"tort" poems
Bring to me a strong ***
By which my soul's sorrow will be forgot:
Filled with an ****** divine
So that Woman may be driven from my mind.
For I no longer want
This stream inspiring a heartly haunt,
That once flows will not stop
'Til my heart's blood drains to its last drop,
And so drained, then breaks.
Leaves me with an art held for its own sake.
So bring me forth this draught,
Deepest as ever one from Lethe quaffed.
From my broken heart charm
This fair Image of the earth's Fairest Form
That ever my heart has held,
That ever my reveling heart has swelled.
Alas, seems never shall be
My mind's eye, my heart, my soul ever free
Of this tort'rous torment.
Left with naught to do, only lament.
Away I cannot chase
The mind numbing beauty of her face.
'Tis all in vain it seems
For such a draught appears only in my dreams.
My sight did so invest,
Bringing damning pain abreast.
No longer can delight
Be brought forth from sights seen in any light.
Had she only known how
My heart, once free, only beat for her now
And with but a smile
Assuaged that murd'rous pain but for a while
I would then know relief,
That most bittersweet pain, the "joy of grief."
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
Daughter of Jove, relentless Power,
Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge and tort’ring hour
The Bad affright, afflict the Best!
Bound in thy adamantine chain
The Proud are taught to taste of pain,
And purple Tyrants vainly groan
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone.
When first thy Sire to send on earth
Virtue, his darling child, designed,
To thee he gave the heav’nly Birth,
And bade to form her infant mind.
Stern rugged Nurse! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore:
What sorrow was, thou bad’st her know,
And from her own she learned to melt at others’ woe.
Scared at thy frown terrific, fly
Self-pleasing Folly’s idle brood,
Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,
And leave us leisure to be good.
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer Friend, the flatt’ring Foe;
By vain Prosperity received,
To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.
Wisdom in sable garb arrayed
Immersed in rapt’rous thought profound,
And Melancholy, silent maid
With leaden eye, that loves the ground,
Still on thy solemn steps attend:
Warm Charity, the gen’ral Friend,
With Justice, to herself severe,
And Pity dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear.
Oh, gently on thy Suppliant’s head,
Dread Goddess, lay thy chast’ning hand!
Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
Not circled with the vengeful Band
(As by the Impious thou art seen),
With thund’ring voice, and threat’ning mien,
With screaming Horror’s funeral cry,
Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty.
Thy form benign, O Goddess, wear,
Thy milder influence impart,
Thy philosophic Train be there
To soften, not to wound my heart.
The gen’rous spark extinct revive,
Teach me to love and to forgive,
Exact my own defects to scan,
What others are, to feel, and know myself a Man.
3.5k
We The People
Sailed the same course
Some willingly
Some by force
We The People
A document to inform
A more perfect Union
To weather any storm
No more kings
No more oppression
No taxation
Without representation
Checks and balances
And the rule of law
Mitigating injustices
Safe harbor for all
The secular trinty
President, Congress, Court
Not one above the other
Veto, fiat, tort
Our common interest
Of defense
With liberty
And justice
Our common tranquility
And general welfare
A union
With resources to share
American rights
And protection
From a despotic government
Or an insurrection
Free to worship my God
Or your God
Freedom to find God
Or deny any God
Open discourse
Speaking my mind
And yours
However unkind
Collective grievances
Peaceably petitioned
We walk together
But never threatened
To bear arms
For our security
Never being forced
To quarter unwillfully
To remain secure
In our sanctuary
Unless presented
With writ of entry
Neither held
Absent habeas corpus
Or loss of property
Unless agreed by us
Or forced to testify
To contradict our own denials
Or brought forward
In duplicitous trials
To face our accuser
In much haste
Represented by counsel
Our peers decide our fate
Not one but twelve
Examining the facts
Brought forward
But only this court acts
Reasonable recompense
For fine or bail
Cruel or unusual retribution
Shall not avail
An enumeration
Merely provides illumination
But within the penumbra
Reveals more freedom
That is self-evident
No list or count
Exists to encumber
Or restriction to surmount
A union has formed
But sacred remains the individual
The tyranny of the majority
Is not permissible
A living breathing document?
Or static words unbending?
