140.
Siboloria 14
-Ang Alamat ng Unang Lahi sa Gintong Lupa-
92 Bago magbukang-liawyway ay nilamon
Ng bubuli ang prinsipe bago bumangon
93 Kumaripas sa kagubatan
Iniluwa't muling nagkita ang magkasintahan
94 Naroon din ang Diwata ng Lupa
Mga kabute't tubig ay dala
95 Pagkain at inumin isusuhay
Sa mahiwagang bubuli isasakay
96 Sa ‘di kalayuan ay umugong
Mula sa palasyo ang budyong
97 Pinaulan ni Bulawan ng buhangin ang kagubatan
Upang pabagalin mga kalaban
98 Tungo sa Gintong Lupa!
Unang Lahi ng mga tao roon – kina Sibo at Loria!
-06/21/2012
*Gintong Lupa Series
Grouin up in Glesga wis nae mean feat
Pleyin in the back courts an dreepin the wass
Plouterin in puddles manky water sploshing aboot,
Searching in yon mucky middens fur treasure
Thrown oot by the families in the closes.
Fur a fitba a pile o rags weideh doon wi aw sorts o things
Or a tanner ba made tae test yer skills dribbling roon
Bricks, holes an buckets burnt through.
Some wi nae shin baries wis the thing
An naething caught except wee beasties in the hair.
Holy jumpers an maukit breeks like a uniform
Worn tae mark ye oot as livin in tenements raw.
Aye aww wis puir always skint fur buying scran
Except faither oan a Friday nicht at the boozers
Getting fu wi his pals forgettin the weans,
Crying at hame an when he came in mither
Wid aways get the blame .
Aye the weans o glesga wur a hardy breed,
All ways stervin an needin a feed,
That wisnae allus therr a feast wis a jeely piece.
When they grew an produced men o valour,
Or men o wealth an fauncy cars,
Ne,er forgot that they were a Glesga wean.
sometimes I feel like a motherless child
running wild in the breaze
at times I think there is more to life
a splash of tonic a hint of spice
another chance at which to roll the dice
yet in the gloom in doom
take some time out to clean my roon
a splash of perfume
yet I'm here left alone miles from no where
I shed a single tear to numb the inner pain
left with the one guitar string that I have learned to play on
deep in the dark corridor of my inner mind
sublime
a vast array of oceanic sounds come alive
look at the Albatross flying in mid air without a care
learn to think for yourself as the sweet manifestation of love permeates in your gate
we all look for something in life yet what ?
miles from no where
in the setting sun
words can't express the true meaning of our conquest
all of life is one big test I must confess
barrowed basement pews
the tunes of Huey Lewis & The News
somedays got me singing the blues
whispers in the corridor of my mind
fancy suits and wine
I resign yet to what ?
A dinae ken ma purage frae ma ale
Ma heed is burlin roon, a canae stan’
A’m no the yin tae swalie toast sae stale
an’ cannae yet get up withoot a han’
Wur in RE an the nuns are gien
oot sweeties, fur getting the kweschins right.
Three oota three, then she’s askin mae who Jesus’ mither is.
‘Ah doan’t know sista,’ ah tell hur.
She isnae happy an tells mae tae hink aboot it. So ah dae
an ah wurk oot Jesus wis god. It wis a trick kweschin,
‘he didnae hiv ah mither.’ Ma
sweet stoats aff the side ae ma heid.
She’s spittin in ma coupon fur a name, an
diggin hur digits in ma neck.
‘Ah doan’t know who Jesus’ friggin mither wis!’
Miraculously ah float tae the front ae the cless. Ma haun’s oot,
bit ah doan’t hink shill hit mae wae that big stick. Thwack!
Ah look doon it the bloody gash through ma puddlin
eyes, ‘yoo’ve broke ma haun’ ah croak,
then turn roon an boak.
Tak a swally wae mae will ye?
toast tae a life goan past
tae a wee lassie pure et last
Am no gonie lie
ets time fur her tae die..
