"suze" poems
I am actually a huge fan of Banksy and thoroughly enjoyed Dismaland but the A level kids I teach at a school just down the road from Weston couldn't get in because they've got Art P2. We wrote letters and sent emails but had no reply. They were very disillusioned by it all so their art teacher decided to take them to Dismaland and show some of their work on the grass outside. Security were not impressed and called the police. We made a film about it and I read this poem at the gates. This is the first part.
So this is where this tale will start,
Of What is Banksy? Who is art?
You're the joke now, don't you see?
This ****** ticket lottery,
For crazy cats who play the rules
Not you poor buggers stuck in schools
Can’t press refresh at the stroke of ten
Cos that's exactly the time when
the bell rings for art to begin
The irony is lost on him.
No tickets in your grubby hand
Cos schools cant afford the broadband.
Don't look at me with dismal faces
You lot sure are going places
Yep, you're all sat on a train
Going to weston in the rain
Who do you lot think you are?
No movie queens nor a rock star
You don't fly in from LA
You don't even have a card to pay
No Damien's, No Brad. No Suze.
Pack up your dreams kids,
Born to lose.
Like a load of buckets to the factory gate
Where we'll have to stand and stand and wait
He is not Wonka, he's not your friend,
This Charlie gets nothing in the end.
So looks like we might not get in,
Stare them down kids, take ours to him.
Banksy Inc. has made these choices,
But they can't silence all our voices.
Helllooooooo Banksy?
Are you there?
Going to show these kids you care?
Open up those hallowed portals
For this lot of mere mortals?
They've brought stuff they want to show
It's really very good you know
Because they made it from the heart
Not for a calendar of street art
You know? Like how you used to be?
Before they showed you on TV.
They protest about stuff for reals,
And soon be snapping at the heels
Of all the London folk in there
Sell for a million but pretend they care.
Come on Banksy they'll be good
Take their selfies like they should.
Come on Banksy, just be nice,
They'll snap up all your merchandise
And shuffle round the park like drones
Take out pocket money loans.
Listen kids, this isn't working,
Banksy's in his rolls and shirking,
We don't need to storm the walls
We can show them we've got *****
By standing here and giving free
What they've all spent five quid to see.
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 3:47 PM UTC
zamisli da sva moja sećanja
upletena u tvoje pletenice
naglo promene smer
i pretvore se u budućnost
bi li tada bila moja krotka srna
ili bi pletenice rasplela
pustila da se raspršim kroz vreme
da mi lice posivi
kao da je od jesenjeg vetra sačinjeno
zamisli da svi moji koraci
upleteni u tvoje vekovne bore
naglo promene smer
i pretvore se u suze
bi li njih sirote u svilu svoju primila
ili bi korake u glib usmerila
pustila da se zaglibim u vreme
da mi osmeh posivi
kao da je od jesenjeg vetra sačinjen
zamisli da svi moji dodiri
dok se šarene širom tela tvog od reka
naglo promene smer
i postanu godovi u tuđem orahu
bi li tada haljinu rastvorila
svetlošću sveće grudi umila
ili bi dodire po žiletu prošetala
tom krvlju plavom nebo i jezera oslikala
u sivo jesenji vetar odenula da se vrti u krug
bi li od sećanja postelju sačinila
prozore zatvorila
bi li od koraka oblake izatkala
svetlo utulila
bi li od dodira gromove sastavila
naga i topla
sa jesenjim vetrom ljubav vodila
bi li se to tako željna usudila
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC
Ljudi, hej ljudi, čiji je ovo tužni pas !?
Gledajte samo kako se
šćućurio tu u uglu,
i kako se samo trese od hladnoće…
Ljudi, hej, pogledajte,
da neko od vas nije izgubio psa,
pogledajte, nije džukac,
gle samo kako mu se crna dlaka sjaji,
pogledajte,
pa to njemu suze idu.
Ljudi, deco,
čiji je ovo pas,
poslednji put pitam,
ako ga neko ne odnese na toplo, uginuće.
