"sut" poems
i.
Today, O' today
I got her letter in the mail;
Filled with pictures of mine
Queen, she sent me
Poems done by me, in her
Calligraphy.
ii.
Today O' today
I got lipstick kisses on
Her notes, the red stood
Out of all she wrote;
As her amour was
So fine.
iii.
Today O' today
Anon mine spirit's soared,
That fashionable vellum
O' I adored. O' Jane Sardua,
O' Jane of Earl. O' rose of Asia;
The Luzon's pearl.
iv.
Today O' today
I smiled again, because mine lover,
And mine best friend. Her ardent sonnet
Displayed her touch, grabbing mine soul,
In heaven's blush, silently tear's came to
a rush; from joy's overtaking.
v.
Today O' today
O'er the blue, I made mine stay.
Consatero, ah veray,
Queen Jane, Queen Jane,
Of Asia's praise;
Today O' today
How I fell in
Love again.
©,Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( àgapi mou)
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 10:53 PM UTC
I am --===not li==ving through this== hell = all over again!!
Leave==='' me alone you crazy ****** ****
from ME
Apr 15, 2012
Apr 15, 2012 at 7:22 PM UTC
L’épicerie «Mozabite» d’Akbou
S’il y a un lieu dont je me souviens,
C’est de l’épicerie d’Akbou,
située dans la rue centrale.
J’y accompagnais mes parents,
et pénétrais dans cette échoppe
avec tous mes sens en éveil,
surtout pour humer les senteurs mêlées
des jarres d’olive et de piments rouges.
L’épicier était Mozabite,
avec des pantalons bouffants.
Le roi des commerçants du lieu,
car dans l’espace resserré
jamais rien ne vous y manquait
dans cet incroyable fatras
où le «Mozabite» faisait ses choix.
vous tirant toujours d’embarras.
Il y avait des tonneaux d’olives
vertes ou noires dans leur saumure
avec ce goût qu’elles ont : «là-bas.»
et puis ces senteurs mélangées
de menthe, paprika, cumin
des parfums de fleur d’oranger.
et à la belle saison des dattes
pendaient les «reines» : «Deglet Nour»
Parmi toutes ces friandises
Il en est deux qui pincent mon coeur
Cette galette ronde et si tendre
la «Kesra» plus tendre que le pain.
et les sacs remplis de semoules
qui sont la base du «Couscous» Kabyle
Alors que l’agneau est son prince
Merci à l’épicier d’Akbou
qui sut si bien aiguiser nos sens.
Paul d’Aubin (Paul Arrighi)
Toulouse - février 2014.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
Welsh translation -Os byddaf yn marw, gan fy mod i'n blasu gwaed, cofiwch penillion fy, sut yr wyf yn eu dysgu iti garu, felly lledaenu'r *** cariad, fel y llefaru duw geisio, maddau gilydd, mewn amser o wan, yn mynegi dy gariad, yn ei rhoddi dy enaid, gwna dy gwragedd a gŵr, breninesau a brenhinoedd fel aur !!
ac ag ar gyfer frenhines fy, byth fy fyddi!!!
English translated-
if I die, since I'm tasting blood, remember mine verses, how I taught thee love, so spread that love, as god doth seek, forgive one another , in time of weak, showeth thine love, giveth thine soul, make thy wives and husband's, queens and kings as gold!!
and as for mine queen, forever mine thou shalt be..
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
Liberté Egalité Fraternité,
le vrai Triptyque Républicain
En hommage à nos ancêtres qui surent être ambitieux et fonder un triptyque toujours primordial, jamais accompli ni vraiment réalisé.
LIBERTE !
Frêle comme doigts d’enfants,
Plus précieuse qu’un diamant,
Ton seul parfum nous enivre
Et comme, un bon vin, nous grise.
Tu es hymne à la vie
Qui fait lever des envies.
Tu suscite des passions,
Libère des émotions.
Tu fus conquise de haute lutte
Par nos ancêtres en tumulte.
Ils nous donnèrent pour mission
D’en multiplier les brandons.
A trop de Peuples, elle fait défaut.
Elle ne supporte aucun bâillon
Car si l’être vit bien de pain,
Il veut aussi choisir son chemin.
Si tous les pouvoirs la craignent,
Ma, si belle, tu charmes et envoute,
Mets les tyrans en déroute,
Sœur de Marianne la belle.
***
EGALITE !
Elle fut la devise d’Athènes,
Et révérée par les Romains.
Elle naquit en 89, avec la liberté du Peuple,
Est fille de Révolution.
Elle abolit les distinctions
Séparant les êtres sans raison.
