Ellipses and Semicolons
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This, right here, is what I call inspiration.p.s.: Endless scroll, might take time to load.
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"
All people start to
come apart finally
and there it is:
just empty ashtrays in a room
or wisps of hair on a comb
in the dissolving moonlight.
it is all ash and dry leaves
and grief gone
like an ocean liner.
when the shoes fill with blood
you know
that the shoes are dead.
true revolution
comes from true revulsion;
when things get bad enough
the kitten will kill the lion.
the statues in the church of my childhood
and the candles that burn at their feet
if I could only take these
and open their eyes
and feel their legs
and hear their clay mouths
say the true
clay
words.
Charles Bukowski, The People.
This is my name - Adonis.
"
Commonplace miracle:
that so many commonplace miracles happen.
An ordinary miracle:
in the dead of night
the barking of invisible dogs.
One miracle out of many:
a small, airy cloud
yet it can block a large and heavy moon.
Several miracles in one:
an alder tree reflected in the water,
and that it’s backwards left to right
and that it grows there, crown down
and never reaches the bottom,
even though the water is shallow.
An everyday miracle:
winds weak to moderate
turning gusty in storms.
First among equal miracles:
cows are cows.
Second to none:
just this orchard
from just that seed.
A miracle without a cape and top hat:
scattering white doves.
A miracle, for what else could you call it:
today the sun rose at three-fourteen
and will set at eight-o-one.
A miracle, less surprising than it should be:
even though the hand has fewer than six fingers,
it still has more than four.
A miracle, just take a look around:
the world is everywhere.
An additional miracle, as everything is additional:
the unthinkable
is thinkable.
Miracle Fair
by Wislawa Szymborska
translated by Joanna Trzeciak
"I loved you; even now I must confess,
Some embers of my love their fire retain;
But do not let it cause you more distress,
I do not want to sadden you again.
Hopeless and tongue-tied, yet I loved you dearly
With pangs the jealous and the timid know;
So tenderly I love you, so sincerely,
I pray God grant another love you so."
I Loved You by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
(Source: arabzy)
"
“it was like any other
relationship, there was
jealousy on both sides,
there were split-ups and
reconciliations.
there were also fragmented moments of
great peace and beauty.
I often tried to get away from her and
she tied to get away from me
but it was difficult:
Cupid, in his strange way, was really
there.”
(Source: arabzy)
"
Great writers are indecent people
they live unfairly
saving the best part for paper.
Good human beings save the world
so that bastards like me can keep creating art,
become immortal.
if you read this after I am dead
it means I made it.
(Source: arabzy)
"
They had lunch by the lake
then they gathered up their movements and drove
head first into the accident of the city.
Will you move into my apartment?
Will you climb out of bed at sunrise?
They drove out into the country of trees.
I would like the season to be grateful
in the way it has of being less than cruel.
Showers, easy traffic, make up the symphony
they wallow in, in the framework of personal
past tense, now that we watch them
flashed and faded in the photograph.
They sat behind the window of the limousine
and watched the sun rise into the weather.
They drove head first
into the beautiful accident.
(Source: arabzy)
I could lose my voice to you
in a crushing heartbeat
on a stale hospital bed with plastic veins
trembling inside those parts of me
that you would once sink into to try and find an unresolved part of yourself.
In a flurry of pale words I might sound like a prayer
being led to the end of the world’s last bible
only to find that those final few pages were missing
and that God was just a quiet bit of white space
sitting with everything that’s ever been said
and everything that’s ever been lost.
My fading eyes might resemble those unplugged stars
that would once nourish your world with a light
I would kindle from the beams of an old love
the same light that once upon a youth came between our kisses
the kind that the moon would try to get between
so as to place itself inside a moment of tenderness
for it knows somehow that the battle against its stony night is infinite.
We created a family of memories you and I
the incubating sheets of each year
joining to form a calendar filled with Andrew’s first steps
and Stella’s first dance, those baby words that must feel like
the voice of one dead coming back to touch the heart of his beloved for the last time
our children
are complete islands that persuade that moment when the soul abandons itself in a burning cathedral to rise up and breathe again the cool sun of life.
Close yourself to this deflated loaf
and just feel my words because my mouth has been defeated of its only use
and my body has at last forgotten itself,
the strength it once lifted
the miles it so easily trampled on have now all surrounded me in a reckless grope
fragility is a confine that I pray you never know,
it’s an open cell free of its lock
it’s an imagination being held hostage by a broken wheelchair
its watching everything grow wild whilst you’re forced to shrink further into yourself
but love, love is an indefatigable celebration
the only hand that can never fold because right now
in this hospital room, amongst these hanging wires and this air that tortures my heavy lungs
love is the only medicine I have
so come close
and put your hands inside mine so I can hold again the long fingers of tomorrow
my skin runs ashamed by the breath the keeps all this poison for itself
so take from me all the words you’ll need to write the poem that if death is to style my little future
I know will follow.
I could lose my voice to you
if you could somehow lose your death to me
let me take you from that room where unconvinced flowers bow in their vase
as if they too had peered into my heart and become stricken by its long lament
and in return you could take from me this voice, these words and this gift
that now sound like a promise losing faith in its deepest conviction
but if I had known that your last few words would have sounded like they did
and your body would have convulsed and stiffened as white coats came rushing past me
then maybe I could have thought of something more beautiful to say
maybe I could have read you the poem I was writing whilst you slept under a stuttering beep that allowed life to meet you through a thinning tube and maybe,
just maybe we could have shared that last bit of white space together
but instead
all I could do was drown in the storm you gave my eyes
throwing myself into the arms of a doctor who repeated the word brave
without even looking at me
and gave me a card with a number I should call
if things ever got too much.
Your room is clean now my love
no more machines, no more encouraging smiles, no more waiting flowers
by tomorrow no doubt there will be another loved one fighting her last battle against the precious air
and there will be more husbands, more sons and more daughters who’ll write poems under a stuttering beep because they don’t know any other way of coming to terms with the tragedy of life’s final act
I just hope that they reach the end in peace
because you were the poem I couldn’t save
and this was the voice I couldn’t lose
(Source: arabzy)
“Keep me safe she said..”
Everyone needs to hear this. Now. Now.
Memories: “Forever is never forever.”
All the yesterdays that came from tomorrow, all the tomorrows that never came from yesterday. A new beginning because forever is never forever
(Source: arabzy)
"Naked for twenty-four of our last thirty-six
Hours together, and I mean museum-quality, sex-
Shop, God-riddling naked, sapping gold
Light from the windows of her hundred-year-old
Baltimore dorm, we were hungry for selling
Points, like a couple in a showroom. Compelling
Arguments were made to close the deal
And children were discussed. I kissed her from heel
To head in a shower without water;
Then with. Nude, she read me a letter as a waiter
Would his specials, and I couldn’t keep
My eyes off: smooth shoulders, belly, pelvis,
Deep olive skin all a balm against sleep.
It was from her sexy grandmother in Dieppe
And Séverine translated, both of us
Somehow drawn to this third party in a tidal
Sort of way, her lunar candor, her antipodal
Ease with words and the world. We were difficult,
Séverine and I, a beautiful strain, a cult
Of two. Even eating, we made lots of noise.
Even resting in bed, watching the trees,
Our lighter breathing, our limb-shifting, sheet-
Rustling, even our dreaming had fight.
Her heart was exceptionally loud—not with love,
But with knowing. Knowing what to be afraid of."
Séverine in Summer School
(Source: arabzy)
