MAL DU DEPART
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Posted:Jun 6, 2007 2:03 pm
Last Updated:Jun 9, 2007 10:49 am
2155 Views
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This is a poem written by the great poet N. Kavadias.
I will always remain an ideal and unworthy lover
Of far-away journeys and of blue seas
And I will die one night like any other
Without crossing the horizon's hazy seams.
For Madras, Singapore, Algeria and Sfax
The proud ships will always depart
While I, bent over a desk with nautical maps,
Will add entries in a thick accounting chart.
I will finally stop talking about long trips;
My friends will think I have forgotten
And my mother, joyful, will tell those who ask
"it was a craziness of youth but no-more begotten".
But my Self, one night, will rise in front of me
And like a stern judge will ask me for the reason
And this unworthy, trembling hand of mine will get armed,
Will aim and fearlessly shoot at the perpetrator's treason.
And I who has so craved to be, one day, buried
In some deep ocean, in the remote Indies for a penny
Will have an ordinary and very pitiful death
And common funeral like those of the many.
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SLOW TRAIN
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Posted:Mar 29, 2007 4:58 pm
Last Updated:Jun 6, 2007 2:35 pm
2407 Views
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The day had her bright eyes closed
sensually, like a woman who puts
her head out of the train window
to feel the wind carassing her face.
A smile tries to break out of
her closed lips being pulled back
by sharp childhood memories.
A countryside day with small clouds
on her soft eyelids inviting
a sun who mokes at her tiny tears.
Time rolling over hazy green hills,
a dream she is about to forget.
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copyright 2007 by interested13563
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CAT'S EYES
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Posted:Mar 19, 2007 3:11 pm
Last Updated:Apr 17, 2007 3:21 pm
2437 Views
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Cat's eyes tune
in myxolydian ethos
longing blue
in ruby darkness.
Plumage in soft steps
hesitant, red-wine rhyme.
No news from the other
end of the cable.
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Written and posted for meow344.
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copyright 2007 by interested13563
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QUOTES, 6
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Posted:Mar 15, 2007 4:06 pm
Last Updated:Mar 19, 2007 3:19 pm
2314 Views
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Parmenides, philosopher, lawmaker, poet, 5th century BC
"Thinking and the thought that it is are the same; for you will not find thought apart from what is, in relation to which it is uttered."
"How could what is perish? How could it have come to be? For if it came into being, it is not; nor is it if ever it is going to be. Thus coming into being is extinguished, and destruction unknown."
"It is necessary to speak and to think what is; for being is, but nothing is not."
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Parmenides is the founder of the Eleatic
School of philosophy and by far my most
favourite philosopher.
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More wishes
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Posted:Mar 14, 2007 8:32 am
Last Updated:Mar 22, 2007 5:34 pm
2334 Views
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Today it is 3.14!!!!
HAPPY PI-DAY!!!!
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Wishes
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Posted:Mar 8, 2007 5:37 pm
Last Updated:Mar 11, 2007 8:50 pm
2314 Views
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HAPPY INTERNATIONAL WOMAN'S DAY!
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QUOTES, 5
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Posted:Feb 27, 2007 2:06 pm
Last Updated:Aug 8, 2007 8:22 pm
2266 Views
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Frederic Douglass, abolistionist, social justice and women's rights worker, 1818-1895.
"Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did, and it never will."
"To make a contented slave it is necessary to make a thoughtless one. It is necessary
to darken the moral and mental vision and, as far as possible, to annihilate the power of reason."
"I prayed for twenty years but received no answer until I prayed with my legs."
"A little learning, indeed, may be a dangerous thing, but the want of learning is a calamity to any people."
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QUOTES, 4
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Posted:Feb 20, 2007 12:59 pm
Last Updated:Mar 24, 2007 5:48 pm
2124 Views
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Smedley D. Butler, Major General, 1881-1940.
"War is a racket. It always has been.
It is possibly the oldest, easily the most
profitable, surely the most vicious.
It is the only one international in scope.
It is the only one in which the profits
are reckoned in dollars and the losses in
lives. A racket is best described, I believe,
as something that is not what it seems
to the majority of the people. Only a
small "inside" group knows what it is about.
It is conducted for the benefit of the very few,
at the expense of the very many. Out of war a
few people make huge fortunes."
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3
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QUOTES, 3
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Posted:Feb 16, 2007 11:20 am
Last Updated:Feb 18, 2007 4:17 pm
2000 Views
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Voltairine de Cleyre, anarchist writer,
poet and lecturer, 1866-1912.
