"ukrainian" poems
you can hear the echo via Zizek the Slovak,
well, attire me in slavic myths and
i'll be mumbling purrs in mud too
for a helium bubble to become a comedian,
i know a jittery ******* addiction
when i see one...
if one thing the catholic schooling system
taught me was how to avoid
sniffing glue and how to recognise
a Freudian apostle - still, with all
the hippy **** you'd think
sniffing glue was what Ukrainian existentialism
prescribed with paracetamol,
catholic education just said: no no.
**** me it's the late 90s and we're talking
post-Chernobyl antics...
but that's how i see the left, leftist politics,
the right
utilises prefixes and suffixes in the
old stance of simple pre- pro-
anti-
qua-
-so so...
the left? oh they're right in there...
their prefixes are
Marxist-
liberal-
Hegelian-
whatnot...
they don't
use abstract prefixes,
their prefixes
are concrete,
they want the porridge in their mouth
to ensure a slur that never comes,
among a range of onomatopoeias they argue
from the perspective of the hushed and ushered crowd,
via one observation: Stalin clapped after a speech
to enjoin with the crowd, a real big brother,
****** never clapped, a sitting-duck method;
i'm not advocating, but by a proxy placebo dynamo
experimenting, it's called experimenting with
thought rather than practising with will,
former no chance of footstep evaluation for
cult status imitable -
the left intellectual
has no rubric of thought concerning to and fro -
it has to be concrete layered and a shut off
perfect architecture without fault -
it can't be what it is -
con-
has to be conservative
pro-
has to be socialist
you once said legitimate
transparency - but you didn't say legislation -
well, the left understood it as legislation,
the right too wanted legitimate transparency -
the green party said we could have neither
but could have the replanting of a thousand
oak trees with a Robin Hood placard on the first
oak tree replanted in Sherwood Forest...
b. ~ d. ~... shot ~100 bent arrows into a bullseye -
hurrah! hurrah! maid marian lost her virginity
too! to a broomstick rather than maradona's
fingernail toothpick!
at an essex market the cockney shouts (out of
place): *** yer courgettes! *** yer courgettes!
ta fa a pudding! ta fa a pudding!
*** yer cucumbers! tooth firth 'un!
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
*So I went to the campus today, for the first time in a long time. I smoked cigarettes outside of the the lecture hall with some kids from the eastern block whose names I could barely pronounce. They were talking about McCarthyism in a language I couldn't understand - snippets in English - an American history exam. I cut class again, for a reason I can't quite trace, just lost sight of it all I guess. Or maybe I was wishing it could have been a little easier. They never gave us a course in what it means to try, you know? It just seems as if the only thing that stops us from doing the things we love is a fear of failing at them. Thinking about this on the walk home made my head sick and my heart sad, and so sleeping through the rest of the daylight seemed like a good way to get by.
I met up with the friend, later in the evening, he was at the local venue. He had his hands in his hoodie and his Adidas were swinging over the side of the stage, head bobbing, and rhyming in time to the beat of an electric bass drum. I asked him to buy me a beer and he slid his last two dollars over the counter like he always does when he notices my lower lip quivering. I didn't ask him about the doctor's and he didn't ask me about my black eye. I told him to tell me the story again, the one about the cool kids he met in the East Village and he did, he told me about the whole encounter in the snow, with the lights, and how badly he was shivering. I smiled that type of smile, the one that ends up with your lips curved the wrong way and wished I would have went with him.
The waitress that hates me gave me a ride home again so her uncle could close the place down. I offered her one of those Ukrainian kids' cigarettes that I swiped but she said no thanks, and I was glad I had more. She knew this wasn't going to be the last time she did me a favor, the way my track record was but I like to think she doesn't mind too much. I invited her inside but she said she had to run, maybe next time. She told me to try and hurry up and finish school so I could give her the world, and then she giggled and winked at me before she sped off. Back to bed, I had a long day of bullshitting myself ahead of me when I awoke.*
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 4:11 PM UTC
In Silence
The English ex SAS Special Forces member went to the Ukraine to fight. He travelled light and took just a small back pack and a head full of skills. A gun was a gun and a bayonet a bayonet. He was trained to use most things as weapon especially military articles.
He decided to go to the Ukraine after the Russians invaded proper in early 2022. The Ukrainian Army took him to a holding facility where they vetted him. This took three days. Included was basic close combat skills and weapons use.
