"sto" poems
Thank you Eric for being my friend. YOu
Have taught me how it feels to be Have Real Love,
how it feels to have someone there for you
when you need them the most !you're taught me to love Jesus you taught me that people are all different and unique in their own ways and it's okay to love them just the way they are
with no judgement.
you've also taught me that being in love means you have to think about the other person before you think about yourself! *for example you think about the things that you're lover wants and you get them those things. for you thinking about what they want
Makes you happy
you tell me that people struggle but having people that trust you is very important because without having trust without having the ability to believe in someone fully you are nothing you're not worth anything and you are worthless as a person
you have to actually give your word and have it mean something in order for you to completely give yourself to the other person I trust you with my life you are my best friend you never give up on me
.
you never stay mad at me.
I know it's because you have Jesus! you are the reason I have more faith! The reason I seek the Lord if it wasn't for you I probably would be dead!!! I have heard so many things about people saying that you are crazy maniac and that you would **** me in a heartbeat
You might hurt me
but you have never done that besides the words verbal abase.
But that's yours only defense
Against
Me because that's your only way of hurting me and you know that it does that exactly you. But most the time I do deserve it Cuz im not the easiest person sometimes im stubborn and selfish and rude and ****** And you put up with until you can't anymore then You (Man handle the situation and put me in my place ("slap in the face") ** IM IN A REALITY CHECK .
I say sorry
Eric the amazing
Your so extremely
amazing, caring, selfless, worthy
You are a Angel that is Heaven sent a gift from God
you are a perfect example of what God meant when he said he would find me someone that would teach me how to be a better person. if I wanted to be that better person grab hold and stop messing around
Sto running.
I want to be a better person
you make me a better person!
I honestly am glad to call you my friend, my best friend, my lover, the love of my life and my guardian angel you might not ever read this but least I got it out in the open no lies just me telling it like it is!
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 4:22 PM UTC
Viva Sto. Nino!
Come let us celebrate
The boy Jesus
Our King, our Savior!
Colorful banderitas drape
This town street.
Here comes the
Pagan parade
Going to the church,
Lead by gay majorettes
Flaunting their legs while
Blowing kisses to the priests.
There is a river
Of people each holding
A portrayal of the living God,
A glossy Sto. Nino statue
Dressed in peasant clothes,
A chef's uniform,
A crisp black suit,
A traditional Chinese costume,
And a striped swimwear even.
Some people are masked
As zombies and ghouls
Quite like Halloween in January.
Their face paints start to get
Smeared in their sweaty cheeks
In this scorching 2 pm sun.
At the middle of the parade comes
A pick-up decked with a stereo.
A portrait of lady in a bikini is
Taped on one of its speakers.
As the parade moves on
The kids moshed and fist pumped
To tribal rhythms and hiphop hits
With cuss words in every beat.
The sun is setting and
The celebration finally arrives
At the crowded church plaza.
People make their way,
Inching slowly to the grand church door.
The great parade ends in a bang, well
A slap rather.
A ***** boy hits
A lady's behind
In yellow micro shorts.
A brawl erupts
In the midst of the crowd,
In front of the saints
Petrified in the stained glass windows.
The mass starts soon after
As if nothing happened.
*Viva Sto. Nino!
Come let us celebrate
The boy Jesus
Our King, our Savior!*
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
Stínové divadlo, plátno bez mraků
Polibky paprsků chutnají mdle
Žně slunce, výstřižek kadeří prachu
Scéna se spalovnou na čelním skle
Tváře a vteřiny končí pod koly
Nad pěstí siluet vztyčené gesto
V stříbrném příboji plovoucí vory
Za hradbou doutná hořící město
Sto věží padá na žíhané domy
Sto věží nad kvádry, ze kterých zebe
Pás oken zazdil tašky střech do tmy
Pár trysek kreslí žíhané nebe
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 1:04 AM UTC
Ganito s'ya ipinakilala ng Supremo:
Mga kapatid
narito ang isang binata
estudyante ng Letran at Sto. Tomas
magaling na manunulat
makisig at walang takot
isang tunay na Tagalog
na umiibig ng tapat sa Inang Bayan.
