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The light wraps you in its mortal flame.
Abstracted pale mourner, standing that way
against the old propellers of the twighlight
that revolves around you.
Speechless, my friend,
alone in the loneliness of this hour of the dead
and filled with the lives of fire,
pure heir of the ruined day.
A bough of fruit falls from the sun on your dark garment.
The great roots of night
grow suddenly from your soul,
and the things that hide in you come out again
so that a blue and palled people
your newly born, takes nourishment.
Oh magnificent and fecund and magnetic slave
of the circle that moves in turn through black and gold:
rise, lead and possess a creation
so rich in life that its flowers perish
and it is full of sadness.
Abstracted pale mourner, standing that way
against the old propellers of the twighlight
that revolves around you.
Speechless, my friend,
alone in the loneliness of this hour of the dead
and filled with the lives of fire,
pure heir of the ruined day.
A bough of fruit falls from the sun on your dark garment.
The great roots of night
grow suddenly from your soul,
and the things that hide in you come out again
so that a blue and palled people
your newly born, takes nourishment.
Oh magnificent and fecund and magnetic slave
of the circle that moves in turn through black and gold:
rise, lead and possess a creation
so rich in life that its flowers perish
and it is full of sadness.
menthol cigarettes from Teheran
fancy sparks you call
post-modernism
so many directions chosen
by well formed Artemis legs
wearing french lingerie
the electricity
poisons us with the speed of a century
well fucking done,
ma petite folie!
i´m losing grind
in neverending summers
by 45 degrees
Che will be so proud
if he ain´t rotting
"You can never have a revolution in order to establish a democracy. You must have a democracy in order to have a revolution."
G. K. Chesterton
FIELDS IN SPRING by Nichita Stanescu
Green rings around the eyes, this grass in vibrant motion
arcs tenderly about you, at a distance-
you summon it, then fling it round, broken
by your laugh of youth and innocence.
Stretched under you, this curling dome of grass
would sound its voices in the gravel-
but you are unaware - and now you pass
through foreign stars, a fool.
THE ASCENSION OF WORDS
by Nichita Stanescu
Thus, like the skin
of a shorn ewe, the day rises.
It is difficult to skin the self from a stone.
It is difficult to skin memory from a Greek.
But why should we talk about these!
After all,
light too has a skin,
light too can be skinned...
So
light too is guilty of being.
A gust of fresh air
comes with the millenium.
We are beautiful;
why should we not be beautiful?
We eat one another
only from hunger,
from adoration,
from structure,
from love.
It doesn't matter.
We are what we are,
that is, beautiful.
I carry my ever still blood
in my heart.
I carry my ever salt tear
in my eye.
I carry the angel
MIRACLE OF LIFE
:bulletred:real,incredible, epic lesson about survival and life---->http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LU8DDYz68kM:bulletred:
Please watch!
© 2008 - 2024 Vendegor
Comments2
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Magnetic slaves... I hope we'll see one of these on Wal-Mart