Even as we amend
Change never ending
Open to interpretation
If you see a right
But others may disagree
There may be a fight
The spirit of intent
Is there to see
Freedom to choose
Secured by liberty
We The People
A sacred quest
We The People
No more no less
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 10:29 AM UTC
I can see those dandelions
and how they were dancing,
to the serene bliss of wind
whispering,
unctuous promises.
though the dandelions
were confused,
as to why
the wind did that.
I can hear the wind sighed
and blow a gentle soothe
to those dandelions.
I asked,
why would they fall
for the ingratiating wind?
oh, dear.
how ghost-quiet it tasted?
as I put the question mark
back at the wind,
and hold those flowers
to keep their hearts save.
the wind
stopped blowing at last,
leaving every petal on their own
without lies,
without anymore promises.
all I can hear now is
the beautiful chorus of content
filling up as the wind,
replacing it.
I let these dandelions
plant theirselves
and grow,
without relying
on the whispering wind.
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 11:36 AM UTC
Toutes les histoires sont comme un miroir,
Deux faces, deux versions, deux reflets.
Pourtant le notre ne me montre que ce que je veux voir,
Au secours, j'ai besoin d'aide, notre miroir est brisé.
Cette nuit j'ai dessiné ton visage sur mes rêves, à la craie
Ce matin ta peau était encore collée à ma joue
J'ai essayé de t'arracher, mais tu étais enfoncée comme un clou,
Au secours, j'ai besoin d'aide, je n'arrive pas à t'effacer.
Tu restes là sans être présente,
Ta voix me répète encore que "j'ai dû me tromper"
J'avoue avoir eu tort de penser que tu m'avais laissée
Au secours, j'ai besoin d'aide, ton fantôme me hante.
Mon étoile brille encore moins que tes émeraudes
Nos erreurs m'agressent, comme nos insultes en écho
Ce n'était pas prévu que tout se termine dans un tel chaos
Au secours, j'ai besoin d'aide pour réparer ce désordre.
J'ai lutté de toutes mes forces pour te chasser de mon esprit,
Mais tu reviens à la charge, le soir juste avant de dormir
Toute seule avec ta voix qui me guide pour écrire,
Au secours, j'ai besoin d'aide, tu me fais sombrer dans la folie.
Aujourd'hui j'ai tellement peur que tu ne veuilles plus que je revienne,
Et je ne suis même pas sûre de le vouloir moi-même
Je me fais encore du mal, mais on récolte ce que l'on sème
Au secours, j'ai besoin d'aide, je voulais juste que tu me retiennes.
Ton ombre me suit partout en chantant Clementine,
Mais il n'y a plus d'éveil aux émeraudes depuis longtemps
Le silence me rend muette, je ne respire plus comme avant
J'ai dérivé ; au secours, j'ai besoin d'Aide..line.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 3:56 PM UTC
Hekyl and Jyde
Dr Hekyll was a strange old sort
dabbled in physics and reform of tort
took things serious as a heart attack
never smiled much hardly ever a crack
he worked every day from dawn to dusk
research from rhino horn to sweet corn husk
when he sipped on his brew stumbling in a haze
colors flashing everywhere fell into a daze
his hair bouffant and his collar flipped
behind the wheel of his corvette he slipped
checking his pretty face in the rear view mirror
Yes he was cool Mr Jyde couldn't get any clearer
down to the nite clubs he would saunter in
order himself a tall boy of tonic and gin
the ladies would flock all seeking his attention
checking his supply of disaster prevention
by two a.m. his reserves running thin
time to get back to his laboratory again
before his hair and good looks disappeared
they would all get a look at his scraggly beard
as the sun arose he staggered to his feet
dressed in his fancy suit Italian shoes on his feet
rubbed his eyes and in the mirror he winked
threw himself a kiss and never even blinked
yes he was a contrast of demeanor and style
his somber face covering up his smile
back to his dreary life of barely alive
he was Dr. Hekyll and Mr. Jyde
Gomer LePoet....
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 4:41 PM UTC
So does he thank that deep down there sa meaning to my stuff?
Or maybe you think this is all off the cuff
Rough
Tough
Buffy fly like a bird out a the sky
Do yo think I'm high,
I'm a cool such a cool guy
Yyeeeee!
