How come
one can reflect about solitude
with another person,
ou sont toutes considérations complètement inutiles?
maandag 23 november 2009
Write about me
Stars, shoot me,
For I already feel as dead as fallen rain.
Snowball, cast me,
For I want to know what it feels like to be thrown away.
Waterfall, bring me down,
For I want to drown in your endless flow.
Words, speak me,
For my desire is to be the essence of this poem.
For I already feel as dead as fallen rain.
Snowball, cast me,
For I want to know what it feels like to be thrown away.
Waterfall, bring me down,
For I want to drown in your endless flow.
Words, speak me,
For my desire is to be the essence of this poem.
Alles en Niets / Tout et Rien
Nothing
Everything,
Both in my desirous hands.
---
Everything equals too much. When there's nothing left to desire, you will enter a permanent state of decadence, which will eventually kill you either physically or mentally or both. Therefore, when everything equals too much, everything equals sadness and misfortune.
---
My love for you feels like everything I will ever need.
---
My life is continuously divided by the following discrepancy, keeping mostly in mind the positive connotation given to the word by people:
Losing everything
=
Having nothing to lose
---
Is this true? When I lose you, if I lose you, will I be as neutral as if I had never met you? The obvious answer is that you will definitely FEEL worse, and that begs an altogether different and more important question. Can you separate feeling something and being something? Could it be that you feel worse but that in fact you're BEING as if nothing had ever happened? If that is true, then the ancient rational vs. emotional issue is of much more importance than I had ever imagined.
---
It is only in nothing that we search for all.
Everything,
Both in my desirous hands.
---
Everything equals too much. When there's nothing left to desire, you will enter a permanent state of decadence, which will eventually kill you either physically or mentally or both. Therefore, when everything equals too much, everything equals sadness and misfortune.
---
My love for you feels like everything I will ever need.
---
My life is continuously divided by the following discrepancy, keeping mostly in mind the positive connotation given to the word by people:
Losing everything
=
Having nothing to lose
---
Is this true? When I lose you, if I lose you, will I be as neutral as if I had never met you? The obvious answer is that you will definitely FEEL worse, and that begs an altogether different and more important question. Can you separate feeling something and being something? Could it be that you feel worse but that in fact you're BEING as if nothing had ever happened? If that is true, then the ancient rational vs. emotional issue is of much more importance than I had ever imagined.
---
It is only in nothing that we search for all.
vrijdag 13 november 2009
America
America I've given you all and now I'm nothing.
America two dollars and twenty-seven cents January 17, 1956.
I can't stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb
I don't feel good don't bother me.
I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind.
America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I'm sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don't think he'll come back it's sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?
I'm trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
America stop pushing I know what I'm doing.
America the plum blossoms are falling.
I haven't read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for murder.
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid and I'm not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there's going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx.
My psychoanalyst thinks I'm perfectly right.
I won't say the Lord's Prayer.
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
America I still haven't told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over from Russia.
I'm addressing you.
Are you going to let our emotional life be run by Time Magazine?
I'm obsessed by Time Magazine.
I read it every week.
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
It's always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie producers are serious. Everybody's serious but me.
It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.
Asia is rising against me.
I haven't got a chinaman's chance.
I'd better consider my national resources.
My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable private literature that goes 1400 miles an hour and twentyfivethousand mental institutions.
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underpriviliged who live in my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I'm a Catholic.
America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his automobiles more so they're all different sexes
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe
America free Tom Mooney
America save the Spanish Loyalists
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die
America I am the Scottsboro boys.
America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother Bloor made me cry I once saw Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have been a spy.
America you don't really want to go to war.
America it's them bad Russians.
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia's power mad. She wants to take our cars from out our garages.
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader's Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations.
That no good. Ugh. Him makes Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers.
Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.
America this is quite serious.
America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.
America is this correct?
I'd better get right down to the job.
It's true I don't want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts
factories, I'm nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.
America I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.
Allen Ginsberg
America two dollars and twenty-seven cents January 17, 1956.
I can't stand my own mind.
America when will we end the human war?
Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb
I don't feel good don't bother me.
I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind.
America when will you be angelic?
When will you take off your clothes?
When will you look at yourself through the grave?
When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?
America why are your libraries full of tears?
America when will you send your eggs to India?
I'm sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?
America after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way to settle this argument.
Burroughs is in Tangiers I don't think he'll come back it's sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of practical joke?
I'm trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
America stop pushing I know what I'm doing.
America the plum blossoms are falling.
I haven't read the newspapers for months, everyday somebody goes on trial for murder.
America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies.
America I used to be a communist when I was a kid and I'm not sorry.
I smoke marijuana every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and stare at the roses in the closet.
When I go to Chinatown I get drunk and never get laid.
My mind is made up there's going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Marx.
My psychoanalyst thinks I'm perfectly right.
I won't say the Lord's Prayer.
I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.
America I still haven't told you what you did to Uncle Max after he came over from Russia.
I'm addressing you.
Are you going to let our emotional life be run by Time Magazine?
I'm obsessed by Time Magazine.
I read it every week.
Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.
I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
It's always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie producers are serious. Everybody's serious but me.
It occurs to me that I am America.
I am talking to myself again.
Asia is rising against me.
I haven't got a chinaman's chance.
