ENGLISH POETICAL NOTEBOOK (Collection Of Early Verses) Chris Myrski, 1994 - 2015 — — — — — CONTENTS Foreword Funny Things Sexy Things Political Things Things For Children Dedicated Things Other Things — — — — — FOREWORD Well, there are different approaches in writing of forwards. One is to write it before the book, what isn't quite good because in the creative work one can never know what will become in the end, but one can write something in beforehand and then change it a little after the finishing. The other is to write it after everything is ready, what is as if better; and the one more variant is to miss it at all because people don't like to read long prefaces. I have missed it first because the book was open and I added by something from time to time, then I wrote some brief introduction for the Internet variant, and now, after 25 years of my literary work, I decided in 2015 that it is high time to close it, at least because have come to new title and new type of verses and, after all, enough is enough. So that the point now isn't in writing of real foreword, but of brief explanation of what kind my verses are. They are, generally said, light verses, or nursery rhymes, but that is what I also like to read, so that, in a way, I have begun to white (not only verses, and not only in English, because this isn't my mother language, I am Bulgarian) for to be able to read what I couldn't have been able to find. Does this sound good as confession? For, if it isn't, I can put it otherwise, that I have done this per il mio diletto, how the Italians say, or for filling of my time with something interesting, what the common people call in uneducated way, for fun. Yet I, being not a common person, can put it in poetical form, like: How the glands of the body secrete, So many poets write verses, indeed. And about the genres, then they are quite different and divided roughly in several sections, namely: funny things, sexy things, political things, for children, dedicated things, and others. So that's it, read them, if you like them, or leave them if you don't. My English, naturally, leaves something to be desired, but for light verses it is good enough. Chris Myrski, Sofia, Bulgaria, March 2016 — — — — — FUNNY THINGS — — — BY THE WAY ... By the way, I'm not a gay, And I can't see how they May prefer it from behind Rather than the other kind (And you sure know what I've in mind). By the way, I'm not a boss, But I don't think I have lost Many happy days in't life Having nobody to drive (Or I've been especially deprived). By the way, I make no bets, I play not for money, that's, Not that I don't like to win, But I know it's often gin (And to lose has no sense, it's a sin). By the way, I don't know why Many girls and also guys Follow every bit of ad; I think they just must be mad (Or they will be soon, and that is sad). By the way, I like to think, Like to swing on reason's wings; That's why actions, also thrillers, Are for me resented killers (Though they are good for some "gorillas"). By the way, you may then guess, That I don't like also press, Television, and so on, Pouring titbits with gallons (But they were invented for morons). April, 2004 — — — HOMO SAPIENCE Homo, Homo, sapience, All you need is happyence, But to live in paradise You have to be just more wise! Or, to put it like refrain: Try to show that you have brains! Not to be like, say, Einstein* — That is not what I've in mind —, But it will be simply great, If you'll learn to tolerate. Or, to put it like refrain: Try to show that you have brains! [ * You have to read "ei" here as the Germans read it, i.e. as 'ay', like in "mine". ] Toil to rate the others' wishes — Not like yours, but every species Have the right to ... fool themselves, And to boast, and ring the bells. Or, to put it like refrain: Try to show that you have brains! Well, it might be otherwise (But I don't think that is nice), You may live to be ... moron — If you like it, just go on! Or, to put it like refrain: You may just have little brains. You may think you are the Lord, What you want you may afford, You have taste and you have style, And you can't be bad or vile. Or, to put it like refrain: You may just have little brains. So, my dear Homo sappy, Two ways to the being happy: One is to improve yourself Live with others, make it well, Or — and this's the last refrain — Live to show that you've not brains, Being vulgar, mean cretin**. [ ** And here read it French-like, 'kreten'. ] April 2004 — — — THE WILD CALLS It's pretty nice in every dish To put some nettle — you know this. But being bright and very clever I ... dandelion add — you'd never. Wild onion pluck from time to time, Lime leaves collect — they cost no dime, And when the rhubarb wild shoots out I ponder not, put in the mouth. It happens primrose leaves are good For some dish, and if so — I put; And apples, quince, I also can Put in the pot when cooking hen. But the extreme temptation