The Voice (of me)

[serge gurkski]

I write poetry to you, when we talk.
Why would I, if I did not care?
How could I, if I did not?
You tell me now!
What is next, you ask, I say:
Not yet written.

.

You can hurt me, but
you are the only one
allowed to
do so.

You should read some Heine:
He talks finely about love
and hurting.

.

On those rare visits to my mind
I question myself what I do.
I take a liking these gloomy days
in other people's love affairs
becauses it soothes me now.


[here once lived a shabby stanza that did not qualify]

Just know that I know what I am talking,
your mock huffy,
he says so:
Of course – to spread banalities:
It ain't over till it is
and that is exactly how it is now
with us.

You know, I think that's fine lyrics
for just another
to be put down into
living
song.
.


So let there be song:
You say we differ; I ask how.
Is it about the Emerson quotes
about friendship I quoted to you?
What is it about?
Friendship is about:
You don't have to return my favors,
but if you desire so:
Return them to make me return them to you.
.


I read your eyes that ask:
Can we have that
without sex? Really?
.


Get lucky with my shrugs.
.


I write poetry to you, when we talk.
Why would I do that,
if I did not care?

Vutiou believe it: I read you.
The message I can't send, it simply lies.
I can feel some other one's grief
completely.
I just love Italy
because on her coasts
I can feel the breeze,
touching the rumbling waves of the sea.
I can feel a free bird's song in the wind.

Too many unsweet attitudes
in peoples these days.
They lost our moon
from which to look down
upon us, them and me.
Once the moon lights up again
they surely will see
what they missed, I am talking
the richness of colorful life, the voice
is meant solely to please them
and ease their, our's, introduction
to death.

Jean Genet in Miracle de la Rose
with his friend facing the guillotine
played Boetius reborn in order to soothe.
In vain, in vain life and death, too.
In vain for all of us
it is to live.

Already covered by Beckett, of course
and may he be cursed because of that:
Leaving no options to choose from
for us to make a fine life,
but instead to sadly accept the fact that we'll die,
having been made so by our maker.
No praises from me for that.
That's our old existentialism Blues.

Enough of sweet talking maybe, for now?
Up to get into it, into the real?
Into what matters?
But see: you loose me here,
because nothing really does.

Pra quem não sabe amar
fica esperando*

Because they do not know love waits for them.

Senhor, piedade,
Lhes dê grandeza e um pouco de coragem *

Lord, have mercy
Give them, us, a bit of grandeur and courage!
.................................................

*from Cazuza's Blues da Piedade lyrics

[Brownlie]

I write poetry to you, when we talk.
Why would I, if I did not care?
How could I, if I did not?
You tell me now!
What is next, you ask, I say:
Not yet written.

.

You can hurt me, but
you are the only one
allowed to
do so.

You should read some Heine:
He talks finely about love
and hurting.

.

On those rare vists to my mind
I question myself what I do.
I take a liking these gloomy days
in other people's love affairs
becauses it soothes me now.


You still have a life in front of you
to be filled with new love.
It is just around the corner.
You simply need to look up,
and that is all it takes,
to love life once bloody more.

Just know that I know what I am talking,
your mock huffy,
he says so:
Of course – to spread banalities:
It ain't over till it is
and that is exactly how it is now
with us.

You know, I think that's fine lyrics
for just another
to be put down into
living
song.
.


So let there be song:
You say we differ; I ask how.
Is it about the Emerson quotes
about friendship I quoted to you?
What is it about?
Friendship is about:
You don't have to return my favors,
but if you desire so:
Return them to make me return them to you.
.


I read your eyes that ask:
Can we have that
without sex? Really?
.


Get lucky with my shrugs.
.


I write poetry to you, when we talk.
Why would I do that,
if I did not care?

Vutiou believe it: I read you.
The message I can't send, it simply lies.
I can feel some other one's grief
completely.
I just love Italy
because on her coasts
I can feel the breeze,
touching the rumbling waves of the sea.
I can feel a free bird's song in the wind.

Too many unsweet attitudes
in peoples these days.
They lost our moon
from which to look down
upon us, them and me.
Once the moon lights up again
they surely will see
what they missed, I am talking
the richness of colorful life, the voice
is meant solely to please them
and ease their, our's, introduction
to death.

Jean Genet in Miracle de la Rose
with his friend facing the guillotine
played Boetius reborn in order to soothe.
In vain, in vain life and death, too.
In vain for all of us
it is to live.

Already covered by Beckett, of course
and may he be cursed because of that:
Leaving no options to choose from
for us to make a fine life,
but instead to sadly accept the fact that we'll die,
having been made so by our maker.
No praises from me for that.
That's our old existentialism Blues.

