Meet On Fleet Street

(Written June 24, 2015, from 07.15 AM till 08.17 PM.)

The rest of the World is now handling that Candle for nothing

The rest of the World knows exactly the right thing to do

To save us from sin, from the filth we are touching

But the darkness is still our companion for sure

all the shy girls from dawn in the land Guadeloupe who were smiling,

all the Belvedere boys with their Wooden swords, are now gone

the rest of the World is there, eager to find me

But the stakes are now higher, His Truth marching on

...

Save the sad Bells of Rhymney so many have already told us,

Save the Pastures of Plenty with Strings playing oh so sweet,

Save the sounds of the City and all of the Goods they have sold us

Still remains: We are anxious to meet on Fleet Street

The rest of the world is aware of the shots down in Dallas

The rest of the World knows there's nothing that Jackie could do

So she dated the Guy who had been dating Callas

they are all gone by now, they were glowing for sure

(Copyright Dennis Renfors)

End of Golden Age

(2015, June 17. Written 9.20 AM till 10.13 AM)

* 

you let the monster out of the cage

it marked the end of our Golden Age

the place supposed to get peaceful and clean

is now a desert with a war machine

Hey, Davy Crocket and Johnny Appleseed

they spoiled your nation by acting in Greed

to late to visit the world´s oldest town

´cause in this area the sun has gone down

so if we ever get in order again

where Mister Voldermort has no ground to gain

I´ll walk the streets to them wide Golden Halls

where lunatics are not present at all

©Dennis Renfors

*

Ode To LA Poet David McIntire

(June 15, 11:42 PM Swedish time)

*
As I ran by the fence with the stick in my hand
All my friends said "You´ll still be there"
That rattling sound till the hot dog stand
And I knew that I would not care

But I finally saw in the wind so raw
I´ll be back, I´ll be back some day
It takes more than a storm to shut my jaw
"Where´s the mic? I am here to stay"

By Dennis Renfors

*

Los Angeles poet David McIntire´s latest poetry book is "PUNK ROCK BREAKFAST". To read about it, click HERE!

For Swedish interpretation of his poem "After", click HERE!

Efter (After)

(Från ”Punk Rock Breakfast, poems and stories”, av David McIntire som bor i Los Angeles.)

* 

efter en lång dag med att misslyckas med livet

är det härligt att komma hem

och kolla hur skruvarna ramlar ur väggarna

fönstren smälter

och hur bankräkningarna börjar fatta eld

efter en hård dag med att banka huvudet mot verkligheten

är det alltid trösterikt

att koppla av till ljudet av takpannornas självmord

röklukten när prestationer och avsikter offras

när jag virar dessa frätskador runt mina axlar

och varsamt lägger huvudet i giljotinens sköte

gnolar jag en mjuk och ljuv elegi över allt förnuftigt

över allt som en gång hade mjuka konturer och svävade

efter en lång natt av sömnlöshet och mardrömmar

är det härligt att ha ett ställe att gå till

även om det inte finns på riktigt

även om jag bara ljuger för mig själv

för att slippa minnas detta månsken

* 

Av David McIntire

( By David McIntire 2015. Interpretation: Dennis Renfors. http://www.internationalwordbank.com/punk-rock-breakfastby-david-mcintire-hot-off-the-press-buy-the-kindle/)

En annan dikt av David McIntire i svensk tolkning hittar du genom att klicka HÄR.

Climbing Dinosaur

(May 31, 2015, 7:45 AM.)
*

in the Encyclopedias I could never look up

´bout that Climbing Dinosaur, ´bout that Climbing Dinosaur

it was gone for the winds, it was gone in some war

no remains exist from Climbing Dinosaur
...

though so many tried to find it

though they wanted to secure

any footprint, any bone or any skull

there was never any trace

that had managed to endure

from that Climbing Dinosaur in any mull
...

in the eyes of any lover I have whispered many nights

´bout that Climbing Dinosaur, ´bout that Climbing Dinousaur

I´ve been told "Dinosaurs, they could not climb at all,

hej, come closer, be my Climbing Dinosaur!"
*

Compared To Your

(Written by Swedish Alexandra Wattman /not for me, mind that!/ and interpreted into English by an anonymous friend of hers.)
*
Los Angeles is nothing
Compared to your hands on the inside my knicks
New York is nothing
Compared to your everyday words in my ears
Would trade Paris
For your morning breath and life anxieties
Every day

We may not ever make it to India
We might stay here in a trashy sublet with torn wallpaper
and unchanged sheets
I might not be able to conceive
Maybe we'll make fools of ourselves at dinner parties
Talk about strange things that No one
wants to hear
Maybe we'll have psychoses
And lose our jobs

Maybe we'll ask for forgiveness when we're having guests
and serve food from the cheapest of grocery stores
Maybe we'll come up with excuses for ourselves
We might not ever go on a safari in South Africa
Maybe we'll come up with excuses for ourselves
We may have torn wallpapers
We may love each other either way
*
(Published courtesy A.W. © Alexandra Wattman.)

Outside the Hitler Reich

(May 11, 2015, Monday 4:45 PM till 5:03 PM)

*
The Gym teacher was mastered
outside the Hitler Reich
But yet he was so plastered
when Bonnie loved a Dyke

”Now Frenzy Cold, Give Me a Break”,
he swore with swollen breath
”I need not try to be a fake
and hug that Bitch to death”

Well, Bitch or Queen, I can´t decide,
she held that upper hand
She walks with swagger, walks with pride
as cool as any man

Now, why are you so goddamn sore
And grit your rotten teeth
when you were always such a bore
and learned that useless speech?

*