He excelled and was given a job, being sent to a forward artillery position with a dozen other foreign troops to protect it. The SAS man was in charge and most men and the single girl spoke English. All understood military commands and signals. All were veterans from either conscript or professional armies.
Each was here for their own reasons and all disliked either what Russia had done or Russians themselves. The English SAS member had killed several Muslim terrorists from Daesh and al Qaeda in Iraq and Afghanistan. Now he looked forward to fighting and killing some Russians, officers if possible. After being in the Ukraine six days he was on the front line leading his first patrol. This was better than being a bouncer in a Manchester night club!
The SAS guy ordered his men to only use bayonets as they silently crept to a Russian fox hole a mile away. He wanted blood and the rush of combat, of killing. There was the trench and a single sentry, asleep. He would knife him himself. Then his squad would ****** the rest and take back any weapons, maps or documents. He spoke four languages including Russian. Any Intel was good for his bosses though. Here we go! There’s the sleeping sentry. Gently now, he must die in silence…
Mar 20, 2022
Mar 20, 2022 at 5:33 PM UTC
give me five minutes i said and
the glass, notempty, stared back
americans at the bar
refused to be quiet
as the poem forced itself through the belgian air
brussels they said is where
it all comes together - the barmaid, watching me silently, agrees
difficult not to see that 0-0 result as a judgment, a prediction an omen
no score?
i'd hoped for more
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
yes, theology reduced to the anti-speculative reasoning
to choose he v. she, as if what pronoun mattered
to be hardly exact - national effigies exist
for ex-patriots - immigrants is a
***** word used by assimilating cultures,
the small intestines and the
the tape worms - she ******* Europe -
he labouring Europe - winged Hussars in Ukrainian mud -
while Versailles was built - Poles, the French of the East -
Moscow was trivialised twice - once by Mongol,
once by Pole - Nietzsche maddened called for
the Slavic-Frenchmen - i can already see the proximity
of French with Polonaise - the duchy of Warsaw -
Napoleon - Justepatron - just partition -
or thus the two bombardments equal -
thus two kept a holy alliance - that the Pole
be Frenchman when a croissant was questioned.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 11:32 PM UTC
I think
I've seen it all:
****** turbans,
Mosques riddled
With bullet holes,
Bus stop bomb shelters,
Bad aim.
I've been out of the loop
Recently—haven't
Had the time to
Stop and smell the
Newsprint on
The coffee table but,
I see pictures.
Paper maché
Leg casts,
Wine-stained
Hello Kitty bandages,
Slit wrists,
And a ground out cigar.
Lonely engines,
Browning fires,
And balsa wood.
Gas masks,
A judge's gavel
And traveller's checks.
House of cards,
Plane ticket,
Ukrainian flag.
Smoke bombs,
Sandpaper flares...
Rocket ships filled
With bags of sand.
And cups of coffee:
Wake up.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 4:42 AM UTC
He told his sister to feed the dogs,
His twin sister; Sophia Bogvoskya,
As he was to take out the herds
Of horses, sheep, donkeys and cows,
Out to the plains and hill land for grazing,
She never took a **** she locked herself,
Up in the ante chamber of the main house,
She took the mirror and began looking
At her beauty, Russian model beauty
She began picking her nails,
As the dogs were starving in the sheds
They whined but no succor came forth,
A fiat that coincided with arrival of ogres,
The great Western Ogres, the tongues wagging,
They had a plethora of eyes and mouths,
Noses and ears, limbs both hind and fore,
They ate all the young sheep,
They took away Putin’s young brothers
Crimea and Ukrainian, both were taken away,
By the ferocious NATO ogres they were taken
In a whelp and desperate kicking for freedom,
Dogs stood aloof as ogres thrashed Sophia
Into thin lacerations of red flesh,
They ate as they roared with laughter,
Then they went away with their loot,
Vladimir came back home, found nothing
No sister, no brothers no sheeplings,
Only two white sepulchers glared at him,
The graves of his mother and father;
The former cooks of Lenin Vladimir,
He mourned and mourned grievously,
Then he sang a dirge of his forefathers
From the herculean land of Bosnia,
And also Moscow, he dirged;
We were born in the wee of the night,
When the bear is whelping,
And we were suckled by the Tigre
When our mothers were taken slaves,
For no man or creature
Will ever make us victims
Nor subjects of fear,
He recovered from the moment
Trial some moment of loss and bereave,
Then he chose to go after the ogres
But with a strategum of no match,
He began arming himself first
Before he could set on,
His mobile armory full of deadly weapons;
A bunch of wasps, wild bees, black ants,
A thousand slings, spears and sickles,
Machetes, poisonous saps, and toxics,
Wild dogs, five hundred snakes and scorpions,
Bows and arrows as well as cudgels,
Clubs, stones and chains,
He also learned how to use the hands
In the most lethal manner,
Then he went for combat,
To rescue all that was taken,
Taken from him by the ogres….
