Wednesday, June 13, 2018
Tuesday, June 12, 2018
Genesis , Entangled
"When you're asleep they may show you
Aerial views of the ground,
Freudian slumber empty of sound.
Over the rooftops and houses,
Lost as it tries to be seen,
Fields of incentive covered with green.
Mesmerised children are playing,
Meant to be seen but not heard,
"Stop me from dreaming!"
"Don't be absurd!"
"Well if we can help you we will,
You're looking tired and ill.
As I count backwards
Your eyes become heavier still.
Sleep, won't you allow yourself fall?
Nothing can hurt you at all.
With your consent
I can experiment further still."
Madrigal music is playing,
Voices can faintly be heard,
"Please leave this patient undisturbed."
Sentenced to drift far away now,
Nothing is quite what it seems,
Sometimes entangled in your own dreams.
"Well, if we can help you we will,
Soon as you're tired and ill.
With your consent
We can experiment further still.
Well, thanks to our kindness and skill
You'll have no trouble until
You catch your breath
And the nurse will present you the bill!"
Abdication from desire
when the soul flies
in sleep, it goes to
touch the butterflies,
plays hide and seek
with grasshoppers
and sparrows, it grows
with the scent of flowers,
never leaves my skin
which stirs through the night,
always breathes with me
this graceful pilgrim, this
bird made of dream and love,
so easily frightened by
visions, monsters and pain,
soul so much alive, awake.
i must get up and give
shelter and tenderness
to this small hungry bird,
i will give it water and hope
so it will not die at day.
all these souls, i see them
at night hovering on crosses
and roses and lakes,
on chimneys, on cars.
they gather together, seek
protection, they know too
too well the danger of light,
of human reason and deeds.
they all long for a home,
for warmth, but though
they know each other they
cannot melt in sweetness.
and so i abdicate from desire,
from politeness, from lies,
opinions, from philosophy,
just please let me kindly go.
home.
in sleep, it goes to
touch the butterflies,
plays hide and seek
with grasshoppers
and sparrows, it grows
with the scent of flowers,
never leaves my skin
which stirs through the night,
always breathes with me
this graceful pilgrim, this
bird made of dream and love,
so easily frightened by
visions, monsters and pain,
soul so much alive, awake.
i must get up and give
shelter and tenderness
to this small hungry bird,
i will give it water and hope
so it will not die at day.
all these souls, i see them
at night hovering on crosses
and roses and lakes,
on chimneys, on cars.
they gather together, seek
protection, they know too
too well the danger of light,
of human reason and deeds.
they all long for a home,
for warmth, but though
they know each other they
cannot melt in sweetness.
and so i abdicate from desire,
from politeness, from lies,
opinions, from philosophy,
just please let me kindly go.
home.
Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths, A New Refutation of Time
"Once matter and spirit — which are continuities — are negated, once space too is negated, I do not know with what right we retain that continuity which is time. Outside each perception (real or conjectural) matter does not exist; outside each mental state spirit does not exist; neither does time exist outside the present moment."
...
"The vociferous catastrophes of a general order — fires, wars, epidemics — are one single pain, illusorily multiplied in many mirrors."
....
"And yet, and yet… Denying temporal succession, denying the self, denying the astronomical universe, are apparent desperations and secret consolations. Our destiny … is not frightful by being unreal; it is frightful because it is irreversible and iron-clad. Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire. The world, unfortunately, is real; I, unfortunately, am Borges."
note:
this is a wonderful book, brilliant.i devoured it, many months ago, one could say it like this.
and i deeply feel this as truth. there is nothing 'absolute', all is as real as it is unreal, and indeed i am time and time is an individual experience different for each being on earth and a different experience from moment to moment, constricting, pausing, expanding... what we all have in common is that our time in this life will end with death. this is what makes time blood and breath and 'at times' nearly too real...when we give time for another being we give blood and breath.
we can say 'unfortunately' as Borges does, it is a matter of attitude and grace.
as for me, i'd say these days easily 'unfortunately'...maybe it will change, maybe i will, maybe my experience of my time will.
i must go into silence and stretch out inside.
let all go, remove all what blocks my flow and all what is not necessary.
necessary is a simple word but quite complicated when you start to think and feel on it as 'essential'.
there is no surgical removal of 'I' but death. and though ego is illusion i cannot live without me and bearing this apparent contradiction is difficult, it is much better
to live with poles of ego and non-ego-and it is possible to see this way.
and with this perspective we can view universal patterns and flow and enter
and leave other beings' times, stay as companions or separate.
observing the flight of birds....it tells me all i need to know on instinct
and on flow. they fly because they fly.