So swally doon yer whisky son
goat a joab tae be dun
we'll fuk her err
wack er roon the heid
til she's deed
shes a bonnie wee lass nae
mare
Nature's, anesthetizing beauty held
tightly in escrow
'Til on tendered form its heavenly
charm can bestow
Fair maiden strides through
manicured meadow
In her lovely essence, the enchanted
flora doth wallow
Overhead, azure canvas paints a
regal halo
Her satin cheeks radiant in Helios's
afterglow
Beneath, green clover spreads its
downy pillow
Her dainty feet tenderly the svelte
blades furrow
Lilac strands their fragrant
essence strew
As her ebony locks in soothing
breeze flow
White, silken lillies fringe the
bristling undertow
Roon paps gild voluptuous, damsel's,
milky tallow
Twirling dandelions their feathery
dander billow
Maiden's silted bosom takes a
respite under fawning willow
Creamy buttercups in the noonday
heat their hearth's mellow
In their steamy shadow, frothy
maiden spreads her umbrella
Refined dame with polished frame
Strewing rose petals from lofty pedestal
Sparkling eyes from which stardust flies
Bright smile spindling on embroidered dial
Pallid face shrouded with humble grace
High cheek bones with sculptor's chisel honed
Coiffed strands of hair so De Rigueur
Elegant neck sharing femininity with regal dignity
Voluptuous bosom with silky folds rolled
Roon paps flowing with sweet, sugary saps
Frothy balloon hovering over silted cocoon
Swiveled hips whose billowy curves in rhythm swerve
Heart-shaped hands from which dexterous tendrils
expand
Long, shapely legs with slithering grooves bathed in silky
lube
Dainty feet whose comely features do entreat
Covered bridge sheltering frothy lagoon
Woven tapestry gilding each silted dune
Garnished threads over polished diadem doth croon
Fabricated ensemble breaching pristine medley, emitting swaggering tune
A treasured grove; each branch artfully hewn
A regal polish smoothly layered on a well-crafted spoon
Scented laces nestling in furrowed moon
Binding corset ballasting each milky balloon
Red velvet gown swaddling paps so roon
Silver, monogrammed broach cresting over satin plume
Golden necklace the antechamber doth groom
Lilac perfume from each tendered Liily doth fume
Plowing through the quilted morass so carefully strewn
O'er snowy plain with sculpting touches tenderly prune
Nurturing each crevice; in your fecund valley swoon
Watching in rapturous chorus each mound bloom
With fertile lips I pollinate each riveted loom
From each rendered nipple a sweet nectar I exhume
its roon
with music tune
the lights or gloon
has smell
that ring bells
come by before noon
you can uese
MY RESTROOM
we have a roon
it fill gloon
am there before noon
i listen to old tune
after i put them back
in a stack
on the music
RACK
Swooning in chorus to your rhapsodic tune
Your soothing Sonata crests to the billowy moon
Your animalistic rhythms o'er every truant part croon
Blithe melody softly careening over every pallid dune
Bass drum taps lightly; milk flows from hardened paps so roon
Exploring in cadence each curvilinear line artfully hewn
Riding each stanza in your seething, swaying balloon
Coursing over each ripple in your silver shoon
Each crevice, crater my hands carefully prune
Sifting out silty pebbles with a sculptor's spoon
Dipping harmoniously into your deep ocean; gleeful loon
Ruddy ballast anchoring ship in your salty lagoon
Im dancing roon the kitchen, the music is ablast, Ma table is a buzz of life and i am not
harrassed. You see i have five angels who drive the neighbours wild, but in my eyes there's
nothing better than the laughter of a child. We laugh and dance together and i thank god im
alive,Cause sometimes i will doubt that when the sperm donor arrives, But today im very
happy, I have my angels to myself, the joy i feel's fantastic and may it never end, cause I
know whatever happens i will be there to defend.
Go saddle me the black black steed
For I am going on a long long journey
Go wipe away the tears that roll
Across brawny cheeks of gypsie lassie.
Fifteen well made men going on their steeds
To get their brides leap over the strand
The brunt hills in search of a namer
Drying fast to justify conscript of land.
Twilled with a broach and a ring wintry
The death stalks the hill with sickled moon
The leaden sheen on the steed’s back
Has turned the night’s face into a roon.
Late late yesterday I saw the moon
Full bodied like a new sickled maned
The death will stalk these streets tonight
And am afraid of downy owl’s nickled bane.
Come on fair ladies hang your hair down
Over the fair head over the abordour
The fifteen men have gone to castle waste
And along came the death to devour.
Go saddle me the black black steed
The merry castle keep has hovelled a cry
Though death stalks every haste and waste
And brawny cheeks of gypsie have gone dry.
Go saddle me the black black steed
For I am going on a long long journey
Go wipe away the tears that roll
Across brawny cheeks of gypsie lassie.
Fifteen well made men going on their steeds
To get their brides leap over the strand
The brunt hills in search of a namer
Drying fast to justify conscript of land.
Twilled with a broach and a ring wintry
The death stalks the hill with sickled moon
The leaden sheen on the steed’s back
Has turned the night’s face into a roon.
Late late yesterday I saw the moon
Full bodied like a new sickled maned
The death will stalk these streets tonight
And am afraid of downy owl’s nickled bane.
Come on fair ladies hang your hair down
Over the fair head over the abordour
The fifteen men have gone to castle waste
And along came the death to devour.
Go saddle me the black black steed
The merry castle keep has hovelled a cry
Though death stalks every haste and waste
And brawny cheeks of gypsie have gone dry.
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