Ngayong gabi
sa ating pagpupulong
s'ya ay ating tatanggapin bilang kasapi
at hihirangin na maging isang kalihim.
S'ya ang susulat
ng mga dokumento ng kilusan
magiging aking kanang kamay
at utak ng katipunan.
simulan ang ritwal at ang sanduguan.
Kapatid na Emilio
binabati ka ng lahat ng katipun
mula ngayon hindi kana tatawagin na Jacinto
kundi Pingkian na
yan ang rebolusyunaryong sagisag mo sa kilusan.
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 10:59 PM UTC
i.
Sto mystikó kípo sas,
Where thy purple rose shalt be;
Where thy flower bed wilt hath many roses, where thy breathe
Shalt Never cease.
ii.
Sto mystikó kípo sas,
Where hue's and tints hath life;
Thy husband wilt be with thee,
Guiding thee into God's light.
iii.
Sto mystikó kípo sas,
Where petals never fall,
Where the angels sing, their voices ring, bouncing to and fro the pearly gates; painting melodies in the spirit form, colliding back to temple walls.
iv.
Sto mystikó kípo sas,
With a palace for a queen;
The queen is thou, window's thou canst look out; where glass is clear, as there's no fear, inside thy garden
Of majestic scenes.
v.
Sto mystikó kípo sas,
Tha sas xanadó;
That's to say, I'll seest thee again soon one day, in thy secret garden,
Where thy love wilt always grow.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Rita Mae nagley dedicated( golden grams) rip grams, I'll meet you at your new heavenly mansion in your secret garden.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:03 AM UTC
(Greek version)
i.
Eínai énas pylónas;
sto naó tou Theoú.
ii.
Aftí eínai dikí mou flitzáni;
Tha xecheilísei me agápi.
iii.
Eímai geráki tis;
Tis aftí eínai i dikí mou peristéri.
iv.
Eínai dikó mou ángelo;
fterotó éna parapáno.
(English version)
i.
She is the pillar;
In the temple of God.
ii.
She is mine cup;
I overflow with love.
iii.
I am her falcon;
Tis she's mine dove.
iv.
She is mine angel;
Winged one above.
©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane nagley dedicated(agapi mou)
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 10:13 AM UTC
There aren't many good things to say about mornings
A dire lack of coffee
And a groggy feeling that stays with you
Sometimes throughout the day
Telling you how lovely it would just be
To find a bed and immerse yourself once again
In a dream where things would be better -
There aren't many good things to say about mornings
The sun bustling through your windows
Hitting your face annoyingly with a
"Wake up! There are things to do."
And you check your phone and the ring it makes
Buzzes through your ears and you just want it to stop, stop, sto-
There aren't many good things to say about mornings
When you wake up to birds which poems say to appreciate
But really, you're not in a Disney movie
They chirp too much and it hurts your brain, unlike what the poems say
And it doesn't help when you wake up to urban noise pollution
And you can only wish you didn't have to wake up to this at all
To responsibilities, checklists, and a living hell -
There aren't many good things to say about mornings
But there are indeed a great few
What I found out recently, what loving could do
To this sleep-deprived heart of mine
It seems that coffee, darkness, a lack of birds, and silence
Are no longer needed to get me off this bed willingly
Because I've found the reason to
There aren't many good things to say about mornings
But when you realize you're waking up to a reality that holds this great few
You begin to see the beauty in tiredness, light, birds, and sounds
That you've never seen before until now
Because just like how there will always be bad things in life
There are good things too
Love.
Hope.
Cookies.
Cats.
Smiles.
Your favourite songs, books, and poems.
Your favourite shows.
Your favourite poetry site.
Your favourite coffee.
Your favourite food.
Your favourite voice.
Your favourite people.
Your favourite jokes.
