"nestor" poems
To know just where your're going
You must know where you've been
You must respect the history
The things others have seen
It's true in all things relative
Be it music, sports or life
If you don't know where you came from
You're just dancing on a knife
Gherig, Ruth and Robinson
May, and Mantle, Seaver too
Respect their contributions
And don't just say Ruth who?
Respect where things have come from
And the players of the past
Because you learn and make things better
It's what makes the **** game last
Jimmy Foxx, Bob Gibson, Kaline
Nestor Chylak and The Goose
They made baseball special
They gave the game a little juice
Orr, Richard and Gretzky
Gordie Howe and Howie Morenz
You have to know about them
You need the beginning to your ends
Bob Baun and Bill Barilko
Connie Smythe and yeah...the Chief
You have to know their history
They're what it is to be a Leaf
The game has changed immensely
Things can not go back in time
But to me...the old alumni
Made the game I know as mine
Respect the ones before you
The ones who laid the groundwork down
The ones who made it special
The non-pretenders to the crown
Elvis, Buddy, Harrison
Played the songs inside their heart
Lennon, Wilson and the rest
They all played a real big part
Every single generation
should learn from the one before
For if they don't know where they've come from
Then what has it all been for?
Nicklaus, Palmer, Bobby Jones
Sarazen and Hogan too
They pushed the gameright to it's limits
Now the pressure's upon you
The new breed are the teachers now
They're the ones to lead the way
When twenty or so years from now
You'll hear somebody say
"Respect who came before you
The ones who made us so **** proud
LIke Nash and , Perry and Taylor Hall
They played the game so loud
Pudge, Jeter, and Verlander
they brought it up a notch
They were there to stretch the limits
Not to just sit by and watch
Rory, Justin Rose and Mahan
Bubba, Dustin and the rest
They are the players of the future
They all respected the games best
So, to know where you are going
You must know where you have been
Respect, past through the future
And all that's happened in between.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
We pull
the Humboldt
out of the water.
Sometimes
they eat each other,
and we pull
up
shredded hooks
clotted
with white meat.
Sometimes
they
scramble
underneath the surface
and the film of water
separating us
from them
becomes pink and flashing.
We pulled up
a black
saucer
of an eye
one night.
It clung
to a hook
by
pink strings of optic muscle.
Our flashlights
put little continents of light all over its placid, black surface,
and I felt human sadness
some type of animal-human
empathy,
it ****** me up so much
that I threw the line overboard
again,
almost hitting Nestor in the face,
with an un-baited hook.
Our hauls
are getting smaller.
The carnivores
used to jump
into our boats,
slicking
the planks with an excretion
the consistency of placental fluid.
Now,
sometimes dusk burns
as
we yank
seaweed,
seagrass,
and
toilet seats
over the prow;
our bodies tenebrous;
straining with the line
like warriors
stabbing the sea.
Nov 26, 2011
Nov 26, 2011 at 9:15 PM UTC
Puffed his prayer filterless and snorted higher forces
bloodstream is filled with chemical collision courses,
tied to his past which was tied to a gun
el Cucuy smiled with ******* traced in his gums.
He talked to God while a devil manifested within'
tried to **** it with the poison he'd inject in his skin
his best friend a pipe, his wife’s a syringe
head back, eyes close, let the chemicals in
I once had a friend named Ashley,
Guys went into her life, she turned nasty
She dropped,
She cut,
She loved,
She fought,
and ended up with a baby girl named Nancy,
Nestor was always smarter, but he never looked up colleges
He had a ****** up life, and understanding of what knowledge is
Now he lives inside a cell,
which must be hell
Amigo, should of listen to that bell.
Angel was the champion when you gave him a soccer ball,
instead he got drugs in school, and never went to class at all.
Chantelle got ***** a lot, but no one ever seemed to care
She met the church, and made it seemed that God was there,
She was thankful that she found a reason to keep living
A year later killed herself,
I guess she was trying to meet him.
I fight against momentum, but the pendulum wins
Accept your faith, and destiny, your acceptable sins
Don’t ever believe that you're better than him,
The Devil has manifested from within
Those that don't believe the lies and realize that demons lie
Inside these so called angels are the one that angels demonize
But those that don't desalt the word and realize who jesus is and judas is
Are usually the people nailing someone to a crucifix
The root of ruthlessness with evils use of foolishness
Someone tell the doctor there’s a virus in the nucleus
The window to the broken soul resembles that of shattered glass
Some live by the ****** axe, some live by the lonely ranch,
They spent a lot of lives in opposition but their caskets match.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
I suppose I should say
It’s 5:30 on a summer day
The temperature is 82 but it still feels nice
When José Martí chose to return to Cuba did he know he would die?
Certainly not, but he knew that he might
It almost certainly crossed his mind
But still he returned to die on horseback forever immortalized in New York statues and mediocre poems
I feel I’m ok without that level of courage
I feel I’m ok with where I’m at right now as long as I’m aware that some day I’ll be moving forward
No sense in rushing in to free fall leaps of faith
They don’t often tell you this, but in order to be a martyr someone has to see your life as important
And don’t take that the wrong way
But I don’t see anyone raising any statues if I died
The students from May ‘68 look back upon the events, 50 years later, and claim they never expected it to become a revolution
And they were right, because it didn’t
Oh what fiery idealism drove them
“The Communist Party saw the Workers for who they were”
The interviewee states
“The students saw them as what they should be”
And in my eyes there lies the fatal trap
To hold any earthly thing as sacred is to build upon a foundation of ice
When things get hot ice tends to melt
When Nestor Makhno fled to Paris did he feel that he would ever return to Ukraine?
It had happened before in February 1917 when he was released from prison, but certainly he must of knew his anarchist revolution was over
I look at the pages of how the Makhnovists said this and Trotsky said this and I’m much too tired to take sides
Makhno, Trotsky, Lenin are all dead now and the wheels around us keep turning
There’s no use dwelling on the past when the future creeps up a second at a time
I could end here on an optimistic note
And say something about the strength of the human spirit or the power of us working together or something you have heard a million times before
So instead I’ll leave you with this
It’s 5:47 on a summer day
It’s 82 degrees, but it still feels nice
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 5:48 PM UTC