Recorded by Ashley M. Jones for Poem-a-Day, a series produced by the Academy of American Poets. Published on January 22, 2025. www.poets.org

Ashley M. Jones: "HOLYHEADHARRIET"

MAREE (testo)

Il Sole si specchia
sul mare mansueto 
Non si cura 
Della marea
Straripante 
Di ottusità

(il mare
vorrebbe svegliarsi)

La marea, 
Quella ottusa, 
Si diverte 
A imbrogliare le onde
Che diventano tristi 
Per la loro 
Avvilente piattezza

Il Mare oltraggiato 
Vorrebbe svegliarsi
Con flutti improvvisi 
E chiede aiuto alla Luna 

(il mare
vorrebbe svegliarsi)

La Luna risponde 
A suo modo
Con flussi e riflussi

I flutti riprendono vita 
Grazie alla diafana luce: 
C’è in arrivo 
Una nuova marea 
Accompagnata 
Dall’amica Tempesta 

(il mare
vorrebbe svegliarsi)

L’ira di Nettuno
Si scatena improvvisa
(yeeeeahh!)
Le ondate si arrampicano 
Sulle scogliere

spazzano, spazzano
spazzano, spazzano
(yeeeeahh!)

Spazzano via
Ogni residuo 
D’ imbecillità

Spazzano via
Spazzano via

Ogni residuo 
D’ imbecillità

© 2025 Stefano Padoan
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MAREE

A Modern Lamentation inspired by Wordsworth’s The World Is Too Much With Us

Is This, O Lord, the Glory We Were Made?

Публикуем стихотворения поэтов: от классики до современности.

Иннокентий Анненский - Sneg

if your reading this, I am heaven sent, the messenger.

Heaven sent

A poem/essay to convey my struggles with life.

Lyrics:

I’m not a survivor.
There’s no strength in me, no resilience in my veins,
the inherent qualities needed to endure hardship
Just hollow bones and a body too tired to try.

Blood drips from my arms, soaking my shirt—
I watch it scatter, pooling like my thoughts.
It doesn’t terrify me.
Nothing terrifies me anymore.

Up the highest level of the multi-storey carpark,
I stand on the edge, my blank stare meeting the ground.
The wind whispers, “Jump,”
And for a moment, I think I might listen.
But then I see it—a cat, small and curious,
Its eyes wide, staring right through me.
I thought, What if I ruin this creature?
What if my fall becomes its nightmare?
Tears blur my vision,
And as if sensing the storm in me,
It presses against my legs, purring softly.
It doesn’t say a word,
But somehow, it tells me to hold on.
I turn back, the attempt canceled,
Hailed a cab home,
And watched the streetlights smear into the night.

The circus is in town— 
Bright tents rise like promises,
But laughter dies before it reaches the moon.
They say the star of the show collapsed,
A cardiac arrest took him mid-performance,
Even the spotlight couldn’t save him.

On the speeding road, 
I imagine stepping out. 
Cars flying at 100km/hr—would it hurt? 
Could I do it before the light turns green? 
Or would I hesitate, just like I always do?

I crumble quietly, like paper torn at the edges. 
This world demands too much. 
It screams for perfection, 
But I’m just fragile enough to care what it thinks. 
I tell myself I don’t give a damn, 
But I do—I care too much, 
And it’s eating me alive.
I thought I’d recognize the truth when it arrived, 
But now that it’s here, I don’t even know how to feel.
It seems like a natural state of affairs.

They tell me I’m improving. 
The therapist, the psychiatrist, the counselor, the social worker— They all say the same thing: “You’re doing better. You’ve made progress.” 
But their words feel like smoke, 
And I can’t help but think they’re lying. 
Am I really better? Or just better at pretending?
Seriously…
What did others do that I didn't?
What should I have done, what am I lacking?
God passed out somewhere warm and dark,
Still sleeping off his whole world, seven day binge,
While it’s just me, purging out every meal I ate.
No one wants to look at my disaster,
It has become a construction site.

Meeting my relatives,
They’ll lecture me on taking better care of my mom.
No one knows how exhausting it's been,
They assume I’m not trying just because I’m the younger son.

I take so many medications, 
Antidepressant, Benzo, Sedative, Anticonvulsant... 
Reflecting on my past, did I not do enough? 
I'm so sick of being like this, yet I'm so attached to it. 
I can’t see the future, but I already know how this story ends. 
Is it that hard, just to pretend you care?

Born in the void, and I’ll die in the void.
Three overdoses—25 pills, 30, 40.
Each one a question, a test.
Will my body finally give in?
Will my liver shut down,
Or will I wake up, as I always do,
Denied even the mercy of escape?


虚無から生まれ、虚無の中で死ぬ  -  Born in the void, and I’ll die in the void

This is what happens when a nigga wants to quit his 9-5. Poetry and Bars love it or hate it. It's all love this way.

Kavi (Prod. Yung Nab)

The Vocal Intro, Music & Sampling: C. Double34 Music
The Sampled Vocals:
John McEnroe, The Lady Of Rage, Nat The Lioness, & Joey Heatherton
The Vocals/Poetry:
Gena Storm, Poetic Prettywings, Queensmind Dvn Sol, Emunah Jae, & KlassyPoet
The Additional Vocals: Kalloosit Dunn
The Additional Music: John M. Keane
The Artwork: The Infamous Strategy

* FAIR USE DISCLAIMER: I do not own copyright for this copyrighted material, but under Section 107 United States Copyright Law as noted by the United States Copyright Office (Copyright Act 1976), allowance is made for fair use for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research

Five Lively Venoms, The Intro Of The Lionesses' Den (Presented By C. Double34 Music)

Adrèchie au Dgiâbl'ye
Address to the Devil

Robert Burns
Vèrsion Jèrriaise 2025 Geraint Jennings

Adrèchie au Dgiâbl'ye

WATER

Ripples of the water
Move with such grace
Life would be smoother
If I moved at that pace.

When the water is still
So is my soul
When the water is fast
Life is out of control.

I want my life to be like a stream 
Life beyond my wildest dream
When it turns into a waterfall
All bets are off and I lose it all.


Water

IF YOUR READING THIS....... DOOMSDAY COMING SOON....

Make beats with a message and sample using the fair use act of 1976. Boom Bap Hip Hop is what I vibe to...but I bring all elements of music to the mix. A man of YHWH, God the Father and I give Him the praise and credit for these ideas. Thanks for listening. Peace be with and unto you. Luke 17:21.

L'Office du Jèrriais est l'office tchi fait la promotion d'la langue Jèrriaise. L'Office du Jèrriais is the office that promotes the Jersey language.

┗ 27
┗ Songwriter
┗ Producer
► Open to Collab
┓ Having Passive SI, hope you be kind to me.

The Academy of American Poets is the largest membership-based nonprofit organization fostering an appreciation for contemporary poetry and supporting American poets. For over three generations, the Academy has connected millions of people to great poetry through programs such as National Poetry Month, the largest literary celebration in the world; Poets.org, the Academy’s popular website; American Poet, a biannual literary journal; and an annual series of poetry readings and special events. Since its founding, the Academy has awarded more money to poets than any other organization.

New tracks tagged #Poetry