Your favourite smile.
That certain somebody you're thinking of right now -
I know.
And it takes waking up to see that.
So although there aren't many good things to say about mornings,
I suppose...there are enough to get us through next one, don't you think?
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 1:00 AM UTC
mila sedi na wc solji. prebira dlacice po brezuljku. nekako odvratno ali radoznalo trazi one pod zemljom
gusto groblje-guste misli:
dve prodavacice prodaju sok od sargarepe, na smenu- jedan dan jednoj plati jednu cenu drugi dan drugoj drugu. cuti. zakopa to u zeludac. guta vazduh namazan budalom. cuti. plati. popije samar i sok.
na ulici razmazano oker govno, kao kanapei na srebrnom tanjiru.
preskace, obilazi ga ona. preskace, obilazi ga i pas. kisa pada, oker krem gubi gustinu, pas nece pod kisobran juri senke i zapisava skupocene alo tepsije onih kojih se i pauk plasi.
zanoktica o vrh narandzastog jezika- rekapitulacija popisanosti i pogresno usmerene finoce. krv stedljivo iz nokta curi natapajuci nepce a mrmlja da sledeci put ce...
ali verovatno nece. jer ne razume tu gadnu nepravicnost. jer to je samo princip. mozda i hoce. jer princip je i sve.
dopire krik playback narodnjaka- komsija stigao sa posla, investitor umesto izloacije sigurno je kupio dzipa.
masina se centrifugom lansira u orbitu svake sekunde- privezala bi se za nju toaltet papirom....
aman, idi uci.
bolje ces se osecati.
kraj prozora cuje se ono dete sto svira trubu.
makar jos ne moras da trazis posao. eto imas vremena da smislis sta zelis da budes.
na kraju krajeva nemas urasle dlake. i da, auto ti je parkiran divlje pokupice ga pauk sigurno. i nemas dozvolu. kese za govna su u gepeku.
trebas psa izvesti.
sutra kupices sok od sargarepe, po ne zna se kojoj ceni.
rekla bi imas princip a i lenja si.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 4:01 AM UTC
i.
The gloaming is soothing in her presence.
Forthwith, raptured by her glimpse;
I mayest be penurious by worldly
Standard, though with Yahweh
Next to me, and mine queen
Sent to me, I'm opulent
With none enemies
As tis mine soul is
Free.
ii.
None ill-will in me breed's, I've
Walked the path of native tree's;
Wherein the places I canst ramble,
Art not from men's thought's; thus where Lucifer
Gamble's, and soul's art cleaved.
iii.
Mine feet and toes, taketh me where I need
to go, as tis the holy ghost; that dwelleth in me.
The Trinity- "father, son, and holy spirit", whereinto
Jehovah's brilliance reflect's sky ceiling's. As mine Jane is
There in dark or bright-in wrong and right, when thunder strikes,
Or in the fog unknown, when mine heart's alone, and skin need's touch, mine Jane giveth me love, a love uncrushed. A love so much; God as her lead, she dances for me, with her angelic wing's
Inside mine sleep. Her pictures I keep alongside mine wall's, to remembereth the intercession, and the bestowal from God.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©earl Jane Nagley ( àgapi mou) dedication
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 10:56 PM UTC
I feel very hopeless,
Completely worthless.
I feel the strength oozing out of me,
Pooling up on my bathroom floor- staring up mockingly.
I feel the vibrations of your voice, loud and clear,
They always know where to hit me, just like a spear.
I feel as if I do not belong anywhere I go,
I'm a laughing stock and guess who's the main attraction at this wicked show?
I feel my "loved ones" quickly drifting apart,
I was your rock but reality has crushed me down with a mighty start.
I feel the non believing eyes boring down,
None of you care as deeply as you claim, you'd rather I swallow my misery and hurriedly drown.
I feel you changing your mind about me,
I'm not the person you cleverly made me want to be.
I feel the stomps of your feet though I am thousands of miles far,
You make yourself believe you provided the necessary with a house and a car.
