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A short poem found on my phone after taking mushrooms
Danger
We’re holograms
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Indian Masala Chai Tea Recipe - Made Just Right
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Taken with instagram
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What is a poet? An unhappy person who hides deep anguish in their heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music…. And people flock around the poet and say: ‘Sing again soon’ - that is, ‘May new sufferings torment your soul but your lips be fashioned as before, for the cry would only frighten us, but the music, that is blissful.
Soren Kierkegaard -
Mushrooms, Sylvia Plath
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must watch the movie: a love story
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Poem Written On Mushrooms!
Where do I live in?
Where the sun sets
Where the sun rests
Words waft in between
Am I the wind?
Lurking in the bulrushes
Gently whisper to the willows
That you blow through
Where does the past brush against me?
Hollow in my hips
Whistle at the pointed tips
Of my knot knees
How do I know I’m not a tree?
Purple bark
Knotted woodwinds
Stretching through my soothing mind
What’s need’s love for me?
Words wound through the willows
Like a shifting shadow
Twisting me blind
Are these all ghosts I love?
Breaths through the branches
Howl as you blow
Gentle impressions on the sky
Are those purple blended still-frames hovering memories?
Resting on the skyline
Rippling on the scratchy forest
Reaching high against the hill
What’s breathing and what’s frozen still?
does my love lie
In the call or call back
And where I figure in between
Why do I remember only in violet?
Black branches
Wispy frame
Pressing down my pupils
What do words mean? -
All I can see is a figure named father that could be the figure of any father who knows a child is being beaten whom he cannot protect. To someone he loves he cannot fulfill his duty. For this he knows he is never forgiven. The knowledge of fathers, this knowledge of condemnation, is more than he can bear. No wonder he wanted to die.
J.M. Coetzee, waiting for the barbarians -
Gung Ho – Twin Rays
I think I might have to give them my dollar! http://gung-ho.bandcamp.com/track/twin-rays
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Taken with instagram
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hereafter, I know, I will begin to re-form her out of my repertoire of memories according to my questionable desires.
Only days since I parted from that other one, and I find her face hardening over in my memory, becoming opaque, impermeable, as though secreting a shell over itself.
coetzeeeee. -
To pierce her surface & stir the quiet of her interior into an ecstatic storm
Coetzee, am I chaotic? -
“most people who have absolutely no idea what they’re doing have absolutely no idea that they have no idea what they’re doing. It explains a great deal of life.”
John Cleese
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Nobody Tells This to Beginners | artistmotherteacher.com
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I would I were alive again To kiss the fingers of the rain, To drink into my eyes the shine Of every slanting silver line, To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze From drenched and dripping apple trees.
Edna St.. Vincent Millay
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