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German poetry antho just this sec arrived. I'm on page 70
feel brand new and it does me good


cheers!!!!

serge sexified
(04-05-2013, 03:21 AM)serge gurkski Wrote: [ -> ]German poetry antho just this sec arrived. I'm on page 70
feel brand new and it does me good


cheers!!!!

serge sexified

You have every reason to feel good, congratulations love. So
very well-deserved.

rowens

You write in English in your German poetry books?

Well, I saw one poem with both languages. But that's online. You mean a printed version?
My German original prose poem was digged by those guys over at leselupe.de

yup! printed. ;-) (no English in that one but let me link you bc I wrote it twice:

http://gurkski.wordpress.com/2013/04/05/wait/

rowens

I got drunk again. And the waitress at the place I went reminded me that I promised to shave next time I came trying to make her. But I haven't shaved since last October. And I'm far happier this way.

I read one of your poems on a Leselupe website. But that's a different one.
"the waitress at the place I went reminded me that I promised to shave next time I came trying to make her."

re unshaved:

i was once more in my favorite detox clinic on day 2 and bc of the stuff they filled me up with I felt like back then when I felt inclined but oxymoronically involuntarily so much (for that):
http://gurkski.wordpress.com/2010/07/21/...etoxified/

when I had nothing but the best intentions
(proof here: http://gurkski.wordpress.com/2010/07/21/detox/)

but that cutie-foxy nurse I craved to get laid together with, you know: screwing ,) )

she gave me gave me big time hard-ons by giving me a hard time
cuz
i was unshaved.

so with the female kind it is tricky:
some prefer beard
others despise it
(xactly the same as with: male hairy chests)

but now listen: i want em both: but it is to ionesco to unshave every now and then when ever so harmlessly innercentishly i me just want:

http://youtu.be/IWOvT45Du-s

namely:
to quote from the lyrics of said above:
I meet a gal every now and then who
makes me WANNA live any other man ---"

wtf sigh and cheers to ya

rowens

The second link wouldn't work.
DETOX


I LEAVING

Today is another drunken morning, but
the night before yesterday I had
reduced my dosage to 25 %:
I slept for one hour and felt mildly euphoric.

Shower but do not shave: but put on
expensive after shave and a freshly
washed t-shirt plus jeans,
brew coffee and take my meds.

You can tell, I am serious about
turning my life around today.
I take a mini-sip of left-over rum,
fasten my belt and leave the house.

I am first attacked by cold sweat
after my 10 minutes walk to the drugstore,
where I buy tiny bottles of alcohol.
I feel shitty mounting the subway.

I have meticulously calculated the measure
of time left between getting out of
the sub and entering the clinic: 30 minutes.
In the clinic’s park I have to wipe the sweat
out of my face again and enjoy the icy wind,
feel paranoid, smoke and carefully
suck the drug from the can. I get nervous.

I need another smoke and a tree to hold on
to get in control of my wounded stomach:
No time to puke. Someone left a bag on
one of the benches. I notice but ignore.
With guilt and shame and a frozen face
I walk on. AND GO IN

II ENTERING

I know, the clinic was a house outside the main tract,
about a 10 minutes’ walk away, so I slander
through the major building rather relaxedly still.
The whole hospital is on strike but I think:
for us, addicts in constant emergency the docs
will make an exception: And they would have!

Still am comfortably in time when I stand
in front of the detox clinic. Roll and light
a pure-tobacco cig. A guy steps outside
the building, smokes too nervously, mutters
whatever we mutter when we confront the truth once more:
self-victimization, self-humiliation and the diff:

It is a constant struggle - believe me –
between giving up in isolation and begging
for help. “You don’t make it but you would like to?
What’s holding you back? A long-gone father, you say?
A little rape back ages? Come on! Is it fiction or fact?

And others understand and others cry with you
And you leave them all behind to
get raped by the drug again.
I cannot prove anything but my suffering.

III INSIDE

I ascend to the first floor sharing the
elevator with Mr. Nervous Alcoholic,
the mutter-man. Out of shame we ignore
each other as if we did not know.

