Don't go far off, Pablo Neruda

Pablo Neruda:

Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because —
because — I don’t know how to say it:
a day is long and I will be waiting for you,
as in an empty station when the trains are parked off somewhere else,
asleep.

Don’t leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home
will drift into me, choking my lost heart.

Now there is only one demand, Ingmar Bergmann

INGMAR BERGMAN, FROM A LETTER TO LIV ULLMANN

Now there is only one demand, and that is to be alive; there to give life, there to receive life, and there to let it hurt, and there to let it feel good. To dare, my love.

When i waked

When I waked, I cried to dream again.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, THE TEMPEST

home and snow and night

these tomatoes

nobody will 'like' this...

Bertold Brecht:'first comes a full stomach, then come ethics'

these tomatoes, peaches,

cucumbers coming from

cultures under plastic

cloned and poor

these tomatoes are red enough

but not the right red

they are too rounded

and as  artificial as women

painted for a bar

and just as tasteless

there is no satisfaction

in eating nor in fucking

just some vague juice

soiling the table, the clothes

but are all women, 

at a certain age,

in eternal self development

busy around their egos

building fences

did they live under plastic

do they suffocate

and who and what

could put them at ease

or must i shoot them

to end this misery.

...sorry...

bestiarium of disgrace

a bestiarium of disgrace

as we walk along beaches

and follow stonepaths

and springs in the mountains,

our minds clear up

with the changes of light

and powers of  earth

and then for the night

we tire of climbing

and talking, we

breathe and may sleep

in the rhythms of stars

for a time in arms

of another one.

if you cannot take,

if you cannot take

solace you cannot give 

dogs and cats

take and give.

what a stupid thing 

to say: there is 

no solace.

i heard this today.

it killed my flow

more than all

else said, done,

undone. i was left

in outer space, no

air, a trapdoor

straight down 

in free flight.

she laughed like

a goat, a sound

coming from stone

fields and deserts

and cold 

how we, humans,

even if in love,

even as friends,

can be our worst

enemies, this,

this is the bestiarium

of our disgrace.

instead to come

together, close,

against cold winds

and for better fate

we don't even fight

for the safer place

but for who is right

and who is wrong.

i am bored.

but the light is present

this is not a poem

this is not a poem

but a signal

of the whale

in the deep 

sea  of me

he who ate my soul

needs to come up

and spit it out,

he needs to blow

and breathe

and i don't know

which part of me

he will take

for his dive

into this ocean

maybe i should make

a sacrifice

to let him go

in peace

and not so heavy

and i can stay afloat

until i reach this shore

where the apples

fall from branches

in my garden

i still have a lot of work

to do in my garden.

is it to sit on a bench

is it to sit on a bench

to watch clouds and dogs

and people pass

is it, i ask, less dangerous

maybe or more pleasure

than to get up

and mingle with the noise

of life on the street,

the shout of a mother

and the hooting of cars

the wailing of children,

the sighs of the crippled

and the kisses of couples

in traffic jams

is it, i ask, maybe

a bit sad to refuse

and sit on this bench

until it is time

for another coffee

or a glass of wine,

an orange juice

a sandwich

or time to go

home whereever it is

in the company of gulls

and cats and shadows

is it safe to close my eyes

and dream

or not dream

is it safe to be alive?

guess

dys-function

dys-function is

a way to open eyes

and new paths

to follow

dys- , i like it.

to function is boring.

de-struction can be

frighteningly beautiful

with open skies

and new lines,

dis-torted views,

weeds growing wild

and birds singing,

all these voices

filling the void,

crossing vast deserts

and a new hope,

though i am drunk.

i am drunk on death

and i am drunk on life.

i am drunk on love,

on wine, 

and i am stuffed

with my self.

i need to erase

all these gigabytes

of false memories.

they are in the way

of a life

which should not

repeat itself.

crash the hard disk

destabilize the software,

put a virus there

which nobody can destroy.

life is beyond control.

a flower is a flower is a flower

belligerence, sad but true:diary of desire

another day

tainted by belligerence.

i like the word,

to wage war

with a lust

she said, cats

get aggressive

when they want

to have sex

she said, she is not

ready to be with

somebody.

she will never be ready,

but i know,

life just happens.

she digs and digs

in me, she comes

with opinions on a tablet.

you can take them

or leave them,

they must not be mine

i felt the spring

it started yesterday

the birds are busy

and there is a scent

of flowers in this air

i don't wish to

explain with many words

but feel arms around me

not signs on the wall

i don't want to dwell

on the past

but to go on

with a hand in mine.

but i feel like

a beetle

in a Kafka story,

an experiment.

i must leave.

i knew.

I am but me,

there is nobody else.

if i am wrong,

i must feel it.

i don't.