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Wednesday, October 26, 2016

erotic ? anyway, nice to see

Sublime & Jun Miyake , "Mêm' pas peur!"

Sublime Ludic Chat Soupir

wings and amor, Coelho, Tsvetaeva

quote, Paulo Coelho:
"Anyone who is in love is making love the whole time, even when they’re not. When two bodies meet, it is just the cup overflowing. They can stay together for hours, even days. They begin the dance one day and finish it the next, or–such is the pleasure they experience–they may never finish it. No eleven minutes for them.”
“Anyone who is observant, who discovers the person they have always dreamed of, knows that sexual energy comes into play before sex even takes place. The greatest pleasure isn’t sex, but the passion with which it is practiced. When the passion is intense, then sex joins in to complete the dance, but it is never the principal aim.”

quotes , Maria Tsvietaieva ( Maria Tsvetaeva)
“Wings are freedom only when they are wide open in flight. On one's back they are a heavy weight.” 
"“At the skin, my blood calls out to your heart, my whole sky craves an island of tenderness. My rivers tilt towards you.” 
"La pasión sexual es-ante todo, un incendio del alma."
"No es el amor que provoca en mi los latidos del  córazon, 
son los latidos del  córazon los que provocan el amor."
"Meanings are translatable- Words are intranslatable. More briefly- a word is translatable, its sound is not."
“I want to sleep with you, fall asleep and sleep. That magnificent folk word, how deep, how true, how unequivocal, how exactly what it says. Just – sleep. And nothing more. No, another thing: and know right into the deepest sleep that it is you. And more: how your heart sounds. And – kiss your heart.” 

Leonard Cohen , You Want It Darker (Audio)





If you are the dealer, I'm out of the game
If you are the healer, it means I'm broken and lame
If thine is the glory then mine must be the shame
You want it darker
We kill the flame
Magnified, sanctified, be thy holy name
Vilified, crucified, in the human frame
A million candles burning for the help that never came
You want it darker
Hineni, hineni
I'm ready, my lord
There's a lover in the story
But the story's still the same
There's a lullaby for suffering
And a paradox to blame
But it's written in the scriptures
And it's not some idle claim
You want it darker
We kill the flame
They're lining up the prisoners
And the guards are taking aim
I struggled with some demons
They were middle class and tame
I didn't know I had permission to murder and to maim
You want

Etta James, At Last

Queen - Somebody To Love (Official Video)

"They say I got a lot of water in my brain
Ah, got no common sense"


:-)


⛔️ PALHAÇO ASSASSINO NAS RUAS DE PORTUGAL ⛔️

musings of the evening

there is something which disturbs me.
i read a lot, daily. such as brainpickings, a website i really enjoy.
but: wheresoever, there is always this talk on creativity,
i am slowly saturated with it.
it sounds like a must do.
suffering, depression, melancholia, loss, illness,
sadness, madness, all exquisite, all meaningful,
all can enhance creativity:
"they" say.
am i born to be creative same as supposedly to propagate?
listen, i don't really like to write poems so much,
fuck around with paint or have long discussions
leading nowhere but to feel out.
if there is this creative force, i'd rather like
to take it into daily life, cook, eat well,
take time for leisure, create space and enjoy slowness,
make love and rest in loving arms
and dream and sleep and walk and take time out.
maybe- if i can- care for my love, for my horse, for a garden,
possibly make an old house inhabitable and a garden to bear fruit.
and i don't wish to do ALL alone. not at all.
it needs a partner who does not only want to be out
but can be ready to create and actively share perspective and a full presence,
warmth and soul and skin.
creativity made a religion for people living alone
and bearing disillusionment is for sure not an aim
to follow. it just happens. and maybe a little better than
mere boredom and frustration and despair. well, yes.
but that's all.
all the time, really, i read this stuff as if it could be a solace, a consolation:
it isn't.
i don't wish, i say it clearly, to be alone for the sake of so called
creativity.
nobody, nobody at all, is really alone.
nobody can be, neither the I nor the non-I.






Bob Dylan ,Things Have Changed

Bob Dylan , All Along The Watchtower

Sona Jobarteh ,Suma

guess where...

looking in the mirror :-)









Tears For Fears - "Everybody Wants To Rule The World" - ORIGINAL VIDEO

Toufic Farroukh ,A Night in Damascus - Drab Zeen-2002

Moby & The Void Pacific Choir ,Are You Lost In The World Like Me (Offic...

Moby ,Flower (Official Audio)

brooding and breeding, diary note

i got much more used to be alone than i wanted to. brooding can be breeding.
breeding life, love, death, present and future . dreams out of the egg's suddenly bursting shell, opening in its own time.
a story slowly unfolding, one to be written or not. one to be lived or not. 
the way of consciousness re-forming,
coming to be.

Chesnokov ,Tebe Poem - The Willow Consort

bad dreams are temporary, diary note

i am in a beautiful place and feel happy to meet somebody important to me , important in a undefinable way, a way of heart and karma and beyond all reason and obvious purpose. this describes nothing but beauty, in all its asymmetry, terror and fascination. beauty does not come easily, it takes blood before it gives its peace.
i feel guilty about my terrible thoughts, helpless in a widening and narrowing space.
a bees swarm in my head.
noise, my voices talking incessantly, suppressed persons.
i didn't live in a good way so much. best i could do was to walk out of me and find to kindness more often. worst i could do to ignore me. it lead me to use frequently benzos to increase suppressive abilities, my needs and dreams working their own way underground beyond control and awareness. it is no good. i am getting old. formerly i had the energy to let transformation happen or at least unhappiness go into creativity in long walks and in long nights painting or writing. playfulness slowly disappears. i feel at times like somebody having waited too long for food in a restaurant. i feel full and an aversion to eat what i wanted. i don't know for sure if i want anything at all. meditation makes it no better, it is only time out just as work. at times all to come looks bleak, a waste land in which i must or must not ex-ist, alone. there is an overwhelming need for dys-function. and an immense wish to forget, all. too well i know it belongs to the stages of dying. 
and i am nobody when i am for and with myself. 
and will be no-body when i will be dead.
but then i can be so much alive, meet simple people to laugh or be curious about strangers and talk to them, open my mind and see and listen and ask.
but what do i feel once i come back into this me?
are my feelings true?
do i have faith and do i want to keep it?
can i feel the center of stillness?
is this universe a place good to me-after all i am part of it, the non-me behind the layers of the disturbed me. my body, my blood, my breath, my movements and maybe the deep and pure soul, undeniably interdependent parts of life and humanity. am i human just because i think? probably not. am i human when i am truly kind? does this define humanity in its best way?
can i be kind even if i am bad and weak too?
i know i am not alone in this struggle, trying to swim and to bridge the gaps with floating.
what do i do with the wish to sink? why..don't i?
hard to be kind when drowning.
so. swim a bit?
i didn't make all the waves.
they are coming and coming.
is there a shore to rest?
so, life is so rich and so poor,
all at the same time.
stop. stop. stop. retire.
pray and sleep.
find a straw next day.
live like a donkey or a goat.
small and slow is all what matters
and to move with the wind like
a bird. feed and tame the fire, this fire near going out, let it be warmth and light : without regret, anger, fear. good night.