Archive for the poetry Category

i once dated a writer

Posted in poetry on July 10, 2012 by armedlittleboy

I Once Dated A Writer and

Writers are forgetful,
but they remember everything.
They forget appointments and anniversaries,
but remember what you wore,
how you smelled,
on your first date…
They remember every story you’ve ever told them –
like ever,
but forget what you’ve just said.
They don’t remember to water the plants
or take out the trash,
but they don’t forget how
to make you laugh.
.
Writers are forgetful
because
they’re busy
remembering
the important things.

from : http://ofheightsandhollows.tumblr.com/post/26533481891/i-once-dated-a-writer-and

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Variation on the word Sleep

Posted in poetry on April 16, 2012 by armedlittleboy

-Margaret Atwood

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head

and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and as you enter
it as easily as breathing in

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.

Kundiman

Posted in poetry on December 3, 2011 by armedlittleboy

— Eman Lacaba

ang sabi mo pula ang paborito mo.

ang sabi ko puti ang paborito ko.

kagabi nang tayo’y dalawa’y nagkita,

nakapula ako at nakaputi ka.

rehash

Posted in poetry on October 24, 2011 by armedlittleboy

When I leave, sing no sad songs for me.

Just hum a couple of notes

From a long forgotten love song

Then stop.

Go to a convenience store,

Buy a beer

And toast our parting amidst tortilla chips

And tempura crackers.

After, crunch the can with the heel of your shoe

And exit without ceremony,

Don’t slam the car door,

A thud will do for my leaving.

As you step into your place

Don’t turn on an extra light

But don’t stay in the dark

Only tragedies require a significant change in lighting.

Climb into your bed

But don’t wet the sheets with tears,

No one will be there tomorrow to wash it.

And as you drift off to sleep

Don’t try to forget,

There is nothing worthwhile to be forgotten.

when the ground suddenly falls from your feet

Posted in poetry on August 14, 2011 by armedlittleboy

when the ground suddenly falls from your feet, remember this:

the ocean roaring with energy

the waves crashing with force,

will drop by drop evaporate and be reduced into mist.

when the ground suddenly falls from your feet, remember this:

the ear-splitting thunder

the blind-inducing lightning,

will in less than a moment vanish into the darkening sky.

when the ground suddenly falls from your feet, remember this:

the cuddly babies

and the playful kids,

will so quickly transform into drunken, smoking teens.

when the ground suddenly falls from your feet, remember this:

that if the love we had,

the one that I thought will lasts,

can easily crumble into tiny minuscule pieces,

what more the solid, compact ground?

The revolution will not be televised (gil scott-heron)

Posted in poetry on March 20, 2011 by armedlittleboy


You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip,
Skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be brought to you by the 
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner, because the revolution will not be televised, Brother.

There will be no pictures of you and Willie May
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
or report from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the proper occasion.

Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally gets down with
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink, or the Rare Earth.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be right back after a message
bbout a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will put you in the driver's seat.

The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised,
will not be televised, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
The revolution will be live.


let us just change the world on another day.

Posted in poetry on February 12, 2011 by armedlittleboy

The children are starving

The forest is dying

The earth is starting to burn,

But

My bills are piling up

The deadlines are screaming

And my to-buy list stretches a mile away,

So let’s just the change world another day