Enough of sweet talking maybe, for now?
Up to get into it, into the real?
Into what matters?
But see: you loose me here,
because nothing really does.

Pra quem não sabe amar
fica esperando*

Because they do not know love waits for them.

Senhor, piedade,
Lhes dê grandeza e um pouco de coragem *

Lord, have mercy
Give them, us, a bit of grandeur and courage!
.................................................

*from Cazuza's Blues da Piedade lyrics

You made it a little better but I think you've got a ways to go with this one. You're providing me with entertainment so your efforts are not in vain.

[serge gurkski]

Why did I mention Beckett? Just to impress you? No. ;-)
I dropped his name because his thoughts fit right here into it.
Ok with you?

---

Jean Genet: Miracle de la Rose. You read it? I commmend it.

[Brownlie]

Why did I mention Beckett? Just to impress you? No. ;-)
I dropped his name because his thoughts fit right here into it.
Ok with you?

---

Jean Genet: Miracle de la Rose. You read it? I commmend it.

Ha ha, My ignorance shall shine as a big A for american. No one I know would talk about Beckett in common parlance

[serge gurkski]

Why did I mention Beckett? Just to impress you? No. ;-)
I dropped his name because his thoughts fit right here into it.
Ok with you?

---

Jean Genet: Miracle de la Rose. You read it? I commmend it.

Ha ha, My ignorance shall shine as a big A for american. No one I know would talk about Beckett in common parlance

As I see it then (ignoring your ignorance because I am just as ignorant as you claim to be) I really wish there s a translation into English of Miracle de la Rose, pretty tough stuff, but and because of that: highly readable)


As to name dropping: It is not my intent to impress. I use ideas from those people I quote. (it is between not me and the reader of my poetry, but between me and the owner of those ideas) You see, I could retell their ideas but bc I am a poet, I will and must short cut as best I can.

Still : I am myself not satisfied with all my quoting.
I am NOT an eclectic poet. I do not borrow for nothing.
I quote because I build my metaphors on the shoulders of those who were earlier than me.
But they are mine (my lil cuties) ;-)


cheers man

---

sorry for my diction but I read too m uch Dickens this week. I ll recover. I promise.

[billy]

i really wanted to say wow, but after all the shouting about wow not being enough i did a line by. some of the things are just spelling or punctuation. i think you could go through again just to see if you can improve on those parts. a bit of syntax going astray but i think it's a seriously good write. (apart for the cliched stanza) the hard feeling were palpable at the beginning then got more introspective. it worked.

thanks for a great read.

I write poetry to you, when we talk. is the comma needed?
Why would I, if I did not care?
How could I, if I did not?
You tell me now!
What is next, you ask, I say:would this be better separated from the rest of the stanza to make the answer stand out more.
Not yet written.
the opening certainly sets the poem up, shows conflict which i saw leads into a one sided love rant. it's quite powerful considering it's meagre image, the narration is solid enough to carry it.
.

You can hurt me, but
you are the only one
allowed to
do so.

You should read some Heine:
He talks finely about love
and hurting. the two asides make the emotional pain feel real,

.

On those rare vists to my mind visits
I question myself what I do. 'myself' is redundant; a comma after myself would be better as it allows the 'what i do' to reinforce instead of creating excess.
I take a liking these gloomy days
in other people's love affairs
becauses it soothes me now.it's 'because'; 'now feels to much, is it needed?


You still have a life in front of you
to be filled with new love.
It is just around the corner.
You simply need to look up,
and that is all it takes,
to love life once bloody more. apart from the last line, it's one big cliche made up of little cliche. i like the determined advice of the last line

Just know that I know what I am talking, is 'just know that' needed?
your mock huffy, i have to ask, what's a huffy. does it mean she faking being in a huff? if so, i love it
he says so:
Of course – to spread banalities:
It ain't over till it is
and that is exactly how it is now
with us. the cliche works here so it doesn't grate on me, i like that this is the final stanza and then you start over again. it's how it goes in real life

You know, I think that's fine lyrics is it that's or should it be they're
for just another feels a bit odd syntax wise, is something missing?
to be put down into
living
song.
.


So let there be song:
You say we differ; I ask how.
Is it about the Emerson quotes
about friendship I quoted to you? i suggest some white space after this line
What is it about? and here
Friendship is about:
You don't have to return my favors,
but if you desire so:
Return them to make me return them to you.
.


I read your eyes that ask:
Can we have that
without sex? Really?
.


Get lucky with my shrugs.
.


I write poetry to you, when we talk.
Why would I do that,
if I did not care?

