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Сентябрь, 21, 2017

Оригинал взят у altana в "Вай-фай-рэп" Даны Сидерос
Оригинал здесь

for about fifteen years it had been in the air
since we took up this chatting here and there
ever since everyone
got themselves an e-mail
e-mails are about as solid as trails
of chalk or breadcrumbs
one good rainfall
and they disappear to be never recalled

we chose to agree with david brin
we passively waited for it to begin
at forums
then in blogs
then in social networks
we molded our fear into words and letters
into morbidly witty
epistolary art

about the thing that will do us part

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Ааааа, еще один!

Оригинал взят у altana в "Дневник" Даны Сидерос
Оригинал здесь

After one of my mom's usual sermons
over fish with them baked brussels sprouts
(and just for the record , that is like my least favorite food)
she yells at my face - don't you dare lie, you were at your father's,
you know I can see you right through!

Me be like - who? me? at my dad's? no, mom, I would never!
and she grabs me by scruff like some pup that pissed in her shoe,
seething - oh yeah? where were you
when you said you are going to Ernie's?
I talked to his mom, she says she saw nothing of you!

There I pretend to cave in,
like "you got me!", in guilty defiance -
guys made a raft at the river, I'm sorry, now stop with that fuss!
but she's crying already - of course, that's his bullshitty parlance.
Even your meaningless sorry vibrates just like his always does.

You think I'm what, deaf? You think, I can't hear it?
His trashy adverbs, his puns that you pick up like fleas?
He crippled himself, now he seeks to make you a cripple,
he's seeing you just for the pleasure of messing with me!

Then I am grounded, she's sad, we're talking around this matter,
air is thick like molasses and silence is pressing my spine.
Me ain't no poet, mom, really,
don't fret, it ain't gonna happen,
I swear I'll write with no rhyme.

them words inside be instantly flashing
morale beguile sublime
three-dime deny lifeline


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