form For me green wild plumbs, as a norm, Because they substitute tomatoes, But sweeter are, what means, are better. I add to this that mushrooms pick — Some big, some small like eggs of chick —, I recognize some twenty types And eat with gusto when are nice. Then I make wines from sundry berries, For I am competent, use: cherries, If sour, brambles, wild plumbs, sloes, And raspberries, wild rose hips, more, Use pears wild, and apples, seldom blueberries, oranges, then elder, Blackcurrants, kiwis, strawberries, Pineapples, and you name it, please. So that I all of you advise To spit on palms and make your tries Collecting what has given God, Else live in th' state you just could not. Dec 2008 in Bulgarian, translated in March 2014 — — — SUNDRY "SMALL FRY" * * * There was a young man with no fear Who once promised, because drunk with beer, To shave a grizzly bear, Not turning even hair! So he tried it and ... did disappear. * * * You see that every man takes care of his balls, He knows that if they are not fit he's out, But that is not the case, is it, with mothballs, For moths are dead with them and not without. ? 1997 Eastern Excitement Christ was crossed and resurrected. Now, I was so affected, That whole day and half the night Scratched my eggs: first left***, then right. [ *** The order here is important and I begin with the left one because I am left-oriented man. ] Apr, 2011 (only for the last one) — — — — — SEXY THINGS — — — SURE TEST Listen guys, I'll tell you now Test worth more than golden ounce: Whether your girl's nice and you are blessed, Or is she then ... emancipatess. This is simple, even banal, Yet a bit, I would say, ... anal: You just slap her gentle, kind. Where? — Well, on the behind! If she's girl in th' proper sense, She will smile and maybe mutter Something nice, not take offense, Soft to you remain like butter, Otherwise with wrath immense Turn to you will sharp as cutter. July 2002 in Bulgarian, translated July 2013, improved March 2016 — — — TAMER'S FEARS There was a tamer Jim — Brave, courageous, young and slim. And all women's circus staff Fell with him in sure love. So it was that once with Lucy, Between fervent hugs and kisses, Whispered she in his right ear: "Would you mind to ... blow you, dear?". Jumped the tamer from the bed Mumbling this: "Not now, wait!". Much embarrassed the girl said: "Why, oh silly boy? It's great!". "Well", he answered, and turned red, "It's just ... I'm your teeth afraid." 09.2000 — — — SOUNDS IMPOSSIBLE — I Sounds impossible but it is true: Once, when a girl I was ready to screw, Buzzing around impertinent bee Landed on that my part I use to pee. Then this my tender part, as you know well, Started to rise and to grow and to swell Swaying incessantly from side to side — What was (except for the bee) just all right. Later the matter went slightly perplexed For the thing grasped at my skin with its legs Moving and walking and climbing the top And not a minute it dared to stop. While did the bee thus ascent and descent, Flipping and kicking not giving an end, I was afraid neither touch the insect Nor hast'ly move my sex simbol erect. It was because, if I had then been stung, It would disfigure my whole body young Making the mentioned part as cone of pine What would disturb in turn this girl of mine. Jump she might from the bed, dress fast and run, Leaving behind sex, love, drinking, and fun. So, I behaved bravely, as ought a man, While the bee jogged across my special pen. But being brave I was still a young boy And, you know, I was in sex job employed, Hence, while this buzzing and bumping progressed I felt arising another process. It is as simple as two and two, see: First the erection, because of the bee, Then the eruption must have its effect — It's all just natural, it's not defect. Well, in this moment was that silly thing, Which used to probe or, put simply, to sting, Over the opening, and ... high it flew Hitting the ceiling, and stuck with the glue! Strangely for me is this even today: I shot it straight, should be praised, in a way. But from the girl (mind, she wasn't a whore) There came only this two words: "Ho, Ho"! May 24, 1997 — — — SOUNDS IMPOSSIBLE — II Sounds impossible, but's true it, hey! Once, when a girl I was going to lay, Buzzed in the room just a pair of flies, Not at all boring, I'd say they buzzed nice. Maybe they lovers were, like me and she — Animals, bugs, and birds, they court, too, see. So that I listened to this lovers' song, When my balls also did their ding-dong. They did so 'cause I was up on the girl, Acting this movement monotonous, dull, Which, you know, can't be avoided, but which Impetus gives to the sexual itch. So that we moved, moaned, and kissed us, and squeezed, What can be squeezed, id est, that, and then this, And grew the pleasure in me rather fast, And I gave not a damn 'bout my ... ass. Yeah, but I better have taken some care 'bout the orifice that is placed