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2009/01/28

... who dances..,,.

I would only
believe in a god who dances

I would only believe in a God that knows how to dance.
Part I, Chapter 7, "Vom Lesen und Schreiben"/"On Reading and Writing"



If they want me to believe in their god,

they'll have to sing me better songs.....
I could only believe in a god who dances.

So Said Mister Nietzsche an d being
a wise man he danced
even as he
sauntered
sat
an d

swooned


this is a beautifully comic rendition of Nijinsky Or let us then say
one who laughs giggles and splutters like a kid in joy







after all apart form the madness of life
the bedlam of it
its really comic

comicesque a strip narrowing off its perimeters leaving the laughter of...

2009/01/27

there's nothing

~ there's nothing calmer more calming even consoling than this concerto of Mozart's.

even in the cold one's spirit cannot be stolen if you listen to this.
i hope the roof of the universe listens
and the powers of the world empires hearken ~ it's beauty uplifts and lifts.
one.
carries one to the possiblity of serenity and the promise, unforeseen by its composer,
of world peace.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791):
Concerto for Piano and Orchestra no. 21 in C major, K. 467 ("Elvira Madigan") played by Daniele Ruffino.




2009/01/26

a nude 2



a nude in winter
Mister D?

how can it be?
naked body pulsing in the imaginary lover
hovered over mouth
held by ridges her tongue


these calls and cries of night
or tears jerked up in day
eating alone
you sobbed


wept

and into the infinite cold
of this
siberian city


no longer home
here
out of place
out

--
is this your place?
where is language

--
her arms
are a mouth
that's escaped you


life is breath is short
it's cold
infinite winter
montreal


go away winter
i tire

of this infinite dry repeating
artic


bones wish
for homes
in arms
long sought
in the beloved voice

tucked in my heart


2009/01/25

nude and

--------------

does this cold never wend its earth back to heat?


is there no tear melts cold?
cold has no tears
heart has heat heat's heart recalls remembers always



is there heat in these bones?
come my bones we'll love again
these loving years

its death's pirate hunting you down
killing your spirit makes
you cry for loneliness 's
predator murders your soul


hurting your lover self

-------------

tthis cold will end this
winter gone

and one day
we will go to a country of no more winter ~


----------

i picture walks
the air
meadows
and these loving arms of her love


i cant find words
anymore
what words find anymore words


if these whispers hide tears
you're condemned to solo death
not accidents of rhyme or modeled peaks of clay
Adam's here hung to his missed Eve
her shining cheek his love

_
O yes
we hear these cities of love

warm in the distance of her loving pulsing breast
( i mean our breasts heaved up in the wild flash
hers and mine
in the act of love)
(pushed up our breasts speak)
against mine
we cry
lover's wound
mouths pushed up here against mine



O h ~





2009/01/23

a nude

~
ah who knows what's going on,
w hen they'll be back...
well it's been good for you so far...
... yes it has... I'll call you when they come back
I'll need a ride...
a ride ride ride
who knows how the world works moving from city to city
house to house neighborhood to neighborhood each quartier
a village... and a realization the other day that this was a village
of France's ....
left and lost in the dozening of Empire ... Ah them old Empires and their world building...
as if we didn't know better...



as for this

as the world is lost in your arms
i am lost in this


as the lissome long woman's is freaked by difference
height spanning hand after hand the widow spider of her fifteen differs
yes she 's arched the way past sound







but what does it mean? so we see , prose is just a way of seeing
straight when we're looking backward knocking on
carrying docking our stations

indeed docked ~


_____________
as for this music:
": Concerto en do majeur, pour 2 violons, 2 flûtes à bec, 2 trompettes, 2 mandolines, 2 salmoe, 2 théorbes, violoncelle, cordes et basse continue. (Tromba Marina)" no one can create it



2009/01/22

of the world night


_________________________


of the world there are many days and nights.

night under cover of night. its dark
a fretting case of blues.
but narcotized by the hours of leanness.
never marking a sport.tenderness showers the thought over the air
as you proceed. marked by each feeling hampered by ankle and foot.
or limbed in the proxy of wool. carried by sheep. hefted by wain
righting scolders not scholars and the empty of war.
your ruin is this space where the gathered men speak pencils. no wrecking ball
lifts the bacillus above the tent that's ruining the floor. up the shadowed airs
come reveled by their pleasures not sick of the ruin.


how this mouth peaches. or covers its bane
not the stuttered keep of shirts.
or the luxurious swan of lakes
but solitude its mate .


inside the man's head a lake. woman
the wrapping round her endless infinite mercy.
her love fared the busted wound . savoured by its nurture.
recovered and covered overcome overcomed ~ .


