Best Dou Poems
This place is pathetic,
my critique’s not unique when living amongst these freaks,
everybody so demonic, crisis mode, my diagnostic is more than socioeconomic,
I see your issues their tragic,
learn how things works, otherwise it just seems like magic,
life lessons for the session,
aggression towards what we’ve stepped in,
any minute a life can be taken,
no extra life, this ain’t PlayStation,
spending days in sedation,
I spit this for myself, and the angels I’m facing,
can’t quit with it, mental guilt with weight like gravity,
I preach the truth but naysayers call it blasphemy,
lyrical, mystical soldier, let’s see them take that from me,
I battle things on planes unseen,
all your babbling just gets in the way of what you really mean,
I said it, I meant it, this world is demented,
society’s a forgone conclusion, yall are morons stuck in the illusion,
peyote at the oracle, every time I spit its historical,
spit the rhetorical, flip rhymes with Eric, like I always do,
cleric, Epic, the sacred jewel, I don’t deal with your hatred dude,
let it eat you, sharp like Ginsu, in a world that doesn’t want you,
did God trick my spirit, into being fearless,
devils don’t want to hear this, they hate my appearance,
I’m breaking paradigms and ceilings, with half a rhyme revealing,
apocalypse now like Brando, on life, barely got a handle.
Sadness
by stina lu
Full-head of black hair
fragile as they are
A few have been forced into white
As innocent as the wronged Dou Er
More are torn by time
Saddly lying on the ground
Longer and Longer
they cling to the scalp
greasy and crooked
like the middle-aged men
They subject to the fate's despotic power
and smile at every cold face
No more want I to comb them gently
I scratch them with my hand
full of gel
Yell at them
Like waking up a bunch of lazy kids
Attention At ease
The active ones
are cut into a thick bang
to cover the more empty forehead
to show the false prosperity
Before going to bed every night
I unconsciously pick up the mop
Looking for their traces
I will not miss every nook and cranny
Nor will I give up a tiny wisp of lost soul
Gather them around
Wrap them with clean white paper
To mourn and bid farewell
to a part of me
2017.11.16
Have not thee raised thy ugly self
A killjoy upon life's shelf
So much that thou art truly known
By both the young and grown
Thy rays a burden to my face
Which bringeth forth no grace
To raise me up from peaceful rest
Thou inevitable night pest
For so long cease not I to wonder
Why thy twelve seem longer than your brother's
A curse art thou upon my head
To bid me farewell from my comfort bed
Thou bringest forth heavy heat and sweat
A burden to my cold peaceful earth
I like to dream and doth dream big
Of riches joy and peaceful hymn
But dou like a troubling pinkish pig
Crawls up the sky
to incomplete my dream
Grown have I to learn that I must lay
With one eye partially opened
Awaiting the curse that men call day
A mocker of my midnight bliss
Though I wrap me up a thousand times Avoiding me thy yellow shine
Yet ye travel still through countless miles
To disturb these sleepy eyes of mine
I hate thy intruding jealous hands
A splitter of lovers apart
I hate thy burning golden eye
A burning flame that melts my heart
Again I hate thy yellow rays
Bringing me boring endless days
If asked was I why hate me thee
I hate thee for killing my dreams ...
Climb those many stairs, up to the stars.
“Cut!” Comes the child, the wee Pinkerton.
Stunt double, doubles down, with plethora of scars.
Fate is what it is, bumps, bruises...sorta fun.
Pinkerton rolls and bounces, ooches and ouches.
Then they call in the fingering ‘stache, for he smooths
the luscious hairs of his handlebar, never slouches.
Divine with his hands too, damsels-in-distress, he soothes.
Pinkerton pastes on his pastel beard, and breaks out
into a minor character. “Cut! Stunt dou—ble!”
The ‘Stache rips doppelgänger’s facial hair as Pinkerton shouts,
opens mouth, “Hey! Hey! That really hurt!” Now he’s in trouble.
Pinkerton pouts as he takes his final walk into the night.
Rubs his eyes as a werewolf runs by ready to attack.
Those mischievous stars yell, “Cut! Stunt double, fight!”
Alarmed, Pinkerton needs to know who has his back.
A werewolf snarls and twirls his whiskers with a pinky.
Suspicious and brave, the kid gives him a karate chop.
Pinkerton unzips the stinker from bottom to top.
Found out, ‘Stache grabs his blanket and binky.
11/3/2020
Troubled time O Raheem,
Empty, each of my palm,
In truth, world nor its dream,
In falsehood there’s no Ram!
_______________________________________________
Raheem was a saint poet of medieval time in India. This translation comes from one of his couplets; following is its transliteration:
ab raheem mushkil padi, gadhe dou kam;
sanche to jag nahin, juthe milen na ram.
Raheem beautifully essays the reality in this world. If one were to follow the path of truth, there is this world for him nor its dream. In falsehood, obviously one has to sacrifice the blessings of God-- Ram as Raheem puts it.