there, For it is duty of men to defend Not only front, but posterior, too, end. And so it happened these amorous flies Landed exactly there — I don't know why. And, I have missed this, have stopped then to buzz, Being engaged in the very sex thus. Being engaged in the sex were we, too, And, as you know, when it's time to conclude It, we moved forward and pressed us a bit, Tightening this part used, 'scuse me, to shit. By this contraction my innocent guests Turned, I'm so sorry, to dirty wet mess, Fallen have victims of lustful desire, Have not succeeded in time to retire. Bitten lay I in the heart by remorse, Wished have I never to insects use force. Still, I have no other choice but to wipe With paper napkin my bottom and ... cry. Cry mutely how love headless can be, How two lovers don't hear, nor see, And if an earthquake then occurs, so they May even perish, clenched, happy, away. June, 2015 — — — SOUNDS IMPOSSIBLE — III Sounds impossible, yet's true and more, Once, when a girl I was thinking to score, Were we 'midst nature, in nice summer time, Sat in the shade of a tree for to dine. Dine did we also, but after a spell, 'cause grew desire in us — you know well —, So that we threw on the meadow some cloth, Hastly undress and fell down then naked both. Soon we were kissing and hugging, what each One of you, I think, has done on the beach, And I a finger stuck into her cunt Stroking the clitor secretion to run. Then at some moment I fondled her breasts, And where finger I kept jumped ... a pest — Tiny green locust, two inches, no more —, And landed there and entered it, oh! Now you just try to imagine the sit- -yation in which this girl was, it's not myth: She lay on th' meadow, though was not my prick That moved in her, but an insect, long, thick. She could not stand up for fear this may Squash the invader, nor throw it away, She only hoped it will make an U-turn After its investigation is done. Yet it was decent, did not scratch or bite, Only that ... licked, she said, thirsty was, right? So that it happened, as funny this seems, That her lust grew even more than I deemed. As a result happy moaning was she, Even proposed — I'm not lying to thee —, Uterus her being full and engaged, Taking my cock in the mouth, what was made! Later on, when I have finished, she too, Crawled the "assistant", thus flooded with goo, Out and hopped in the grass, disappeared, While we exhausted lay having a beer. So, as you see, it's a blessing disguised, If we can only in time recognize What fate keeps hidden for us in her sleeve, And wait just patiently, not fall in grief. June, 2015 — — — SEXY "SMALL FRY" * * * There was once a girl born in Russia Named Tamara, or rather Natasha. Though clumsy and slow She was ready to go To make love, when one calls, with a rash pas. But consequently appetite grew; Now sleeps she with more men than two. Asked once why does she so She replied then: "What more You suppose that a young girl can do?" * * * There was a young lady of Sofia Who has never slept with a man, or dear! Until she got afraid That it's no use to wait Till the time she will neither see nor hear. * * * There was once a beautiful woman, Who till age of sixteen kept her hymen, But when she got her pass Then came one Phantomass And tore it making path for his semen. July, 1997 * * * There was a young girl in Bahrain Who had neither wits no even brains. But she didn't bother much about, Being outwardly well endowed, So that from the life she always took some gain. * * * I know a guy, by name called Dennis, Who crazy was for playing tennis. He would have been the best of all, If managed could have not to fall — Because of his ... enormously large penis. * * * It's a woe, don't you think, Even grown man though Cannot do a simple thing — One his part ... to blow. ? 1998 — — — — — POLITICAL THINGS — — — MY SALUTE TO THE DEMOCRACY To democracy salute I will give, and rather good, That is eloquent enough Of the matter and the stuff. For I like them very much — These elections and the such, Giving me the right to vote Which one we shall take the road. Scratching, though, once my head, Jumped a thought that namely said: "How can we make the choice Being laic girls and boys?" Either choosing's very easy (And then why to make us busy?), Or it's difficult a task (Which to solve we shouldn't be asked)! And it isn't, let me say, Used in business, anyway, Not in army, not in schools — But if so, then we are fools! For the choice from below Can't be competent, you know? And, if contest this should be, Why the losers, too, take seats? And the Parliament, you see, Represents not you and me, But, let's say, some three per cent, Who are wealthy and potent. All in all, it's just a fake, And this gives me right to make My salute of special art — That's: ... to give a sound fart! July 2002 — — — GEOGRAPHY LESSON Well, dear children, we'll learn today something about a country called Bulgaria, But you don't