____________________




Laura Betti legge una poesia di Pasolini - Marilyn

I've come across this tribute to love , beauty , and desire
Pasoiline Marilyn Pasoline Laura Betti
mighty force of lyric
passion ruptured by the lent of desire

Laura Betti-Legge-Marilyn-di Pier Paolo Pasolini




Del mondo antico e del mondo futuro
era rimasta solo la bellezza, e tu,




03:03

povera sorellina minore,
quella che corre dietro ai fratelli più grandi,
e ride e piange con loro, per imitarli,
e si mette addosso le loro sciarpette,
tocca non vista i loro libri, i loro coltellini,
tu sorellina più piccola,
quella bellezza l’avevi addosso umilmente,
e la tua anima di figlia di piccola gente,
non hai mai saputo di averla,
perché altrimenti non sarebbe stata bellezza.
Sparì, come un pulviscolo d’oro.
Il mondo te l’ha insegnata.
Così la tua bellezza divenne sua.
Dello stupido mondo antico
e del feroce mondo futuro
era rimasta una bellezza che non si vergognava
di alludere ai piccoli seni di sorellina,
al piccolo ventre così facilmente nudo.
E per questo era bellezza, la stessa
che hanno le dolci mendicanti di colore,
le zingare, le figlie dei commercianti
vincitrici ai concorsi a Miami o a Roma
Spari’, come una colombella d’oro.
Il mondo te l’ha insegnato,
e così la tua bellezza non fu più bellezza.
Ma tu continuavi ad esser bambina,
sciocca come l’antichità, crudele come il futuro,
e fra te e la tua bellezza posseduta dal potere
si mise tutta la stupidità e la crudeltò del presente
te la portavi sempre dietro come un sorriso tra le lacrime
impudica per passività, indecente per obbedienza.
Sparì come una bianca ombra d’oro.
La tua bellezza sopravvissuta del mondo antico,
richiesta dal mondo futuro, posseduta
dal mondo presente, divenne così un male.
Ora i fratelli maggiori finalmente si voltano,
smettono per un momento i loro maledetti giochi,
escono dalla loro inesorabile distrazione,
e si chiedono: “È possibile che Marilyn,
la piccola Marilyn ci abbia indicato la strada?”
Ora sei tu, la prima, tu la sorella più piccola, quella
che non conta nulla, poverina, col suo sorriso,
sei tu la prima oltre le porte del mondo
abbandonato al suo destino di morte.

--------------------------------------



via archivo

[da Pier Paolo Pasolini Bestemmia, Tutte le poesie, Garzanti, Milano 1993]

to yours

_____________________


in these dark day

we seek light. as it
come. roun here your ending
bending
bedding
this budding
over here
yore arm
so far
.
a kiss i've flung
this sonnet off the edge of the bed
to yours ~


_______________
i remember letters you sent
i've never forgot phrases come
over me waterfalling in midst of day's shrubbery bramble
as i ve walked into your imagined arms
sweet talk of bliss our love
yours
an d
this narrow arrow of narrative we've
constructed ~

oui et
oui
dans ce cas
l'imaginaire est plus
réel/réelle;
femmas
maskmasque
toi
la
ta bouche
tes levres






_______________






2009/01/19

in fur










you might have teeth
but ihave rain
none have suchathing as
cupping in their romantic part
o r
gilded by fleur-de-lys -------------------- Mona in fur

piss onthe counter
of beckoning
reckoning other pick
rings
___________________________ others pretend person
but we have personae and horn bullhorned
as cow do pathc
or ruminate the hour ~

kale away my lovelies
we know better how roving goeth
in theunderstanding of better

----------------------------



2009/01/18

of you




thoughts of you

all day
and
day
and talk of you







________________
I did not forget ~
____________
ever
ever













2009/01/17

u n i v er s e



Mister Goya __________________













the coldest day i
n the


















2009/01/16

in the cold



_____________________________

in the cold

make bells for freedom

columns for immanence
democracy belling for love

as winter's bitter feet
pound the death out of others
end their sobs on the pulling of time
end the god of before to the god of now


good by e god of ever before
(and) yer demons and demonic force

end yer demon grip on history women children men lines of flight that lassoed
the history of hate

end that demon deity

bring joy to plus
every passing truck

__________________________________






Au milieu de l' Empire__ au milieu of gradua l.. empire ... ending....

A HOmer Run for the Trojan lines of flight zippin roun empiRe as it dissolves its bodies stratifiCation and deaths ~ pulchritutidinous mulititudinous mulitplyin full body organless of the earth of peopling swelling roaring around the earth's hoary hand
_______________________________________



--------------------- Greece Greece Greece


thinking breathing living alive ~

"Quelques clefs pour comprendre la révolte-jeune de Décembre 2008 en Grèce

La Grèce est probablement pour la première fois depuis la Junte des Colonels 1967-1974 à l’ affiche des médias internationaux, X des politiques et des chercheurs en sciences sociales en tant que société moderne et non plus en tant que société balkanique ou méditerranéenne .

