Honestly, I'm a Liar, & Other Balances & Imbalances

July 25, 2020

IT MUST HAVE BEEN THE SPIRITS

Filed under: Uncategorized — namelessneed @ 9:44 am

 

 

recently investigating an interesting Greek poet from the turn of the last century

by C.P. CAVAFY.          this piece spoke to me some.

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IT MUST HAVE BEEN THE SPIRITS

It must have been the spirits that I drank last night,

it must have been that I was drowsing, I’d been tired all day long.

The black wooden column vanished before me.

with the ancient head, and the dining-room door,

and the armchair, the red one; and the little settee.

In their place came a street in Marseilles.

And freed now, brazenly, my soul

appeared there once again and moved about,

along with the form of a sensitive, pleasure-bent youth–

the dissolute youth: that, too, must be said.

It must have been the spirits that I drank last night,

it must have been that I was drowsing, I’d been tired all day long.

My soul was released; the poor thing, it’s

always constrained by the weight of the years.

My soul was released and it showed me

a sympathique   street in Marseilles,

with the form of a happy, dissolute youth

who never felt ashamed, not he, certainly.

 

C. P. Cavafy

July 4, 2020

HEY BABY

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , — namelessneed @ 12:26 pm

 

 

 

June 30, 2020

Devolution

Filed under: Uncategorized — namelessneed @ 10:04 am

I nominate my every art

Benyapoesy

I do art, so I exist,
Alone, my ego is my home,
Grown, I need no war-societies;
I’m no more a homo-primitive-sapiens:

Holding swords and tribes’ declamations,
Writing nice words with bloody hands,
Washing them with victories;
Oh, I’m not a caveman:

My cave is still only mine,
Though, my brain is my only cave,
No material can make true patriarch;
I’m not the apeman that once used to be:

Getting a tree through ruling and fooling,
Through bloodthirst and wolf appetite,
Making the world burn firelessly;
I’m not an animal:

Flying as mercenary eagles,
Dancing among hideous grizzlies,
Idolizing snow-white ravenous tigers;
I will never be any reptile like all of these:

Still, life is daily dumbfoundingly changing,
The one who doesn’t ahead, goes astern,
Like a runner bean in a fired forest;
I’m avoiding to be a part of those:

Living on others,
Like purposeless parasites,
Like sourceless…

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June 23, 2020

AMORGEN’S SONG (from the Gaelic)

Filed under: Uncategorized — namelessneed @ 6:04 pm

 

gaelic poem - Google Search

 

a very old pagan poem

April 25, 2020

Mercury Preachers

Filed under: Uncategorized — namelessneed @ 3:10 pm

a damn fine read

jimmi campkin

img_3858

We sit down together, scraping our chairs over the decking and looking below to the granite river glittering like a malnourished catwalk model.  You brush a lock of hair over one ear but I know this isn’t flirtation.  The wind is kicking around us and your eyes struggle to focus on mine as they are whipped by strands.  Mother Nature is mischief today.


Last night I spent in the Old City, where my faded young ghost still bounces on his heels over well worn paths, my feet disappearing slowly as the roads are resurfaced and the original level consumed.  I walk through boarded up doors and create chills between courting couples sitting on benches who squeeze together for warmth.  I leech from the energy, looking for the faint echoes.  I drift past iconic places but the long rope of time is fraying badly.  I know these places are meaningful, and…

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April 22, 2020

NIGHT SONGS

Filed under: Uncategorized — namelessneed @ 8:51 am

 

April 10, 2020

For Being Somewhere Else

Filed under: poetry, prose, Uncategorized — Tags: , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 8:07 pm

Blackened breezes rustle
Sacred/ olive trees, skies muscled thick.
I took a sight that set me more lost
More sour than seasick.
I see him, knees bloodied,
Face drawn/ down
to earth.
I was being/ once/
Just a man also.
I spied/ by my back down
To my murk/
I cried/ by my own shadow,
But did not cry out,
To interrupt all that too intimate.

.

.