have to expect much of it, because it's one of the world's most poorest areas. It has some rectangular form, but it looks so tattered, That one may reasonably wonder how they have succeeded before to live much better. For they have there such misery nowadays, That one of you, dear children, may think they have messed all, all things, in a search for better ways. And they, surely, have made one capital big mess Reaching the point where their average income is not just less, But they have made it to be three times so, four times, and even more times worse. And do you know, children, when this tendency started first? Well, just in the moment when they turned to the democracy and began making their first steps! And then, in their efforts to better the things, they continued to go down till they nearly collapsed. Because now, in winter days and nights, they began to freeze much and they began to pray To the God, if He will be so good and give them just one more sunny day; And, do you know, children, they often don't have even enough money to buy their food And, I suppose, you are all clever now and could well tell me, what kind this may imply moods In all of those souls who have to sleep in their cold bets and with their empty bowels, And who sometimes, at home or with their friends, may give way to either howls or, else, growls? And then, to help you to understand better what it's to live their lives I'll tell you that unemployed there is each one out of every four up to five; And that their minimal monthly salary — and I hope you'll allow me to shorten it to MILS — Makes some fifty filthy dollars or so (but they don't use such bills). And what for one MILS they can buy I may, as well, give you some examples: Say, circa one hundred litters milk, which is, as you see, not very ample; Or meat of some kind about fifteen kilos or so; Or what you call cheese, also butter, then kilos twenty, but you can't make them more; Or grill-chickens they'll buy thirty, I'll say; Or bus tickets two hundred and fifty, or eight, if you count them per day; And daily again they may have twenty eggs or something about; Or five bottles of beer per day, but if it has to be in cans this makes only three, and your money is out; Or, if you are intelligent enough to read, Then you may buy five newspapers daily and with this your MILS' ceiling is exactly hit; And so on, but you should not forget that in winters, when they have to heat, Then the payment for a small two-room's flat per month often a whole MILS exceeds. But well, this isn't all, because their total national debt, Computed per capita (with the children in nursery beds), Amounts to twelve hundred and something US dollars, or twenty four MILS, But they rise to over five years, if you cast the debt between only employed people, so this, surely, is a bitter pill. And now, children, you don't suppose that they will pay a MILS a month to the debt, for they could not, They, possibly, may pay one tenth of a MILS and this, still, will be for them a very tough lot, Because in the last ten years they have succeeded to pay just the debt's interests and nothing of the bulk, Hence, their debt can be paid in some fifty years, so you see, that their life seems very dull. But if you think this finishes all their problems then you are positively in error, Because there's one financial trick, approved by the last two governments, which sets the population almost in terror: The trick is, namely, that MILS corresponds not to some real social minimum, and not to that officially recognized by the state, But the social minimum was exactly two MILS, and it is 1.7 MILS, as of late. This means that very many people not only work on a full day basis for about two dollars a day, But they have to pay taxes even if their income is much less than officially established one, what we shall call: the Bulgarian way. Well, you see that the situation in this poor land is so twisted and crazy, That the major part of the population lives below the social minimum, though they are not lazy. And so, my dear children, if you intend to go abroad to visit some aboriginal area, I should strongly advise you to forget about the country called Bulgaria, Because their criminality level has arisen to such heights That you may be stripped there, and knifed or gunned — all right. They may not live there so poor as in, say, Bangladesh, But this isn't pretty sure and they badly want to put their hands over some more cash. They were blinded by the democracy to such an extent, That they have lost nearly all their moral sense. And do you know, children, how they are called by their southern neighbours, the Greeks? Well, they are called "vulgaros", and this sounds — doesn't it — as a tough kick; And, even if this has to be observed just as a pun, It, still, doesn't give them very much of a fun. So, and with this, my dear children, my lesson is done. 2004 P.S. All figures that I give were true in 