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memories of my ghost sista

Category Archives: Poetry

the invisible man, by pablo neruda

28 Saturday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, Spanish, Translation

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el hombre invisible, Pablo Neruda, purpose of poetry, Spanish translation, The Invisible Man, ZJC

I laugh,
I smile
at the old poets,
I cherish all
their poetry,
all their dew,
moon, diamond, droplets
from submerged silver
that my graybeard brothers
festoon onto roses,
but
I smile;
for they always say “I,”
every where they go
something occurs
and it is always “I,”
down these streets,
only they
or their beloved,
walk down these streets,
no one else,
there are no fishermen about,
no bookstore merchants,
no bricklayers walking about,
no one stumbles and falls
from their scaffolding,
not one person suffers,
not one person loves,
only my poor brother,
the poet,
everything is happen
to him
and to his beloved,
no one lives
but him, the solitary poet,
no one weeps from hunger
or anger,
not one person suffers
in all his poetry
because he was unable
to pay the rent,
not one person
in all his poetry
is evicted from his house
with everything he owns,
and in factories,
nothing happens, no,
all our umbrellas, cups and bowls, are forged
bombs, guns and trains are built,
the elements are mined
by scraping up hell,
there is a worker’s strike,
military police arrive
and open fire,
they fire upon the people,
which is also to say,
against poetry,
ai, but my brother,
the poet,
was in love,
or he was agonizing
for in his throbbing heart
is only the sea,
and distant ports of call
yes, he loves their names,
and he writes about the ocean
the one he has never seen,
when life is as full
as the grain from an ear of corn
he walks by, never wondering
once how to harvest corn,
and he rides upon waves
without ever touching the shore,
and, now and then,
he is moved, perhaps profoundly
and deeply, but with despair,
you see, he is too sublime
to fit inside his own skin,
he gets himself ensnared, unscrambled,
he declares that he must be accursed,
with great sighs he drags about the cross
of darkness,
he knows that he is at odds with
everyone else in the world,
still, he eats bread every
morning but he has never
seen a baker
never attended union
meeting of bakers,
and so, my poor brother,
he becomes intentionally tricky,
he twists his words and writhes
and finds himself
and his words
complex,
complex,
ai, that’s the word,
I am no better
than my brother,
but I smile,
because when I walk down the street
I am the only one who does not exist,
all of life floods about me
like tidal rivers,
but I am the only
one who is now invisible,
I have no cryptic shadows,
no melancholia, nothing is dark,
you see, people speak to me,
people want to tell me things,
to talk about their families,
all their grief, all their gaiety,
people pass by, and people
talk to me about things,
look at all the things they do!
They chop wood,
string up electrical lights,
they bake bread late into the night,
our morning bread,
with pick ax and irons
they pierce the entrails
of the earth
and convert the minerals
into locks,
they rise into the sky and
carry airmail and sobs and kisses,
someone is standing
in every single doorway,
someone is being born,
my beloved is waiting for me,
and, as I walk along, these things
call out for me to sing them,
but how can I? I haven’t time,
I must examine everything
I hurry home now,
hurry off to the Party office;
what else can I do?
People everywhere ask me
to sing for them, yes, sing forever,
until everyone is drowned
in dreams and in colors,
ai, life is a gift
flooded with songs, the gift flies
open and a flock
of wild birds fly out
and they all want to tell me things,
they perch on my shoulders,
life is a struggle,
just like a rolling river and
all of humanity
wants to tell me,
to tell you,
why they are struggling,
and, if they are to be executed,
why they will die,
and I pass them all and haven’t
time enough for so many lives,
I want
them all to live
inside my soul,
to sing out my song,
I am not important,
I have no free time
for my own passions,
all night and all day
I must write this down
what is occurring, please
let me try not to miss anything.
It is true that, extraordinarily,
at times I do get tired,
I look up at the cosmos,
I lie down in the grass, a bug
the same color as a violin
marches by,
I place my palm across
a sapling breast
or between the hips
of the woman I love,
I try to study the silk
of the trembling night,
all frozen with destiny,
then
I feel waves of mystery
pouring out from my soul,
ai, childhood, my little self
weeping in a corner,
my heartbreaking youth,
I feel so sleepy
so I sleep
just like a log,
in no time I am
unconscious,
with or without destiny,
with or without my lover,
and when I wake up
all the night is long gone,
all the streets have come alive without me,
the poor barrio girls
are off on their way to work,
fishermen return
from the sea,
the miners
in brand new boots
are going down into the mines,
yes, everything is alive, awake,
yes, everyone is
hurrying back and forth,
and I have scarcely enough time
to struggle into my clothing,
I must fly:
no on must
pass by without my seeing
where he is going,
what she is doing.
I cannot live without
life,
without people being people,
I must run and look and listen
and sing,
stars have nothing
for me, solitude
bears not a single flower,
not a single fruit.
For my life, give me
every life,
give me every agony
the world has ever had
and I will transform them all
into desire.
Give me
every rapture,
even the most secret,
because if not,
how will they ever be known?
I must tell them,
please, give me your
daily struggles
so I can make up my song,
that way we will be together,
shoulder to shoulder,
everyone single one,
let my song unite us:
this song of the invisible man
singing along with everyone.