"That is the vilest of all tyranny where a man compels the woman he says he loves, to endure the agony of bearing that she does not want, and for whom, as is the rule rather than the exception, they cannot properly provide. It is worse than any other human oppression; it is fairly God-like! To the sexual tyrant there is no parallel upon earth; one must go to the skies to find a fiend who thrusts life upon his only to starve and curse and outcast and damn them!"
"The question of souls is old--we demand our bodies, now. We are tired of promises, god is deaf, and his church is our worst enemy."
"To remain in a continually exalted moral condition is not human nature."
"The paramount question of the day is not political, is not religious, but is economic. The crying-out demand of today is for a circle of principles that shall forever make it impossible for one man to control another by controlling the means of his existence."
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Quote passages are collages of thought. If
there is one art that really describes and
befits the second half of the twentieth century
it must be collage. This is true not only as a
means of producing artwork by cutting and pasting
pre-existing images and patterns but also
as a novel form of expression. The new emerging
patterns bearing the influences of their
constituting bits yield new images and
new meanings. Collaging has found its way
in all forms of art, including novels
and poetry. The latter often consists
of images apparently disparate that, in
fact, are connected by an underlying web
of references, thoughts, and emotions. This
is most notably true in pure lyricism (like
the works of T. S. Elliot) or surrealism (like
those of S. Mallarme). Poetry is sometimes
exactly in the references even though
different readers may surmise different
hues of meaning.
On a sideline: I do not believe in "heroes"
and never had any, even as a , but
Voltairine de Cleyre (born in Michigan
to a French father and an American mother),
a remarkable human being, epitomizes the
closest approach to a "hero" I could ever
imagine.
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QUOTES, 2
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Posted:Feb 10, 2007 3:07 pm
Last Updated:Feb 12, 2007 6:03 am
1838 Views
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Frank Zappa, musician, 1940-1993.
"The bassoon is one of my favorite instruments.
It has the medieval aroma, like the days when
everything used to sound like that. Some people
crave baseball . . . I find this unfathomable,
but I can easily understand why a person could
get excited about playing the bassoon."
"Anybody who wants religion is welcome to it,
as far as I'm concerned -- I support
your right to enjoy it. However, I would
appreciate it if you exhibited more
respect for the rights of those people who
do not wish to share your dogma, rapture, or
necrodestination."
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1
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QUOTES, 1
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Posted:Feb 4, 2007 5:34 pm
Last Updated:Feb 12, 2007 6:04 am
1880 Views
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Zeno of Citium, stoic philosopher, 333 bc - 264 bc.
"Why should the world wait for me if I am waiting for it?"
"Follow where reason leads."
"Steel your sensibilities, so that life shall hurt you as little as possible."
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This blog will, now, start presenting
a series of interesting quotes to inspire
thinking.
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Visits
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Posted:Jan 28, 2007 7:41 pm
Last Updated:Feb 18, 2007 4:18 pm
1774 Views
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Yesterday I visited my favorite blogs - and
consequently my dear friends who write them -
after a rather long time. I was glad to see
that everyone is around, writing and searching
for that illusive feeling of fulfillment we
often perhaps mistakenly call happiness. I
could not help but notice that my visit to
some blogs immediately generated a large
number of visits to mine even by people whose
posts I did not read on a daily basis. I am
very appreciative of that. It remains to be
seen if it can motivate me enough to become
more active again. Thank you.
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14
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WE THOUGHT WE WERE
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Posted:Nov 4, 2006 2:50 pm
Last Updated:May 29, 2008 9:12 pm
1888 Views
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We did not look through the keyhole,
we slipped through it into the still world inside
- someone had pulled the key away -
puffs of blue smoke swirling transparently
in the draft of the ceiling fans.
Not daring to touch, we discerned outlines,
the stiff bodies that used to be us.
Night had tricked us into being,
ordered us to stop and smell the roses.
But the roses could not take heed.
They had no time for our play.
The roses were yellow and poisonous.
Things get warm when you hold them tight
- flesh of space and substance.
But we grew cold in the garden.
We indulged ourselves, pretended to exist.
Then, inside, we kept winding around corners
- the only moving molecules in that motionlessness.
Someone, suddenly, turned the lights on
and we diffused into that which is not.
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Posted upon request. I am not certain
I will post anything more in the future.
The picture is of tibetan art, emphasizing
the ephemeral.
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copyright 2006 by interested13563
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