A space for sharing, giving and bringing into the world opinions, poems, songs, dreams, desires, manias, revelations.
segunda-feira, 30 de junho de 2008
Recent Poems - II
How to ...
You know, how can I er, you know what
I mean, there's these bits these
What's - their - name shards I'm
kind of like,
Putting it (them?) together -
Subject verbs objects. Objects subject
verb. Verb objects subjects,
the world eyes on I, as I
eye on the world, ever objectively
subjective, ever subjectively objective.
How to translate this torrent
of er, I'ded thirst?
This meaningful ellipse of wordlessness?
This silent boom where it all begins
and finds its end?
Recent Poems in English - I
Through the daze and the trance
We trudged upon the moss and mould
of misshaped thoughts and intentions.
Will you not transcend
This scent of sullen paralysis
This cuff and this collar
tightening round necks and
wrists and deathly starved lips?
My rings and chains easily come off
loose.
My strained burdened arms
still manage to open wide
despite the numbness.
We trudged upon the moss and mould
of misshaped thoughts and intentions.
Will you not transcend
This scent of sullen paralysis
This cuff and this collar
tightening round necks and
wrists and deathly starved lips?
My rings and chains easily come off
loose.
My strained burdened arms
still manage to open wide
despite the numbness.
Tribute to Hugh Laurie
Enjoy this clip where Hugh Laurie sings a wholehearted love song to his muse, Steffie
Graf.
There is more to Hugh than just his House.
Graf.
There is more to Hugh than just his House.
Back to the desk
There are some things that will eat you up inside if you do not let them out. This is how I feel about writing in general.
I have been taking, inhaling, absorbing the air about me for too long, I am afraid. And it certainly is high time I should detox myself by leaving these words on the screen.
Definitely tired of the nihilistic paths to be taken by those who feel much. I have cried, laughed, brooded and sulked. I have bled but its traces are not to be found by those who keep searching and probing me on the outside. Savoured wine... the blessing kept millenially to help us usher in the dance of Dionisius, the bacchan urge to soar above the obvious vulgar usual words that fill up the weary mind, poor mind traveller. Oceans of drooling, seas of dull, please do not let me drown. Once I step out there is no turning back and I hope that by falling I will rise again.
blessed old apollo bring me light grand charioteer.
as the dawn approaches i will be made new to shine throughout the starving night again and it will flow freely foams shower me to my core. shake me back to life dizzyingly storm to explode and expand me to the shape I need to the frame I cherish mold, mold.
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