PITY THE NATION:
Pity the nation whose people are sheep,
and whose shepherds mislead them.
Pity the nation whose leaders are liars, whose sages are silenced,
and whose bigots haunt the airwaves.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice,
except to praise conquerors and acclaim the bully as hero
and aims to rule the world with force and by torture.
Pity the nation that knows no other language but its own
and no other culture but its own.
Pity the nation whose breath is money
and sleeps the sleep of the too well fed.
Pity the nation -- oh, pity the people who allow their rights to erode
and their freedoms to be washed away.
My country, tears of thee, sweet land of liberty.
- Lawrence Ferlinghetti -
Who I'd like to meet: leonard cohen, william blake, tom waits, robert motherwell, cesar chavez, rufino tamayo, allen ginsburg, lhasa, javier solis. and i'd like to see donald gabino padilla, jose de jesus padilla torres, mabel smith padilla, ole hefte, katagiri roshi, swami venkatesananda and swami vishnudevananda again.
Throughout the centuries, man has considered himself beautiful. I rather suppose that man only believes in his own beauty out of pride; that he is not really beautiful and he suspects this himself; for why does he look on the face of his fellow-man with such scorn? (Comte de Lautreamont)
“Creativity arises out of the tension between spontaneity and limitations, the latter (like the river banks) forcing the spontaneity into the various forms which are essential to the work of art or poem.” Rollo May
Beyond Beats: A Collaborative Project by J. Otis Powell! The pain, the euphoria with inspirations in-between. Already the subject has changed, Ownership is blind ambition - absence and ever presence In Chinese philosophy, yīnyáng: antitheses or mutual Correlations Have no need for rules – order, but thrive on Spontaneity, transformation, emptiness and Three Jewels of the Tao: compassion, moderation, And humility. Write of love as the subject without objects No gender or lustful distraction Write of love as a revolutionary war between light and dark Light and heavy, tragic and comic. Speak of familiarity with a feeling of emersion Into something to large to map with no pronouns And something mysterious unfolds An entire body becomes heartbeats - a soul becomes fire Becomes deep retarded wishes remaking a world. ~J. OP!~
“Creativity arises out of the tension between spontaneity and limitations, the latter (like the river banks) forcing the spontaneity into the various forms which are essential to the work of art or poem.” Rollo May Beyond Beats: A Collaborative Project The pain, the euphoria with inspirations in-between. Already the subject has changed, Ownership is blind ambition - absence and ever presence In Chinese philosophy, yīnyáng: antitheses or mutual correlations Have no need for rules – order, but thrive on Spontaneity, transformation, emptiness and Three Jewels of the Tao: compassion, moderation, and humility. Write of love as the subject without objects No gender or lustful distraction Write of love as a revolutionary war between light and dark Light and heavy, tragic and comic. Speak of familiarity with a feeling of emersion In something to large to map with no pronouns And something mysterious unfolds An entire body becomes heartbeats - a soul becomes fire Becomes deep retarded wishes remaking the world. ~J. OP!~
This is by J. Otis Powell! What I mean by ready is come correct. What I mean is I’m changing the world When I change my mind.
What I mean is tomorrow is my palette What? Is revolution. It’s rising past moma to your own council It’s graduating from every institution By the skin of your soul. ~J. OP!~
Thanks for stopping by. When you're not painting houses we should get together for some beverages. Protest! by J. Otis Powell! What are we going to do before 2012 when the days run out; When the clock stops and we have no more excuses? What are we going to do when our amnesia And our denial eat us though holes in the ozone After we've been seared and served up medium well to our Judgmental Gods? The ancestors ask us: when will we employ new narratives That replace colonial ones? The children ask us: where are our triumphant stories? Their children, for seven generations ask us: WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO? Tired narratives repeat like hollow truth And reproduce the same society That killed every story but it's own. What Are we going to do to create new memories of ourselves? I think we know But are afraid to admit it. I hope we know but We act as if we don't. We don't know what we don't know But we're trying not to know propaganda anymore. I hope we think we know better than we pretend we do. What would happen if we paraphrased the past With original stories? What would happen if we spent the remainder of life Screaming against the machine that ate us all before? ~J. OP!~
As soon as we start putting our thoughts into words and sentences everything gets distorted, language is just no damn good--I use it because I have to, but I don't put any trust in it. We never understand each other."
Marcel Duchamp
texts below in english/spanish for collages by L.Lara (me) on pages 21-22:
in the air, one can breathe in, a mute voice incomplete words on the tip of the fingers fragmented like letters upon lips withheld I swallow shapes never uttered I can feel how my throat separates them I nourish myself with these drops of chance cuts spread into a smile bleeding itself into an atrocious laughter…cuts spread into a smile bleeding bleeding broken voice rear view broken mirror don’t can’t look back money can’t buy your past back nor bury it take some pictures behind the curtain red and greedy for your love can you look behind the mirror?
se respire una voz muda en el aire palabras incompletas en las puntas de los dedos trozos como letras sobre labios mantenidos trago formas nunca dichas trozos y noto como la garganta separa los fragmentos trozos con gotas del azar me alimento de ellos las heridas pintan una sonrisa que sangra hasta formar una carcajada
Orale...There's the photo I like.. Right on. Now...this poster thing you have going on...let me think about that. I might do it if I have some time to work on it. Thanks, Neza
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