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 8:38 AM UTC
Ukrainian dream
My golden queen
I've wasted years
Suffered for you
Pleaded for you
Died inside
Denied my pride
Now at last
I've finally found
The pain most intense
With you around
The only one
I adore
Has shattered and broken me
To the core.
Apr 7, 2019
Apr 7, 2019 at 7:40 AM UTC
Collared for white collar,
To society I'm paying my dues
The Trump appointee Club Fed blues.
The beds are pretty clean and soft,
At Club Fed, they hardly cost
Shootin' shuffleboard, takin' a snooze
Just forgettin' the Club Fed blues
The **** beach aint just ahead
Club Fed just aint the Club Med
At 3-pm, it's tea and cake
Every night supper-- it's Trump steak
The cash register rings, it's all his take.
They're adding on to the Club Fed thing,
A spanking new Congressional wing
Having latte with a Trumper con
He whines,"I'm no Don,
I was just a pawn."
On the ladies side, want to meet
Lori, the College Admission cheat
No black ink pen tattoos
Just plain old Club Fed blues
Bill Barr and Rudy sit at table
Remembering when they were on cable
Just spinning another Ukrainian fable
Missing my 5-pm yardarm *****
A stiff price to pay, the Club Fed blues
When I leave it's to the Caribbean
To a fat numbered account
And I'll finally lose the Club Fed blues.
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 6:56 AM UTC
**** all the children get a chance at the sandpit... only the dog collared ones attempting wrestling matches of biceps tonguing rhetoric touring waggle get the pulpit... kinda **** if you ask me: said sir sacrifice-a-lot when sir lancelot married; but all the **** happened after the ukrainian ***** it was the russian bourgeoise one... you forget you dim-witted bolshevik... the russian one... the russian one! not the ukrainian one! ah crap... too late, the crimson lunar eclipse from edinburgh to st. petersburg gave me mythological charisma; endeavour of the readers who can’t remember my tourism earning the year 2007 as distinct: i can earn an awareness of lying about the jealousy i have for the century of being a musketeer defending louis vix; ja athos! ein athos! i’m athos.... wrinkly & masturbated ******** toss! hey ** hey ** we dig dig dig dig dig, it's what we like to do... coal mine.... coal mine... coal mine... with a millionth diamond... we dig dig dig dig dig... hej ** do lasu by sie szło... high ** high ** unto abreit macht frei we go.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 11:41 PM UTC
And I really do mean men. And mostly white men.
I learned that at Columbia film school
In LA, at USC, all those male filmmakers were somewhat suspect
What they made, could not often be called "art" but even worse
they tended to extreme geekines
They wore ***** athletic shoes everywhere and spent long hours on sets
in t-shirts, wearing caps with the name of their film on them and not smelling particularly fresh
They were not particularly athletic in a city that sport "muscle beach."
But here, they were MEN. They could hold their own in any test of masculinity
as art is a serious undertaking, and requires great powers of the intellect
And here, where most life is spent indoors, the men dressed well,
in proper leather shoes that had names, and followed the fashion of the bohemian moment
which was not considered bad, maybe because you need clothes so much there
You are always freezing or sweltering and sweating. You freeze outside in winter
and you sweat when you come indoors. In the summer you boil outside in hot
and air conditioned New York, like you are in purgatory, and then freeze again in the air conditioning
To have that artistic authority, no woman can come close
It isn't a woman's world, at least in the early nineties in New York, it wasn't
Such a dissapointment for me since I thought I could somehow slip through by sheer cleverness
It's like a black person hoping to be identified as white. It can't be done.
There was a place for me, like no matter where I hid in a cinematography class
in the front, middle or back I always became the woman who is photographed
to demonstrate lighting
"You learn the most up here" said Beta Badka, in a thick Ukrainian accent as he set me on a stool
But that's not where I wanted to be
I longed to be taken seriously, telling stories about women, about girls
and having them be respected with that same cache
that came with stories of men
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 8:10 PM UTC
The evanescence of a light beam constructed inside Emilia's longing, desolate eyes as she searched her room for the pounding rhythm of a distance drum. The succinct stirring shot a severe ache into her eardrums, and she cradled her head inside her lanky forearms, comfortable in their cataclysm.