I'd better consider my national resources.
My national resources consist of two joints of marijuana millions of genitals an unpublishable private literature that goes 1400 miles an hour and twentyfivethousand mental institutions.
I say nothing about my prisons nor the millions of underpriviliged who live in my flowerpots under the light of five hundred suns.
I have abolished the whorehouses of France, Tangiers is the next to go.
My ambition is to be President despite the fact that I'm a Catholic.
America how can I write a holy litany in your silly mood?
I will continue like Henry Ford my strophes are as individual as his automobiles more so they're all different sexes
America I will sell you strophes $2500 apiece $500 down on your old strophe
America free Tom Mooney
America save the Spanish Loyalists
America Sacco & Vanzetti must not die
America I am the Scottsboro boys.
America when I was seven momma took me to Communist Cell meetings they sold us garbanzos a handful per ticket a ticket costs a nickel and the speeches were free everybody was angelic and sentimental about the workers it was all so sincere you have no idea what a good thing the party was in 1835 Scott Nearing was a grand old man a real mensch Mother Bloor made me cry I once saw Israel Amter plain. Everybody must have been a spy.
America you don't really want to go to war.
America it's them bad Russians.
Them Russians them Russians and them Chinamen. And them Russians.
The Russia wants to eat us alive. The Russia's power mad. She wants to take our cars from out our garages.
Her wants to grab Chicago. Her needs a Red Reader's Digest. Her wants our auto plants in Siberia. Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations.
That no good. Ugh. Him makes Indians learn read. Him need big black niggers.
Hah. Her make us all work sixteen hours a day. Help.
America this is quite serious.
America this is the impression I get from looking in the television set.
America is this correct?
I'd better get right down to the job.
It's true I don't want to join the Army or turn lathes in precision parts
factories, I'm nearsighted and psychopathic anyway.
America I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel.
Allen Ginsberg
donderdag 12 november 2009
Collection of notes
It's a shame blogspot doesn't allow any spacing before a sentence starts. Now these notes look even more fucked up than they already did.
People that say chess is a complicated game forget what makes games complicated: the human factor.
There's no betrayal in chess!
---
The more I try to tame my passion, the more it becomes untameable.
---
If only my thoughts weren't constantly racing like this
... then I could have the perfect relationship.
---
Don't make any compromises with me in love;
it's like selling your soul to the devil
for only half of what it's worth.
---
Once more I wonder
what keeps us all going
what keeps us alive,
While I feel so much like dying.
---
Music is not and cannot be about musical sensation;
Instead, it's about human passion and emotion!
---
I keep thinking that I'm alive
But when I observe others around me
I notice that I'm barely breathing.
---
What makes me believe that this exclusiveness of love that I constantly and thoroughly feel is even a bit similar or at least somewhat present in anyone, any person of the other sex? Why can't I become aware that it's virtually the other way around?
---
Xenofobie is een geestesziekte.
---
Xenofobie is de meest serieuze vorm van discriminatie van onze tijd.
---
Xenofobie is de enige geestesziekte die onbehandeld blijft en de enige volledig geaccepteerde vorm van discriminatie.
---
The transition of idealism into cynicism is one of the most dangerous developments in our youngest intellectual generation.
People that say chess is a complicated game forget what makes games complicated: the human factor.
There's no betrayal in chess!
---
The more I try to tame my passion, the more it becomes untameable.
---
If only my thoughts weren't constantly racing like this
... then I could have the perfect relationship.
---
Don't make any compromises with me in love;
it's like selling your soul to the devil
for only half of what it's worth.
---
Once more I wonder
what keeps us all going
what keeps us alive,
While I feel so much like dying.
---
Music is not and cannot be about musical sensation;
Instead, it's about human passion and emotion!
---
I keep thinking that I'm alive
But when I observe others around me
I notice that I'm barely breathing.
---
What makes me believe that this exclusiveness of love that I constantly and thoroughly feel is even a bit similar or at least somewhat present in anyone, any person of the other sex? Why can't I become aware that it's virtually the other way around?
---
Xenofobie is een geestesziekte.
---
Xenofobie is de meest serieuze vorm van discriminatie van onze tijd.
---
Xenofobie is de enige geestesziekte die onbehandeld blijft en de enige volledig geaccepteerde vorm van discriminatie.
---
The transition of idealism into cynicism is one of the most dangerous developments in our youngest intellectual generation.
zaterdag 7 november 2009
donderdag 5 november 2009
Loveless
The value and position in society of prostitution has been occupying me as well as the apparently so fragile relationship between sex and love. Loveless sex, but also sexless love, are interesting concepts that are beyond my grasp. I will deal with them separately. This short poem is about the contradictory, or to me seemingly contradictory, experience of being with a prostitute.
--
--
You take off your bonnet
And your hair spreads the smell of love
While your hand stains my bare chest.
You make no effort to speak,
Your approach is most fair;
No sweet whisper in my ear
Just the soft click-clack on the stairs.
In observation of your sophisticated
Straightforwardness – I’ve met no-one more honest –
I’m disillusioned nonetheless.
I’m so baffled by your skills
That I cannot rhyme any longer.
You are the question what love is yourself
But considering it you wouldn’t dare;
Money is your only distress.
Remaining now is only the smell of your hair,
The stain of your worn out dress.
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