Vutiou believe it: I read you. who/what is Vutiou?
The message I can't send, it simply lies.
I can feel some other one's grief syntax probs, [others/other's grief] should be enough, i'm not sure which
completely.
I just love Italy a big switch i like the way it changes tack from the shouting and creates a calm
because on her coasts
I can feel the breeze,
touching the rumbling waves of the sea.
I can feel a free bird's song in the wind. it feels like freedom is envied and i think it gives some insight into the narrator within the poem.

Too many unsweet attitudes
in peoples these days.
They lost our moon i don't get this line
from which to look down
upon us, them and me.
Once the moon lights up again
they surely will see will surely
what they missed, I am talking
the richness of colorful life, the voice
is meant solely to please them
and ease their, our's, introduction our
to death.

Jean Genet in Miracle de la Rose
with his friend facing the guillotine
played Boetius reborn in order to soothe.
In vain, in vain life and death, too.
In vain for all of us i don't know the guy or the film/book etc but upto this line the stanza rocks
it is to live. for me, this line doesn't work (is excess)

Already covered by Beckett, of course
and may he be cursed because of that:
Leaving no options to choose from
for us to make a fine life,
but instead to sadly accept the fact that we'll die,
having been made so by our maker.
No praises from me for that.
That's our old existentialism Blues. my fave stanza, (if the becket mentioned is tom)

Enough of sweet talking maybe, for now?
Up to get into it, into the real?
Into what matters?
But see: you loose me here,
because nothing really does.

Pra quem não sabe amar
fica esperando* (i'm sort of biased against duel language in poetry unless it's a very very common phrase. so it these two parts don't work for me

Because they do not know love waits for them.

Senhor, piedade,
Lhes dê grandeza e um pouco de coragem *

Lord, have mercy
Give them, us, a bit of grandeur and courage!
.................................................

*from Cazuza's Blues da Piedade lyrics

[serge gurkski]

i really wanted to say wow, but after all the shouting about wow not being enough i did a line by. some of the things are just spelling or punctuation. i think you could go through again just to see if you can improve on those parts. a bit of syntax going astray but i think it's a seriously good write. (apart for the cliched stanza) the hard feeling were palpable at the beginning then got more introspective. it worked.

thanks for a great read.

I write poetry to you, when we talk. is the comma needed?
Why would I, if I did not care?
How could I, if I did not?
You tell me now!
What is next, you ask, I say:would this be better separated from the rest of the stanza to make the answer stand out more.
Not yet written.
the opening certainly sets the poem up, shows conflict which i saw leads into a one sided love rant. it's quite powerful considering it's meagre image, the narration is solid enough to carry it.
.

You can hurt me, but
you are the only one
allowed to
do so.

You should read some Heine:
He talks finely about love
and hurting. the two asides make the emotional pain feel real,

.

On those rare vists to my mind visits
I question myself what I do. 'myself' is redundant; a comma after myself would be better as it allows the 'what i do' to reinforce instead of creating excess.
I take a liking these gloomy days
in other people's love affairs
becauses it soothes me now.it's 'because'; 'now feels to much, is it needed?


You still have a life in front of you
to be filled with new love.
It is just around the corner.
You simply need to look up,
and that is all it takes,
to love life once bloody more. apart from the last line, it's one big cliche made up of little cliche. i like the determined advice of the last line

Just know that I know what I am talking, is 'just know that' needed?
your mock huffy, i have to ask, what's a huffy. does it mean she faking being in a huff? if so, i love it
he says so:
Of course – to spread banalities:
It ain't over till it is
and that is exactly how it is now
with us. the cliche works here so it doesn't grate on me, i like that this is the final stanza and then you start over again. it's how it goes in real life

You know, I think that's fine lyrics is it that's or should it be they're
for just another feels a bit odd syntax wise, is something missing?
to be put down into
living
song.
.


So let there be song:
You say we differ; I ask how.
Is it about the Emerson quotes
about friendship I quoted to you? i suggest some white space after this line
What is it about? and here
Friendship is about:
You don't have to return my favors,
but if you desire so:
Return them to make me return them to you.
.


I read your eyes that ask:
Can we have that
without sex? Really?
.


Get lucky with my shrugs.
.


I write poetry to you, when we talk.
Why would I do that,
if I did not care?

Vutiou believe it: I read you. who/what is Vutiou?
The message I can't send, it simply lies.
I can feel some other one's grief syntax probs, [others/other's grief] should be enough, i'm not sure which
completely.
I just love Italy a big switch i like the way it changes tack from the shouting and creates a calm
because on her coasts
I can feel the breeze,
touching the rumbling waves of the sea.
I can feel a free bird's song in the wind. it feels like freedom is envied and i think it gives some insight into the narrator within the poem.