E, ako je tako, nosim ga ja svojoj kući.
Dođi kuco, dođi.
Tako…
Jao što su ti se smrzle šapice,
sad ću tebe ja odneti svojoj kućici,
to će ti biti novi dom,
imaćeš i šta da jedeš,
biće ti toplo i čuvaćemo jedan drugog.
Pa muško si, ček da vidim…
Pa jesi, jesi muško si…
E sad da te ušuškam u svoj kaput i idemo,
ček samo da uzmem maramicu
da ti obrišem te suzice,
jeste tako,
nema potrebe da plačeš više,
sad imaš svoj dom.
Samo da smislim kako da te zovem…
Samo da smislim…
Čupko !
E, zvaću te Čupko, mali moj…
Eto, obrisali smo suze,
samo još da ti obrišem tu penicu sa usta…
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC
will you walk with me?
around the moon and beyond the stars
up and up
until our brains feel light and our lips turn blue
When we look over our shoulders
we notice the insignificance of things that are truly insignificant
the dog the car the microwave oven
that set of keys I lost and still can't find
the movie that comes out this weekend that you can't wait to see
my English degree
the lawn that we accidentally forgot to mow for four straight weeks
my mother
your mother
the way you take your coffee with milk and sugar
the list of unwatched romantic comedies on our Netflix que
the advice I get from Suze Orman
the indent your body made in my double bed
our leaky roof
your Dean's List grades and above average MCAT score
our set of home decor from IKEA that we assembled ourselves
Frank Zappa's Tinseltown Rebellion
that trip we always wanted to go on but never had the time to plan
Our aspirations that we neatly folded up tucked away and pretended to forget.
Even you.
Even you. Even you don't affect the way the world turns.
No matter how hard we stomp or yell
or scream
or push or pull
or heave
We can't stop the world.
Not even for a second.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 6:51 PM UTC
A little empty that morning
she sat on the top step
of the verandah
sipping tea, sipping thought.
Three steps down to the pavement
squares of sandstone
lay in even handed rhythms;
flatly refusing to contour.
He’d moved away last week; big bloke, big smile
could clasp four pavers in one hand,
laid the lot inside ten days,
maybe a record, who could say.
Completed, the pavement was now empty of him,
no more scraping back, no more chipping out,
no more broad smiling hands
reaching for her cups of tea.
She missed this; as she missed the slightly flat renditions of
‘midnight oil’ and ‘fleetwood mac’, the **** of his straw hat
and the farewell call of... "see you sometime in the morning suze..."
(always at exactly 6.30 a.m.)
He was big on tea,
said he was glad
to meet someone who knew it
wasn’t merely the dis-colouration of milk.
She’d smile at that, he was right,
things like tea were best, given time to infuse.
She sipped her tea, sipped her thoughts
and the deeper taste that came with a little time.
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 1:13 AM UTC
brane mu pesme da piše
u srce krastaču mu nasadili
prste mu lepljivom svilom spojili
u noge sačmom gađali
iz očiju sve mu suze isisali
eno ih gde suva leže nisu više ni tako zelena
u uši mu ptičji izmet nagurali
i na čelo žig
iz sna prijatelje mu isterali
umesto njih strašno zlo osanotvorili
samo su se smejali
ponekim udarcem u kičmu ga budili
dok je nem tumarao po svetu
u pesme su njegove duvan motali
ili bi slova izvitoperili
takve na čitanje davali
brane mu život
brane mu da diše
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
Usred noći nagon me probudi
Moram na WC na visokoj sam uzbudi
Svjetlo palit odlučio sam neću
No nasred hodnika suze mi poteću
Na kraju hodnika On tamo stoji
Zovem psa u pomoć on se ničega ne boji
Na poziv upomoć on se nije odozvao
Čak i i nakon obećanja keksa nije se pojavio
Sada ja i Slenderman smo ostali sami
Prokleti lik koji stanuje u tami
Zajebi ti ovo, pišat više nemoram
Sad svaki put iz sobe sjekiru furam
Pod plahte skrivao sam se uplačen
ovu avanturu ponovit ne želim
Opran paranojom sada ti kažem
Iz ove kuće se što prije selim
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 7:44 AM UTC
Love,
Has made me shameless.