—- translated by ZJC

][][

el hombre invisible

Yo me río,
me sonrío
de los viejos poetas,
yo adoro toda
la poesía escrita,
todo el rocío,
luna, diamante, gota
de plata sumergida,
que fue mi antiguo hermano,
agregando a la rosa, pero
me sonrío,
siempre dicen “yo,”
a cada paso
les sucede algo,
es siempre “yo,”
por las calles
sólo ellos andan
o la dulce que aman,
nadie más,
no pasan pescadores,
ni libreros,
no pasan albañiles,
nadie se cae
de un andamio,
nadie sufre,
nadie ama,
sólo mi pobre hermano,
el poeta,
a él le pasan
todas las cosas
y a su dulce querida,
nadie vive
sino él solo,
nadie llora de hambre
o de ira,
nadie sufre em sus versos
porque no puede
pagar el alquiler,
a nadie en poesía
echan a la calle
con camas y con sillas
y en las fábricas
tampoco pasa nada,
no pasa nada,
se hacen paraguas, copas,
armas, locomotoras,
se extraen minerales
rascando el infierno,
hay huelgas,
vienen soldados,
disparan,
disparan contra el pueblo,
es decir,
contra la poesía,
y mi hermano
el poeta
estaba enamorado,
o sufría
porque sus sentimientos
son marinos,
ama los puertos
remotos, por sus nombres,
y escribe sobre océanos
que no conoce,
junto a la vida, repleta
como el maíz de granos,
él pasa sin saber
desgranarla,
él sube y baja
sin tocar la tierra,
o a veces
se siente profundísimo
y tenebroso
él es tan grande
que no cabe en sí mismo,
se enreda y desenreda,
se declara maldito,
lleva con gran dificultad la cruz
de las tinieblas,
piensa que es diferente
a todo el mundo,
todos los días come pan
pero no ha visto nunca
un panadero
ni ha entrado a un sindicato
de panificadores,
y así mi pobre hermano
se hace oscuro,
se tuerce y se retuerce
y se halla
interesante,
interesante,
ésta es la palavra,
yo no soy superior
a mi hermano
pero sonrío,
porque voi por las calles
y sólo yo no existo,
la vida corre
como todos los ríos,
yo soy el único
invisible,
no hay misteriosas sombras,
no hay tinieblas,
todo el mundo me habla,
me quierem contar cosas,
me hablan de sus parientes,
de sus miserias
y de sus alegrías,
todos pasan y todos
me dicen algo,
y cuántas cosas hacen!
cortan maderas,
suben hilos eléctricos,
amasan hasta tarde en la noche
el pan de cada día,
con una lanza de hierro
perforan las entrañas
de la tierra
y converten el hierro
en cerraduras,
suben al cielo y llevan,
cartas, sollozos, besos,
en cada puerta
hay alguien,
nace alguno,
o me espera la que amo,
y yo paso y las cosas
mi piden que las cante,
yo no tengo tiempo,
debo pensar en todo,
debo volver a la casa,
pasar al Partido,
qué puedo hacer,
todo me pide
que hable,
todo me pide
que cante y cante siempre,
todo está lleno
de sueños y sonidos,
la vida es una caja
llena de cantos, se abre
y vuela y viene
una bandada
de pájaros
que quieren contarme algo
descansando en mis hombros,
la vida es una lucha
como un río que avanza
