"raton" poems
Jab se tujhe dekha hain maine,
Teri hi khayalo me kho gya hoon,
Raton ki nind uda *** hain tere bina,
Main ab deewana sa ** gya hoon ......
Teri aankhon me ek nasha hain,
Teri har ek ada par
mera dil fida hain,
tere bina main
ek kora kagaj sa ** gya hoon,
main ab deewana sa ** gya hoon.....
tere chehre ki ye muskurahat
meri zindagi hain,
ab tujhse hi meri sari dilagi hain,
Har bar najane kyon teri or
khicha chala ja raha hoon,
main ab deewane sa ** gya hoon.....
Tujhe manga hain maine apne rab se,
dekha hain tujhe maine jab se,
ekpal tere bina ek saal samajh raha hoon,
main ab deewana sa ** gya hoon,
Main ab deewana sa ** gya hoon....
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 4:05 AM UTC
I'm a soldier de las calles
To the fake & ********
I still say chalez
Nike cortez, mortal cortex
Psychological vortex
Ya tu sabes, keep it real
Lento pero fuerte
Se los presento
A cualquiera me le enfrento
Sabes donde me encuentro
Spare no time con chavalas
Fiel en las buenas y malas
Hit you with plomo y balas
Soy cabron pinchi mamon
Te derito como el jabon
Te mato junto al raton
Cara a cara no por el espalda
Maricon bestido de falda
Te pintas solo con maquillaje
Te llevo aun valle
Crusando por la calle
Al fin que nadie te alle
Alratoz, el kompa conejito
Abuelito al pepito derito
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 11:37 PM UTC
Fable V, Livre I.
Pataud jouait avec Raton,
Mais sans gronder, sans mordre ; en camarade, en frère.
Les chiens sont bonnes gens ; mais les chats, nous dit-on ?
Sont justement tout le contraire.
Aussi, bien qu'il jurât toujours
Avoir fait pate de velours,
Raton, et ce n'est pas une histoire apocryphe,
Dans la peau d'un ami, comme fait maint plaisant,
Enfonçait, tout en s'amusant,
Tantôt la dent, tantôt la griffe.
Pareil jeu dut cesser bientôt.
- Eh quoi, Pataud, tu fais la mine !
Ne sais-tu pas qu'il est d'un sot
De se fâcher quand on badine ?
Ne suis-je pas ton bon ami ?
- Prends un nom qui convienne à ton humeur maligne ;
Raton, ne sois rien à demi :
J'aime mieux un franc ennemi,
Qu'un bon ami qui m'égratigne.
934
Todo el cielo en los ojos de un ratón
una piedra de tu a tu con esta rama
el mar al fondo devora insaciable eternidad
a mis pies, música de matar la tarde
alguien cultiva silencio a manos llenas
nada parece estar de paso incluso tú
llenando de adioses el camino de vuelta.
de Karlotti
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
I gone fishin', ma Cheri
I built us a house on Blues Bayou
And set it on batons
To keep out the water
And Mister Raton
But the bayou gets bluer
As new days come to view, Cher
It was me, you once adored,
Hugged and cherished
Me, you've lately ignored
I thought real hard 'bout it
Decided it weren't worth it
To go huntin' for squirrel
So today I just go fishin'
See a vision of my next expedition
Ignorin' the light is impossible
Forever; you're bound to notice
Especially when it's not there
Even a flickerin' candle furnish
Enough light to see, I no longer care
So I step out the back door
Feel the rush of my fall
Into Blues Bayou for a quick swim
I'll dry out soon in my boat,
Find Mister Raton and trick him
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 12:56 AM UTC
Ive got boxes full of memories
Next to the mattress on the floor
My hat still hangs in the same place that
It always hung before
Nothings really changed much
Except now I wash my own clothes
And the hole I try to fill seems to get harder as it goes
Sometimes I miss her
Sometimes shes all that I can see
Theres times I think that life is set to make a fool right out of me
But sometimes I smile
When I think of a memory
Because shell always be texas to me
Theres not a highway I don’t see her
Houston on up to raton
The thoughts they fade into the cracks that have opened in these bones
Sometimes I find a bottle and crawl way down inside
Sometimes I sit and feel the pain to remember I'm alive.
© CJM 2014
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 4:48 PM UTC
You want the high lonesome brought down to earth –
the value of gold – devoid of its worth.
Like herbless reggae – or atheist Bach
like love without romance and time with no clock –
it’s smokeless jazz without the snap
buried treasure without any map.
It’s Andean flutes without the coca
Moon with no shine – un Raton sin Boca
You can’t have your culture without the Gospel
like rain without water, it’s simply impossible.
You can’t keep the tree without having roots
or gather a harvest without the fruits.
So get the hell gone with your atheist bluegrass
lest someone imply you’re an unsaved *******
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 11:48 AM UTC
Learning difference
weighing sameness
to within the spectrum of gravity
on earth.
Balance in valence, whence
---if that is not meaningless,
maybe
colored wombed men, mit henna hair,
come well
within the confines of my fire's light,
bearing news of even'ts and odds and ends,
since we begin
new, night downloads activate
new mercy.
hmmm, not waht I expected.
new mercy, I get it.
My last raton of mercy was exhausted putting me
to sleep. So
whole new mercy, everundamnday!
And, I remember everything. This book,
these lines,
your minds and my roles, oh my,
I owe some sanity to the guy who built etymonline.com,,,
what a treasure that unwombed man has
given AI and I to build
nexts with.
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 6:39 PM UTC
Friday Afternoon, it’s time to blow
load it all up and away we go
kids in the back with a bag of snacks
gone for the weekend, but we'll be right back
Dog in her lap and the wife riding shotgun
driving down the highway out running everyone
bare feet on the dash and the radio playing
country music, hip hop, and rock, and were singing
We know every lyric of every song
when we sing the ride, don't take as long
but whining and asking makes the truck slow down
we will gas, eat and *** in the next town
All of a sudden, I'm the only one awake
driving down the highway not taking a break
we'll get there sometime, 6-10 hours
the miles on and on the truck devours
Whether it’s to Raton, the Deer lease or Home
awhile it takes, bugs dying on chrome
of the bumper or the windshield,
seeing deer and turkey in the field
Next to the road, as we go by
or looking at stars in the night sky
sometimes its clouds that pass the time
depending on season or current clime
I've seen a rat, and once Alfred Hitchcock's profile,
never know what the clouds will make in the next mile
sitting and Riding and Riding and Sitting
getting kind of tired but I’m not giving
Up the wheel, even though I'm tired
mile upon mile tired but wired
if I'm in a car, I'd just as soon be steering
needing some tea, Gas station is brewing
It’s getting late, we're almost there
tomorrow morning, waking up without a care
got all Saturday to do why we came
hunting, fishing, or visiting, get it done just the same
Had a lot of fun, but like journeymen
Sunday morning do it all again
Back to work Monday
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 10:08 PM UTC