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Archive for December, 2012

 

Narciso, parole di burro
Si sciolgono sotto l’alito della passione
Narciso trasparenza e mistero
Cospargimi di olio alle mandorle e vanità
Modellami…
Raccontami le storie che ami inventare
Spaventami
Raccontami le nuove esaltanti vittorie
Conquistami,inventami, dammi un’altra identità
Stordiscimi,disarmami e infine colpisci
Abbracciami ed ubriacami di ironia e sensualità
Narciso, parole di burro
Nascondono proverbiale egoismo nelle intenzioni
Narciso, sublime apparenza
Ricoprimi di eleganti premure e sontuosità
Ispirami
Raccontami le storie che ami inventare
Spaventami
Raccontami le nuove esaltanti vittorie
Conquistami inventami, dammi un’altra identità
Stordiscimi, disarmami e infine colpisci
Abbracciami ed ubriacami di ironia e sensualità
Abbracciami ed ubriacami di ironia e sensualità
Conquistami
Conquistami
Conquistami


Narcissus, buttered words
Melt under the breath of passion
Narcissus, transparency and mystery
Cover me with almond oil and vanity
Mold me
Tell me the stories you love to make up
Scare me
Tell me about your new exciting victories
Conquer me, invent me, give me another identity
Numb me, disarm me, and finally hit
Embrace me and intoxicate me with irony and sensuality

Narcissus, buttered words
Hide the proverbial egoism in your intentions
Narcissus, sublime pretense
Cover me with elegant cares and sumptuousness
Inspire me
Tell me the stories you love to make up
Scare me
Tell me about your new exciting victories
Conquer me, invent me, give me another identity
Numb me, disarm me, and finally, hit
Embrace me and intoxicate me with irony and sensuality
Conquer me
Conquer me
Conquer me



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Between Two Waters

This song is a whole lifetime,
and this is how I want to live.

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Splendid Solstice

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Islamic Muqarna.



I commit to share words and actions of Love on December 20, 21 and 22 .

Check out the 3 Days of Love Pledge:
threedaysoflove.com

And here is a meditation for the heart for the next two days ❤

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How to pin a heart to a sleeve. Ink on Paper. 2002

How to pin a heart to a sleeve. Ink on Paper. 2002

Reblogged from : The Subject Tonight is Love.

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Sketch for armband tattoo. December 2012.

tattooweb

Pattern for armband tattoo. December 2012

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Anywhere

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Experiments with digital India ink/ Constellations. November 2012



Songs of Redemption


“I don’t want forever. I want now, now and now.”
From ‘Aimee and Jaguar’


Father forgive me
for I have
sinned.

He sang to me
– the thought of him,
chorus to my days
as a coffee shop poet.

How much water can a hand hold?
Words fill my eyes,
yet do not find him.

My eyes look for his eyes.

I write his name on disparate surfaces.

The prelude of a shadow across my frosted window…
these are my ravings.

The india ink valleys of his shoulders,
the untenable rolling hills of his back –
the ache of swimming in that night sea.

Dream,  where do you come from?
Youth,  mortal god of Beauty,
we are snatching strands of happiness
we are grasping at icicles.

In a parallel universe
we are together
-craft parallel poems to impossible loves-
In a next life,
perhaps,
he says.

Take it lightly, he says
‘Take it in.’ when he holds me,
expanded heart,
but my shoulders have carried
the weight of the world.

We are separated by a layer of ice,
it melts when you look at me.

Dark, glacial waters lurk underneath
where your arms couldn’t keep me warm,
or reach me,
a shipwreck on the Artic.

That night I dreamt of kind, dirty angels
of kissing you, and I just kissed you.

It is bitter poison
to separate
Soul
from
Soul.

You told me about moon and tides,
our gravitational pull.
I cannot escape the moon or the sea:
they find each other.

Water bearer, I dip my toe in the warm water.
Engage or not engage,
it all plays out with the inevitability
of a slow-motion accident.

Lightbearer, I take this December Sun
as I take you in.

Summer will come,
the contingency of
your scent of roasted coffee beans
– you taste like clouds.

I am not sleeping tonight-
Honey, I slept for five years-
there are verses on this bedroom walls I must write down,
your forbidden cities


These are no walls, baby,
But canvases
.

The job of bomb defusers
Is not an easy one.
I am a terrible accountant-
All I want is your eyes.

When the inner house is in order
There is nothing that can’t be accomplished.
Yet I am empty as the house is
after the guests have left:
this, you must know, is the condition of woman.

You said all that I dreamed of
will happen,
the beauty of rugged, imperfect things
the definition of uncertainty.
We are exercises in waiting

Meanwhile, I open doors I can neither enter
nor close.

Stalemate:
If we are
why do I not see you,
will the forgetting fog
swallow you too?

Dance inside of me-
If words are all we have
let us use them.



San Diego, December 2012





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The Bird

By Al-Nashashibi



I have a house,  I have a tree where a bird every
morning comes to say hello.

Every morning I enjoy his singing and I think…
is it by accident that this bird pays me a visit everyday?

One morning behold
the bird landed on the tree, looked into my eyes
and talked.

“There are no accidents; there is a reason for everything
that happens… I came to enrich your life threefold. ”

“Who sent you?” I asked.

“Your needs,” he replied.




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Enhanced still from 'Albert Nobbs'.



And, in the dawn, armed with a burning patience, we shall enter the splendid cities.

Arthur Rimbaud



Only burning patience will allow us to conquer a splendid happiness.

Martha Medeiros



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