindfolded our eyes, all the words mistranslated and misconstrued, I don't wish to speak about this heavy subject. It weighs heavily on my soul, are they true or hollow? should I listen, learn to who do I follow? Cannot trust my brother in this century, Then are those people even holy, undue glory? Sudden storm in my mind pressure very unkind People are on divide Just blow on the horns Whispers of taint Rumour mills manufactured urgency ungraded, my faith repents the spirit latent.
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Feb 10, 2024
Feb 10, 2024 at 5:43 AM UTC
Faithfully yours
Either I have wasted my breath And spent my air on useless ramblings, Leaving meaning like a cloud to float away With intended ears bare to my point. Or my mouth has not parted nearly enough To exhale with any worthwhile purpose, Trapping my objective still in my lungs Swelling like an over-inflated balloon Ready to burst at the slightest poke. My chosen phrasing has been inadequate Or my audience has decided to stay ignorant, Rejecting my analysis in favor of blissful unawareness So they may continue their rejection of truth And keep pace against self-knowledge. I have tried to change the story Be revealing the subtext. I have unfolded a canvas of consciousness To one who revels in negligence, Finding that my efforts are all but transformative. Now wondering if I have mistranslated Or muddied the blend. I have framed this endeavor as an act of service To one who denies my care. “It is for his own good” I tell myself, As I venture to illuminate the truth of the character I have come to know through lashings and tears. Now it is clear that the reflection I have conjured, The mirror that I have painstakingly crafted Has no form to display. I have written it down, painted it out But your attention will not sway From the mangled path that you have cut every which way but home. Some urge continues, Telling me to find another way to make you listen, To make you care, To make you take heed of what I have to say. Despite your deafness to my voice, which has been demonstrated again and again. While my instruction has not enlightened you, It has taught me to know you better than you do. I have sifted through your archives to find the nuance of your avoidance And detail it with citation and reference. The theories I have conjured And observations I have made Serve me better than they do you. They have discerned the route that I must take Away from you and your refusal to acknowledge the roots of suffering You cause to those who only wish to be close to you. So I will venture to stray From the course which would be easy to take, Toward deeper understanding of self And conscious correction of fault. To one who has taken stock of the harm they have caused And allowed selfless change to wash away The habits that hurt. It is true That one can only understand another As deeply as they have understood themselves, And your defiance of perception Will keep you from knowing anyone And anyone from knowing you.
0
Mar 11, 2024
Mar 11, 2024 at 6:34 PM UTC
The deaf and the dumb
Either I have wasted my breath And spent my air on useless ramblings, Leaving meaning like a cloud to float away With intended ears bare to my point. Or my mouth has not parted nearly enough To exhale with any worthwhile purpose, Trapping my objective still in my lungs Swelling like an over-inflated balloon Ready to burst at the slightest poke. My chosen phrasing has been inadequate Or my audience has decided to stay ignorant, Rejecting my analysis in favor of blissful unawareness So they may continue their rejection of truth And keep pace against self-knowledge. I have tried to change the story Be revealing the subtext. I have unfolded a canvas of consciousness To one who revels in negligence, Finding that my efforts are all but transformative. Now wondering if I have mistranslated Or muddied the blend. I have framed this endeavor as an act of service To one who denies my care. “It is for his own good” I tell myself, As I venture to illuminate the truth of the character I have come to know through lashings and tears. Now it is clear that the reflection I have conjured, The mirror that I have painstakingly crafted Has no form to display. I have written it down, painted it out But your attention will not sway From the mangled path that you have cut every which way but home. Some urge continues, Telling me to find another way to make you listen, To make you care, To make you take heed of what I have to say. Despite your deafness to my voice, which has been demonstrated again and again. While my instruction has not enlightened you, It has taught me to know you better than you do. I have sifted through your archives to find the nuance of your avoidance And detail it with citation and reference. The theories I have conjured And observations I have made Serve me better than they do you. They have discerned the route that I must take Away from you and your refusal to acknowledge the roots of suffering You cause to those who only wish to be close to you. So I will venture to stray From the course which would be easy to take, Toward deeper understanding of self And conscious correction of fault. To one who has taken stock of the harm they have caused And allowed selfless change to wash away The habits that hurt. It is true That one can only understand another As deeply as they have understood themselves, And your defiance of perception Will keep you from knowing anyone And anyone from knowing you.
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