Exclamatory you
Clinton is a complete hack aye shank you
And the is die his tort my
Mien omn thiosulfate. The sanity yo
it's tots out the window
**
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
[Click]
“Yo yo yo, welcome back to the Def Poetry Slam. Comin’ up on da stage next we got two favorites who certainly ain’t a favorite of each other… na mean, na mean? They’re both hear reppin’ the London, so give a big round for ‘Lord Bye-Bye, and Johnny Cleats’…
Yeah, yeah. You guys know the rules… get to it. Bye-Bye, you’re startin’”
He walks in Beauty, like the dawn
whose bright and crimson sun alights
So all of those around him fawn
and follow him into the night
Now I know why my friend Trelawn
does envy him with all his might
Oh no, I, am so sorry,
My mind has come to function
all of this, you see, is me
And while he’s got some gumption
aesthetic he, but hungry, Keats
only talent for consumption
“Ohhhhh! No he didn’t, no he di-in’t! Yo Cleats, get some traction on this and tear him away.”
Standing aloof in giant ignorance,
staring down from atop an ivory stool
Your title, then, will keep them in your dance
and little else, you shallow-swimming fool
You see, My Lord, and that is all you pageant
as simple work as that does a flask
My words, instead, are all that I imagine
Of that, My Lord, mine is the hardest task
*“Ohhh… well Round One’s gotta go to Bye-Bye, the audience has chosen, but… John? Johnny Boy? Hello? Where lies you, English Poet?… Can it be?… Can it be?… Ladies and Gentlemen… I think we have our first official **** in the ring. Must’ve been something we said. I guess it’s over. Bye-Bye… you got anything to say on your victory?”*
So, we’ll go no more a roving
as our battle was cut short
Just as I thought you would be atoning
for your lack of literary tort
I’m classically trained, John Dear
and a weakness of the meek:
It’s that you have a deathly fear
and cannot survive critique
“That’s kinda cold, dude. You and I both kno–”
[Click]
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 6:11 PM UTC
Eye hav a higgoramous, shee tort me orl I knoe
Sheez a clevar Higgoramous az Higorrami goe
Shee tort me orl mi spelin and wen eye pik mi no’s
Ter wypit on der carpit knot rubbit on mi close
Sum peepul saye herz higgorrunt an saye dat shee iz fik
I ate dem orrid peepul dey reely mayk mee sik
I ope dat shee gitz pregerant an az a littel cubb
Eye’ll fead er lotz of kandie an uthar luvly grubb
Eye’ll elp er mummie baff er eye’ll chainge er durty nappie
Shee’ll bee soe qoot an cudelsum shee’l mayk mee viry appy
An wen der cubb gitz biggar shee’ll plae wiv mee an kis
An evariwun wil real eyes dat higgoramous’s iz bliss :-)
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
We The People
Sailed the same course
Some willingly
Some by force
We The People
A document to inform
A more perfect Union
No matter the storm
No more kings
No more oppression
No more taxation
Without representation
Checks and balances
And the rule of law
Mitigating injustices
Safe harbor for all
The secular trinty
President, Congress, Court
Not one above the other
Veto, fiat, tort
Our common interest
Our common defense
Our common liberty
Our common justice
The domestic tranquility
And the general welfare
The pursuit of happiness
And the resources we share
Civil rights
And our protection
From a despotic government
Or an insurrection
Free to worship my God
Or your God
Freedom to find God
Or deny any God
Open discourse
Speaking your mind
You have an opinion
However unkind
Collective grievances
Peaceably petitioned
We walk together
But never threatened
To bear arms
For our security
Or being forced
To quarter unwillfully
To remain secure
In our sanctuary
Unless presented
With writ of entry
Neither held
Absent habeas corpus
Or loss of property
Unless agreed by us
Never forced to testify
To contradict our denials
Or brought forward
In duplicitous trials
To face our accuser
In much haste
Represented by counsel
Our peers decide our fate
Not one but twelve
Examining the facts
We are brought forward
But only this court acts
Reasonable recompense
For fine or bail
Cruel or unusual retribution
Shall not avail
The enumeration
Provides illumination
But within the penumbra
Shadows suggest freedom
What is self-evident
Requires no list or count
Nothing to encumber
Or restriction to surmount
A union has formed
But sacred remains the individual
The tyranny of the majority
Is never permissible
A living breathing document?
