Thursday, August 27, 2009
ABOUT NERUDA
Pablo Neruda, is like right now the words my heart yearns to speak. His poetry is deep amazing and really intense personal favourites:NUMBER 20 in 20 love songs of love and despair and LOVE from passions and impressions.
reflections of love
how he moves me
like rain
like pain,
how he moves
how he sings,
words of life
and love
and soul
how he sings
how he touches
oh how he touches
and strokes
deep fires
deep desires
how he touches
how he breaks
the barriers
the walls
and moves me
dear God how
he moves...(c) abikusmots 2008
RETURNS
I have been gone from here a while. Was too jumbled up to share anything but now i am back and boy do i have a lot to say
Friday, May 26, 2006
"oh it flies away... it can't ever be caught or described. For it is one earth, one movement and another earth another earth in a moment or two.
Life itself is an un-finished sentence, or a few haphazard brush strokes. Nothing stays. Nothing is completed. I can make nothing whole from it, however small...
The meaning of a painting is a voice crying out:' Isaw it, before it vanished, it was thus.' An honest painting would never be finished; an honest novel would stop in the middle of a sentence. There is no shutting life in a cage, turning the key with a full stop with a stroke of paint."
wreath of roses
elizabeth taylor
Life itself is an un-finished sentence, or a few haphazard brush strokes. Nothing stays. Nothing is completed. I can make nothing whole from it, however small...
The meaning of a painting is a voice crying out:' Isaw it, before it vanished, it was thus.' An honest painting would never be finished; an honest novel would stop in the middle of a sentence. There is no shutting life in a cage, turning the key with a full stop with a stroke of paint."
wreath of roses
elizabeth taylor
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
SECOND CHANCES
Its not unlike me to be completely taken over by things to jump headlong into things and then later wonder what i was thinking or why I was deluding myself at the time that i was thinking. Do you do that sometimes? Do stuff thats so wrong you don't know if you'll ever do right again? And then comes that miracle- the second chance. That new page you can write on after someone rubbed out the scribbles you'd mad. Its not a clean page but its a page, you get to do it over.
The thing about second chances is that we create them we decide for ourselves that we are worth those second chances. How we see ourselves determines how other people see us and how they relate to us.
"... no matter what we start with it always ends up being so much less..."
Richard 'the hours'
We will always fall short of our expectations, and of others expectations of us and yet we must remember that it ends up being something, this life of ours no matter how much less we think it is. Learn to forgive yourself, learn to love your self. You are worth this chance and the next and the one after that
theres a meeting of
old fears
aged tears
in my soul tonight.
theres a remembrance
of cold aches
and heart breaks
deep in my soul
this night
theres a dirge of
muted screams
and shattered dreams
sung by this soul
on all nights.
theres a wake held
for a child, a friend, a love
remembered
and this soul of mine
is loving you still
The thing about second chances is that we create them we decide for ourselves that we are worth those second chances. How we see ourselves determines how other people see us and how they relate to us.
"... no matter what we start with it always ends up being so much less..."
Richard 'the hours'
We will always fall short of our expectations, and of others expectations of us and yet we must remember that it ends up being something, this life of ours no matter how much less we think it is. Learn to forgive yourself, learn to love your self. You are worth this chance and the next and the one after that
theres a meeting of
old fears
aged tears
in my soul tonight.
theres a remembrance
of cold aches
and heart breaks
deep in my soul
this night
theres a dirge of
muted screams
and shattered dreams
sung by this soul
on all nights.
theres a wake held
for a child, a friend, a love
remembered
and this soul of mine
is loving you still
Saturday, May 20, 2006
WATCHING WORDS
I am sitting, quietly, watching. The quiet documenter of others lives. I see their lips move the moments in their seemingly interesting fulfilled lives pass away as they talk.
And slowly I sober up. I pull away from the warmth and dulling consistency of their words, the moving harmonies of their throaty supplications. They talk the million voices, like passing gales of icy winds locking me out. They gush in their eagerness, these words enjoining souls, mirroring feelings, breaking and mending hearts, a salve for all ills... These words. They cloak their meanings in the murky depths in between shrouded sentences.
