Stalking Desjo

[bogusagain]

Desjo, this just came to me while I was waiting for the taxi to the airport and I just had to post it. I'm going to write a better one when I get back.

(Others: This originated from a compliment and a teensy weensy bit of banter. Actually it is me not being backward at coming forward)


consider this poem
an act of passion
a crucifix I nurse
its iconography, a dagger in my chest
I am a vampire aflame

this poem is not about you
though you inhabit the spaces
between the words
you haunt it like a memory
yet to happen

I am abroad in the sweat filled night
listen to the quiet savagery
you will be headlines
in the morning news
POEM STALKS POET

[Desejo]

Originally Posted by bogusagain

Desjo, this just came to me while I was waiting for the taxi to the airport and I just had to post it. I'm going to write a better one when I get back.

(Others: This originated from a compliment and a teensy weensy bit of banter. Actually it is me not being backward at coming forward)


consider this poem
an act of passion
a crucifix I nurse
its iconography, a dagger in my chest
I am a vampire aflame

this poem is not about you
though you inhabit the spaces
between the words
you haunt it like a memory
yet to happen

I am abroad in the sweat filled night
listen to the quiet savagery
you will be headlines
in the morning news
POEM STALKS POET

Perhaps I should reconsider my halloween attire and dig out that black cape....
At any rate, if I suddenly disappear completely - y'all know who to ask about that!

[bogusagain]

WoooW! This went off the surreal page. I forget what my original intention was but I sort of like what I produced so thought I would just post it anyway.


you’re not rooted in this poem
your tongue didn’t form these words
they are easily erased and blown away
you can dig your way out, make ladders
forge passports, learn new languages
determine, no matter how solid these words
you will escape this lines

I would be your contradictory accomplice
tether your tongue while wishing you flight
knowing, to anchor you in this tract
would stunt your growth but still
I would feed you rose petals and honey
even if your salty tears bleached the earth

I will map out your solitude
in the radials of a compass
a star chart would declare
a metaphysical connection
study the algebra of your horoscope
for no equation can be devised
to answer this simple sum
of how the earth depends upon the sun
how experience contrives to understand
to all that is impossible to know
as though tomorrow is a physical page to turn

so why do I map out your every move
if every action has been sanctioned and is written in the runes
why my concern that as you read this wall of words
you dream of escape and in dreaming you escape
to discover outside a language rich in metaphor

[Desejo]

My tongue lifts words from mouths
Half open in foreign dreams
Sometimes falling on salted chocolate or wine
Usually on over-processed dust

Independence weighs on me
No longer a steadying ballast
Just a heavy assortment of floating memories
Tangled like seaweed in a propellor

Gladly I would unload this cargo
China plates, carvings, people
pull into a port one last time
And use my passport as a doorstop.

[bogusagain]

Originally Posted by Desejo

My tongue lifts words from mouths
Half open in foreign dreams
Sometimes falling on salted chocolate or wine
Usually on over-processed dust

Independence weighs on me
No longer a steadying ballast
Just a heavy assortment of floating memories
Tangled like seaweed in a propellor

Gladly I would unload this cargo
China plates, carvings, people
pull into a port one last time
And use my passport as a doorstop.

I like that, a lot, particularly the last two stanzas where you get into your stride. I'm going to have to come up with a response to that!

[twelveoone]

Originally Posted by Desejo

My tongue lifts words from mouths
Half open in foreign dreams
Sometimes falling on salted chocolate or wine
Usually on over-processed dust

Independence weighs on me
No longer a steadying ballast
Just a heavy assortment of floating memories
Tangled like seaweed in a propellor

Gladly I would unload this cargo
China plates, carvings, people
pull into a port one last time
And use my passport as a doorstop.

i like this, esp l1,2
can i get in on stalking you?
you got your choice
a poem about lawn jockies
or djinn (w/unprocessed dust, real dust, 1,000 years worth)

don't understand last line, and s2 l3,4 don't work together, logic disconnect

[Desejo]

Originally Posted by twelveoone

i like this, esp l1,2
can i get in on stalking you?
you got your choice
a poem about lawn jockies
or djinn (w/unprocessed dust, real dust, 1,000 years worth)

don't understand last line, and s2 l3,4 don't work together, logic disconnect

You are right about S2 l3 and 4. Original idea was a net. I don't know why I changed it. As for the last line - you generally don't use things of importance as doorstops, and obviously one cannot travel in this day and age without a passport. At least not to the places I end up going.

Cut me some slack - I wrote that between sections on cover letter. hopefully I did not include it in the cover letter, but I wouldn't put that past me at this stage.