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When I was a young/ more willful man,
I fasted/ from dawn Friday
Until the last of Easter/ Today
I’m past that/ I would if I could take the families
To the best Italian place,
For sacrificial lamb & blood red wine
& all before that, maybe Grace

 

rosa

photo- Alex Whitehouse-Hayward

March 31, 2020

Octavio Paz, , born this day in 1914

Filed under: poetry, surreal, Uncategorized — Tags: , — namelessneed @ 8:53 am

 

Soliloquio
by Octavio Paz

persistent, flowing through fallen shadows,
excavating tunnels, drilling silences,
insisting, running under my pillow,
brushing past my temples, covering my eyelids
with another, intangible skin made of air,
its wandering nations, its drowsy tribes
migrate through the provinces of my body,
it crosses, re-crosses under the bridges of my bones,
slips into my left ear, spills out from my right,
climbs the nape of my neck,
turns and turns in my skull,
wanders across the terrace of my forehead,
conjures visions, scatters them,
erases my thoughts one by one
with hands of unwetting water,
it evaporates them,
black surge, tide of pulse-beats,
murmur of water groping forward
repeating the same meaningless syllable,
I hear its sleepwalking delirium
losing itself in serpentine galleries of echoes,
it comes back, drifts off, comes back,
endlessly flings itself
off the edges of my cliffs,
and I don’t stop falling
and I fall
endlessly in its falling,
I fall without moving,
I fall
with a murmur of falling water,
I fall through myself without touching myself.
I fall through my center,
far from me, far off,
I am here and I don’t know where here is,
what day is today?
today is today,
it is always today and I am a date
lost between before and after.
yes and no, never and always,
this very moment and its flute solo
at the edge of the void,
geometries
suspended in a timeless space,
cubes, pyramids, spheres, cones
and the other toys of sleepless reason.
shapes made of crystal, light, air:
ideas,
in the abstract sky of the mind,
fixed constellations,
neither living nor dead,
spider threads and crystalline drivel,
woven by insomnia, unwoven at dawn,
river of thoughts I don’t think, that think me,
river, itinerant music, delta of silence,
soundless cataracts, tide at my eardrums,
desire and its eyes that touch,
its hands that see,
its bedroom that is a drop of dew,
its bed made from a single shaft of light,
desire,
obelisk tattooed by death,
rage in its house of knives,
doubt with its triangular head,
remorse with its scalpel and lens,
the two sisters, fatigue and restlessness,
that battle tonight for my soul,
all of them, one after the other,
fling themselves over,
hushed mumble of downcast eyes,
blurred murmur of water talking to itself,
no, k is not he murmur of water
but of blood,
it comes and goes incessantly through my veins,
I am its prison, and it my jailer,
no, it is not blood,
it is the days and years,
the dead hours and this instant
that is still alive,
time falling
endlessly in itself,
I hear my breathing, falling, hurling down,
I am stretched out alongside myself.
far off, far,
I am stretched out there, far off,
where is my left side, my right,
which way is north?
unmoving, rocked by the wave with no body,
I am a heartbeat, a blink of an eye
in a crease of time,
the moment opens and closes,
a hazy clarity shoots across,
is it coming or going?
does it return or drift off?
echoes of footsteps, procession of shadows
in the theater of closed eyes,
torrent of heartbeats,
drumroll of syllables
in the cave of my chest,
chorus of psalms
in the temple of vertebrae and veins,
is it death arriving?
is it day,
the inflexible every day?
today is no longer today,
a black river drags me along
and I am that river
what time is it,
cruel clock, clock with no hours?

 

March 19, 2020

I am the Very Model of Effective Social Distancing

Filed under: Uncategorized — namelessneed @ 5:26 pm

 

February 26, 2020

Non aver fretta

Filed under: Uncategorized — namelessneed @ 11:57 am

good advice, in any language

THE MESS OF THE WRITER

Ciao, lettore/lettrice. Ovunque ti trovi adesso, se possibile, prova a concentrarti davvero, prestandomi tutta la tua attenzione per qualche minuto: oggi, desidero più che mai che le mie parole ti arrivino dritte al cuore. Non voglio annoiarti ulteriormente con delle frasi di circostanza. Dunque, se non hai già chiuso questa pagina, ti auguro buona lettura.

Premetto che non so che età tu abbia né di dove tu sia ma non è essenziale. Che tu sia giovane o meno, italiano/a o straniero/a, per me fa lo stesso.
Da quando ti sei svegliato/a stamattina, hai sorriso almeno una volta? Se no, rifletti sul motivo per cui non l’hai fatto. Puoi dirmi che c’è una ragione o che non ne hai trovata nemmeno una: in ogni caso, ricorda che non dovresti permettere a niente e a nessuno di influenzare la tua intera giornata in questo modo, tranne rarissime eccezioni.

Ora, pensa alle persone…

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