y los hombres
quieren decirme,
decirte,
por qué luchan,
si mueren,
por qué mueren,
y yo paso y no tengo
tiempo para tantas vidas,
yo quiero
que todos vivan
en mi vida
y cante en mi canto,
yo no tengo importancia,
no tengo tiempo,
para mis asuntos,
de noche y de día
debo anotar lo que pasa,
y no olvidar a nadie.
Es verdad que de pronto
me fatigo
y miro las estrellas,
me tiendo en el pasto, pasa
un insecto color de violín,
pongo el brazo
sobre un pequeño seno
o bajo la cintura
de la dulce que amo,
y miro el terciopelo duro
de la noche que tiembla
con sus constelaciones congeladas,
entonces
siento subir a mi alma
la ola de los misterios,
la infancia,
el llanto en los rincones,
la adolescencia triste,
y mi sueño,
y duermo
como un manzano,
me quedo dormido
de inmediato
con las estrellas o sin las estrellas,
com mi amor o sin ella,
y cuando me levanto
se fue la noche,
la calle ha despertado antes que yo,
a su trabajo
van las muchachas pobres,
los pescadors vuelven
del océano,
los mineros
van con zapatos nuevos
entrando en la mina,
todo vive,
todos pasan,
andan apresurados,
y yo tengo apenas tiempo
para vestirme,
yo tengo que correr:
ninguno puede
pasar sin que yo sepa
adónde va, qué cosa
le ha sucedido.
No puedo sin la vida vivir,
sin el hombre ser hombre
y corro y veo y oigo
y canto,
las estrellas no tienen
nada que ver conmigo,
la soledad no tiene
flor ni fruto.
Dadme para mi vida
todas las vidas,
dadme todo el dolor
de todo el mundo,
yo voy a transformarlo
en esperanza. Dadme
Todas las alegrías,
aun las más secretas,
porque si así no fuera,
cómo van a saberse?
Yo tengo que cantarlas,
dadme las luchas
de cada día
porque ellas son mi canto,
y así andaremos juntos,
codo a codo,
todos los hombres,
mi canto los reúne:
el canto del hombre invisible
que canta con todos los hombres.

the secret of my obsession with the living dead

27 Friday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Humor, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

cutting, despair, dull angels, hot dead bodies, Humor, joints crack, necrophilia, poem, Poetry, sonnet, zombies

 

laughing with chunks of life
stuck in my hair — “just another
midtown addict” by perks

But your body does make odd noise: a cry,
a hiss, a whimper, a groan. What crackles?
a slap, a spark, a moan, a grim-toothed sigh
pushed out from between cracked lips. Dull angels
can’t fuck anywhere as good as dirty
corpses, submerged in toxic waste goo, breathed
alive. Hungry for flesh. We’re all hungry
for something. Despair. I’ve lost hope and seethed
with rage and I’ve cut myself just to feel.
But you, who can’t feel, still feel that deep need
to feed. We all feed. You said I crack you
up. As in pieces. As in when you kneel
your joints crumble. Lover, take me in, feed
but don’t bite. I’ll make your green flesh turn blue.

