*by Redmer Hoekstra
“wisdom tells me that I am nothing.
love tells me that I am everything.
between the two, my life flows.”
[ Nisargadatta Maharaj (1897–1981) ]
{random poetry #41}
•.•❤•.•
•.•❤•.•❤•.•❤•.•❤•.•❤•.•
[ De Quem é o Olhar ]
De quem é o olhar
Que espreita por meus olhos?
Quando penso que vejo,
Quem continua vendo
Enquanto estou pensando?
Por que caminhos seguem,
Não os meus tristes passos,
Mas a realidade
De eu ter passos comigo ?
Às vezes, na penumbra
Do meu quarto, quando eu
Por mim próprio mesmo
Em alma mal existo,
Toma um outro sentido
Em mim o Universo —
É uma nódoa esbatida
De eu ser consciente sobre
Minha idéia das coisas.
Se acenderem as velas
E não houver apenas
A vaga luz de fora —
Não sei que candeeiro
Aceso onde na rua —
Terei foscos desejos
De nunca haver mais nada
No Universo e na Vida
De que o obscuro momento
Que é minha vida agora!
Um momento afluente
Dum rio sempre a ir
Esquecer-se de ser,
Espaço misterioso
Entre espaços desertos
Cujo sentido é nulo
E sem ser nada a nada.
E assim a hora passa
Metafisicamente.
Fernando Pessoa, in "Cancioneiro"
*by Steve Schapiro (The Worst is Yet to Come, New York, circa 1968, Fahey/Klein Gallery) tip from iznotmeizyou
the glass is not half empty neither half full,
it just doesn't have the appropriate size
{random poetry #40}
[ Attitude To A Miss ]
That night was to decide
if she and I
were to be lovers.
Under cover
of darkness
no one would see, you see.
I bent over her, it’s the truth,
and as I did,
it’s the truth, I swear it,
I said
like a kindly parent:
“Passion’s a precipice –
so won’t you please
move away?
Move away,
please!”
[ Vladimir Vladimirovich Mayakovsky (Влади́мир Влади́мирович Маяко́вский) (1893 – 1930) ]
0.o now what?!
"'You' cannot be in the Now or out of the Now.
If 'you' were in the Now, when would that happen? Now?
If 'you' were out of the Now, when would that happen? Not Now?
There is only ever Now. And there is no 'you' separate from the Now. You have only ever known yourself Now. The simple non-conceptual sense of being alive is always Now, prior to all our human ideas of 'Now'.
Even if you think or feel that you are 'out' of the Now, that's happening Now. A memory of being in or out of the Now in the 'past', is actually arising Now, not in the past. And an idea about being in or out of the Now in the 'future', is arising Now, not in the future. Past and future are deeply held in this vast space of Now.
Since there is nothing that is not Now, we cannot even speak of the Now, since it has no inside or outside, no boundary, and even if it did, that would also be arising Now...
There is no 'Now', and that's the Power of Now!"
[ Jeff Foster ]
{random poetry #40}
what we see is the paint.
yet somehow the mind
knows the wall,
as the living know death.
[ Hirshfield, Jane ]
* by Ruben Ireland
I have often told you that I am that little fish who swims about under a shark and, I believe, lives indelicately on its offal. Anyway, that is the way I am. Life moves over me in a vast black shadow and I swallow whatever it drops with relish, having learned in a very hard school that one cannot be both a parasite and enjoy self-nourishment without moving in worlds too fantastic for even my disordered imagination to people with meaning.
[ Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald (1900 – 1948) ]
{ gravity well }
“the fact that we live at the bottom of a deep gravity well,
on the surface of a gas covered planet
going around a nuclear fireball 90 million miles away
and think this to be normal is
obviously some indication of how skewed
our perspective tends to be.”
Adams, D.
pensamos ter todas as respostas, saber tudo o que é necessário, correto e aconselhável. somos intolerantes ao erro e ficamos pela primeira imagem (que captamos por entre as fendas estreitas do muro), mesmo que ela seja produto de uma situação artificial e fabricada, que nunca poderia traduzir o todo ou a essência (como se a essência fosse tangível, descritível ou quantificável). com a desculpa de uma vida ocupada por tudo e por tão pouco, desaparecemos... deixamos a liberdade para o acaso, o amor para depois, a entrega para a morte. perecemos consumidos pelo peso da nossa própria gravidade, estamos de passagem mas não deixamos pegadas, apenas uma pesada tristeza de quem não tem coragem de ir mais além, de ver mais além e de sentir o que de verdadeiro o outro tem para oferecer. não aprendemos com o caminho nem tão pouco respeitamos o viajante.
{random poetry #39}
nobody can save you but
yourself.
you will be put again and again
into nearly impossible
situations.
they will attempt again and again
through subterfuge, guise and
force
to make you submit, quit and/or die quietly
inside.
nobody can save you but
yourself
and it will be easy enough to fail
so very easily
but don’t, don’t, don’t.
just watch them.
listen to them.
do you want to be like that?
a faceless, mindless, heartless
being?
do you want to experience
death before death?
nobody can save you but
yourself
and you’re worth saving.
it’s a war not easily won
but if anything is worth winning then
this is it.
think about it.
think about saving your self.
[ Charles Bukowski ]
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