Author Topic: poems  (Read 1286 times)

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KJ

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poems
« on: July 17, 2014, 03:05:10 PM »
+4
I tried to translate some of my poems. it's the first time I try to do this and they are probably filled with typos and strange sentences.
thought it would be fun to share anyway...




strobe light

take my hand
give me your lips of golden pleasure
purer than heroin
let me feel the rhythm of the music
explode
in your trembling body

take my heart
let us forget everything
under the same flashing sky
feel the lies of the night
burn
between our ribs

take me in your hand
make me hard

lead me to a place
where


I can feel something



and I'll take you to a dawn
worth dying for
and wake you up to a tomorrow
worth living for



untitled I


I'm your bridge
lying on my back


over trembling nights


see me flinch
feel me dissolve



I'm yours
just yours


to rape




untitled II


baby

you are sunshine in my veins
you are

69 love songs on repeat

you are





untilted III

have a drink with me tonight
I need
to see my existence in a different light
and you are an expert
on escaping reality

have a drink with me tonight
take me where your meat
is the most sensitive, let me
taste
the glittering droplets
clumsy
stiff

I need you
need to feel something else

than myself



perhaps/perhaps not

who can really tell when
or how
everything went so bad 
maybe it was a choice
we did
to let our legs give up
and the world
like an abscess
crack
between our fingertips
maybe it's a choice
we do
to get lost
just so we can forget
who we
really are
and who can really tell
perhaps we have
all the time in the world
to change direction
some day
maybe not today 
but soon
perhaps tomorrow
perhaps never
perhaps it
doesn't really matter
in the end anyway

and who knows, maybe
we can do everything
we want
became a chapter
in the history books
with words like razor blades
in their hearts,
remain heroes
forever
tomorrow maybe
it will happen, my friend
'll just gonna do
the paperwork first
and perhaps we
take the train to gothenburg
and then the bus 
to the airport
and escape the world
from there
perhaps tomorrow
perhaps never
perhaps it
doesn't really matter
in the end anyway

and who can really tell when
or how
this ride will end
if there is a life
after this
perhaps it's just
a long trip
to nothing
and perhaps it
doesn't really matter
if we die or burn forever

03

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Re: poems
« Reply #1 on: July 18, 2014, 04:02:50 AM »
0
YEAH MAN!!!

Drenk

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Re: poems
« Reply #2 on: July 18, 2014, 11:37:03 AM »
0
Oh, I enjoyed them a lot! You have a way to find the simplest and most effective way to deep feelings. Good highway to words.
I'm so many people.

KJ

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Re: poems
« Reply #3 on: September 27, 2017, 02:45:31 AM »
+5
Thanks for the response! I tried to translate some new ones:



*



She comes back after a few hours, wearing a green hat with red feathers and big yellow sunglasses and it's probably her tenth change of clothes tonight and this time she seems to have lost her pants and panties along the way because you can see her cunt swirl underneath the washed out t-shirt,
I look at her- the hair is lying like thin white stripes over her sharp pale shoulders and she's looking across the room for new kicks or something new to do and I gaze over the tattoos that crawls across her legs and arms as though they could rise from her skin and leave her aging body

Where were you, my princess of chaos- where were you when the techno music vibrated like an orgasm across the city and the darkness of the night?
Where were you when the techno music made love to our ears, and the ears embraced the sound waves as if it were the answer to all our questions - oh the techno music!
The techno music that sank through our skin and entered our bodies and refused to leave until we had danced ourself clean and free from meaningless nothingness
Tell me, my princes of chaos, where were you when the music sang
 just for you?

We have locked ourselves inside of Hassan's apartment and everyone seems crazy and I'm trying to recall if they where crazy when we got her or if it happened along the way and the conversations cracks like fireworks across the tables and she jumps back and forth, and disappears for a while, and then come back again, always with new clothes and new characters she's testing and she's so puzzlingly beautiful in her rawness and her imperfect perfection - and the most amazing thing about her standing in the doorway is that she's standing in the doorway and she smiles when she says that we must destroy ourselves at every chance we get
that the bottles must be emptied and the zip bags must be emptied and that we must do everything that makes us feel alive and forever young we must live,
forever young we must die

And I wonder, my princess of chaos, where you were when I exploded in a violent burst across the sky and fell like dust over the streets and bars and empty faces of the indifferent population
Where were you when my life, which I loved so dearly - penetrated me like a spear through the vampire's chest and turned me into a prisoner inside my white painted walls and ceiling- they contained my room, they contained me, my life
Where were you when the day reached through the window blinds like tentacles from a clear blue sky, reached out to me like fat fingers across the walls
Tell me, my princess of chaos, where you've been throughout my life and you answer: "I came here as fast as I could,
now I just have to leave"


