* * *

[aptsvet]

the poet or whoever the hell she is
keats overcast or some unmarveled marvel
emits tremulous puffs of outer mist
her inner incoherence to unravel
pours out her utmost in a vapid prose
of things that ever random and erratic
she saw when she just looked or what it was
she found when roaming in her grandpa's attic

still full of steam she sings if that's the word
of how the world could be a better place
without george w bush or shell or nike
or else she may recall she was abused
as a child or a woman or a baby seal
her lines chopped into wormlike bits protrude
from the bright monitor and wriggle and wilt
yet never fails the certainty that good
is good and all the rest is bad and if
this is the only message to convey
do it in verse or simply call it verse
pound on the keyboard till your fingers blister
keep the gadflies away my ruminant sister

but the imperial dickhead overhead
who made the world all full of flies and shells
will smash the hapless scribbler in her turn
he never moved to save the baby seal
never cried over the mammoth or a stray cat
so little he cares about our good or bad
but really all he gave us from above
was love and death and much more death than love

Comments

[pipa-surinamska.livejournal.com]

Возможность читать Вас здесь невозможна.

В книжки веришь больше, даже в тонкие как тетради, как исхудавший от отдыха Шекспир.

[gardenerm.livejournal.com]

последняя строка очень понравилась.
за такую строку на русском, наверное, убили бы)

[larvatus.livejournal.com]

Considering that the valiant have plural loves in their lives, if Shakespeare is to be taken at his word, they did kill Julius Caesar for something of this sort:

Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard.
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.

[aptsvet.livejournal.com]

True, and most of us are not all that valiant.

[larvatus.livejournal.com]

Most of us will love more than once in our lifetime. I know I have. Even reckoned against my count of death, my love balance is looking good.
    Here is my preferred alternative to Shakespeare:

Mieulx est de ris que de larmes escripre,
Pour ce que rire est le propre de l’homme.

Also consider this: “That man alone is affected by tickling is due firstly to the delicacy of his skin, and secondly to his being the only animal that laughs.” (De partibus animalium III.x 673a25, translated by William Ogle.)

[larvatus.livejournal.com]

“If it turns out that there is a God, I don’t think that he’s evil. But the worst that you can say about him is that basically he’s an underachiever.”
― Woody Allen, Love and Death