Wednesday, 17 December 2014

Schubert - 4 Impromptus, D. 899 / Op. 90 (Maria João Pires)



 
this interpretation starts as if the sea was on fire, the universe dancing and breathing, all energy flowing, coming and going with the tides of being. i am truly enchanted. it goes on with rivers, streams, rapids,waterfalls and forests, trouts jumping . then trees moving in the wind, moonlit skies,  swans on a lake at night, a distant storm, inbetween the peace of a silvery and quiet pond , carried forward to find joy and the real  sweetness of liquid golden honey, transcending doubt and thought and the last traces of fear. enough to be carried on living and dying, not in flight but moving out and  inside, now.

Corelli - Sarabande

Brahms - Violin concerto - Oistrakh / Klemperer

Tuesday, 16 December 2014

the doors albinoni's adagio in G minor

Jim Morrison - Awake

well..it's not all i want...



Zoe Keating - Hello Night

donkeys are sweet and stubborn

donkeys are sweet
and stubborn

roses have thorns,
thistles grow flowers,
the moon has dark spots
and the sun can kill

what is fear
of the night
but fear
of the day

i will persist
through fear,
through coldness
through analysis

i will permeate
indifference
and i will
kiss walls

i know
and
i have known.





Mendelssohn Violin Concerto E Minor OP.64 (Full Length) : Hilary Hahn & ...

diving through words with open eyes

diving
through
words
with open eyes

listening
to
silence

energy
flowing
through
at-traction
and
re-pulsion

makes
the earth turn
and the tides move
it is dance

it is the way of creation,
root of pro-creation
and of destruction

what happens
is simple
it happens

a simple
stone
hits
my head

following
gravity
with no
intention

a question
of
con-text
such as a first kiss

when two
potential
nuclear bombs
meet

probing
the sur-face
of fear
and longing


note:
in the hollow of last night,
not to be taken too seriously













Saturday, 13 December 2014

the lonelinss of the long distance smoker

to imagine,

to wait for you
in each drop of rain,
with each breath,
a hole in my stomach


until i will not know
what i waited for,
until i will have forgotten
even myself

to smoke long distance,
smoke drifting far,
i listen to my voice
rising out of dark

to leave
with the smoke,
and i am like smoke
now

to drift between
widely spread fingers
like sand , like water
to be lost in the void

there are hours like this,
empty, only the
smoke of memories
drumming in the ears

days to fill with light,
to prepare for wonder,
to look at old trees
shaking off the wind


they remain firmly
rooted in presence,
silent witnesses,
they are and grow

to imagine,
to be wounded by longing
and to be healed by being:
i tell the wind















Mean Talking Blues - Woody Guthrie