She had been stolen, and her arms were her only comfort. As she watched onward in the tiny, centipede-infested room she had been thrown into, the beating drums continued, and she could hear the unclear voices of large Ukrainian men prattling about "the beginning."
The beginning, she felt, had begun, whatever it was, and as she listened, the only thing she could think about was cutting those ropes loose and taking control again over these infuriating defectors as her birthright had dictated.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 4:18 PM UTC
There seems to be no escape.
The MAGA cult is all queued up.
Tickets in hand, gathering their baggage -
Prepared to board the leaky ship
For a one-way trip to the bottom of the sea.
Their bags are exceedingly heavy -
Filled with their leader's failures,
Formed of laundered cash, ****
Top Secret document theft, fraud,
Abandoned faithful allies
And defenders of Ukraine's freedom.
There are no first class seats on this ship
Because there are no first class passengers.
They long ago sold off all they should value
To stand by a creepy hotel clerk
Consumed by grift and self - idolatry.
Their hero arrives in a three-piece suit
To escort them to their cabins
As soon as he scrapes the mashed potatoes
From his corruption-soaked vest.
But wait - there seem to be empty seats
Many voyagers are turning away
Tearing their tickets as they go.
They tell how they’re finished
With lies and losing and treachery.
Too bad for them - for you see,
There's no place like the ocean floor
To gurgle on the wrong side of history.
Feb 18, 2024
Feb 18, 2024 at 12:37 PM UTC
Grab-ass is as far from **** as promiscuity
is from prostitution---
The Weinsteins move to Nigeria
to make Nollywood blockbusters
w/ kpop soundtracks---
big in China & Russia, making movie stars
of Ukrainian beauty queens driving drunk
at midnight in a country where grab-ass is okay
& homosexuality is illegal
& subject to the death penalty---
See beautiful African women
lining up to get their ***** felt
by the Jewish movie mogul
who can make them stars overnight---
Mathematically correct & joined by Chinese
& Indian beauty queens in a veritable renaissance
Of ***** men and women
who become bolder in public
than in private in speaking out against those
who promote the homosexual lifestyle;
**** them all!’ they cry
& the Nollywood industry cranks on---
American boycott the new Nollywood films
Which means nothing but free publicity
Since Asian people line up
around the block & ***** the ***** of women
in front of them & Russians
hail the resurgence of masculinity
when the life of Pushkin is made into a biopic
with a Russian cast in
a Russian-Nigerian co-production;
In Elizabethan theatre
(the height of the Renaissance in England)
Young boys played girls
& backstage got their butts dutifully reamed---
The universal irony that young boys
replaced women yet were *****
& molested as if they were---
European history has always been gay
from the Neanderthals who died out from ******
(the root of the myth of ***** & Gomorrah);
To the Greeks & Romans
to the Catholic Church---to gay marriage
to the rights of transgenders
to be treated like women & men except in reverse
which changes everything for everybody---
In Nigeria gay men are lynched by mobs
Of right-thinking citizens
who pay good dollars to see movies
Where some of the world’s most attractive women
get sodomized by rough,
burly macho male stars as if they were boys---
Nollywood becomes Nollyporn
becomes Nollyrape & sells around the world
bringing in millions & then billions---
while Americans & Europeans, Australians & Kiwis
adamantly promote the gay agenda
that is rejected by the rest of the world---
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 4:00 PM UTC
I will live in spite:
I will be proud of life,
I will cherish the warmth
It will have many forms.
I will fight
I leave all the pain aside.
I will live in spite:
You'll find light in my eyes
And wherever it lies
It will grow and thrive.
I will live in spite
If you want to destroy me
You'll **** my body
but my spirit will be alive!
--
Ukrainian:
Я житиму назло:
пишатимусь собою,
плекатиму тепло,
що жевріє в неволі
і як би не звело
сміятимусь від болю.
Я житиму назло:
в очах цих буде світло
і де б не залягло -
там виросте й розквітне.
Я житиму назло,
захочеш мене вбити:
ти тіло умертвиш,
та дух мій буде жити!
Jan 9, 2025
Jan 9, 2025 at 3:37 AM UTC
"Having turned the machinery of the Gov't into
a corrupt process of getting bad press made on
his political opponents, the Bidens, by buying
false investigations on them by multiple Gov'ts,
must be impeached, now", say Dems, the people.