Ouvre la voie à tous talents
Sans s’encombrer de parchemins.
C’est un alcool enivrant
Que l’égalité des droits.
C’est aussi une promesse
De secourir celui qui choit.
Si l’égalité fait tant peur,
C’est que son regard de lynx
Perce les supercheries
Et voit les hommes tels qu’ils sont.
FRATERNITE !
Elle coule, coule comme le miel,
Nectar de la ruche humaine.
Elle sait embellir nos vies,
Et faire reculer la grisaille,
Du calcul, froid et égoïste.
Dans la devise Républicaine
Elle tient la baguette de l’orchestre.
Comme un peintre inspiré, elle met,
Sur la toile, vive et vermillon.
Elle nous incite à l’humanisme.
Elle est petite fille de 89, fille de quarante –huit
Mais sut renaître en 68.
Elle est crainte par les puissants,
Qui n’ont jamais connu qu’argent,
C’est pourtant une essence rare.
Dans les temps durs, elle se cache,
Mais vient ouvrir la porte
Au Résistant pourchassé. Elle n’hésite pas aujourd’hui
À secourir un «sans papier»
Sa sœur est générosité.
Elle est la valeur suprême,
Qui rend possible le «vivre ensemble»
Et permet même au solitaire
De faire battre un cœur solidaire.
La fraternité reste la vraie conquête de l’humain.
Paul d’Aubin (Paul Arrighi) à Toulouse; France.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 8:07 AM UTC
Målet er at ramme flaskebunden.
Derefter sættes samme mål.
REPEAT REPEAT REPEAT
(Det er blevet normens faste procedure)
Målet er at være stilikonet. Tiltrække gade fotograferne. Genvejen til de fem minutters berømmelse.
KNIPS KNIPS KNIPS
(Det hele er blevet en farverolade)
Målet er at pisse byen gul. Urban gødning er vel det rette ord når køen til de røde bokse er for lang.
SSH SSH SSH
(Kan ikke længere se forskel på øl tis vand)
Målet er at score. Så mange singler samlet med håbløse forventninger.
SUT MIG SUT MIG SUT MIG
( Det er det nærmeste de kan komme kærlighed)
Målet er at have en fest. Sild i tønder til hjernedøde beats.
BASS DROP BASS DROP BASS DROP
(Når de gode endelig kommer til lukkes festen af de euforiseredes konsekvenser)
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 5:09 PM UTC
Lerscent grimmark, dark & light - glas
Cost em-mark en bisk et ast
heavy holden march of hOVE- entasked watching homers m ark
doe agree ṧick the pervious measure
that measure of good & evil.... (dost thou see)
///
Tear away, flocking dress in/motion _ heal/SCARS
trainṧit life for light or light for life
Certain that curtail fervent curtain time
- shallow eleven drench that sut surper of STILL
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 11:09 PM UTC
im rotting within myself
im the living definition of a cavity
bleached and beautiful on the outside
but rotting in black sut on the inside
i did not take my medicine today
therefor i am anxious
overly anxious
my nerves are telling me something atrocious is about to happen
but it simply is not
im trembling
no one can help me
no one can soothe me
my phone was gone half of my day
my safety blanket
was gone
that means i was gone with it
i've been gone
im so gone
let these meds flow
i tried to text you for comfort
but you could give a **** less about me
you were drunk
while i was pouring myself out to you
you joked around
another reminder that i have no one
lonlieness poked me at my every pressure point
im irked
scared
restless
it sickens me that i need you in my breaking points, i need you in my 2 am thoughts
i need you to calm me
but all you cared about was the ***
you didnt care about me in my breaking points
you dont care about my thoughts at 2 am
its okay
if i were you i wouldnt care either
im too easy
please mercy me
let me fall out of myself
for the sake of myself
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
The grinding humm of diesel generators fill the smoggy night.
The sky cries acid and breathes sut.
Air is uncomfortably close; sitting on your chest and scraping your throat.
Animals die in unison falling on burnt soil bereavement of life is inevitable.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 1:38 PM UTC
My father
My dad
My rock
The foundation of our family
You are in so much pain
I can feel your broken spirit
I see the yearning for peace in your soul when I look you in the eyes
Which is not as often as i'd like anymore
The sickness gave you an excuse and a good shake and now you don't realize the bonds you might break
I am angry at every cell
Those mother ******* cells.
I am so angry
And my heart hurts all hours of the day or night
I can't stop it and I don't know what to do
I cry alone and smile at the people who melt on by
But hey,
At least i have a dog and my feet have ten toes, my clothes have no holes and my underwear is clean.
At least most of the time
And my love is grand
At night I have trouble sleeping still.