Or construction unbending?
But as we amend
Change is never ending
Open to interpretation
If you see a right
Others may disagree
Who can see the light?
The spirit of intent
For all to see
Freedom to choose
Secured by liberty
We The People
A sacred quest
We The People
No more no less
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 10:56 AM UTC
Mornings fall
Darkness rise
Man ne’er looking to the skies
Pleading not
Suff’ring so
Wallowing in tort’rous woe
Blinded to
Their own doubt
Gnawing, chewing, hollows out
Precious souls
They don’t care
Where to go? Now what to wear?
Worthless cares
Don’t they see?
Devil’s snares of “me, me, me”
Much success
Though contrite
Robbed so eas’ly of their sight
Cry to God!
Oh, little man
Only He saves, with His plan
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 10:39 PM UTC
He is
unrequited
in what
her rival
delighted
and appears
forlorn to
unravel in
rap again
if idiosyncrasy
rules hearts
when tort
is subject
that results
in crime
a yearly
tragedy on
tap again.
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 6:52 AM UTC
Reality Rap
Got another flight to catch again,
I don’t want to go,
not ready to touch down,
not ready at all,
a cracka with an attitude,
apple sauce from Adam,
Deviled eggs eaten outta the Hand of God,
and Angel food cake served by Satan,
cake cake cake debate is hardly worth a retort,
the frosting is awesome I’ll even take it on the tort,
or **** Peter Park no Spiderman,
bitten by a scorpion on my right hand,
and these aren’t just rhymes,
they’re Reality Rap,
and if you like this,
well you’re gonna love that,
fact,
no Ratpack just some facts that,
wrap their words around tangible things that seem abstract.
It’s all math,
it adds up if you can add,
exactly to the 1’s with the 0’s,
like the Matrix I don’t wait take the best first,
I’m paranoid of all my hero’s,
while these villainous nerd birds peck at my net worth,
these villains are tools for the Machine that’s cursed,
these are all facts real rhymes freestyled never rehearsed,
they’re actual reality translated into the written word rhythmically,
I’m hearing voices in my head and their songs are sung so beautifully,
I love all of those ghost with moments of present nostalgia,
this is poetry we are poetry I couldn’t’ve done it with out ya,
I love you I love you,
I know you’ve heard it before,
no love is too much,
once that love is no more,
got another flight to catch,
and I’d really love to stay and explore,
all of our everything’s together for sure,
but away in this world on another world tour,
and on that note I gotta go,
got another flight to catch again,
I don’t want to go,
not ready to touch down,
not ready at all…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Volume 1
The H Trilogy
I just published a new book.
If you could take a moment to check it out,
and even write a review it'd be most appreciated.
All profits go to a charity that prevents ****** assault against children.
So not only are you getting an epic book of poetry,
but you're also supporting a good cause.
Thank you SO much!
∆
Here’s the link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01I4621OE
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 7:58 PM UTC
Caitlyn your my best friend, and I'm tired of seeing you hurt!
For the last time *** it's not your fault and you need to re-tort!
Cody was an ******* who deserves nothing but Pain, and
Believe me when I say it, HE WILL GET THE PAIN
I'm done seeing you cry, and hearing about how he hurt you...
It's just not fair for you to be so emotional over some stupid high school
FRESHMAN drunk at that, Your a sophomore and he should have been grateful that you even gave him the time of day!
I care about you and I'm glad you cut him off, But be warned BOYS like him always come wanting more, and *** don't give him any more chances then you already have.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
Le navire est venu à cheval, à une heure inexacte
Notre frère-matelot, du Panthéon des Poètes, était à son bord
Jean Pierre Basilic Dantor Frankétienne D’argent
Qui écrivait, à la hâte, le dernier acte
Se trouvait par hasard, miraculeusement sur le port
Il est monté, il est parti sans parler, sans argent
Sans ses chefs d’œuvre, sans une petite maison
C’est la vie, on part à toute saison.
Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.
Franckétienne n’est pas disparu
Il est quelque part, à Ravine-Sèche, dans les rues
Son inspiration est dans ‘l’émission le Point’
Nous n’avons pas d’autres choix que de prendre soin
De sa mémoire, de son invention et de son imagination
Franckétienne était un génie Haïtien, poète, dramaturge, spiraliste
Ministre de la culture, faiseur de mots, chanteur, peintre et artiste
Son nom était une longue phrase
Et ses paroles faisaient rire jusqu'à l’extase.
Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.
De son vivant, il n’avait pas obtenu sa petite maison
C’était un génie légendaire qui a défié l’imagination
La dictature, l’ordinaire, l’inordinaire et l’abstraction
En devenant un mapou, un baobab. Dirait Wendell
Quel potomitan! Quelle cathédrale! Quelle citadelle!
Pour paraphraser le fils du directeur de Mac Donald
« S’il arrive que tu tombes, apprends vite à chevaucher
Ta chute, que ta chute devienne un cheval, ton cheval
Pour continuer le voyage », la randonnée.
Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.
« Chaque minute compte après cinquante ans »
Disait Franckétienne, puisqu’on peut partir
A n’importe quelle heure, à n’importe quel instant
‘Galaxie plomb gaillé’, pas trop **** du nadir
Une trace invisible sur la tète à la Valentino ou à la Tino Rossi
Frankétienne s’en est allé, l’artiste est parti
Il demeure plus que jamais un Être nouveau
Le géant, l’écrivain, le comédien, le créateur des mots
Est habillé en bretelle comme un gros blanc nègre
Pas comme un monstre de Dr. Frankenstein. Comme une pègre
Le navire est venu à cheval, c’est la mort
Qui nous menace comme si nous avions tort
Nous pleurons maintenant comme la mère
Pour cet octogénaire avancé, pour ce prince de lumière.
Kalfou te kindeng miwo, miba ye.
P.S. Un Hommage à Franckétienne et famille, à Wendell Théodore
Et compagnie, à Radio Métropole et à tous les Haïtiens conséquents.
J’offre mes sincères condoléances à tous. Sit ei terra levis!
Copyright © Février 2025, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
Feb 24, 2025
Feb 24, 2025 at 7:38 AM UTC
this debt, this book, this tort,
so overdue, uncivil wrong demanding reconciliation,
that the librarians sent the hoodlums
to remind me of my obligations
there must be unfinished, three or four Gebbie precursors,
lying about awaiting further final definition
unmarshaled me, unable to see them through to completion,
but my hindsight, my guilty plea, aided by an assertive,
rear self-kicking, offers me some motivation immediacy
When I see the Auckland Sky Center in photos,
a hard hatted man with softest heart always,
is on top, doing his native Aussie global
(in place) walkabout, better to see,
the cubature volume of the global poetry underneath his feet,
the poetic underworld, needing a
Gebbie supervisory drilling read down
Enough!
unsatisfactory above this ditty notation for one who
tenders unto me comforting words that
drill down so deeply, keeping,
"the night shall not disrobe you,"
that only a single rhyming word
is satisfactory but yet too,
is insufficient to capture
the audio of innards weeping
surely aware, the nighttime, is when I best my own analytics,
disrobing in a room of black letters on a white background
for all who stumble by moonlight on the bards of "perchance,^"
giving pieces of me to the those who not only read my verses,
but those who ken
that the unspoken spaces in between,
containers of what is not writ,
but only modestly well hid,
is where lies oft the more important script
and he gets that...
where the skills when most needed?
his precision will deserves artistry, not sophistry,
and I am flailing, failing inadequately to pay my overdue
it is early morn in Taranaki,
perhaps he will see this lackey's lacking insufficiency,
before he goes climbing man-made towers
that bear witness
to mens bigger dreams,
perhaps when he returns later tonight,
in a snifter of old malt scotch,
his "last one for the road"
he will see it floating,
and think of me,
this time, happily,
disrobing mine soul's own nighttime,
trusting him to keep all safe,
entrusting it to him,
and to Janet,
my best,
red and black,
sweetest dreams
<>
https://hellopoetry.com/marshal-gebbie/
9/5/17 13:55pm
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 1:53 PM UTC
Fort sort court report, tort port quart, consort contort retort cohort cavort snort.
Black sack fact track Jack, smack wack maniac pack. Back hack knack flack, lack kayak rack tack.
Bust rust, dust crust, lust fussed, just must combust trust.
Bought naught, fought caught ought, distraught draught..