The impeachment investigation has received much
evidence to support it, yet, Rumputin/vlad-
the-impaler, who were illegally installed into
the Blackhouse after the 2016 election, are
stonewalling numerous other subpeonas, requests.
People have seen evidence of Donald's demanding
false investigations of the Bidens be started by
the Ukrainian President in exchange for already
allocated by Congress 1/2 a bill in anti-tank
'javelins', but not the unreturned voicemails
detailing his desires for the same 'quid pro quo'
by him to other nations, here's some. The Donald,
'Hi President of Ghana, I've heard you have some
hellified kool-aid, if you investigate the Bidens
we'll buy 100's of tons, awaiting your call.'
'Yo, yo, yo, President of Liechtenstein, just
calling to let you know if you liechten the Bidens
and find some dirt on them, we'll buy a hundred gross
of your steins, this is time sensitive, top secret,
so get back to us a.s.a.p., pppppllllleeeeeaaassse?'
''Sup, President of Guyana, must be hot in Africa,
too bad for you, all kidding aside, I hear you guys
have the best kool-aid to die for, if you investigate
the Bidens and find dirt on them we'll buy 1/4 of a
bill worth. Limited time offer, bro, sooooo holla.'
'President of Hungary, I've heard you guys are always
Hungary, so, if you want a 1000 tons of food 'b' alls you
have to do is investigate the Bidens, find dirt on them
and provide it to the Steve Bannon set-up Hungarian fox
news who'll broadcast it globally over the next year.'
The atrocities of it all is all the people can say. Does
this feel like a Greek comedy/tragedy to anyone else? A
quickie impeachment to cover-up the bigger Russiagate one
that indicts the whole of the republican conspiracy, just in
time for vlad, etc., to hack our next presidential election?
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 5:16 PM UTC
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Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 2:37 AM UTC
It’s not what it looks like. It’s never what it looks like.
It’s all wrong
somewhere.
Out in the Ukrainian backwoods, Chernobyl looks
like a ghost town some thirty years later. Intact but
abandoned, vacant—hemorrhaged of humanity. Like in mass
everyone left the city to buy some milk and never returned.
Life in the standstill. Lights left on now burnt out. Meat
thawing on the counter now mold on the counter. Laundry
half folded on the bed. The bath water
ran and ran and ran until the well dried up.
You wouldn’t know that the soil and
the cats and
the dogs
were radioactive
unless you held a meter against it to measure the roentgen.
The hermit crab soft underneath its hard shell.
The mold growing around the core of the shining red apple.
The asbestos hiding in the insulation.
The lead in the paint on the crib.
Sometimes, the things that look the most fine can **** you.
Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 2:22 AM UTC
33rd Special 33rd || Apollo 1.1 Diana Llundain, George. New 100 times (1500). We want to start. Women's Hall 33, 33, 33, 33. London, Apollo Josh. New activities are not 10,000 (1500). You are crazy, you will not finish anything. Seneca News now - about this terrorism and terrorism. Last month? Then John, expensive Rennie, Ukrainian, Latin. Good: Greek cuisine like Asia, 10 new cars? A simple and direct question: "Who are you? I miss you, New York, New Orleans, New York. I am happy to know that I cannot. New Jersey, New Jersey, and how? Spain's programs and services New Jersey, New York, Alaska, New Jersey, USA City New city 10000, 100, 100, 100th in the city black, to build 100th food and juice, apple R&R Peña, New Jersey, all NBA basketball from protein Jersey City Gram I hope to drink the video data of "Jesus, Jesus Christ and the daughter of water.
This is the world. There are three Asian chickens here right now.
We are a manufacturer of Illinois. According to her husband,
Well then? Error name: Windows message popup.
In general when there is soccer.
Number of passengers per year.
Sharon is like a lion in the morning.
Trojan horse Sbaeno Naples and limousines. | |
Please go and tell the students. This meeting. Asia, Belgium
The strength of food as well.
Words: Special "happy" new?
Most women's dreams; Please call your wife, Abraham.
Usually, Germany lives. First of all, we have to try it. 1 Jersey,
New Jersey. Geo-Sebastian, Maine Nanab
Ruta's friend "Nonprofit Organization" to confirm the Spanish
New Jersey, New Jersey, USA. City 100500 100 event.
I was having fun. The third agreement will be shorter.
