Psalm 60 , Jubilate Deo

Julia Lezhneva , Exsultate, jubilate, Mozart'

Jenkins, Exsultate, jubilate

Postcard from Trakl, John Yau

Memory’s branch quivers
beneath the weight of a butterfly

How am I to know what it wants
without asking

Could it be that simple, the question
and then the answer

Why do we fall outside of these additions
or consult the zodiac surrounding us

read its rotten walls and bulb glare
Why substitute names for things

when the things name us
(our vowels and consonants)

into their sleep,
one from which they will never awaken

Am I just an echo drifting back to myself
who is sitting beneath the river

drinking air
Something must have told me to say this

A rock or the memory of a rock
falling toward the shadow it once owned

YO YO MA , PERLMAN ,Dvorak, Humoresque No. 7 in G-flat Major, Op. 101

The Swan ,Saint-Saëns,The Carnival of the Animals

Bob Marley ,Three little birds(Video Oficial)(HQ)

Ólafur Arnalds , So Far + So Close ,(ft. Arnór dan)

Borderline Personality,Tommy Tiernan

for the fun..

The Doors , Riders On The Storm (HQ)

Guns N Roses, Patience

Please Be With Me, Eric Clapton

Oh my word, what does it mean?

Is it love or is it me

That makes me change so suddenly?

Looking out, feeling free.

Sit here lying in my bed,

Wondering what it was I'd said

That made me think I'd lost my head,

When I knew I lost my heart instead.

Won't you please read my signs, be a gypsy.

Tell me what I hope to find deep within me.

Because you can find my mind, please be with me.

Of all the better things I've heard,

Loving you has made the words

And all the rest seem so absurd,

'Cause in the end it all comes out, I'm sure.

Won't you please read my signs, be a gypsy.

Tell me what I hope to find deep within me.

Because you can find my mind, please be with me

How To Disappear Completely, Radiohead

Loneliness, Scott Cohen

Loneliness
by: Scott Cohen

Here I am, alone in my room, feeling lonely. 
Loneliness is horrible. This is an objective 
statement. Sometimes I think to objectify 
something means to isolate myself from it. 
Sometimes when I’m alone I think of you. 
You do not seem the type that is ever alone. 
I don’t feel like watching television or 
listening to the radio. There’s no one 
around to visit. I think I may read Genet’s 
Our Lady of the Flowers a bit later. I owe 
Jack a letter but I don’t feel like writing 
one now. I’m sure that right now, at this 
very moment, thousands of people are feeling 
pretty lonely. The knowledge of this is not 
very consoling. I have read about lots of 
famous men who have spent their lives in 
solitude. This isn’t very consoling either. 
I wonder if there really is something con- 
soling to a lonely man. That is, besides 
another person. To distract myself I’ve 
written out the line “In the abalone shell 
lives the abalone.” I’m not sure what an 
abalone is except that it has the word 
“alone” in it and sounds just like “lonely.”
It must really be lonely inside the abalone 
shell. This is not an objective statement. 
I once read that if you think long enough 
about something, you yourself start to take 
on the characteristics of that thing. Maybe 
I should think of a crowd having a great time.
But I am thinking about you again. We are
having a great time, only I’m feeling sentimental.
I’m willing to bet the abalone is not 
a very sentimental animal. Webster’s New 
World Dictionary lists an abalone as a sea 
mollusk with an oval shell perforated along 
the rim and lined with mother-of-pearl. The 
word preceding abalone in Webster’s is abaft, 
which is the rear or stern of a ship. I 
already know the lonely feeling one gets 
aboard a ship, standing at the stern, late 
at night, watching the stars drift by. Two 
words down from abalone is the word abandon.

Rio Reiser , Fuer immer und dich

Adagio , Johann Sebastian Bach

night meditation,melancholy

(another night)

in this clear night
so many stars in this sky
many died a very long time ago

but their light reaches us,
voices of our ancestry-
we living ,we are so tiny

and inside so wide,
filled with  mystery,
related to all all beings

a night bird flutters
in the bushes, a sound
in this holy silence

you are me, tat tvam asi,
and i feel what i know,
nobody here is alone

and you, from far, fall into me
where i carry my sadness,
why can we not  cross borders

not unveil the webs
in which we are clothed
and sing from our essence

sing  to sleep and to wake
with grace and a smile
this smile of a child

astonished again each day,
when life is what it is:
a wonder

what else is love
but to recognize each other
and to find a child

i wished so much
you could bring a lightness
to my clumsy ways

and i'd have given
my warmth into your
so often tortured soul

now all melts together
and i feel all those
confined to prisons, camps

bomb shelters, hospitals,
to their flats in the cities.
in this time of a plague

none is alone,
we share this longing
for completeness, for healing

in this twisted world,
we sit with our demon
and with our beauty.