Pent mint sent rent lent, vent bent, went dent, gent glint spent tent rent.
Serene ravine green gene careen, obscene demean. Clean, preen queen, mean lean scene wean.
Fin pin sin, men tin wren zen.
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 1:56 AM UTC
Par je ne sais quelle aventure,
Un avare, un beau jour, voulant se bien traiter,
Au marché courut acheter
Des pommes pour sa nourriture.
Dans son armoire il les porta,
Les compta, rangea, recompta,
Ferma les doubles tours de sa double serrure,
Et chaque jour les visita.
Ce malheureux, dans sa folie,
Les bonnes pommes ménageait ;
Mais lorsqu'il en trouvait quelqu'une de pourrie,
En soupirant il la mangeait.
Son fils, jeune écolier, faisant fort maigre chère,
Découvrit à la fin les pommes de son père.
Il attrape les clefs, et va dans ce réduit,
Suivi de deux amis d'excellent appétit.
Or vous pouvez juger le dégât qu'ils y firent,
Et combien de pommes périrent.
L'avare arrive en ce moment,
De douleur, d'effroi palpitant.
Mes pommes ! Criait-il : coquins, il faut les rendre,
Ou je vais tous vous faire pendre.
Mon père, dit le fils, calmez-vous, s'il vous plaît ;
Nous sommes d'honnêtes personnes :
Et quel tort vous avons-nous fait ?
Nous n'avons mangé que les bonnes.
742
Jours d'hivers Copeaux
Mon ami les yeux rouges
Suit l'enterrement Glace
Je suis jaloux du mort
Les gens tombent comme des mouches
On me dit tout bas que j'ai tort
Soleil bleu Lèvres gercées Peur
Je parcours les rues sans penser à mal
avec l'image du poète et l'ombre du trappeur
On m'offre des fêtes
des oranges
Mes dents Frissons Fièvre Idée fixe
Tous les braseros à la foire à la ferraille
Il ne me reste plus qu'à mourir de froid
en public.
716
Oh well. This is so ****** fun I think I'll...give up, like Dad sensibly advised. Yes, I will. [ah, famous last words.]
(sonnet #MMMMMCMLXXX)
Shaun. There. Oh me! How I kin roll from hence
His name across my tongue in sheer betrayl,
To savour those four letters like't avail
Me, his dear voice my heart loves with a sense
Of sweet perfection, blue-grey eyes I'd thence
Look into sans aught knowledge of their bail
Til now it kills me: muse on each in pale
Excuse, that curly brown hair love--but whence?
He does not know. And I'm impossble fer
All that, til who despairs? He likes me too.
Oh tort'rous joys! For shall he ever tour
These pages and see this?! Don't ask me to
Be sens'ble. I am in a swoon in poor
Excuse til dunno when. Oh that he knew!
21Oct16a
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 11:08 PM UTC
Fable XV, Livre III.
Comme ce fournisseur, au visage vermeil,
Rebondi, ramassé dans sa courte structure,
Et brodé sur toute couture,
Un melon étalait son gros ventre au soleil ;
Et, du haut de sa couche, à la rave modeste
Qui, dans le sable aride, à ses pieds végétait,
Adressait ce discours, qu'en bêchant écoutait
Mon jardinier, qui vous l'atteste :
« Que je te plains ! (Ce mot est le mot du mépris
Comme de la pitié.) Que je te plains, ma chère,
D'être si mal nourrie ! et que je suis surpris
Qu'on trouve même à vivre en aussi maigre terre !
Gros-Jean n'a des yeux que pour moi.
C'est un tort ; et, d'honneur, j'aurais l'âme ravie
S'il s'occupait un peu de toi,
Qui meurs, soyons de bonne foi,
De faim moins encor que d'envie. »
« - Et que peut-on vous envier ? »
Répond l'humble racine : « oui, vous vivez à l'aise ;
Vous êtes gros et gras, soit ; mais, ne vous déplaise,
Votre embonpoint vient du fumier. »
696
We dryly sweat when she with maiden tongue
Rebukes with haste the wicked ways of men
For all do writhe and feel most tort'rous stung
When from calm lips eschew our mortal sins
Are we not well equipped to follow rules?