waterloo sucking

27 Friday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

erotic pain, kink, poem, Poetry, SM/BD, sonnet, Subs and Doms, Waterloo

A man stepped out of fantasy, where you
called him Master and he called you Bad Slut;
ending always in your own waterloo:
sucking the cock of a man you hate. What
tedious repetition, exactly
unlike sunlight that streams with grace. I love
kink, too, but Doms seem to be creepily
similar. Drop the whip and the kid glove.
I will mark you, there will be pain. Your streaked
gaping cheeks across the vacuum of space,
into a tale where my shadow assumes
its face. I have no needs, save that you piqued
my interest in your need for pain. With grace,
love, I will dominate you from the tomb.

notes:

The French emperor, Napoleon Bonaparte, was finally defeated at the town of Waterloo. To say that someone has “met their Waterloo,” means that they have had an unexpected defeat. As in that ABBA song of the same name, “Waterloo/ knowing my fate is to be with you”

horny goat weed

26 Thursday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

Greek myth, homoerotic, horny goat weed, Pan, poem, Poetry, satyr, sonnet

 

 

 

He would look like a girl, save for that curl
of a beard, that fine, thick hair, those antlers.

He skips girlishly but in ways no girl
ever skips. When he kisses he offers

you all of Arcadia, for his tongue
is far sharper than his pipes. During sex

you catch him maa-ing with pleasure. He’s young,
bound in the response of the moon, reflex

of the stars. Imagine heavy, round limes
lost in the leaves. When you swallow his cum

he melts into you like myth. His singing
is of worlds you will never see. Sometimes

you hear his hooves clicking in the kitchen,
his rude goat cock hanging silent, dreaming.

Video

mr rogers defending PBS before the u.s. senate, 1969

26 Thursday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, video

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Tags

1969, does poetry matter?, Mister Roger's Neighborhood, Mister Rogers defending PBS to the US Senate, Pastore, transcript

Can poetry change the world?

The implied answer is, it seems, no. And yet Fred Rogers (of Mister Roger’s Neighborhood fame) was able to do something with a 157-word long poem that changed the course of not just PBS but all American children, forever.

The year was 1969. Rogers appeared before the US Senate to justify why the then current president (Nixon) shouldn’t cut the funding to PBS in half, a move that would have canceled shows like Sesame Street and the Electric Company. Senator Pastore had a reputation for slash and burning social welfare programs. Even before the hearings started the heads of PBS had assumed that their network would not survive after Pastore had his say.

][][

Senator Pastore: Alright Rogers, you’ve got the floor.

Mr. Rogers: Senator Pastore, this is a philosophical statement and would take about ten minutes to read, so I’ll not do that. One of the first things that a child learns in a healthy family is trust … My first children’s program was on WQED fifteen years ago, and its budget was $30. Now, with the help of the Sears-Roebuck Foundation and National Educational Television, as well as all of the affiliated stations … each station pays to show our program. It’s a unique kind of funding in educational television. With this help, now our program has a budget of $6000. It may sound like quite a difference, but $6000 pays for less than two minutes of cartoons. Two minutes of animated, what I sometimes say, bombardment. I’m very much concerned, as I know you are, about what’s being delivered to our children in this country. And I’ve worked in the field of child development for six years now, trying to understand the inner needs of children. We deal with such things as … as the inner drama of childhood. We don’t have to bop somebody over the head to … make drama on the screen. We deal with such things as getting a haircut, or the feelings about brothers and sisters, and the kind of anger that arises in simple family situations. And we speak to it constructively.

Senator Pastore: Could we get a copy of this so that we can see it? Maybe not today, but I’d like to see the program.

Mr. Rogers: I’d like very much for you to see it.

Senator Pastore: I’d like to see the program itself, or any one of them.

