Brightness

November 30, 2016

piano

I am bright with the wonder of you
And the faint perfume of your air

I am bright with the wonder of you
You being far away or near

I am bright with the wonder of you
Warmed by your eyes’ blue fire

I am bright with the wonder of you
And your mind’s open store

I am bright with the wonder of you
Despite the dark waiting I endure

I am bright with the wonder of you.

Gloria Rawlinson

What Will I Remember?

November 30, 2016

snow

What will I remember?
What will I forget?
When this life is ending, and gone
What will I regret?
If tomorrow I don’t wake up, what happens?
My sunrise, or sunset?

If I never were born
If I never died
Would it even matter at all?
What should I decide?
I always imagined I’d mean something to someone
If I won’t, ‘least I tried

When my body suffers
When to breathe is pain
Is it really madness to think…
Think of breaking this chain?
Is the future mine?
God knows I have a past
Where’s my second chapter?
Or will the first also be my last?

Is my story over
If I fall asleep?
Would anybody find me?
And would anybody weep?
I can’t even pretend I care
But songs I’ll never sing…
Well that means something…
Yes, that means something…

Emilie Autumn

putting-him-right

Imagine a society that subjects people to conditions that make them terribly unhappy then gives them the drugs to take away their unhappiness. Science fiction? It is already happening to some extent in our own society. Instead of removing the conditions that make people depressed modern society gives them antidepressant drugs. In effect antidepressants are a means of modifying an individual’s internal state in such a way as to enable him to tolerate social conditions that he would otherwise find intolerable.

Theodore Kaczynski
Industrial Society and Its Future

Rain

November 30, 2016

rain

Rain on roof outside window, gray light, deep covers and warm blankets. Rain and nip of autumn in air; nostalgia, itch to work better and bigger. That crisp edge of autumn.

Sylvia Plath
The Unabridged Journals, 26 August 1956 in Paris

terrifyingly beautiful

November 30, 2016

beautiful-woman

You are unexplored, unusual, and terrifyingly beautiful. And only a few will know how to love you without breaking you and making you dangerous.

Nikita Gill
To the Heartbroken Ones on this Night

feminine protection

November 29, 2016

a-diary-portrait-danny-galieote

oh honey honey I’m telling you – a woman’s work is never
done. why that guy who gave me the once-over twice
pumping his hands under his overcoat –
well, his eyes don’t open so well
since I sprayed him in the face with my
Miss Lady Aerosol Pump Superhold Formula Hairspray

and then that guy who felt me up on the subway, well –
blame it on my Lady Eve Press-on Manicure Nails in Sin Red
and something about that kind of fruit, why
that adam’s apple just fell right out
ripe and red into my hand

and that guy on the corner calling me everyday
with his hey baby baby doncha wanna baby baby
doncha wanna piece of me
and I said yeah baby baby yeah I wanna piece of you
and took off a one-inch slab of his tongue
with my Non-slip Grip Lady Schick

and oh those guys who tried to jump
me on the way home oh don’t you know
these things always end in tears
I was so sorry to lose my favorite pair of Foxy Lady
Five-inch Patent Leather Spike Heels – it’s going
to be a while before I get over that one

but a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do
and don’t even start me on what happened
the night that guy broke into my sanitary
pad it took me hours to clean off my Curling
Iron, my Nail File, my Tweezers, my Just-For-Me
Sandal Toe Queen Size Control Tops are still hanging out to dry

and what with all the screaming
I’m lucky I didn’t get caught red-
handed with my Pink Comfort-Tip
Scented Double-Barrel Super-Plus Sawed-
Off Tampax but Thank God for
feminine protection.

A girl never knows when she’s gonna need
to soak up some blood.

Daphne Gottlieb

The Soul Bone

November 29, 2016

candle

Once I said I didn’t have a spiritual bone
in my body and meant by that
I didn’t want to think of death,
as though any bone in us
could escape it. Maybe
I was afraid of what I couldn’t know
for certain, a thud like the slamming
of a coffin lid, as final and inexplicable
as that. What was the soul anyway,
I wondered, but a homonym for loneliness?
Now, in late middle age, or more, I like to imagine it,
the spirit, the soul bone, as though it were hidden
somewhere inside my body, white as a tooth
that falls from a child’s mouth, a dove,
the cloud it can fly through. Like bones,
it persists. Little knot of self, stubborn
as wildflowers in a Chilmark field in autumn,
the white ones they call boneset, for healing,
or the others, pearly everlasting.
The rabbis of the Midrash believed in the bone
and called it the luz, just like the Spanish word
for light, the size of a chickpea or an almond,
depending on which rabbi was telling the story,
found, they said, at the top of the spine or the base,
depending. No one’s ever seen it, of course,
but sometimes at night I imagine I can feel it,
shining its light through my body, the bone
luminous, glowing in the dark. Sometimes,
if you listen, you might even hear that light
deep inside me, humming its brave little song.

Susan Wood

slow pizzicato strings

November 29, 2016

lena-sotskova-lead-violin

Vivaldi was dry, rational until slow pizzicato strings described hard claws tiptoeing across a striated sandy floor. Bach’s contrapuntal lines entwined in his head like smooth tubular growths…

Christopher Harman
Deep Water
From: Terror Tales of East Anglia – edited by Paul Finch

Causal curses

November 29, 2016

woman-with-lamp

Black magic operates most effectively in preconscious, marginal areas. Causal curses are the most effective. If someone has reason to expect a psychic attack, an excellent move is to make oneself as visible as possible to the person or persons from whom the attack is anticipated, since conscious attacks on a target that engages one’s attention are rarely effective and frequently backfire.

William S. Burroughs
The Western Lands

Poetry

November 29, 2016

leaf

Poetry is eternal graffiti written in the heart of everyone.

Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Americus, Book I