2004 but the things have changed not much, I mean that we live so miserable that some prices still wait their time to rise (as, e.g., in 2008) and if there happens some minor growth of the salaries and/or pensions (normally about 10 % in an year) it becomes very fast eaten by the inflation (sometimes about 50% an year). Or, to cite one old (totalitarian) pun: if the happiness is not in having money (or possessing other material goods) then the Bulgarians are very lucky nowadays. On the other hand, in the new millennium (or after 1998) we are not sliding deeper down economically, but we are also not rising up, we've just stuck in the mud. And there remains to be answered the primary and more substantial question: why should we have to go down in the first place? But, hmm, we (all the people) are not like the ... sunbeams, that know which way to chose in order to move faster, we merely knock here and there, as blind (or, rather, blinded by lustrous capitalistic illusions) people do. And there, really are several minimal salaries, where MILS is basis for collecting money as income tax (and then it is low in order to collect more to the state), but when one pays some social insurance payment one just can't be insured on the basis of one MILS but on nearly twice higher. The Bulgarians, though, are not in terror because of this — we are silly enough to make comparisons —, but are in terror all the same — because of the misery. — — — SOME DEDICATED LIMERICKS (To Bulgarian Political Figures) To Solomon Passy I know a young man, an Atlantic Flare, Who wished to make love to a ... Polar Bear. So he set as his goal To reach the South Pole. But woe! All bears were sold out there. 1994 ? To Zhan Videnov There was a young man with a foil Whose all efforts the things only spoiled, And while being Prime Minister He became symbol sinister Of financial crash on Bulgarian soil. 1996 To George Ganchev There's a political bloke like a morse Who for many years dreams to be a boss Supreme of our nation (Yeah, it's a great temptation), But just this Block affair seems to be a loss. 1997 To Zhelyu Zhelev There was a man from th' highest politics Who was scientific, though small and meek. Now's doing a research How democrats to search Who will lift him high again just for a week. 08.1997 To Petar Stoyanov There's young man full of democratic force From the top of head and down to his toes, Never blue, though clad in blue — Suit and shirt and pants (they too) — And with charming smile as that of ... well bred horse. 11.1998 To Tsar Simeon The Second There lives a man who born was as a king, Though some still say: his citizenship stinks. "Well", he says, "it may so be, But, as you can now see, I have got as prime a post as I could think!" 06.2001 To Georgi Parvanov There was a man called George The-First, Who said: "To be President I must". And he was, 'cause we, morons, Liked his baby-talk go on; So he fooled and lulled and petted us. 2008 To Boyko Borissov There was a Bulgarian bully Who became a politician, su'ely, 'Cause the folks wanted fighting, Pugilism, not uniting; But then: why must this macho be truly? 2009 — — — — — THINGS FOR CHILDREN — — — HAVE YOU EVER TRIED? Have you ever tried to put a Kangaroo Head and tail, in single piece, on barbecue? You will find it's not an easy thing, Which will many problems to you bring. Problems you could never solve, Even if it's dead and cold, And will neither squeal nor speak, And will never think to kick. So you have to skin it very calmly first, Then unbowel and wash it after must, Next you chop the head off with a cutter, Also tail — to stew it in some butter. Separate the bony parts — Barbecuing them's not smart; Choose and cut for you a slice — Thin and succulent and nice. You will have to do all other things in time (Being fast or slow — it wouldn't cost a dime): Hence you burn the coals after this, Spit on them to hear angry "hisss", Only now put the meat, Wait and turn it when it needs; Take it off and salt it then, Sit and eat with flavour, man! Well, but don't you think that like this Kangaroo The process of gaining our knowledge, too, Is enormous and immense for us To be momentar'ly grasped, and thus You can never take it whole (Even if it is your goal), But must cut and chop at it To make many tiny bits. Still before you stir a little to begin You must all around carefully clean, Wash and dust the observation errors, Dig untill you reach a solid terra. Then you have to look and think (Look for facts and think of links) To make choice to match your wish — Else the knowledge lacks relish. And if you succeed to find a precious stone, And have all rights to insist it is your own, Then the hardest work is still ahead For it now looks just dull and bad. So you polish must the gem Till it's fit for diadem For your bright and clever head — Only then you may be glad. That's to say, that if you want to have success, Do your best and make