Neil Young ,Heart Of Gold

just..a song not easy nor necessary to forget...
i guess a re-post

a pre-mature dirge on my smile

day for day

news, people, patients.

if maturity means

the ripening of abscesses

as fruits born by humanity:

then give me a scalpel.

in my kitchen are many knives,

and i always wash myself

no pus nor shit

can frighten me,

no old woman's pee

nor blood nor lice

nothing needs to be nice.

i deal with all

as is needed:

i can flush it down.

i look, probe,

i cut. i never

saw much to keep.

to give all away

is freedom, to build

shrines is prison.

beauty either lives

or has been dead

from the beginning.

is, i ask, all corruption?

no, i say, presence

was all i could give

to the soul seeking

and my hand to suffering.

i am no good, my fuse

is short: i like knives

better than pills

and cozy lies.

if ageing means

loss and nothing

to find: i won't 

go on for long.

but, i am happy

when i smile

and often too shy 

to be happy,

to smile without

wiping my face.

i am not uptight

but i feel tied

to the soil of memory,

the chain of winters,

the changes of weather

and heart, the dream

out of which i was

born: i just am.real.

Ali Farka Toure ,Ry Cooder ,Talking Timbuktu , Diaraby

"What is wrong my love? It is you I love. Do not be angry, do not cry. Do not be sad because of love."

Paul Simon, Anji

No Wrong Feelings ,Alan Watts

Ali Farka Touré , Toumani Diabaté , Ruby

With Everything That Breathes ,Grag Haines

Ali Farka Toure, Savane

coffee in space

now, i cut the thread,
coffee, cheese and bread.
the snow falls and falls,
all light dim and diffuse

walking through sand,
heavy and tiring,
carrying me, also
the one i do not like.

i carry him on my shoulder.
he says i want,
he thinks and talks
i try to un-listen,

let his wishes drop.
they stick to my shoes.
his thoughts are empty,
and i ask the sky

how to live between
and in between
the sounds of flute
and the caress of wind

and space opens
and asks, invites me
to breathe and to be.
my love cannot be

together with me,
she lives inside
like a poem
whispered by birds,

a seed given to me
to water and grow,
now in winter
this is my gift.