what then is liberty?
to open the window,
to change perception,

joy discovered inside
allowed to run free
like a horse in the fields

to let go
and to start again
in innocence

Radiohead , I Will

Bach , Cello Suite No. 1 in G major BWV 1007

The Rolling Stones ,2000 Light Years From Home

As Tears Go By ,The Rolling Stones

if love must be a word

if love must be a word
it should be long and slow and spoken right, a voice with a lilt, a melody touching us in our night. and if the virus must have a name it should be longer, much longer, with stones screaming in the mill of our mind to wake us.

walk to Sneem and back

  Sneem

                            Sneem bridge

Nina Simone , Wild Is The Wind

why is love a four letter word

the dead are rising

with the blood in my ears,

staring at us, at me,

and their silence is terrible

i feel them , try to listen,

 breathing their molecules,

i know they ask through time

and space and spheres

the soul freezes in this 

the roll call of the unknown,

before birth, after death

all the wasted inbetweens

i cannot answer,

this music, rising now

from so bitter bitter roots,

beauty, all this strength

we are not alone, together

we swim in flow and in pause,

grace shall come, pray,

this shall be our task:

to mature

to spread a smile

across the earth

for all beings

to not look away,

to see each one as equal,

to forgive the demons

of our shared past

o to live like a tree

when only the ripe apple

falls to the ground-

i will be silent

being born

we will all die.

but, and.

forever and.

Dreams of Dali, 360º Video

corona/covid, thoughts

i see intuitively (and hope) that our European way of indifference, egomania, the arrogance of relatively rich countries, all false feeling of safety, this idea of a right for a everlasting healthy happy life and to maintain that all is manageable : this will be destroyed.

today

my house.

today soft rain, calm and grey

Moody Blues, In Search Of The Lost Chord , Voices In The Sky

Radiohead, Sail to the Moon

Jóhann Jóhannsson , 'Flight From The City' ,Orphée

Ludovico Einaudi , Waterways

diary note

i have tried to be another. i won't try anymore. i have been others. most of them died. i am me and they are enough. sometimes i am kind, sometimes not. that must be enough, we all breathe the same air and each other and the dead.

diary notes

a peaceful day. beauty. what i miss in my soul is nothing to do with words. today i go for a long walk and the sea will talk to me. 

sunset now. the day was slow and beautiful. nothing needs to excessively 'special'. i am calm. a longing which i will not name walks with me like a dog, i watch it moving. we sit together near the fire. the weather changes.

Oysterbed Pier

diary note

i am happy and also a bit ..morose?
and., i know my weakness, my strength.
and i know i am alone.
i may live and die here alone.
but i like the atmosphere.

layers are falling off.
i am lighter that way.

i still smoke though less.

and i spent some weeks too much
of my time on twitter, though i found much
which awakened memories and thoughts
and though it shows acutely the
desperation and the  fight
and the lies and the soul of humans like
and not so much like me:
my head fumes with quotes.

i need more time with me.
here. now.

haiku

'haiku'      
the sparrows sleep now
in the bamboo holy night
frogs croak in the pond

mind-walker

maybe i am alone,

but you and all

breathe in me,

i taste the silence,

the murmur of stars and rivers, 

the anger of storms and winds,

the moments between birdsong, the wildness of forest fires,

the bitter buds of spring, 

the salt of this sea

and the richness of soil,

i maybe alone,

but my skin touches all,

all roots grow deep

through the echoes of time,

and to hold will be 

to let go.

Emerging, Pablo Neruda

A man says yes without knowing
how to decide even what the question is,
and is caught up, and then is carried along
and never again escapes from his own cocoon;
and that’s how we are, forever falling
into the deep well of other beings;
and one thread wraps itself around our necks,
another entwines a foot, and then it is impossible,
impossible to move except in the well —
nobody can rescue us from other people.

It seems as if we don’t know how to speak;
it seems as if there are words which escape,
which are missing, when have gone away and left us
to ourselves, tangled up in snares and threads.

And all at once, that’s it; we no longer know
what it’s all about, but we are deep inside it,
and now we will never see with the same eyes
as once we did when we were children playing.
Now these eyes are closed to us,
now our hands emerge from different arms.