I feel the love I have for you slowly disintegrating,
It's funny how it's your world that is now changing.
I feel myself going crazy, completely insane,
and you're the only one who can carry that blame.
I feel the way this is going to end,
So let me get the blade, my old friend.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 3:25 PM UTC
d'harga'h! urn! and sung clemency with the sign of the cross - Mr. Longinus - a baptism awaits...
in the Turkish shop buying my beers -
politics talk, gone Razza - Tahir -
talk of politics - deciphered a word:
Erdoğan (Erdoghan, Edrogrzan,
what was it - macabre radish to taste -
niechmaj sto Vlad'a reka na tle kiwnieniem raz!
i krok poza 'sztem! bogiem byka wybryk
szto?! - the crowds descended, and the kestrels
and the pigeons, and the swans,
and the migratory storks, and the seagulls -
for the Winged-Hussar Polonaise.
fluff of the wings -
the Mongol stench
reinterpreted - i rather be picking
ethnic mushrooms - kropki polka -
and koniewki - łopieniek & canary -
grünling in German, gąska zielonka - Pan Kleks -
or Chanterelle Mushroom - pepper shakerz -
kurki, tzn. te słynne grzyby.
the deviating kurka - or chickpea foetal
variant of fungus - or alias chick.
each time they pithy my assertion to claim the
ethnic brothel of Europe that Poland is for
the noble families - each time they undermine
the worker testifying the fuck-worthy ****
prior sleep - pride settles in -
and a long forgotten assertive builds up
to architectural proportions -
it just ends up being a game of throwing
copper coins into Scotland, potatoes into Ireland...
and dinosaur bones into Wales...
and post-colonial subjects into England, lazily
packed with the labels **** and Hindu;
Karzimierz Dębski could have said: it was never
supposed to come to this; shame that it did;
the safety option was exacted.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 10:59 PM UTC
I feel like everything I do means nothing,
like what I say doesn't affect anyone.
I feel like walking away from it all,
but I just don't want to give up.
He used to make my heart fly and feelings soar,
but now he only makes me cry.
I don't want to give up on all we had,
I know we can be so much more.
She was my very best friend,
someone who I could always confide in.
Now she won't even talk to me,
and I can't figure out why...
I'm trying to make myself happy this time,
but everyone else gets mad.
It's like what I want doesn't even matter,
and what I need isn't relevant.
I've spent my life trying to make everyone else happy,
and for once I'm trying to do stuff for me.
But everyone else is throwing fits,
and everyone is ****** at me.
I can't make you all happy,
I can't make my life make sense.
I'm lost and confused and I'm sitting here crying,
I'm waiting for someone to come and climb over this wall.
Doesn't anyone see the signs?
don't you all see me, sitting here, crying, alone.
Why don't you try to help me along,
what is so wrong with me that I can't do it on my own.
I can't make my life make sense anymore,
and I'm reaching for the blade.
As long as I was clean before,
that changed and I can't make it stop.
I'm struggling and I'm fighting and I'm crying out,
but no one around seems to hear.
Please someone just make some sense out of life,
please send me some kind of guidence....
I need an Angel
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 7:00 PM UTC
I'll put it together
like a club to a heart
or a ***** to a diamond
Like 52
I'm rare on earth,
in the universe
I'm a giant.
Like platinum
Im shinin'
cause I comprehend
science.
So ninja just jump back cause I sleep with
lions.
There is only one like highlander
On my own
lycan islander.
Bleeding through paper
like a *****
err..
She's sounding like a siren.
When she sleep I sit in silence.