Monday, June 11, 2018
Sunday, June 10, 2018
Wednesday, June 6, 2018
Tuesday, June 5, 2018
Monday, June 4, 2018
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros , Child [Official Video]
The voices in my head are shadows, shadows
She comes to me, to tell me what they're after
Says it ain't the end boy but you best be careful, careful
Might catch your tail end in a circle, circle
The ocean how she moves in ripples, ripples
In flashing lights I swear she was an old film
Then the color bleeds and she becomes an angel, angel, hmm
Calls out to me like a siren to a scoundrel
I say come on child, and I say come on child
Says it ain't the end boy but you best be careful, careful
Might catch your tail end in a circle, circle
The ocean how she moves in ripples, ripples
In flashing lights I swear she was an old film
Then the color bleeds and she becomes an angel, angel, hmm
Calls out to me like a siren to a scoundrel
I say come on child, and I say come on child
The blanket where she hides by virgin lights
Look to the sea where the cotton hits the turnpike
Staring at her needs but I don't have the words right, words right now
If up to me might make her turn right, turn right
Lost another one but she still smiles, smiles
Black lovin' eyes and a stare that sees for miles
Says she wants to be, oh wants to stay a child, child now
Look to the sea where the cotton hits the turnpike
Staring at her needs but I don't have the words right, words right now
If up to me might make her turn right, turn right
Lost another one but she still smiles, smiles
Black lovin' eyes and a stare that sees for miles
Says she wants to be, oh wants to stay a child, child now
And wonders why we ever ever have to die
And I say come on child and I say come on child
Just a touch I'm gonna carry, carry
Another time where our palm shared the same line
The accent of a kiss whispers we're married, married now
It's either love or just the sun in my eyes and I say come on child
And I say come on child
Love love love love love
And I say come on child and I say come on child
Just a touch I'm gonna carry, carry
Another time where our palm shared the same line
The accent of a kiss whispers we're married, married now
It's either love or just the sun in my eyes and I say come on child
And I say come on child
Love love love love love
disintegration: staring into dark waters (last night)
disintegration
children dream into
their day and the springy
youth rises with purpose
pushing out for eternity
me i am old ,starting
to limp , shrinking in
the shade of my past,
shrivelling in my life
first i could sleep ,
all mud sieved,
my mind clear,
my soul could breathe
now i feel the ballast
of years and nights
of tears, of pain,
of tears, of pain,
i let it go, it wells up
i need disinfectants, doped
or purified with poisons,
or purified with poisons,
horrified by all delusion,
this drowsy fool cannot sleep
i told him to go,
to live, to live now,
but opening so much
all breaks into him
enters, lingers, gnaws,
destroys all illusion,
decay and loss remain.
freedom is not much fun
i must shed my very skin
like a snake, hide in strange
places, under cigarette butts,
rotting leaves , shopping bags,
in hotel beds, until i find
innocent perception, me,
near the gates of death
near the gates of death
and desire, not beauty,
but staying alive, wriggling
on the ground, among the
crowds and all alone,
crowds and all alone,
i wait for my wings
i walk to my ends
and through my beginning,
undressed, dreamless,
exhausted by futility
i am not ashamed
nor can i be understood,
at limbo, half asleep
and longing to laugh
i gave, i give it
another day and another
until all threads tear
and i can fly
leaving the cocoon,
it can remain for a while
for memory, for reflection,
a symbol of freedom,
a reminder of time
being different for each one,
i will not fly forever
but in forever now
we have in common
that we all will die,
and though love is forever
i refuse to drown
why to catch,
to keep a butterfly ,
no, open the window,
open it wide,
open it wide,
to come in or to go out,
go feed, go walk the dog ,
giving ease to his soul,
rejoice and sing
giving ease to his soul,
rejoice and sing
when he barks and bounces.
regret, anger,remorse
guilt, grudge, fears,
to be alone with the waves
is better than all this,
there is days and nights
to come for me, what
i will give to me,
departures, horizon,
wind and finally the sea,
this is the waste land
from where i came
and where i go,
it is where the
heart is born,
heart is born,
its wildness has space
now all happens
there, thorns and apples,
there, thorns and apples,
you can keep your hands
and send lost kisses through
the gaps in time and
dream, they’ll be like
bottle mails, thrown into
water to travel by chance,
and then dreams will be
too late , sacrificed to
doubt and silence,
smiles will crumble
and masks will fall,
old hurt will invent
new hurt and live
from the story, the lies
and person for person
will stand up and speak:
see this is me, this is me.
and the boats will pass.
by then the ants
will have eaten all,
courage, blood and flesh.
the small things eat big words
they bring down kingdoms
and human construction,
art and prophets, poets
and priests and lovers, all.
here i sit and wonder
how to meet destruction,
and i wish i could sleep
and wake into a soft morning
birds sing, flowers open,
i dream and do nothing,
far from thought, silent
and somehow reborn.
Sunday, June 3, 2018
Berlin and so
Saturday, June 2, 2018
diary note
coming out of the Berlin UBahn at Märkisches Museum i sat down on a bench underground, feeling tired. the subway went right through me, the reality of 'me' has no texture which could block out all around by itself. i am the train , i am love, i am sadness, i am sound and light and shadow, i am monstruous, and the enormity of my meaninglessness is quite clear for me. it always has been. dreaming always had touched me more than words, and sense i found in integration and in opposition, both.
i sit and watch the flow of the darkening water of the Spree.
the days to come are just that, the days to come.
i can say calmly that nothing in my life makes much sense to
me. and i feel deep inside that it is not important, roots will show what will come out in the crevices of concrete.
Von meinem iPhone gesendet
walking in Berlin
sorry, double again,as it took all night to appear,thought it got lost in the www...
Friday, June 1, 2018
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