Tuesday
Quote from "Time Regained," vol. 12, ch. 3, Remembrance of Things Past by Marcel Proust
Happiness serves hardly any other purpose than to make unhappiness possible.
Monday
Game over by SteffyPop
Game over us the impossible ones!
- the Two, the months of seconds
- the Two, the months of seconds
We had it coming, I’d known to see it
-we disregarded and found noth in it
Beyond all reasons, the simmer dusts
-thought love forever was building us
Til that newly won alike bitter reality
-we disregarded and found noth in it
Beyond all reasons, the simmer dusts
-thought love forever was building us
Til that newly won alike bitter reality
-tore up the wish of us haven’t been
And boiled up the sugar carbon sweet
-and woke us up to our defeat
It’s better than, what better be
-is it aversion, we now will see?
Farewell my friend, my wish for love
-be home again, with other ones
-be home again, with other ones
I bare no hate and kind of heart
-I wish I’d known this from the start
Thursday
Be with those who help your being by Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
Be with those who help your being.
Don't sit with indifferent people, whose breath
comes cold out of their mouths.
Not these visible forms, your work is deeper.
A chunk of dirt thrown in the air breaks to pieces.
If you don't try to fly,
and so break yourself apart,
you will be broken open by death,
when it's too late for all you could become.
Leaves get yellow. The tree puts out fresh roots
and makes them green.
Why are you so content with a love that turns you yellow?
Don't sit with indifferent people, whose breath
comes cold out of their mouths.
Not these visible forms, your work is deeper.
A chunk of dirt thrown in the air breaks to pieces.
If you don't try to fly,
and so break yourself apart,
you will be broken open by death,
when it's too late for all you could become.
Leaves get yellow. The tree puts out fresh roots
and makes them green.
Why are you so content with a love that turns you yellow?
Monday
Gråt inte mer! by Kristina Lugn
Jämra dej inte!
Bit ihop tänderna!
Plocka ögonbrynen!
Förläng ögonfransarna!
Förkorta känselspröten!
Lägg upp håret!
Rengör näsborrarna!
Raka bort mustascherna!
Svälj något lugnande!
Sitt inte där så svagsint
Ensam och inkrökt, gråt
Inte mer!
Sunday
Sudden poem of lust in ADHD-moll/Natrium and Chloride by SteffyPop
I’m gonna show you the wonders of the world even
if you’re blind I’ll create them for you in words or sensations. – touches. Get
you out of the bed of stuck presents and fortified pasts eventhough you don’t
need saviour I’m gonna uproot you. While we aren’t happening we indeed are
happening we happened even in the fog of the tumbling kisses on the lips of the
other while I’m courageously trying to poison you by thinking about you hard
enough I can’t let go for this is natrium and chloride – again. A battle of not
yet occured lust that unravels with each utterance the present shivers on
behalf of your loyal past – that unfortunately is enacted in the presence. And
it doesn’t disrespect your ontological loyalty for this is natrium and chloride
– no other way of expressing the poetic cliché of chemistry for some things are
true and objectivity I’ve now known. We both know the painful truth that
potentially might tear everything apart from the onset we’re combined in a
setting of impossibility – becomes possible natrium and chloride. Right now
you’re zoned out inside of the rock you’ve stood fearlessly on – it’s not like
anyone’s been lead on it’s the force of the meaning of the entire universe. And
as the ache leads me to ideas of disasters I couldn’t care less for thirst is
extinguished by water and you are humid drops of painful ice – sensational and
fucking nice.
Tuesday
Ett aggressivt adjö till W by SteffyPop
Dina vänner föder dig, varje dag –
pånyttfödd (var med dem)
Det där åbäket sniffar runt bland
andra män – förstör (inbilla dig det)
Allt läggs åt sidan när han klöser
under huden – omdömeslöst (han är ett svin)
Du är fri endast aldrig med honom
någonsin – återvänd! (till dina vänner?)
Kära nånn! Några är kära, skit i
honom, ring honom – chilla! (bestäm dig bara)
Ta reda på fakta, känn efter,
älska honom internationellt – avsky (åter igen)
Avundsjukt sjuk av nöd, apati och
den reella bristen på den – PANIK FFS! (berusa dig?)