Picture that
Her face is priceless.
like kodak
Timmy boy liked this
9 hours ago
I was @
the sto'
96 ounces for 5 bucks?
scientist is out
the do'
Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 2:51 AM UTC
Prima di venire
Portami tre rose rosse
Prima di venire
Portami un grosso ditale
Perché devo ricucirmi il cuore
E portami una lunga pazienza
Grande come un telo d'amore
Prima di venire
Dai un calcio al muro di fronte
Perché li dentro c'è la spia
Che ha guardato in faccia il mio amore
Prima di venire
Socchiudi piano la porta
E se io sto piangendo
Chiama i violini migliori
Prima di venire
Dimmi che sei già andato via
Perché io mi spaventerei
E prima di andare via
Smetti di salutarmi
Perché a lungo io non vivrei.
1.2k
sono le 01 e 22 e io ** nel corpo e nella testa queste vibrazioni calde e pallide che mi stringono il cuore. sono irragiungibili.
** attaccato alle mie ciglia i pensieri tristi, sono perline trasparenti & i miei capelli non sono ancora abbastanza lunghi per strangolare qualcuno. se potessi scegliere di avvelenare qualsiasi superficie che toccherai, io lo farei.
i miei pensieri sono linee biforcute che corrono qui e lì, si diradano come i rami secchi contro il cielo freddo dell'inverno.
immagino me & te amore mio a danzare su un battello, sotto le stelle, qualche vita fa, in cui eravamo belli e sorridenti.
penso ai sassi lanciati nell'acqua, ai cerchi nel grano, alle macchie sul muro. penso alla mia vita da fantasma, quando vivevo a malapena, penso a chi mi ha uccisa in quei mesi e credo che l'inferno esista solo per chi ha conosciuto il paradiao e lo abbia disprezzato.
penso alle ore di sonno perse, alla pelle nuda, al mascara colato, alle tracce di rossetto sui bicchieri, ai muri della stanza che mi conoscevano più di quanto mi abbia mai conosciuta tu.
credo che il mio sia un caso inverso, ** conosciuto l'inferno e ora sto guadagnando il paradiso che ** sempre meritato.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 7:35 PM UTC
Ima li ime ta struna
Koja stoji u mestu
Ima li ime ptica
Koja peva u letu
Imas li ime ti
mala zvezdo sjajna
imas li ime
ili je ono samo tajna?
Kako se zoves zeljo jedina
Nije li divno ime tvoje
Kako se zove tajna skrivena
Lica umiljatog sto je?
Sta se krije u tvojim ocima
Ima li negde tvoga imena
Hajde, posluzi se svime
Zeljo moja imas li ime?
Jedan mig i tu
Nestajes lako
Kao u snu
Jedan tren mi
Bez nade tako
Odes ti
Kako se zoves zeljo jedina
Nije li divno ime tvoje
Kako se zove tajna skrivena
Lica umiljatog sto je?
Sta se krije u tvojim ocima
Ima li negde tvoga imena
Hajde, posluzi se svime
Zeljo moja imas li ime?
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
Watch me diss a p
pe a r s
o eas
y
li ke s
tr a nger
sto a ju ng
le
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 2:25 PM UTC
krytyka na żyda to ta sama na krytyke polaka, skoro krytyk na żyda to też krytyk na polaka - skoro żyd bez ziemi to też polak pod włóknem niemca czy russa czy też bezwdzięcznego austrjaka! odsiecz wiednia!
https://goo.gl/2wVUsz, from minute to an hour:
radio-kacap - lost the c somewhere,
had to innovate -
ra - d - yo -
радя -
(я to possess it, a punctuation
mark on the letter to stop
the omicron from rotating a fullness)
КАЧП - or simply ç (s) -
ketchup apparently,
the slaughter of Zagreb -
Croat piled on Croat
for a Mexican roll via Tahiti -
kark capa - kark kacapa
(stary kozioł to zwany cap
bronz spermy i zapach tzn. cap'a -
capie ten ogier Poznania w szambie południa
na gry czołem z bliska
w tenis z innym capem) -
stary ogier na tle mgły
i kozioł kopiący kszięrzyc w orbite
i w równie starannej rubryki: sto razy jeszcze raz
to samo, bo to dla wieku
dwa dwa: die tventy secoond centaur /
die nächster tausendfüßler, year on - year in.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 8:36 PM UTC
Oceans warm
and crystal clear
Ka-li-me-ra
Dots of white
on lunar land
Ka-li-spe-ra
Inky velvet
black of night sea
Ka-li-nikh-ta
Cyclades you
were good for me
Ef-ha-ri-sto
Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 8:25 AM UTC
I
ciò che faccio la domenica pomeriggio è ascoltare tutte le canzoni che mi hanno dedicato in passato e non provare proprio nulla
in ogni caso i Pixies non mi sono mai piaciuti
II
da grande voglio fare la misteriosa bionda che scompare in circostanze ignote dando così la possibilità agli altri personaggi di interrogarsi a riguardo per un totale di 126 puntate,
alcuni si erano innamorati di me, altri mi hanno odiata, altri mi sognavano la notte ma nessuno nessuno mi ha conosciuta mai.
