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Best Balinese Poems | Poetry

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Details | Balinese Poem | Create an image from this poem.

INTEGRATION

Being an American in Australia isn’t easy,

but I’m trying to integrate;

I’m trying to fit in.

Just one of the boys with all the right expressions

under my belt, like:

        pasty glut

        cosmetic spring roll rut

        five o’clock shadow cigarette butt.


I mean, I’m trying to integrate;

I’m trying to fit in.

 
I try to talk about the good ol’ U.S. of A.,

and I’ve never mentioned Uncle Sam once,

except to suspect he lives inside Colonel Sanders

who also gives me a big pain in the ***

with his mysterious suppository herbs & spices;

cos I’m trying to fit in, see?

I’m trying to integrate.

 
Okay, I can get nervous about women,

and cover it up under muscle and toughness, O.K.!

Say: “All sheilas are made fer ****in’!”

while dreaming:

         leather **** thrust

         beer lubrication

         violet steak lips!

Say: “All poets are poofs!” and

beat my balls around fields of green

with wooden sticks so stiff and clean, screaming

          semen icing power

          spread on scones of breasts!   


Bloody hell! Can’t ya see?

I’m trying to integrate,

trying to fit in.

 
Like wearing high-heeled snow-shoes

and roller-skater shirts;

doing al the expected things, even tho’

my Balinese sarong trips me up occasionally.

I’ve got a sun-tanned *******,

and I’m keeping me nose to the ground,

no bloody fear! I’m integrating, ya see?

Trying to sit in.

 
I’m a tough-fisted slow-sauntering grog-pissing

knife balling tit watching ***** hating self-deceiving

regular visionless mate of no matter:

 
              Swallowed by deserts

                       and the fear of ******s;

              Tortured by sun

                       and the freeze of lost passion;

              Murdered in business;

                        resurrected in wages!

              Enslaved in the cities and

                         imprisoned by FACTS

that stretch from my body

in steel rails of tracks I ride on,

              I hide on:

                          I’ve lost where I’ve been.

But I’m integrating

                          (yeah, INTEGRATING!)

I’m just fitting in.



Copyright © Billy Marshall Stoneking | Year Posted 2013


Details | Balinese Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Island of Gods

Worship dance blared fulfilled the stroke of sunset
The beauty of heavenly panoramic captivate the admiration in depth
Gratify the devotees whose hunger for the sublimity of  art
Even breezes kindly offered its cradle as a humbled guests from afar

The faint strains of *gamelans seems like combing the roar of  waves
When the eyes of Gods, exotically closed the day
But this heaven never sleep
The euphoria of dazzling night replace the fetish as a dreams in reality

Diverse nations united in this ocean of excitement
Earthiness as the existence of unified
Pours relief beyond their deadly deadline
This celestial sanctuary was too good to be ruined
 
In the eyes of Gods, again splendors emitted through its beauty
Touched the heart of universe gently
And be part of the heartbeat in this country
Thou, the seekers, you are welcomed within these prosperities

Author note:
Welcome to Bali

*Gamelan = Balinese Gamelan is a traditional musical instrument originally from 
                 Bali-Indonesia which is usually used for the traditional ceremonies or 
                 events.




Copyright © Yanny Widjanarko | Year Posted 2012


Details | Balinese Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Bali That Follows You

What is life but a fantasy?
When letting go of old wounds
Hurting your memory
Easing the pain of yesterday
Is there anything more fantastic
Than your final destiny?
If you can see
Into the burial ground of time
Smell the flowers
In the arctic hands of a Balinese girl
Who sings to you only
If you dare to kiss her on the mouth
You may want to brush your teeth first
Before she disappears from your embrace
And stabs you in the neck
With a stone age dagger
Don’t worry
You have been alive for a Kodak moment
She smiles
And you will return to Bali
To find your burial ground
On the side of a sacred mountain
The view is excellent
And very private
The girl is not there
She moved on to another moment
She is now in high school
And sits behind me at recess
With a dress and nothing underneath


Copyright © RAINER LOVEIAM | Year Posted 2011


Details | Balinese Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Let There Be Limericks: Waiter, there's a fly in my soup

The cooks in the Japanese navy
Make a dish of aquatic fly larvae.
Too small to filet them,
They just lightly sauté them
In well-sugared soy sauce as gravy.

That Venezuelans eat spiders may be news to a few,
Though tarantulas rarely end up in a stew.
They're best when they're toasted,
Or freshly fire roasted,
Yielding eight tasty drumsticks instead of just two.

Some South Africans' diet is less than ideal,
And porridge of corn is a popular meal.
If the stuff's a bit lumpy,
They never get grumpy,
Those termites are added to give it some zeal.

In Cambodian markets in streets
Cooked cicadas are vended as treats.
But etiquette begs
One remove wings and legs
Before they're scooped out and served up as eats.

The Balinese delight in flying things.
Dragonflies are crunchy sweet and have no sting.
They're first dewinged to stop their frolic,
Then boiled in coconut milk and garlic,
But just enough to give the taste some zip and zing.

In the rest of the world from Nashville to Naples
They haven't caught on and don't grace many tables.
Though infrequently served
Canapéd or hors d'oeurved,
More bugs are a treat than are treated as staples.


Copyright © Jim Slaughter | Year Posted 2018