________________________________________________
Translations |09.01.14 |
Gerrard or Gerritt Dou
known as Rembrandt's first pupil,its true
focused on light&shade
fine detail his paintings displayed
Se te yè dimanch
Jou fèt Sen Valanten
Nou wè kap pase anpil fanm chik ki gen
Ranch anfòm, yo abiye an woz e wouj
Kote anpil anmourez kap mache men nan la men
Menm jan ak aktè sou enfrawouj
Yo tap souri ak ri anpil. Kòm si yo tap pati
Yo pran direksyon pou yal patisipe nan yon bèl seans nan paradi
Manman Lanati te an woz e wouj tou, kalm e an lapè.
Le lan denmen aprè fèt Sen Valenten
Bagay yo pa rete menm jan
Jodi a, nou tande apèn mo dou sa 'Mwen renmen ou'
Kap repete nan lari ki trè pezib. Tout moun
Te aji kòm moun fou yo te ajite kòm si yon bonmb
Nan kèk segond pral eklate tout bilding ak kay nan vil la
Oh! Bagay yo chanje ak zetwal e gwo kout peta
Nan syèl la plen moun ki pè, ki gen kè sere ak nwaj yo ki brouye
Lanmou kontinye defye letènite ak espontaneite
Ki dire sèlman kèk èdetan ki pase vit, pasajè e efemè
Apre fèt la, pafwa se yon defèt ki ki penib ak yon lagè ki anmè kwè fièl.
P.S. Pou site pwovèb ayisyen sa: 'Aprè bal tanbou lou'.
Translation in Haitian creole: The Next Day After The Feast Of Saint Valentine's Day.
Copyright © fevriye 2021, Hébert Logerie, Tout dwa rezève.
Hébert Logerie se otè plizyè koleksyon powèm
Did you just played me?
Did you just slayed me?
Did youe meant it real?
Did you only played a spiel?
Did you do it for you?
Did you do it for me?
Did you do it for us?
Did you do it to forget him?
Did you do it for love?
Did you do it to try?
Did you do it for experience?
Maybe I shouldn't ask
it's worthless because it's the past
Did you loved me?
Did you loved yourself?
Or do you still love him?
Do you regret it?
Do you miss me?
Dou you enjoyed it?
Because of me?
Because of experience?
Was it that worth?
Did you just played me?
Did you just slayed me?
Maybe I shouldn't ask
it's worthless because it's the past
Dou dou kla fla bam bam hit. Troo floo blew blew bubble bubble bubble pop.
ladder ladder ladder. step step up.
wonder wonder wonder; boom boom pit,
what lies down and what lies up-
what can we know until we try,
Goo ha goo ja jibber jibber jish.
ladder ladder ladder. step step now.
Sou um visual?
O que na memória trago
trago-o visualmente,
se possível é de assim ser trazido.
Ao querer lembrar em mim
uma voz,
um perfume qualquer,
antes que ela ou ele eu lembre
aparece à visão a pessoa que fala,
a coisa donde o perfume partiu.
Não dou isto por absolutamente certo;
Seja como for,
o menos que sou,
é um visual predominantemente.
Vejo, e vendo, vivo,
Ouço e escuto aprecio;
Sinto e cheiro saboreio.
Do you love me,
Do you truly love me?
Would you abandon all for me?
Would you go to the ends of the Earth for me?
Do you love me,
Do you truly love me?
Would you cry for me?
Would you die for me?
Do you love me,
Do you truly love me?
Would you ever hurt me?
Would you risk your life to save me?
Do you love me,
Do you truly love me?
Would you lie to me?
Woudl you believe in me?
Do you love me,
Do you truly love me?
Would you cheat on me?
Would you leave me?
Do you love me,
Do you truly love me?
Would you trust me?
Would you say I love you back?
Do you love me,
Do you truly love me?
Would I truly say I love you back?
Miriam,
Para o meu coração
basta o teu peito,
para a tua liberdade
te dou as minhas asas.
Antes de amar-te, amor, eu nada tinha:
vacilei pelas ruas e pelas coisas:
nada contava nem tinha nome:
o mundo era do ar que aguardava.
Hoje eu tenho tudo
E da minha boca chegará até ao céu
Meu sussurro;
Miriam
Eu te amo.
Agosto
A gosto Hoje,
mais do que sempre
dou-me permissão
para fazer mais
e ser tudo mais.
Agosto,
Dou-me permissão
para ser o que posso ser
mais do que sempre
afirmo: ciar alegria
na vida e no trabalho
e fazer de agosto
o mês
de fazer
mais
e mais.
Minha marca
Minha marca?
Ainda bem que perguntou!
Eu sou uma expressão única
da minha confiança
de que sempre
dou o meu melhor.
Eu mostro confiante
como aumentar a renda
fazendo o que eu faço.
E eu digo que você é o que mais importa!
Minha marca?
É esta.
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Lembre
Na vida ou nos negócios
perseguimos um bom trabalho
e um bom relacionamento;
algumas pessoas procuram um lugar bonito.
AH! Muitas esquecem:
Tudo pode ser bonito;
são as pessoas
que fazem um lugar bonito.
Circule que eu te dou de presente o livro mais importante da sua vida.
Circule e receba de graça.
Compartilhe o segundo livro com arrecadação em favor do 1º Curso para Capacitar Mulheres para a Liberdade – Ministrado Gratuitamente. http://bit.ly/2019_Exercícios_Psicologia_Positiva_Aplicada