Mr. Rogers: We made a hundred programs for EEN, the Eastern Educational Network, and then when the money ran out, people in Boston and Pittsburgh and Chicago all came to the fore and said we’ve got to have more of this neighborhood expression of care. And this is what — This is what I give. I give an expression of care every day to each child, to help him realize that he is unique. I end the program by saying, “You’ve made this day a special day, by just your being you. There’s no person in the whole world like you, and I like you, just the way you are.” And I feel that if we in public television can only make it clear that feelings are mentionable and manageable, we will have done a great service for mental health. I think that it’s much more dramatic that two men could be working out their feelings of anger — much more dramatic than showing something of gunfire. I’m constantly concerned about what our children are seeing, and for 15 years I have tried in this country and Canada, to present what I feel is a meaningful expression of care.

Senator Pastore: Do you narrate it?

Mr. Rogers: I’m the host, yes. And I do all the puppets and I write all the music, and I write all the scripts —

Senator Pastore: Well, I’m supposed to be a pretty tough guy, and this is the first time I’ve had goose bumps for the last two days.

Mr. Rogers: Well, I’m grateful, not only for your goose bumps, but for your interest in — in our kind of communication. Could I tell you the words of one of the songs, which I feel is very important?

Senator Pastore: Yes.

Mr. Rogers: This has to do with that good feeling of control which I feel that children need to know is there. And it starts out, “What do you do with the mad that you feel?” And that first line came straight from a child. I work with children doing puppets in — in very personal communication with small groups:

What do you do with the mad that you feel? When you feel so mad you could bite. When the whole wide world seems oh so wrong, and nothing you do seems very right. What do you do? Do you punch a bag? Do you pound some clay or some dough? Do you round up friends for a game of tag or see how fast you go? It’s great to be able to stop when you’ve planned the thing that’s wrong. And be able to do something else instead — and think this song —

‘I can stop when I want to. Can stop when I wish. Can stop, stop, stop anytime….And what a good feeling to feel like this! And know that the feeling is really mine. Know that there’s something deep inside that helps us become what we can. For a girl can be someday a lady, and a boy can be someday a man.’

Senator Pastore: I think it’s wonderful. I think it’s wonderful. Looks like you just earned the 20 million dollars.

glee of the wind

26 Thursday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

cold is evil, daft, glee of the wind, Lake Michigan, poem, Poetry, sonnet, winter

Frozen Lake Michigan, a flat ocean
of ice; a sight that I don’t want but will
come and find me, like the night to the sun,
or two headlights to a deer. We say “chill,”
we say “cold,” but what barefooted pilgrim
could walk these beaches and still be happy?
What warm sympathy could the winter’s grim
love have? hidden in our houses the glee
of the wind is both orderly and daft.
Singing but what does that mean? Storm shamans
might know, but there are none left to answer.
Winter! I would defeat you if my craft
would do so; but such magic and options
aren’t mine. So I must live with your burdens.

faith is faith

26 Thursday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

art, faith is faith, poem, Poetry, sonnet, Starry Night

window

What was it like on your first starry night?
the one thing we all have at least one of.
If you’re old enough to understand light,
to be able to raise your head above
your chin then you’ve seen stars. You were not born
back then, for me. And all the love and hate
and small words we use to describe well-worn
emotions meant nothing while all the great
weight of the heavens hung over my head.
How is it that just then the child is sure
that we are part of something far larger
than just ourselves, but later call faith dread?
Before faith was a faith is faith. Before
we had words for enemy or lover.

the song of wandering aengus

25 Wednesday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry

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Tags

1898, art, reblog, The Song of Wandering Aengus, The Wind Among The Reeds, William Butler Yeats

the song of wandering aengus

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

—- William Butler Yeats

metal never forgives

25 Wednesday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

blackberry, fairy tale, fragile play thing, kiss, poem, Poetry, sonnet, tryst, winter

all the ancient classic fairy tales
have always been scary and dark.
—- Helena Bonham Carter