Erigé en exemple éventuellement précurseur à travers la révolte-jeunes de Décembre 2008 la Grèce se désenclave des représentations en termes d’ antiquité et de folklore touristique.

La révolte très violente qui s’est propagée dans toutes les grandes villes du pays du samedi 6 au vendredi 12 décembre 2008 a sur plusieurs plans déclenché des questionnements sociétaux refoulés ou avortes depuis plusieurs décennies. L’ impératif d’un questionnement sociétal ne peut plus être escamoté."


via

griots at twitter

and

On the greek riots

Irregular updates and articles on the situation in Greece, in English

and open anthropology


_______________
other media
here subMedia.tv/stimulator/
&
grit tv ~




___________________

---------------

and centre for media alternatives Indymedia Quebec Montreal

2009/01/15

not






t
his is the world

(the world's war)

the way

of
world

and power


but not glory
not glory

no
not



glory



nor glorious
but

gore's visage







beyond explanation

past reparation













shame



shame shame

shame and

shame for their

shame for their

burning

shame for their

deaths

shame for
their pain

________________________________________________________

and



The horror not the glory
the powerlessness not the power ~





2009/01/14

sun and




are you writing poetry mister duffy? mister duffy is writing poetry mozart. on e has to hope


to write. create. compose the repose of gardenia . as flower to flood garden. or working the rill of peopled sunsets




He is thinking her even if not. His body is tuned to a sky he's not met. yet.
So then all his poem is a love song for her.




____________there is a space between

every thing




________________









the sun



the coldest day turns out to be the sunniest ...

how the sun shines...

and i think of one I have not spoken with in so long...

2009/01/13

full

An almost full moon
over the city
sky
blue deep

deep as blue can be
night time nighttime
blowing gusts of wind along the avenue
it whistles wind

one cannot say this thing
one can be it ~

then one breathes ~





______________
________________________

Montreal Paris




Montreal ~ 12:24 a.m.
Paris 06:24 a.m.



________________________

_________________


2009/01/12

how to spell pell mell

`




you dont know how to spell Mister D




`

RecallToPoetry ReC All rE CaLl: circuit a fictional poem

O so you've created another carte?
une autre fiction des peres et meres
de la mere
the sea as tree
as we we us we then us
us oui yes O oui yes

circuit a fictional poem

you 've come to the sea
arranging your hair

as this willow peeking
knows namin has no end
it's still this piece
round your ass
holds up the circus
this way there is no one wrong .

playing with yourself
curlers round the bramble s of your bidden body
you know no foster-home can take it you ~
you are fake to my fair
on your knees
on your knees
squeeze the circus dry
apologize ~



2

going to your bed
naked you'll pretend not calling my name
your hand'll slide around your ass

smooth as any silken sock we become vulgar in love ~

come to my mistle-toe darling~


2009/01/10

the valley




___________________

Canada is a strange place. All the children are silver. All the knight's remnant. each is eye to silver. Argent on plate. Valiant
cavalier to the last hour.




Canada was a place of ice storm wind. North. South rim roun wind. Was russian in its orthodox but blissful in its seat. No one knew it. . .



______
Each air is a foxy trail ~

_____________________

We have no government in this place, as this place don't exist. Exit all storms globalbarbarian warming surging  .. the east shall have the west?

losing time

 close to the bet

twists each sinew

renfrew

_______________














heart to heart

the[i]re



there is night
there




>their night is death

2009/01/07

Notre Musique ~



---------------------
Notre Musique de Jean Luc(k!) GOD ard. Mist God Luck!
--------------------------
I''ve been watching this movie in clip form for about two weeks. There are movies by Godard that I have seen that seem to have become a part of my own consciousness. Snow is a part of my conscioussness. the world is a snowfall a blizzard.a tirade. a smooth wind butting tenderly against the weakness of death.


had a sore ankle the other day. was very bad. better now. snow and blow outside. inside ok . well ... so we go here there and here to pick up things. proVISIOns as if winter would never end.

people wear running shoes all winter.



is there a poem in there somewhere Mister Death?
do you die every day in your dying
loneliness

does madness grip man like a monkey beat?

____________________




2009/01/06

but

-----------------------------------------------------------



but ill turn death into our loving arms
as i sea
wreath each day it's breath across names and numbers


______________________________________________

if

Are you eyeless in Gaza?

is this how the pure pyramid reverts?
its caring seeing eye death?

warranties make death's warranties glad for its making
breast burned around the north
around the mouths of teething babes

2009/01/04

i ...




I have come to kiss you

under death's blanket


_______________



but







but night would become day ~








and so it does































2009/01/02

this night ~

________________________________
___________________________________________________
________________________________________



this night called winter ~


_________________________________
_____________________