Trains of words put together going somewhere and yet leading nowhere.
And I sit quietly and listen. Until words are expected to leave my mouth. And yet my words seem so discordant so out of place 4/4 in 2/4 time ta-ta-ta-ta-, tate-tate or something like that. Not in synch.
I wanted noise today. I craved these voices, their subtle nuances, their broad proclamations. I needed them. I needed echoes to fill my silences. I searched for harmonies to match my music, prayed for supplications and found them in the words' hopes, fears and dreams.
I stole from the words, stole their strength, undressed their owners, bared their souls with the power the words gave me.
I smile and put my pen down, words again, silently spoken reaching from abroad and getting used, exalted, worshipped, feared, adored. And those that wield them, use them, carve unwittingly into sculptures of the bound variety. I see them watching silently, listening as the words slowly find their way back to them.
And slowly I sober up. I pull away from the warmth and dulling consistency of their words, the moving harmonies of their throaty supplications. They talk the million voices, like passing gales of icy winds locking me out. They gush in their eagerness, these words enjoining souls, mirroring feelings, breaking and mending hearts, a salve for all ills... These words. They cloak their meanings in the murky depths in between shrouded sentences.
Trains of words put together going somewhere and yet leading nowhere.
And I sit quietly and listen. Until words are expected to leave my mouth. And yet my words seem so discordant so out of place 4/4 in 2/4 time ta-ta-ta-ta-, tate-tate or something like that. Not in synch.
I wanted noise today. I craved these voices, their subtle nuances, their broad proclamations. I needed them. I needed echoes to fill my silences. I searched for harmonies to match my music, prayed for supplications and found them in the words' hopes, fears and dreams.
I stole from the words, stole their strength, undressed their owners, bared their souls with the power the words gave me.
I smile and put my pen down, words again, silently spoken reaching from abroad and getting used, exalted, worshipped, feared, adored. And those that wield them, use them, carve unwittingly into sculptures of the bound variety. I see them watching silently, listening as the words slowly find their way back to them.
Friday, May 19, 2006
This is me
My life was never going to be ordinary, I knew that from the moment I could think for myself. and then I realized it was ordinary that everyone around was just like me wanting to grow rich wanting to be the most acknowledged the most beautiful... Just the most.
Have you ever realized how short life is how insignificant we are to the universe. When I did I started to ask myself who I was? Why I was? and what drove me? I am still on that path. and like all things are connected so I believe that our spirits are connected these are my spirits words I hope they speak to your spirit whoever you are, wherever you are.
I'm a woman and a feminist not your yuppie gung ho feminist, but the kind that believes that what defines us most as women is those things about us that we have been taught to despise. Our bodies, menstrual periods, childbirth and motherhood those things that we have been taught make us less than men. We have been told over and over again that to be equal those things shouldn't define us we can only achieve equality if we are more manly "don the power suit , butch it up .
So slowly we have over the decades been detached from our centers from our centers we have been weakened left without a place to recharge. My spirit - its words are a woman's words in this life time. They are words about a woman's pain, her fear, her, loves, trusts and disappointments.
I welcome you to share them
Have you ever realized how short life is how insignificant we are to the universe. When I did I started to ask myself who I was? Why I was? and what drove me? I am still on that path. and like all things are connected so I believe that our spirits are connected these are my spirits words I hope they speak to your spirit whoever you are, wherever you are.
I'm a woman and a feminist not your yuppie gung ho feminist, but the kind that believes that what defines us most as women is those things about us that we have been taught to despise. Our bodies, menstrual periods, childbirth and motherhood those things that we have been taught make us less than men. We have been told over and over again that to be equal those things shouldn't define us we can only achieve equality if we are more manly "don the power suit , butch it up .
So slowly we have over the decades been detached from our centers from our centers we have been weakened left without a place to recharge. My spirit - its words are a woman's words in this life time. They are words about a woman's pain, her fear, her, loves, trusts and disappointments.
I welcome you to share them
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