non sono morta come credono loro, bevo drink al cocco su una lontana spiaggia tropicale, con gli occhiali da sole e il foulard in testa.
oppure sono morta e mi sto decomponendo in fondo ad uno stagno, la mia pelle è blu e a brandelli e le ranocchie gracidano e partoriscono girini tra quello che resta dei miei capelli ma non importa perché tanto voi in vita mi avete odiato amato sognato e questo serve a rendermi immortale.
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
I'm a Yankee in the South
Far from where I was bo-ahn,
Th' other half of this Country stout,
But not where I'd call home.
I talk too fast and walk too fast
And speak with easy grin;
And every word that I say once
I must repeat again!
If you're black you're Black, down he-ah,
and if you're white, you're White;
I don't fit well, I'm mostly brown,
They just don't feel it's right.
I work each Sunday in the sto-ah,
I do the work of three;
Back home I went to Sunday Mass
And Godless they call me.
Godless Yank, I'm rude, I'm cold,
I started the great War -
(Not our Great War, you see, but one
that came somewhat befo-ah).
I've tried their greens, I've tried their grits,
I've had biscuits n' gravy,
Oh what I'd give for chowdah hot
Or some lobstah tasty!
I like my tea, I like it hot,
Not sickly-sweet and iced,
Brew it black and brew it strong -
No sweeter will suffice.
Well, I'm a Yankee in the South,
But I wish I'd never gone.
So in a month I'll pack me up
And home I'll be 'fore long!
I'll eat cannolli in North End,
I'll visit Fenway Pahk,
I'll watch the city glow with light
The minute it gets dahk.
I'll roam the rivers, fields and woods,
All dusted up with snow;
The northern bogs, the stony beaches,
That's what I call home!
I never should have come, I sweah,
I'll never go again;
There's plenty here to tide a girl
A hundred years and ten.
The long-sought day has dawned at last,
And now we'll sally forth,
So clear and a bit chilly, it's
A promise of the North.
We drove and drove and drove again,
And then we drove some mo-ah,
We started out at ten to six,
And now it's half-past ****
And when I'm shovelin' the snow,
Cursing potholes in the road,
I'll think of all the Southern folk
And smile at every load!
Well we're home again, we're home at last,
I won't leave anymo-ah,
I've proved without a doubt there is
Nuthin' to leave it ****
Well, I was a Yankee in the South,
It's not what I'd call nice,
And now I can concretely say
I wouldn't do it twice!
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC
she was all but the anorexia in stockings...
a drum! a drum! a drum!
a guitar riff! NA HOO!
ARA *** KRA! FA ARN NA SHAMACH!
WAR! WOO AR! WAR!
DRIBBLE DRIBBLE GOON DA BA'H DA'H!
JA 'OON GAMMA! NACH
SZASCHT ET EAT CZECH I SUM! 'UNGAR!
BO MONGOŁ TO MUZUŁMAN ETC.,
WOJNA! A TOLSTOY DA POKÓJ -
JA DAM WOJNE BY MI BLISKY ADWENT
CZYLI ANTI... NA CZELE GRÓZU BEMBEN!