How much cold can you abide? If you kissed
me now you’d hear how the wind mews and talks
to you. Across the tundra of this tryst
you called me, like the warmth of a snow fox
in the endless night. I come from the west,
dreaming about blackberry juice; roughly
watching it trickle down your chin. Tongues pressed
tip to tip, although warm flesh on icy
metal never forgives. Little candle,
moppet, June spark, I would lick the hoarfrost
from your breasts, if I could; I think you’d just
sputter, though, warmth being such a fragile
play thing. How far will you go, my star-crossed
flame? The winter dark is my name for lust.

trying to explain the internet to my dead aunt

25 Wednesday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

aunts, butch-femme, digital age, finger fucking, GLBT, poem, Poetry, prayer, progress, sonnet, Stonewall

The ghosts of my hard aunts all called themselves
butch and worked the graveyard shift making jeeps.
I am a fey thing, in love with bookshelves
more than pool and Patsy Cline, one who keeps
family close in this wild new age. Type
in “aunt,” “jeep,” “butch,” and, “Squirting on my truck’s
gearshift,” appears. Aunties, my waiting past,
where does Stonewall fall when these finger fucks
cock sucker blues can be found anywhere?
The dead give little reply. I’ve built worlds
on their broad shoulders. Love is a small price.
Just know your daughters and sons are a prayer
unasked for but here all the same. Your girls
and boys love you, I hope that will suffice.

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  • jackie clark
  • lyle daggett
  • julie carter
  • roberto cavallera
  • abigail child
  • lorna dee cervantes
  • michelle detorie
  • cheryl clark
  • maria damon
  • natalia cecire
  • flint area writers
  • linda lee crosfield
  • CRB

ars poetica: the blogs e-h

  • Gabriela M.
  • ghosts of zimbabwe
  • pamela hart
  • maggie may ethridge
  • elizabeth glixman
  • liz henry
  • bernardine evaristo
  • carrie etter
  • maureen hurley
  • human writes
  • julie r. enszer
  • joy harjo
  • Free Minds Book Club
  • joy garnett
  • jane holland
  • amanda hocking
  • hayaxk (ՀԱՅԱՑՔ)
  • herstoria
  • sarah wetzel fishman
  • jeannine hall gailey
  • carol guess
  • elisa gabbert
  • jessica goodfellow

ars poetica: the blogs i-l

  • language hat
  • lesley jenike
  • sandy longhorn
  • renee liang
  • amy king
  • emily lloyd
  • las vegas poets organization
  • a big jewish blog
  • megan kaminski
  • kennifer kilgore-caradec
  • miriam levine
  • Kim Whysall-Hammond
  • donna khun
  • lesbian poetry archieves
  • meg johnson
  • laila lalami
  • gene justice
  • IEPI
  • Jaya Avendel
  • dick jones
  • irene latham
  • sheryl luna
  • diane lockward
  • maggie jochild
  • charmi keranen
  • joy leftow

ars poetica: the blogs m-o

  • adrienne j. odasso
  • Nanny Charlotte
  • majena mafe
  • michigan writers network
  • ottawa poetry newsletter
  • january o'neil
  • caryn mirriam-goldberg
  • sophie mayer
  • new issues poetry & prose
  • mlive: michigan poetry news
  • nzepc
  • michigan writers resources
  • wanda o'connor
  • My Poetic Side
  • iamnasra oman
  • the malaysian poetic chronicles
  • michelle mc grane
  • sharanya manivannan
  • maud newton
  • heather o'neill
  • motown writers
  • marion mc cready

ars poetica: the blogs p-r

  • nicole peyrafitte
  • Queen Majeeda
  • nikki reimer
  • kristin prevallet
  • susan rich
  • ariana reines
  • sophie robinson
  • helen rickerby
  • rachel phillips
  • split this rock
  • joanna preston
  • maria padhila

ars poetica: the blogs s-z

  • tuesday poems
  • vassilis zambaras
  • Stray Lower
  • ron silliman
  • switchback books
  • sexy poets society
  • southern michigan poetry
  • scottish poetry library
  • tim yu
  • shin yu pai
  • Trista's Poetry
  • womens quarterly conversation

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