Miss Apple

[Lyrika]

(Ich weiß dass es schwul ist )


Miss Apple was green and red but most of all blue
When the sun came up she was covered with morning dew
She was hanging on a tree in the garden for so long
But nobody picked her up, she thought something was wrong

Her biggest dream was to be a sweet apple pie
And to be sold in a store, for people to buy
She wanted everyone to drink her juice
But deep inside she felt she had no use

Even when it was windy Miss Apple didn’t fall
If somebody just took and stole her, she wouldn’t mind at all
They picked all the apples with a ladder, but she was forgotten
And she knew soon she would be brown and rotten

She said: “One day I will be a sweet apple pie
I will be sold in a store, for people to buy
I want everyone to drink my juice
But deep inside, I know, I have no use”

There was a boy who nearly died from starvation
Wanted to eat an apple, but never had the occasion
He was too lazy to jump and he was also afraid
That he would get hurt trying, but soon it would be too late

He waited for an apple falling on his head
But he knew if he kept waiting he’d be dead
He couldn’t climb as high as the apples hung
And his ladder had a broken rung

When he dared jumping all the apples were hanging too high
But then he saw Miss Apple hanging on the branch nearby
Miss Apple was the one the boy chose
Because he needed no effort since Miss Apple was so close

The boy chose Miss Apple because he had no apple to eat
Because she was easy to reach, not because she was sweet
And Miss Apple was so sad, she wanted to be nothing more
But a sweet apple pie sold in a store

She wanted to be someone’s sweet apple pie
A precious apple sold in a store, for people to buy
She wanted someone to drink her juice
But she was so very sad that she had no use

Miss Apple was green and red but most of all blue
When the sun came up she was covered with morning dew
She was hanging on a tree in the garden for so long
But nobody picked her up, something was wrong


Worms and maggots laying eggs, eating her up from inside
And all over the garden the stench of blight
She started to rot and in the wind she would sway
Nobody would care, she’s still hanging today

Nimm schnell: hab Dir zum Dank für dieses zärtliche, so wahre, phantasievolle, wunderbare Gedicht eine Kette aus Apfelkernen aufgefädelt...ohja, sie steht dir phantastisch.
Du, das werde ich auswendig lernen. Ich finde, es ist ein Klassiker und sicher nützlich bei Familienfesten, wenn im Verlauf der Thanksgiving-Dramen Not am Mann ist, die Kids aufgeregter Eltern zu beruhigen. Dann kann man es schnell aus dem Jackett ziehen. Es erinnert mich an E.E. Cummings. Wie heisst das Gedicht schnell? Ach ja, "Mary and Molly and May". kennst du es?
Die nächste Apple-Pie werde ich dir widmen.
Ich mag diese einfachen Dramen, die, die keiner siehst, außer ganz selten Menschen wie du. Wenn man dann noch schafft, sowas in Worte zu fassen, ist es sehr, sehr schön. Danke.

[Fleur-de-Lys]

Irgendwie entgeht mir die angekündigte Homoerotik... also bitte nichts versprechen was du dann nicht hältst.
(Ganz im Ernst... es stößt mir immer sehr bitter auf wenn schwul als scheinbar abwertender Begriff verwendet wird)

Ansonsten kann ich mich meinem Vorredner nur anschließen! Ein bittersüßes Gleichnis für die Erntedankzeit, am besten vorgetragen über frischem Apfelkuchen von Muttern! Good work!

[Black Valentine]

ich stimme mit ein, wundervolles gedicht!