As for stalking - pourquoi pas? But no lawn jockeys. There is one down the street from my house that is currently decked out in Mardi Gras beads. I am not sure what message that is supposed to convey, but at least no one has put an Obama tshirt on it. I've always wanted a lawn jockey of a white banker carrying a briefcase.

[HarryHill]

Originally Posted by Desejo

As for stalking - pourquoi pas? ...(always nice to get permission)

I've always wanted a lawn jockey of a white banker carrying a briefcase.

..
But then it would be a lawn lackey not jockey

[Desejo]

Originally Posted by HarryHill

..
But then it would be a lawn lackey not jockey

Harry, are you stalking me too?

[HarryHill]

Originally Posted by Desejo

Harry, are you stalking me too?

..
I don't think of it stalking per se ...more like hanging out with a friend..n'est pas?

[bogusagain]

you lift words from my mouth
leave me to form silences
dialog bubbles formed on my tongue
then blown into the world

conversation has its point
if only to say what is necessary
reiterate the redundant
lure you on to a boat of clichés

language becalmed on a bed of weeds
a Sargasso sea of stranded poets
their tongues flopping about
like so many rubber clappers

but I would handle you like a puppet
shape your mouth into a perfect ‘O’
force you to swallow my silences
if this stalking is worthy art, it is this

[Desejo]

Originally Posted by bogusagain

but I would handle you like a puppet
shape your mouth into a perfect ‘O’
force you to swallow my silences
if this stalking is worthy art, it is this

Gulp.
Very vivid lines making me wonder all kinds of things.
I'm quite enjoying being stalked...

[HarryHill]

chasseur de poète

sautant sur l'occasion
toucher votre cœur
Si, même pour un instant
avec un mot, j'ai fait pour vous
Je vous en doutez yeux
dit de ne pas être aimable
krinkling dans le plaisir
des profondeurs
d'un imperméable
telle qu'elle existait

[Desejo]

ouvrant les yeux, je vois
l’inconnu en face de moi
me regardant, imperméable

ouvrant le cœur, je rêve
l’inconnu rêve aussi
nous rêvons donc ensemble

ouvrant la bouche, j’avale
l’inconnu renverse
des bouchées de mots imperméables.

[njoyjade]

Jumping on the opportunity

opening the heart, I dream

Get a room you two!

Invite me and we splt the cost three ways!! LOL

[Desejo]

Originally Posted by njoyjade

Get a room you two!

Invite me and we splt the cost three ways!! LOL

Two? I thought we were three already!!

[HarryHill]

Originally Posted by njoyjade

Get a room you two!

Invite me and we splt the cost three ways!! LOL

..
What kind of seduction is that, njoyjade? ...sounded more like a proposition..
..
Desejo, so much is lost in translation....let me try a little harder
..
la révision
Chasseur de poète

sautant sur l'occasion
à caresser
votre cœur loin d'ici
Si seulement pour un instant
avec un mot créé pour vous
J'imagine
yeux souriants
Regardant en arrière
des profondeurs
un manteau de pluie
comme vous lire

[Desejo]

Originally Posted by HarryHill

..
What kind of seduction is that, njoyjade? ...sounded more like a proposition..
..
Desejo, so much is lost in translation....let me try a little harder
..
la révision
Chasseur de poète

sautant sur l'occasion
à caresser
votre cœur loin d'ici
Si seulement pour un instant
avec un mot créé pour vous
J'imagine
yeux souriants
Regardant en arrière
des profondeurs
un manteau de pluie
comme vous lire

If you are using googletranslate, it doesn't capture subtlety well.
Imperméable does mean raincoat. It also means impermeable, or waterproof.
Manteau de pluie would be "a coat of rain". As you have it now the last three lines don't really make sense. What is it in English?
and careful, or I will start writing these in some really obscure language!

[bogusagain]

Originally Posted by Desejo

and careful, or I will start writing these in some really obscure language!

mijn frans is slecht
het doet me pijn om te zeggen
Ik moet in een minder poëtische tong spreken
gutteral en germaanse
dat klinkt niet van liefde
maar geloof me, dit gedicht
vol van liefde is
meer liefde dan een franse tong
kan geven, meer aandacht geven
op deze particuliere plaatsen
een vrouw verbergt haar wensen
Een plaats zou ik willen aangeven
met de woorden die Ik voorzichtig maken
in deze rare taal
met deze fantasievolle tong

[Desejo]