When now the forms of long ago return
And look to us who do not come as fools
For time and heart require no subtle burn
But ne'er was one brought down too far from grace
To cry from fear alone with need to flee
For deepest cuts spur us to upward race
And that which does not **** will make us free
When deep within our souls we still believe
That curse of hope is still our best reprieve
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC
Put a friendly face on death and make him my
friend. Bring diseases curled as gifts, as water on
dry tongues, and on health-stain tort in whisked
hues that all sing sad songs of early deaths. Bring
me daily, hot food on warm plates, stone cold and
grotesque. Bring it all briskly to the coffin I call
my bed, and there I'll watch myself die.
And have the Priest fit on the site of my birth,
for I'll be born a dead boy anyway. Stuck with
lab venom; your cures at the end of sticks
plunged quietly into my skin. All stilted vats
of Death in good taste– jet blindness; splash
misery for Mothers– Mock execution on mass
for nameless rats who'd been held as babies.
But now I'm old, old as a child can be without death,
how can I breath in such vile brews as the air?
Downtrodden clouds roiled by atrocity; roiled and
molested white carapace that falls day by day, each
onto innocent lungs-aged madly. But what tranquil
traumas I have witnessed– on soft eyes and soft skin–
on groves I'd though real– and how maybe if I never
spend my time here, I can never waste it, for we'll
all have drank from the tass before too long.
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 7:34 AM UTC
Wannabe wrote to the judge and said he wanted to proceed pro se.
The judge replied back and said that it was okay.
Not knowing that Wannabe knew less about law than most lawyers forgot
When Wannabe was looking on Amazon, he had an amazing thought.
They said if you wanted to hide something from a black put it in a book.
But he replied to himself, They did not figure that this black would look.
Wannabe figured that he could teach himself the law like school.
He didn’t know that both the professor and the student in this case was a fool.
Finally, and most amazingly, the day for the trial was here.
Wannabe was confident he would win, he did not fear.
He say that the landlord had at his side appointed counsel.
But Wannabe thought that the case hinged on the stronger will.
Wannabe held on to the podium as if he wanted it choked
There wasn’t a single rule of opening statements he hadn’t broken.
Wannabe said To my friends, my enemies, and my haters.
He thought this is my chance to say what wasn’t in the motion papers.
Then Wannabe looked up at the judge and said May it please the court.
This should be both a property dispute and a tort.
Because during my time there, he made me very distressed.
He was both a menace to society and an enemy of progress
The landlord’s lawyer did not object because he was so shocked.
That the law could be so abused, battered and mocked.
Then the landlord’s lawyer called his witness to the stand.
And asked him a very simple direct question.
Wannabe shouted out with a loud cry, “Objection”
Then he said under his breathe for all to hear, “I am not the one”
The judge said that Wannabe’s objection was overruled.
Wannabe said, “Im not a lawyer” and the judge replied, “No one was fooled”.
Wannabe continued to carry on until the judge called him for a conference.
And told him that if he did not behave, his case would be dismissed.
Then it came time for Wannabe and Wannabe said, “I wish to direct-examine me”.
The judge said No you cant do that, and very angrily.
Wannabe had to sit down because he did not have a witness or expert.
Then the judge said that he lost, and Wannabe was especially hurt.
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 5:18 PM UTC
Je suis compliqué
Je suis bizarre
Je suis fou
Je suis un extrême compétiteur
Je suis borné
Je suis lunatique
Je suis pragmatique
Je suis trop rationnel
Je suis français
Je suis intelligent
Je suis (une) personne
Je suis con
Je suis ignorant
Je suis un menteur
Je suis sexiste
Je suis un amant
Je suis xénophobe
Je suis curieux
Je suis inquisiteur
Je suis hésitant
Je suis un auteur
Je suis myope
Je suis droitier
Je suis gauche
Je suis égocentrique
Je suis doué
Je suis un scientifique
Je suis démuni
Je peux être dogmatique
Je suis lent
Je suis sensible
Je suis un rêveur
Je suis très fier
J’ai des principes
Je suis un procrastinateur
J’ai tort
Je suis égoïste
Je suis en forme
Je suis relativement calme
Je suis partial
Je suis susceptible
Je suis un étranger
Je suis un gamin, un garçon, un homme
Non, rien!
Je suis humain.
Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 6:51 AM UTC