As soon as we get out he disappears.
I follow the corridor, the sweating starts again.
There is a small row of seats, 8 to be exact
just in front of the glass cube behind which
the nurses work. I curse myself for not
having drunk more. The sweating is annoying.
Vis à vis my chair sits a young black-haired woman.
From time to time she lifts her pretty face
and sinks her brown morphine-veiled eyes
into mine. A nurse approaches me. There is,
she shrugs, no consultation today, we’re on strike.
She takes a painful closer look at me: Cold sweat!
Withdrawal! – I say, I don’t know. Wait, I’ll see
to get you a doc. The brown-eyed girl smiles at me
and I know I’ll see her again.
I try to ignore her by reading the pamphlets
strewn across the chairs: We’re on strike but
for detoxing call this clinic or that. I know all
of the 5 clinics mentioned. In case of emergency call.
A guy approaches, his body a sigh of contempt,
the only thing I might like about him would be
his addiction. After some rambling he leaves.
I still sweat and want to get out. I’ve been
sitting here for 20 minutes. …

rowens

I'll try to read when I got my reading eyes back on.

I put some generic drinking music in the song section, but it just made an edit and didn't move up.
no worries ;-9 all fine here.

Mr Gurk is almost already royally stoned. Wink cheers! how I love it!

(04-05-2013, 03:33 AM)Heartafire Wrote: [ -> ]
(04-05-2013, 03:21 AM)serge gurkski Wrote: [ -> ]German poetry antho just this sec arrived. I'm on page 70
feel brand new and it does me good


cheers!!!!

serge sexified

You have every reason to feel good, congratulations love. So
very well-deserved.

if we only could bury down the hatchet for good (and!!! listen: for once and all). sighing her
your perplexus

whatcanIsay

talking warfare: "what is it GOOD for?

well, just listen to Burdon's reply (which sums it up for me)

rowens

I've already digested all the wine and beer I had today. And now I'm bitter again, and want to see my blonde librarian. I keep making idle chit chat with her when I see her, because she's one of those girls that I scare easy.
a very hot Italian girl who shares my taste cums it to fiinest Jazz
so one hundred per cent -ishly has (wisely) decided to
befriend me

So, hey! what reason could I still have to complain about the Gurkski situation that I'm in..?

none and

now:

laissez les bon temps rouler like there was no tomorrow
cheers and happy second cumings coming to you to ;-)

yay!

rowens

Parse error: syntax error, unexpected

Things were weird on this site for a few minutes.
(04-06-2013, 07:49 AM)rowens Wrote: [ -> ]Parse error: syntax error, unexpected

Things were weird on this site for a few minutes.

try again ;-)

rowens

It's 7 o clock just about. I'm going to go watch E.B. whose smile mixes memory and desire.

Anyway I hate divorces. But I think she'll not stay with her husband long. I used to know her. I still do, because she has the same look in her eyes even though she's on tv finally. But she's not the main dame I'm in love with. Nor is the librarian that's new on my scene.

I have lots of muses. Though most don't talk to me anymore. I refuse to make it on my good looks like these women I've known can do.

I knew that wouldn't work. Can't watch the tv now.
deep into movement I (a lament) of my symphonic prose poem for the Celts.
My first thought was to base my text of mov I upon Táim sínte ar do thuama (from the cold sod that o'er you)
aka I am stretched on your grave, but

i am totally ambivalent bc sinnead (o# Connor), as fine as her a capella is voted for King's tralation of that song. But Yeats prefers Walsh's and if Yeats has decided to include in his anthology of Irish poetry, then I will of course go with it.

Compare this:

"I've the cold earth's damp odour," walsh

with this

"for I smell of the earth" king


or also compare this:

My fondest, my fairest, walsh

with

my appletree, my brightness king

Perplexed here. ;-)

So

I instead decided to go for dead can dance's "hymn for the fallen"
because of (quoting from the lyricsSmile

"My attends to you as a mother fears while her children sleep
Now look, see how they're dreaming
...
Now sleep, close your eyes and have no fear
A wide blue sky is very near.

http://youtu.be/bsOim9n8aLk

and also
the music is closer to a composition titled sailing to Byzantium (Yeats. Now you must know ( ,-) that Lisa gerrard is the singer of band known as Dead can dance!

cheers