My chest above my breast gets harder and deeper every day.
I am drowning in it.
It's full of rubble and dust, fire and gasoline
I am choking on the heat of the smoke and the sut is traveling down and settling in my lungs painting a new picture in my body
My father couldn't teach me enough to understand until I experienced it, that one thing everyone knows to hate.. cancer
The deafening rise of smoke consumes every thought in my mind
When I was 13, my father sat me down and told me that getting drunk was like kissing the devil on the lips and my naive little head didn't understand that it was meant more for him than for me
Growing up I never saw him drink
But ultimately he found that the drink paired nicely with his diagnosis and that he was always thirsty
This man who calls himself my dad, is someone I've never known.
I choke on the words to tell him I miss him, but the smoke is too thick and I can't see him anymore
He is not my dad when he drinks
He was my coach
My biggest fan
My most favorite comedian
My best friend
He doesn't see the bonds he's broken and cancer gave him a good shake
But now he's blinded with a bottle and he's bound to the bar
He's gone, I cannot find him.
I wish I could breath underwater to put out this fire
I am choking and my chest is heavy
My lungs are green and molded over now and the carpet ***** up my feelings of regret and apathy
It grows up my throat to my tongue and speaks for me
Another drink please
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 1:06 AM UTC
My mother always warned me about the boys whose palms were made of calluses,
And whose hearts held a shield of armor so thick that even the brightest flames couldn’t weaken it.
She always told me that they would string you along and make you feel so full of love and brightness,
That you would become blinded to the truth of what they felt within their heads.
Even though I listened to her, I still found myself trapped by boys who saw my heart and my sexuality as the same thing.
I still wound myself tight around the boys who made my bed smell like ***** and ****
And I caressed them in the same way mothers do with their children.
But every time I found myself broken again, my mother would tell me to scrub my skin raw and wash away every part of these boys that I let near me.
I had to wash my mouth out with soap every time I let their name slip from my lips, as if it were the dirtiest of curses.
She said I needed to burn every memory of them; literally and figuratively.
I needed to let flames grasp up towards their pictures,
And erase all the messages they sent with hearts and smiles.
My mother told me that she wouldn’t be upset if these boys dragged me in,
Because she had been there too;
Chasing the boys who thought they were men because they had cigarettes dangling from their lips.
She told me that everyone learns from their past lovers how to detoxify their bodies once they leave.
It’s not with water and cucumber mixtures or baths made of roses,
It’s with fists clenched as tears stream down our faces,
It’s with our voices screaming and our hearts beating strong.
When we are broken from these boys, whose mouths are filled with sut,
My mother told me, we fight to build ourselves back up.
We do not suffocate on their weaknesses which they blamed on us.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 7:54 PM UTC
La mort, reine du monde, assembla certain jour,
Dans les enfers, toute sa cour.
Elle voulait choisir un bon premier ministre
Qui rendît ses états encore plus florissants.
Pour remplir cet emploi sinistre,
Du fond du noir Tartare avancent à pas lents
La fièvre, la goutte et la guerre.
C'étaient trois sujets excellents ;
Tout l'enfer et toute la terre
Rendaient justice à leurs talents.
La mort leur fit accueil. La peste vint ensuite.
On ne pouvait nier qu'elle n'eût du mérite,
Nul n'osait lui rien disputer ;
Lorsque d'un médecin arriva la visite,
Et l'on ne sut alors qui devait l'emporter.
La mort même était en balance :
Mais, les vices étant venus,
Dès ce moment la mort n'hésita plus,
Elle choisit l'intempérance.
407
The garden overflown
with rolled up cigarette buts,
Where the roots of our ruts
grow beneath the sut.
Suffocated;
Like statements never stated
That daisy chain bracelet;
You won’t find it here
“Enough we’ve waited”
you say losing patience
When the words “I love you”
Are hard to hear
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 2:05 PM UTC
Lorsque j'ai lu Pétrarque, étant encore enfant,
J'ai souhaité d'avoir quelque gloire en partage.
Il aimait en poète et chantait en amant ;
De la langue des dieux lui seul sut faire usage.
Lui seul eut le secret de saisir au passage
Les battements du coeur qui durent un moment,
Et, riche d'un sourire, il en gravait l'image
Du bout d'un stylet d'or sur un pur diamant.
Ô vous qui m'adressez une parole amie,
Qui l'écriviez hier et l'oublierez demain,
Souvenez-vous de moi qui vous en remercie.
J'ai le coeur de Pétrarque et n'ai point son génie ;
Je ne puis ici-bas que donner en chemin
Ma main à qui m'appelle, à qui m'aime ma vie.
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