Too many unsweet attitudes
in peoples these days.
They lost our moon i don't get this line
from which to look down
upon us, them and me.
Once the moon lights up again
they surely will see will surely
what they missed, I am talking
the richness of colorful life, the voice
is meant solely to please them
and ease their, our's, introduction our
to death.

Jean Genet in Miracle de la Rose
with his friend facing the guillotine
played Boetius reborn in order to soothe.
In vain, in vain life and death, too.
In vain for all of us i don't know the guy or the film/book etc but upto this line the stanza rocks
it is to live. for me, this line doesn't work (is excess)

Already covered by Beckett, of course
and may he be cursed because of that:
Leaving no options to choose from
for us to make a fine life,
but instead to sadly accept the fact that we'll die,
having been made so by our maker.
No praises from me for that.
That's our old existentialism Blues. my fave stanza, (if the becket mentioned is tom)

Enough of sweet talking maybe, for now?
Up to get into it, into the real?
Into what matters?
But see: you loose me here,
because nothing really does.

Pra quem não sabe amar
fica esperando* (i'm sort of biased against duel language in poetry unless it's a very very common phrase. so it these two parts don't work for me

Because they do not know love waits for them.

Senhor, piedade,
Lhes dê grandeza e um pouco de coragem *

Lord, have mercy
Give them, us, a bit of grandeur and courage!
.................................................

*from Cazuza's Blues da Piedade lyrics

thank you billy. I ll come back to you. I am just a bit too ummm let us say drunk right now.
Sigh. It is hard to endure ei g stoned sometimes. Would you believe it? ;-)


and also my left knuckle? you know the feet bones, they hurt. Must have fallin down last nite.

Guess I am better gonna have to
chzeck out my love,
check out my me
checking out yout
(No. not you billy)

I am just preparing
for fresh lying.

wtf

cheers

serge

Wow, Sirs, just found an incredible Buddy Guy performance

you ll see.
;-)

---

oh billy: re wow.

would have been ok too. ;-))))))
cheers

---

billy, mean person you, look:

your mock huffy, i have to ask, what's a huffy. does it mean she faking being in a huff? if so, i love it

yes exactly so. why did you ask when you knewit alrwady.

Come on, women!
(and lets better leave Leanne out of this)

[serge gurkski]

Billy, in this kind of talk there is always a lot of cliches. I mean: Do you know a better way to soothe an ex-lover. I don't wanna hurt them.
So what can I say?

The obvious and it is a commonplace, too, that cliches tell the truth.

Your copy editing is good. I will fix what you reclamed bc I agree.

Tom will be shocked now. ,-)

Thank you for reading me.

cheers
serge
,

[billy]

i think sometimes cliche works but generally it weakens a poem by making it or part of it too generic.

You still have a life in front of you
to be filled with new love.
It is just around the corner.
You simply need to look up,
and that is all it takes,


the above for me is the type of cliche that weakens a poem.
i have no suggestions apart from make it non cliche or make the cliche interesting ones

what would you think of that stanza if it were written by someone else and posted in novice, what would your feedback be?

you have lots of good and some great lines in the poem enough that this stanza is buried, but it doesn't make it a good stanza worthy of contributing.

---

of course that just how i see it, others may think wow great stanza

[serge gurkski]

yes, billy
"the above for me is the type of cliche that weakens a poem. "
The poem does not even need it. Goddamn: I was too sentimentl last night. Sigh.
I really like bing the shrink for sexy females shariing their love went wrong anecdots with me.
I can hug so very much. And li ... kiss away those yummy tears. Uh, the losses.

I binned the shit but now it is good, Mister bc it is Sunday privileded to be drunken dry by m e.

I know you understand. I will not ask why?

Thank your for pointing strange this in my poem who do not belong here.
Someone must have smuggled them in.

---

billy, I doubt it but should you be tough enough to stand Leanne's whip,

"i really wanted to say wow"

I am totally fine with that. Your alibi corrections will be considered.
Possibly.

cheers to you!

serge

[serge gurkski]

to billy:

"Already covered by Beckett, of course
and may he be cursed because of that:
Leaving no options to choose from
for us to make a fine life,
but instead to sadly accept the fact that we'll die,
having been made so by our maker.
No praises from me for that.
That's our old existentialism Blues. my fave stanza, (if the becket mentioned is tom) <<< he dreams of that. Let us not wake him up.
hush ,-)

---

This:
No praises from me for that.


No praises from me to him for that.
But of course God is always implied anyway. ;-)
Just not by me.

Oh most holy turd (translates as: shit!) He the fuck lost me somewhere.

cheers
serge