JA DAM O CO KAŻDY CHŁOPAK PROSI!
KREW! I TE CIEPŁE OCZY MORDOWNI!
JAKO STO KALORII I MIĘSA CHYBA UM UM BLUŹNI!
OKEJ OKEJ, TO MÓJ SĄSIAD. O
KURWA... ZA PÓŹNO!
ALE TARGOWICA NADAL TRWA...
ORAZ RADIO MARYJA! NO TO PRAWIE
CAŁY KONTYNENT! CHIMPANZEE CHAMPAGNE
KOREK POP? JA TEJ... WIDMO CZYLI KOLOR
JAKO AKCENT CZERŃ: zwany kura, i w... no chyba
zwane to jajo tes!
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 5:56 PM UTC
*ona mruga oczyma jak sra, czy jak szczy*?
(concerning one of my cats in the garden
easing the **** or bladder,
whichever - imagine saying it's a baby
when it's should be said: retract that idea of
nappies and breastfeeding, watch Prometheus -
girl quick on the mark, alien tadpoles ahoy!);
you'd love to see the rainbow of curses
i littered the ground around me -
all because i overslept my doctor's appointment
over the phone -
hell knows no womanly furies,
it's kitted out with them as standard -
mind you, it's about time to encounter
if not simply invite Dr. Zhivago to cool
things down -
such trivialities as only a woman
might know to be the basis of infuriated assault -
and about a thumb's length of whiskey
on an empty stomach, and three coffees...
shit's buzzing...
after vacuuming the house i make my oaths:
yes, the 21st century Homeric heroes to mind,
our modern heroes: heroism equivalent of
paying the gas bill -
entertainment value? zilch:
unless you're bound to be watching Odysseus
take the longest yawn spanning into the 22nd century.
no... i didn't have a rich father, but
they managed ******** into my mouth anyway,
no wonder all i get to say is: it stinks -
alter?
*nasrali mi do gęby,
nic dziwnego że mówie: smród!
smród!
nie jeden balas w szambie tym samym
demokratycznym słowem powie: smród
i rozkaz męczybuły nad głos!
a tu jakiś Kossak pięścią... sto razy wdepte
ci dekalog: dwór! dwór! nie pałacyk...
buda! buda, psie marnego skinienia
w aport! hujnia i homonto!
oraj pole... jebana mać oraj złote włókno
by przestał głód pytać o gram
sytu! oraj!*
beauty of out a loss in temperament,
no cocktail party for miles...
if you look closely you can
spot a Belgian field of poppies;
god the English malaise of attempting to curse...
the easiest curse in English is identified
as courtesy - sorry means as much as **** off*.
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 10:43 AM UTC
i o nim iskrą w rrdze,
w gre na tło innych
narodziń -
i nim o iskre:
krzemień o krzemień -
i kość o kość - nauka kaligrafii...
jak i ten co o męke
łuku ziemi w dary
oddać pierw chciał nic, a potem proch -
o potem kichnąć
w sto braci leczy naród prośbą! też jak ja,
obudzić ozór! **** powiadomił...
niechaj ten ozór - horongiew nasza -
akcentów ilości sie zajada,
bo tyle umie -
i tyle wyzna - jak i słowem sie
zachwyci: po rosaj i po germańsku -
na weekend - i tym tam,
na czeł Mongoła: zapomnień, i
zapomniawszy: zwany Lach, hujem
przez sukiennice i kreski sławnych tabu
ilokroci -
i ta bida... stokroci.
siała baba mak... ni widziała jak...
chlop... chlop... chlop...
siała baba mak, ni widiała jak...
bo tu kurvasiet chłop! chłop!
kak duszy Khrushchev? ni pomogje!
naz gu!
niet harasho! niet! haraшo?
Las Vegas etя: Lon-don, Pa-ri-ri Piri Piri
Mex hey ** i co. - etc.
******* ****** Bahamas **** cult яя.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 12:04 AM UTC