And therefore when you sleep, you are alone in your dreaming,
and running freely through the corridors
of one dream only, which belongs to you.
Oh never let them come to steal our dreams,
never let them entwine us in our bed.
Let us hold on to the shadows
to see if, from our own obscurity,
we emerge and grope along the walls,
lie in wait for the light, to capture it,
till, once and for all time,
it becomes our own, the sun of every day.

nameless ( depression of angels)

note:
the barbed wire around you
is the one going
through you
and through me

the despair of angels
creates prisons in the soul
where all hope is lost,
dreams  curdle like milk,

even the skin turns sour,
laughter falls in the hole,
the angels' tearless sobs
tighten the throat of birds,

the light has faded,
visitors' halt in midstride,
all movement is frozen,
despair infects all and all

and nightmares survive
the  only living are these,
they grow and eat, devour
the energy of angel and beast

exhaustion locks the spirit
in indifference, all meaning
has been lost, words stick
inside and in the nets around

caught like songbirds, dead.
don't turn back or you'll be
a pillar of salt, fear is an
endless and filthy implosion,

the hurt, the opening of wounds,
here thought shapes the destruction
of days and  sleepless nights,
the clock ticks and death looks
like a welcome enemy,

has poison for release,
sends love and me away
for the company of the unknown,
and the waste land wins

over the greening of buds,
kisses, gardens and flowers ,
life itself suffers and weeps ,
so do i, a witness, a tree

shaking in the cold storms.
i cannot say no, i grow,
grow rings and leaves and fruit,
and falling i cry out to the sky,

with my roots naked,
i am split, but if i could
i'd fight and ask you, angel,
come out of the mountain,

leave the terror of years,
walk, take your broken
heart for a bath in the spring,
heal, open, dance

see, sing,
follow the deepest song
follow love
you are strong
and angels can.

haiku

not yet a full moon
in the silent night i howl                              
swans bring scents of spring

Icarus

Icarus

longing for paradise

we rise, we fall,

i burned a thousand times

the desire for sky,

balancing gravity

we forget how fragile

we fly

all is here as it is,

to go to heaven

we need to carry the thorns

to accept the flame

is our only way out of hell,

see we are here

sun who melts our heart,

love who takes us,

we are the coming

and our coming is a going

past midnight, diary, on miracles

my life is just my life.
i have a stale taste in my mouth
on words and feelings of love.
that had been different,
each word carried meaning and presence,
dreams, magic and future.
i have a very bad scent in my nose on the split
between body and soul, it has
infected me, it is like an ulcer now, not healing,
and a dressing will not be enough.

you feel different, i know,
and i feel like a lemon, all emotions squeezed out,
a peel, without sense and without an energy you could use.

when one cannot talk, one must be silent,

love is nothing to talk on.
i am nothing to talk on.
i move. you move.
different directions.

you loved my absence.
you loved me because of my absence.
you kept loving me through your absence,

in your absence i could not breathe,
and i have not been there.
your absence has been a wound
and a vacuum.

will you have to stay now in your absence,
in your sadness,
in your own holiness
and me in mine?

in prison and in prison,
and as we could not breathe
in our presence
maybe we can fly out of the cages.

all holiness, paradise and healing
have always been right here,
on the road.

maybe you should look for another.
and let me go free.
oblivion could be our spring...
when no miracle happens.
i am not expecting miracles,
i carry our ghosts.

each line and each silence
have shown me day for day
distance and walls behind,
closures, rejections,
concepts, judgements,
opinions, a lack of response,
the death of synchronicity,

and each step and opening
has been a stillbirth,
ending in conflict and reaction,
only created opportunity for staying
in the patterns of past,
walking backwards
and out and inside alone.

you created with me a dead volcano,
i am colder day for day,
i freeze,
i have longed so much for you to open
your heart for me, to welcome me,
to be a home with me,

no flower is in the garden,
when i‘d say flower
you‘d say nothing,
maybe out of fear
there could be a flower
and it would die
the moment of being called

so it is only my flowers,
yours are yours.
please when you cannot come fly away,
bring cherries when i die.
but you‘ll be late,
i know.

essence

maintenant je suis l‘essence des absents

Ikkyu,names

'sick of it whatever it's called , sick of the names, I dedicate every pore to what's here'
-Ikkyu-

space

somewhere is always a cloud, i know. 
today i talked to the sea coming in, 
small waves followed my heels.
i put my head against a tree. 
soon the bulging buds will burst into songs of colour. i took my shoes off, a fox ran in front of me, birds danced at my door. 
silence is space

scars, freedom

this bark and skin, i shed it in the forest, 
you take or leave, i grow without, 
the scars i kept- and freedom.

naked

ascent&descent~ when i walk i do not think, i let all pass and each step is more real than words. i make it so... now hunger wakes me, thirst, desire. the rawness of it. i stopped smoking.once 13 years, now 13 hours. i meet my naked wishes, they are wolves, not peanutbutter...

shadow

once as a child i had pulled my knees to my chin. 
So lost and frozen , i cried with fear. 
the shadow of things drove me under the kitchentable. then i named the shadows - and was not killed. 
we walk with our shadow and with our radiance 
in the light of the earth, 
saint and zebra.