Vaddå vad gör han just nu? Undrar
han samma sak eller – knullar? (i så fall, du vet)
Du går för fort fram, det går för
långsamt fram, han är snäll – ofta! (beskydda ditt inre!)
Vad vill du ha, hur kan du få det,
kan han ge dig det? –länge (hur länge och i vilket läge?)
Ta med ditt liv, ta livet med
måtta, innefatta inte alla i livet – lev (ta ditt liv?)
Skjut honom i hjärtat, skjut upp
heroin, skutta, köp pistol – skjut! (kväv det i sin linda)
Du är ditt liv och dem du kan
hantera, han är inte det – avsluta! (han är inte värd det)
Jo, han är värd det. Han är
ovärderlig. Han är värdelös – värdera (kom ner på jorden)
Han talar sanning, varför ljuger
han? Vad sa han, varför säger han det inte? (käften!)
Face it. Du är
för mycket. Han är i så fall för lite. To his face – hej då (and ride it out)
Adjö! Good
bye! Die!
Thursday
A little while, a little while... by Emily Jane Brontë
A little while, a little while,
The weary task is put away,
And I can sing and I can smile,
Alike, while I have holiday.
Why wilt thou go, my harassed heart,
What thought, what scene invites thee now?
What spot, or near or far,
Has rest for thee, my weary brow?
There is a spot, mid barren hills,
Where winter howls, and driving rain;
But if the dreary tempest chills,
There is a light that warms again.
The house is old, the trees are bare,
Moonless above bends twilight's dome;
But what on earth is half so dear,
So longed for, as the hearth of home?
The mute bird sitting on the stone,
The dank moss dripping from the wall,
The thorn-trees gaunt, the walks o'ergrown,
I love them, how I love them all!
Still, as I mused, the naked room,
The alien firelight died away,
And from the midst of cheerless gloom
I passed to bright unclouded day.
A little and a lone green lane
That opened on a common wide;
A distant, dreamy, dim blue chain
Of mountains circling every side;
A heaven so clear, an earth so calm,
So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air;
And, deepening still the dream-like charm,
Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere.
That was the scene, I knew it well;
I knew the turfy pathway's sweep
That, winding o'er each billowy swell,
Marked out the tracks of wandering sheep.
Could I have lingered but an hour,
It well had paid a week of toil;
But Truth has banished Fancy's power:
Restraint and heavy task recoil.
Even as I stood with raptured eye,
Absorbed in bliss so deep and dear,
My hour of rest had fleeted by,
And back came labour, bondage, care.
The weary task is put away,
And I can sing and I can smile,
Alike, while I have holiday.
Why wilt thou go, my harassed heart,
What thought, what scene invites thee now?
What spot, or near or far,
Has rest for thee, my weary brow?
There is a spot, mid barren hills,
Where winter howls, and driving rain;
But if the dreary tempest chills,
There is a light that warms again.
The house is old, the trees are bare,
Moonless above bends twilight's dome;
But what on earth is half so dear,
So longed for, as the hearth of home?
The mute bird sitting on the stone,
The dank moss dripping from the wall,
The thorn-trees gaunt, the walks o'ergrown,
I love them, how I love them all!
Still, as I mused, the naked room,
The alien firelight died away,
And from the midst of cheerless gloom
I passed to bright unclouded day.
A little and a lone green lane
That opened on a common wide;
A distant, dreamy, dim blue chain
Of mountains circling every side;
A heaven so clear, an earth so calm,
So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air;
And, deepening still the dream-like charm,
Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere.
That was the scene, I knew it well;
I knew the turfy pathway's sweep
That, winding o'er each billowy swell,
Marked out the tracks of wandering sheep.
Could I have lingered but an hour,
It well had paid a week of toil;
But Truth has banished Fancy's power:
Restraint and heavy task recoil.
Even as I stood with raptured eye,
Absorbed in bliss so deep and dear,
My hour of rest had fleeted by,
And back came labour, bondage, care.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
