Writing poetry / words / comment / observation / contemplation /memory blend
Unplanned works through contemplation - a mixture of writing, drawing, singing,spoken word and musical composition. Some works are deliberately recorded, others are intentionally lost in the instant
General interests - painting, swimming, playing guitar, anti-materialism, the absurd, the unusual, the beauty of simplicity
Film
Paradjanov's 'The colour of pomegranates'
Televisione
Libri
Russell Hoban - Riddley Walker *
Andrei Bely - Petersburg *
Daniil Kharms - Incidences *
Mikhail Lermontov - A hero of our time *
Hemschemeyer (trans.) - The complete poems of Anna Akhmatova *
Georges Perec - Species of spaces and other places *
Georges Perec - Life : a user's manual *
Kenji Miyazawa - Strong in the rain *
Henry David Thoreau - Walden *
General -
Sufism/Mysticism/Hermits
Hello Jane, hope you are well. I am in B-ton on Monday if you fancy a visit?
They say that Time and Space exist not, save in our thoughts. If so, then that which has been, is, and the Past can never cease. She is mine, and I shall find her - what matters it where, or when, or how? Till then, my soul is but a moon-lighted chamber of ghosts; and I sit within, the dreariest of them all. When she enters, it will be a home of love. And I wait --- I wait.
The narrowing line. Walking on the burning ground. The ledges of stone. Owlfish wading near the horizon. Unrest in the outer districts.
Pause.
And begin again. Needles through the eye. Bodies cracked open like nuts. Must have a place. Dog has a place.
Pause.
And begin again. Tents in the sultry weather. Rifles hate holds. Who is right? Was Christ? Is it wrong to love all men?
Pause.
And begin again. Contagion of murder. But the small whip hits back. This is my life, Caesar. I think it is good to live.
Pause.
And begin again. Perhaps the shapes will open. Will flying fly? Will singing have a song? Will the shapes of evil fall? Will the lives of men grow clean? Will the power be for good? Will the power of man find its sun? Will the power of man flame as a sun? Will the power of man turn against death? Who is right? Is war?
And begin again. A narrow line. Walking on the beautiful ground. A ledge of fire. It would take little to be free. That no man hate another man, Because he is black; Because he is yellow; Because he is white; Or because he is English; Or German; Or rich; Or poor; Because we are everyman.
Pause.
And begin again. It would take little to be free. That no man live at the expense of another. Because no man can own what belongs to all. Because no man can kill what all must use. Because no man can lie when all are betrayed. Because no man can hate when all are hated.
And begin again. I know that the shapes will open. Flying will fly, and singing will sing. Because the only power of man is in good. And all evil shall fail. Because evil does not work. Because the white man and the black man. The Englishman and the German, Are not real things. They are only pictures of things. Their shapes, like the shapes of the tree And the flower, have no lives in names or signs; They are their lives, and the real is in them. And what is real shall have life always.
I believe in the truth. I believe that every good thought I have, All men shall have. I believe that what is best in me, Shall be found in every man. I believe that only the beautiful Shall survive on the earth. I believe that the perfect shape of everything Has been prepared; And, that we do not fit our own Is of little consequence. Man beckons to man on this terrible road. I believe that we are going into the darkness now; Hundreds of years will pass before the light Shines over the world of all men... And I am blinded by its splendor.
Hi Jane - how are you? Hope you are feeling better. Issy was ill and missed her christmas play but is now making up for it by galloping round the house at 90 miles an hour, can't wait till bedtime....lol! Have a nice christmas, hope all is well with you guys, xox
