Don't Want To Grow Old - by Guy Workman

[mirmusing.livejournal.com]

Know What?
I don’t want to
never, ever, ever
grow old.
Not after what I’ve seen.
We went to visit
Grandma and Grandpa
in a house that’s
purple and green.
They must be
A million years old,
or at least maybe forty-five.
Mom and Dad
said they looked really good.
I’m amazed they’re
still alive.
They didn’t have a bit of candy.
Just crackers
dipped in honey.
Their clothes didn’t fit
and the whole house
smelled kind of funny.
They were
thin as a rail,
white as a ghost,
blind as a bat
and deaf as a post.
They said
it was amazing
how I haven’t changed.
Then all day called me
by my brothers’ name.
They say
it happens to every one.
And it’s not so bad
I’m told.
But still....
I don’t want to
never, ever, ever
grow old.

The First Line is the Deepest (Kim Addonizio)

[poppyromanov.livejournal.com]

The First Line is the Deepest
by Kim Addonizio

I have been one acquainted with the spatula,
the slotted, scuffed, Teflon-coated spatula

that lifts a solitary hamburger from pan to plate,
acquainted with the vibrator known as the Pocket Rocket

and the dildo that goes by Tex,
and I have gone out, a drunken bitch,

in order to ruin
what love I was given,

and also I have measured out
my life in little pills—Zoloft,

Restoril, Celexa,
Xanax.

I have. For I am a poet. And it is my job, my duty
to know wherein lies the beauty

of this degraded body,
or maybe

it's the degradation in the beautiful body,
the ugly me

groping back to my desk to piss
on perfection, to lay my kiss

of mortal confusion
upon the mouth of infinite wisdom.

My kiss says razors and pain, my kiss says
America is charged with the madness

of God. Sundays, too,
the soldiers get up early, and put on their fatigues in the blue-

black day. Black milk. Black gold. Texas tea.
Into the valley of Halliburton rides the infantry—

Why does one month have to be the cruelest,
can't they all be equally cruel? I have seen the best

gamers of your generation, joysticking their M1 tanks through
the sewage-filled streets. Whose

world this is I think I know.

Ekla Chalo Re (If no one responds to your call, then go your own way alone)

[suddenlynita.livejournal.com]

If they answer not to thy call walk alone,
If they are afraid and cower mutely facing the wall,
O thou unlucky one,
open thy mind and speak out alone.

If they turn away, and desert you when crossing the wilderness,
O thou unlucky one,
trample the thorns under thy tread,
and along the blood-lined track travel alone.

If they do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with storm,
O thou unlucky one,
with the thunder flame of pain ignite thy own heart
and let it burn alone.
~Rabindranath Tagore

Ekla Chalo Re
Bengali script
যদি তোর ডাক শুনে কেউ না আসে তবে একলা চলো রে।
একলা চলো, একলা চলো, একলা চলো, একলা চলো রে॥
যদি কেউ কথা না কয়, ওরে ওরে ও অভাগা,
যদি সবাই থাকে মুখ ফিরায়ে সবাই করে ভয়—
তবে পরান খুলে
ও তুই মুখ ফুটে তোর মনের কথা একলা বলো রে॥
যদি সবাই ফিরে যায়, ওরে ওরে ও অভাগা,
যদি গহন পথে যাবার কালে কেউ ফিরে না চায়—
তবে পথের কাঁটা
ও তুই রক্তমাখা চরণতলে একলা দলো রে॥
যদি আলো না ধরে, ওরে ওরে ও অভাগা,
যদি ঝড়-বাদলে আঁধার রাতে দুয়ার দেয় ঘরে—
তবে বজ্রানলে
আপন বুকের পাঁজর জ্বালিয়ে নিয়ে একলা জ্বলো রে॥