significant progress In whatever field, or task, or job, Do it calmly, thoughtfully, don't stop It before you reach the end. Else, you always will amend, Ruin all, again begin, Having no fun in between! May, 1998 — — — — — DEDICATED THINGS — — — YOU HAVE A HEART FOR ME* (scientific approach) (find suitable melody to sing it while reading) [ * This verse was dedicated to an old girl friend, who for the time elapsed have had, of course, many other boy friends, still keeping a place for me in her heart. Though I am not sure she had got it right, that's — as a nonsense. ] You have a heart for me, And this is great, But you have other hearts As in a tale; How they superpose — People still wait Which science will explain This in details. They might stay one above The other heart, What to me seems to be Badly enough: To take that from the top Needn't be smart, But for the bottom one One must pull tough. If hearts stay in a line From left to right They have to be involved Always in rows, And one must take you then Each time from side Once and for all unchanged, What's olden now. Suppose the new heart's placed Before the old, Then older one will be Put in the past, But it's erroneous — Old love is gold; Instead of perishing It ever lasts. That is why I make my H'pothesis this: You must have magical Drawer unit — Turning and pressing "knobs" One can not miss, Opens it finding the Heart that him suits. If an improper man Opens it still He will find nothing like Heart on the place. But this puts question in Spite of my will, For there's something more Each man wants face: It's kind of emptiness, Empty enough That is a duty and Pleasure to brim. Well, in the no-heart case, Goodness, what stuff** Must fill the emptiness! Isn't it grim? [ ** It is meant that when there is a girl's heart there is some kind of "emptiness", too (which is to be filled to the brim), hence if there is no heart at all, there must be the complement of the emptiness, i.e. something, but what thing should that be? ] So keep your "drawer" fit In th'given state! I wish you happiness Where you sail. You have a heart for me, And this is great, Though you've other hearts, As in a tale. 8 March, 1994 — — — Short Wish*** [ *** To persons of more or less old age. ] If could I have the power to bless I'd wished you happiness and all the best For the left years till the final rest! — — — — — OTHER THINGS — — — CRASHING'S NOT EASY Why the children want to crash, And throw things, and break, and smash? Well, they want just to create, And for them destruction's great. Why men like to fight in wars, To combat and scatter blows? Well, for them to ruin is Often their masterpiece. But the children are excused For to build they are not used. Where grown men are much worse For they like to shatter first. All in all, in every deed Some destruction you will need, And if even you are god You must wield the crushing rod. Year, but if the case is such, You first ponder and then touch, Do it carefully, calm, Don't spread horror but give balm. Otherwise, or if for fun You've done it, — the case's not done. For, flown certain proper time, And your work costs not a dime. That's because the things react, They regroup and build new packs, And in turn make you regret Silly brandishing the bat. And especially that's true When to folks you something do, For they can accumulate And return, but when it's late. So you hit and you are hit Growing clever not a bit. Hence, you better don't give blows To avoid much ahs and ohs. July 2011 — — — CHRISTMAS' GREETING Many days have passed unnoticed Each one never to return; Rolled have they as stones in abyss Run and crash with next in turn. Yeah, they gone have as do clouds Cross in windy day the sky — Hurried just as band of scouts Race and trot but don't know why. It was thus the year ended, Slipped as soap from a hand, To give space for newly sent with Many happy days to land. All the best I wish you now, Sorrow never to reach thee, Toast I drink to you with bowl Overfilled with mirth and glee. Yule is now, this is true, Oughtn't to be sad or blue! Use your time, God be with you! Xmas, 1996 — — — PER[verted pro]VERBS A dollar a day keeps one on the bay. Don't cast pearls, nor your old jeans, if it is beyond your means. Every crowd clames some folly aloud. Early bird is always pert. God hepls those whose thoughts are ... prose. He who pays the piper is, surely, capitalist. All's well that makes money swell. Who's born to be hanged may easily ... own a bank. Simpathy without relief turns a man to a ... beef. Still waters run, so you'd better ... buy a gun. In for a penny, but if you've any. Necessity turns easily to obsessity. The die shouldn't be cast if it's made out of glass. God forbid, if you can't amend it. To bark up the wrong tree the best choice, sometimes, might be. Tying the loose ends often doesn't make sense. July, 2002 — — — — — E N D |
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