Originally Posted by bogusagain

mijn frans is slecht
het doet me pijn om te zeggen
Ik moet in een minder poëtische tong spreken
gutteral en germaanse
dat klinkt niet van liefde
maar geloof me, dit gedicht
vol van liefde is
meer liefde dan een franse tong
kan geven, meer aandacht geven
op deze particuliere plaatsen
een vrouw verbergt haar wensen
Een plaats zou ik willen aangeven
met de woorden die Ik voorzichtig maken
in deze rare taal
met deze fantasievolle tong

Double dutch processed
tangles the tongue in stupendous
rides like a Scot reading Rilke drunk
on Irish whiskey

Google translate breaks it
down into melted squares
I imagine delivered by a fair melkmeisje
in steaming mugs topped with cream

Trust me, hayati: there is nothing more
delicious in any language
than poetry

[bogusagain]

Originally Posted by Desejo

Double dutch processed
tangles the tongue in stupendous
rides like a Scot reading Rilke drunk
on Irish whiskey

Google translate breaks it
down into melted squares
I imagine delivered by a fair melkmeisje
in steaming mugs topped with cream

Trust me, hayati: there is nothing more
delicious in any language
than poetry

trust not in google translate
such poetry is incomplete
a milk maid without her emmers
no heaving borsten nor buxom dijon
her modesty unmolested by poetic seduction

so let me pour a borreltje genever
let me light a Willem II slim corona
free me from the flatness of its polders
release me from its Calvinist restraints
the Dutch cannot love without conditions

so let me lure you further south
poetry begins at the border
suckle you on Westmalle Trappist Tripel
soften my clunky clanky words
with a tongue that is as soft as velvet
let me steal the words of Hugo Claus

Zij is, zij blijft zo bitter mooi
dat ik haar in een kooi stop.
Ja, achter slot en tralie.
En als zij vannacht niet plooit
drinken wij cyaankali. Wie?
Ik en de koekoek in mijn zwembroek

[HarryHill]

Oh Thee
No matter the language
words cannot express
the saffron hued thoughts
that emanate from you
sweet as spice
to the nose of a starving man

No wonder I hunger
to wind about the legs
of your rich table of words
like an old Tom
waiting to be noticed
then held
against the bosom of your intent
fed with tasty phrases
until a contented rumble vibrates within
and rasping tongue
licks away the last morsel
of delightful nuance

[Desejo]

Originally Posted by HarryHill

Oh Thee
No matter the language
words cannot express
the saffron hued thoughts
that emanate from you
sweet as spice
to the nose of a starving man

No wonder I hunger
to wind about the legs
of your rich table of words
like an old Tom
waiting to be noticed
then held
against the bosom of your intent
fed with tasty phrases
until a contented rumble vibrates within
and rasping tongue
licks away the last morsel
of delightful nuance

I really love the second stanza,Harry. It stands alone as a poem. And of course, it has a purring animal in it, which is bound to please me

[Desejo]

Originally Posted by bogusagain

trust not in google translate
such poetry is incomplete
a milk maid without her emmers
no heaving borsten nor buxom dijon
her modesty unmolested by poetic seduction

so let me pour a borreltje genever
let me light a Willem II slim corona
free me from the flatness of its polders
release me from its Calvinist restraints
the Dutch cannot love without conditions

so let me lure you further south
poetry begins at the border
suckle you on Westmalle Trappist Tripel
soften my clunky clanky words
with a tongue that is as soft as velvet
let me steal the words of Hugo Claus

Zij is, zij blijft zo bitter mooi
dat ik haar in een kooi stop.
Ja, achter slot en tralie.
En als zij vannacht niet plooit
drinken wij cyaankali. Wie?
Ik en de koekoek in mijn zwembroek

It seems, like me
You collect countries
like a box of old currency
you can not throw away

For it retains value even in uselessness

Tell me:
do we run away
Or run
to something?

[bogusagain]

Originally Posted by Desejo

It seems, like me
You collect countries
like a box of old currency
you can not throw away

For it retains value even in uselessness

Tell me:
do we run away
Or run
to something?

it has been said, Gauguin
ran away to, not ran away from
escaping to a paradise
from a heavy and leaden Europe

but what man wouldn't escape
the corsets and heavy atire
that doesn't bind a woman for his pleasure
but protects her from his seduction

and who wouldn't escape to the sun
where women lope free, easy and naked
their round volumes undulating in gentle rhythms
their swathy complexions, burnished in the sun

Aah you might say, what about the women
do they deserve their colonisation
this alien burrowing into their innocence
his paintings of them hung like a hunter's trophies

you tell me, for I am Gauguin stalking his prey
and you are the game of his imagination
naked, earthy, with a low hipped gait
mooning across his vision