I see your face, your car, your dog,
Pointless things that I attribute to you,
But I don't see them,
Not really.
And so I am here,
In the dark, lit up by the blue
Of Facebook on my computer screen.
I hold no shame,
For I am desperate for a sample of you.
I am hungry for you.
This sort of thing I'm doing, kills you inside.
But I need to see you
I need to remember your details,
I can't and won't forget you.
I know you don't do this
To me,
Things I thought were romantic was just friendship,
The weakest of friendship.
I'm just too dumb.
You and me; We pretend
That we're just friends,
Well, maybe you're not pretending,
But I am.
I see you to remind me of you,
The way you crouch over your guitar,
The jut of your chin,
The way your eyes shine,
When I make you happy.
Long, delicate fingers,
The bump in your nose,
Your acne,
Your hair,
The girlish colour of your mouth
That I hoped would touch one day
With my own.
For you, I have not suffered for my art
I have simply suffered.
And all that has come of it are the silliest, the dreamiest of girly love poems.
But I mean every word.
My dear, I've wasted my precious time
I'll let you sing your pithy rhymes
My darling, you've been a fool-
I'm a crazy lady, I'm no light touch-
But so have I.
You're a crazy boy, you're no light touch
You pulled me in with both hands-on
How was I supposed to get out?
Leave your places of worship,
That we share.
Perhaps you were special;
You were just different
But I am integral, and you are temporary.
You're just a friend, I suppose, if that's what I want it to be,
But that's confusing.
We pretend
To be best friends,
But were we really?
All I see, is just me
And you blowing me off,
And me saying to your mother
"Oh no, we're friends, it's fine."
My God,
What a ****** boyfriend you would have made.
What a bullet I dodged!
Darling, it's been ten months,
And we only live once.
Ten months ago,
Maybe I'd think differently.
My dear, perhaps you'll realise
And then, you'll feel
Your head will romanticize it all,
And perhaps you'll write some of your finest love songs,
About a girl, who cared, and cared far too long,
And now she doesn't think twice about you.
Ain't that sad?
I used to like
The idea of being your muse.
Bob Dylan's Suze Rotolo,
WB Yeats' Maud Gonne,
But
I'll be my own muse,
I'll inspire myself.
Life moves with water and sun, not with you.
Because, darling, it's been ten months,
And I
Am
Over you.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC
Je lis et cite tour à tour
Ce recueil qui jamais ne lasse,
Ces vers écrits par une Grâce
Avec les plumes de l'Amour.
De vos amis, moi qui vous aime,
Je n'ai ni l'esprit ni les yeux :
Je ne vois en vous que vous-même,
Et vous m'en plaisez beaucoup mieux.
Brillante de votre lumière,
Belle de vos propres attraits,
Vous ne me retracez jamais
Ni La Suze ni Deshoulière.
La voix de leurs admirateurs
Déjà vous place à côté d'elles ;
Vous aurez des imitateurs,
Mais vous n'eûtes pas de modèles.
Écrit en 1795.
646
Carolyn Sara Echo Bonnie
Helena Su'ze and Faridi
All my babies cry and tease me
All you had to do, drop them then please me
Who knew that hawks could fly at night
Fell off my bike, retired for life
Greenbriar boys will try to tell ya
"I ain't tryin' to gaslight no one fella"
Hey all my girlfriends round and rounder
I'm so glad I grabbed and found her
Here we go, here we go, Big Blue Diamond
Telling everybody I'm one loose cannon
Choo-Choo Choo-Choo long train running
Look at that ****** he's still gunning
Rich man, Rich man, overpaid me
******* off ****** going to save me?
Carolyn Sara Echo Bonnie
Helena Suze and Faridi
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 2:45 PM UTC