But wait ... fresh food. At the 1100 event we are male/female Agents
There are many systems. Now, New Jersey, Jersey ||
Baby was born 30 minutes ago Hayiman-x | Apollo 1.1 Diana Fenris
and other jazz. Innovation is at least 100 (1500). Preparation for 500 years: He chose a small salary. How do women keep women in the air?
Declare Jesus. I am Ali, Christopher. For this reason, It has fresh water. Flower, Flower. What does 'Asia' mean? No message.
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 9:55 PM UTC
*and those white teeth... uh! they just scream ******
northern americans make
drinking so much easier,
sure, i drink **** brain cells
and get ******** ever too often,
resurrect Al Capone for me...
but why do they make it so much
easier? they're hiking, biking,
kite surfing,
climbing mount Unesco...
cheerleaders of Kenya or something?
i need models for an Oxfam advert...
******* starve! starve! to the Ukrainian
prisons with you! starve!
it all goes for bureaucracy anyway,
the adverts are just the tip, and it's
a gimmick-berg.
whatever the advert stated and
a Moroccan added, like some
Seattle sandwich mixture for gummy
gummy yummy yum - twigs n' bubblegum;
or condoms... i'm not sure; ha ha!
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 7:55 PM UTC
1. I'm afraid to look at the news anymore
2. All I know is that people are dying everyday and mothers and children and uncles and families
3. Taking sides isn't going to help when everyone is a victim
4. I lit a candle for all those 298 people that died in the Ukrainian flight
5. I'm agnostic and I still lit the candle
6. I'm supposed to be on vacation but so far all I've had are allergies and insults and vomiting and cramps
7. I feel like I'm ruining everyone else's time
8. I want to throw up every other minute
9. Two days ago I was so weak that I had to inhale deeply every time I wanted to talk
10. Every night she turns on the news and every night I use my phone
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 9:48 AM UTC
Cesspit
The **** shovelling soldiers are sent off to war
To dig latrines so their soldier brethren can ****
Not in peace but to empty their guts between fights
Ukrainians have other ideas they want to **** them all
Dead soldiers and ******** diggers means more Russians
Who can no longer fight or hurt innocent Ukrainians
How many Ivan cesspit ***** men have been eradicated?
**** them all so the soldiers **** their pants before dying
From Ukrainian bullets and high tech Allied weapons
The more the better in this video game war
May 7, 2023
May 7, 2023 at 10:38 PM UTC
I'm going on a plane,
To Lviv Ukraine,
To where my life began,
To where I was forgotten,
To where I was picked up,
I'm going back not for a need to understand where I came from,
But to where it all ended,
To the place that I left behind,
To leave a gift,
For the gifted,
To cement the decision of my parents,
To understand what they saw in me,
To take me half across the world,
To take me home,
So as I stand in front of the door to the place where children shared nothing,
Let alone have anything to share,
I knock on the door and an old lady answrs,
A nun,
I try to speak to her in my deplorable Ukrainian,
But I stop and hand her a letter,
I turn and leave,
I'll know that she would be able to read it,
Because I had my dad write what I had wanted to say to her in Ukrainian,
I left her the address of the hotel I'm staying in,
A day later there's a knock at the door,
The nun walks in ,
I have difficulty understanding her,
But I record what she says to me,
After an hour she finishes talking and gets up to leave,
I ask her to stop,
I walk towards her and say,
Thank you in Ukrainian,
She starts tearing up as she heads out the door.
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 3:59 AM UTC
i was romanticising her genitalia like oysters,
i know the boys in school thought
of fish first, but the same boys didn’t go
to brothels and seen prostitutes oil up;
come to think of it, given the above facts
i’m going to romanticise her genitalia with leeches
from now on - and in reverse? as for me?
well plenty of skyscrapers... boring...
comparing her’s to leeches fits the strategy;
and once, and once a boy of sixteen could
buy a ***** mag in a shop in Ypres without
the female shop owner looking at him like some pervert.
Ypres? yeah, school trip, visiting world war one trenches,
enjoying the atmosphere running in them like a
crazy dispatches boy trying to **** some chlorine on the sly,
which i think is the scary bit, but don’t worry,
we had female troopers with us, so we could shoot and ****
and not worry about the infidelity of our girls back home
to some shady ‘enry ‘hinaski.
but from what else i can remember, six of us broke off
from the rest and decided to go to a brothel,
but being schoolboys we didn’t have enough money
or were simply not convincing material for a free one with
the belgian beauties -
i had to wait a few more years before i had enough dough
but then it was with a ukrainian beauty in poland
after i realised that the university i attended was a nunnery.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 1:23 PM UTC