*


during the cold of december 
when semen fell from a pornographic sky
soaked in pleasure
she attacked every night
like the lions of the African savannah
and even though
she left her trophies- as chewed up meat
along the streets of the city;

I followed her
to the last stop of the night 
where I put my head into the guillotine
and asked her
what she was waiting for


*


you held him inside of you
until his cock broke into pieces
between your pink
gate of flesh

you held him inside of you
until you pushed his body parts away
like ping pong balls
in bangkok's red light districts

you held him inside of you
and felt a part of you die
when he left
your body



*


in the burnt light of the waiting room
you are all equals;

like statues of meat, arranged neatly
you wait quietly



*


underneat the famous silence of the sky
you held her close and fucked her
for the last time;

the unborn children
that ran down the insides of her thighs
was forgotten
in the southeastern corner of the park



*


for a brief moment
I saw her coat dance in the wind
more beautiful than a 60s photograph
of Jean Seberg, suddenly
she was gone
like a cigarette tossed from a passing car
bouncing off a wall at midnight
and I promised myself to never again
fall for someone
who can hold the sky- as if it were a rug
and shake down the stars

jenkins

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Re: poems
« Reply #4 on: September 27, 2017, 12:08:01 PM »
+1
xx
Every perspective is an act of creation.

Just Withnail

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Re: poems
« Reply #5 on: September 28, 2017, 11:25:59 AM »
+1
This sentence right here: "I came here as fast as I could, now I just have to leave"

Beautiful.

I especially like the long prosy one. All of them feel like direct windows into you.
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KJ

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Re: poems
« Reply #6 on: September 29, 2017, 04:43:39 PM »
0
thx! <3

KJ

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Re: poems
« Reply #7 on: September 29, 2017, 10:33:20 PM »
+1
sleepless on my windowsill
i smoke a cigarette and watch the clouds
as they roll by over the sky
as the cars pass on the streets below
the traffic lights is broken
and blinks from red to green
back
and forth

I wake up exhausted
it is early morning but I can't sleep
so I smoke a cigarette and watch the clouds
as they roll by over the sky
as the cars pass on the streets below
the traffic lights is fixed
and everything's in order


*


it's sunday evening
and the electronic light of the television
bounces between my walls
I have time to do anything
but nothing that I want

down on the street
life is waiting for me as a prostitute
I check my wallet
and realize it's empty

back on my couch again
where I watch the second half
of stoke against hull city


*


berlin was burning in drug paranoid confusion
when I found him on the cold ground
almost dead, almost gone;

I looked into his black eyes
as they stared back at me, and I felt
a light breeze
blow through my body
when his soul left me alone and satisfied
in the snowy Görlitzer Park


*


she has left traces of loneliness
in my apartment, ash
in my glasses

I dress myself in her clothes
the black skirt she left behind, and put
a finger up my ass


pretend I am someone else


pretend I am someone else



*


she's standing by the window
in a rare moment
of peace;

I see the light as it spills quietly
over her naked body

I see the smoke as it sings with joy 
from her black lungs

I see her, for the last time
I see her 


jenkins

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Re: poems
« Reply #8 on: September 29, 2017, 11:15:31 PM »
0
thank you
Every perspective is an act of creation.

KJ

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Re: poems
« Reply #9 on: September 30, 2017, 02:21:07 AM »
+1
I'm glad you like them! Having some fun going through some old documents. it's awarding to translate them as they become a different thing in English. Should go to sleep now though. It's morning.


*


I wake up from a dream;

there was something
about a boy maybe, a hand
soft and gently
against my forehead

hours later and i'm still in bed
trying to remember


*


in the taxi you feel
the weight of the night
fall off
like a healed scab
from your skin;

and a new day finally arrive


*


the scars swirl around her body
when she tells me
it's the most valuable thing she have;

a reminder of the things

she left behind


*


in the dim light of the bar
he orders her
another glas of Château Latour, it felt
like if the whole world stood still
when they left together
shortly thereafter








jenkins

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Re: poems
« Reply #10 on: September 30, 2017, 11:30:06 AM »
+1
well i'm having fun reading them so things are going well and thanks again
Every perspective is an act of creation.

KJ

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Re: poems
« Reply #11 on: October 04, 2017, 05:23:20 PM »
+1
he holds the sun
between his thumb and index finger
and scatter it, like flakes of soot
it falls down
into the empty bodies
of the night


*


I saw a couple today
when I got onto the train in skanstull
and her lips
was kissing the tones of her harmonica
when she played
for everyone to hear

I sat down on the seat behind them
and watched as she played,
his arm
around her shoulders

he reminded me
of someone I was before
a person
with dreams and hopes;

a real human


when they got off the train in brommaplan
I watched them
as they walked away on the platform
hand in hand, smiling
and happy

and I thought they looked like
the kind of couple
people turn their heads, and watch
on the streets

like you and I
once were


 

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