Poetry: All Rights Reserved

It does hurt.
Some fires are great.
But it is not necessary,
Is it possible?

I have almost
Followed the instructions of the
Dream

What,
And who,
Killed and captured Warsaw’s Romany
A universal type.

Tell us
Now is the time.

There is anger,
When a court decides that persons notorious,
Sharing in implication.
Publically cleared.
Foolishness as coat of arms

Tell us.
Now is the time

And mark the shift,
A hundred and forty one lives were stolen.
Is it not persecution?

A half rotten pig,
Looking forward to
Scent of Freedom
In the blink of an eye?

Joined and accustomed
Nationally bound
The tears flow in the second half of your life,
Guess this possibility,
Style and grace.

Tell us
Now is the time

The Decemberists’ Shiny, put through a journey of the world’s languages on Bing Translate, edited slightly using MS Word’s synonym tool. Only word endings/plurals changed manually. Original Lyrics here.

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Poetry: Not What You Expected?

Not What You Expected?

(From the Vaccines)

You saw the world, what did it look like?
You had a summer, under some European sun.
When you were my age,
A lifetime ago.

Were you a lot like me?
Young complexion, with your hair grown out?
Were you ready for it?
Was it what you expected?

You say they’re things I’d rather not know
You say I would not understand,
Well brought up
Rich kid, with Mother’s lazy money.
You got me wrong.

A clear blue sky, turning dirty black,
It’s suddenly colder,
You probably weren’t ready.
Killer. Primal. Animal.

Come on,
Friend or foe?
Crazy, Crazy.
Blow it up,
Growing up
Watch out man,
Their dead, all of them, shot.
(Blown up)
You were only seventeen,
You weren’t ready,
But you earned your stripes.

Momma heard it in the Evening News,
Poppa read it in the Morning Herald.
They wished and waited.

Were you gonna come back?
Were you gonna come back, all right?
Were you all right?

They didn’t know, that you’d been found,
That you were okay.

All lines are lyrics (or were lyrics originally) taken from songs from the album What Did You Expect from the Vaccines, and b-sides associated with their singles.

The Good Old Days

Those could have been the good old days:

Cheap Bleach on your hair

We got deep, warm, drunk,

In summertime,

Below the trembling moon as the stars unfurled.

We wrote our names out on the sidewalk,

Something rare was going on,

The world was never going to end.

We did what we could,

While the world waited for an explosion,

With a wink and a wave.

So that’s when we went,

All the way,

heading westwards towards the Sun,

To California,

Where no policeman walks the beat,

Where Hollywood lay, piled up to the sky.

We went fast. We were free,

And we did our best,

Once we contracted American dreams.

Everything we always wanted.

Well, you know,

It just burns me to remember.

Watching you while we dreamt.

 

Found poem from a Genius playlist of Eels’ The Good Old Days

The Crown of Love

I swore to the stars
It was wrong, although you said it was right.
The times we had…
I liked you for them.
But I ended it, this thing you had started it.
I thought the story was over.

I packed up my belongings and I headed for the coast
Hiding the fact I felt dead again.
Just a lie I told myself to get by
but my heart kept waiting
I couldn’t think, I was too tired of life.

There was always a crowd at the sea
but one day you were standing, smiling.
I hung my head low, avoiding you
So, so much past, felt like
A heavy stone around my neck
I couldn’t think straight.
I tried to get away and
pretend it was not you coming across to me.

You’d damn both of us, girl.
You looked me in the eye, and
I heard your voice ringing like a bell:
“I can’t accept that it’s over.
I made a vow to you,
Don’t you remember?”

Breath deep to calm down,

“If you still want me, please forgive me.
You’re still very loveable,
But you can’t throw all consequences aside.
It’s time you knew what you really want,
and if you want to be with me,
Go and tell him that
you have chosen this crime.”

We sat, seeming to be in disbelief
until we were but silhouettes
ready to be reformed.
We knew we’d never ever be the same
but it all felt fine.
It was a great adventure.

Svetlana

I sit within the valley green,
in the pretty twilight,
under the boughs, beside
a heart carved tree trunk.

Svetlana once sat across from me,
“Let’s get out of this country,” she’d said,
“Take me,
“You and me, forever,”
She took a map,
Ink faded black,
and drew a straight line.

“I’m awfully busy,”
I said, “I can’t do it,”
And she left me all alone.

I should never have come here.
I want to see her
and I think it’s a sign that last night,
I dreamt I could not stand by myself.
She was my girl.
It seems there’s no sun,
Now that she’s gone,
And I’ve not laughed in a long time.
She was my only one.

Nothing to be Said

Church-going Mr Bleaney,
Waits for breakfast while she brushes her hair,
And the Russian tanks roll westward.
The old fool hopes she forgets what he did,
what happened on that trip to Prestatyn.

He remembers.
The moon was full that night.
The old fool, among the card-players
With the bottles he’s drunk piled around,
Thinks it’s love at first sight.

He remembers.
That summer nocturne, Midsummers Night, 1940.
A girl dragged by the wrists,
Modesties dispensed with.
Skin touches strangers’ skin.

Sad steps, back to his wife,
Nothing significant was really said,
She sees his grief, confirms her neuroses.
Complete disintegration, and he wonders:
Is it for now, or for always?

At long last she emerges to see him,
Waiting for breakfast while she brushed her hair.