since i cannot express myself, i'll let others do it for me
i'm in a quoting mood
Antigone
Happiness is the shortest candle of all:
light for one minute, then darkness.
*
passion always wins the fight;
passion ravishes all.
you pass the night on the soft cheeks of a girl;
you wander over the sea and visit the
haunts of those who live in the wild.
no immortal can escape you,
nor that creature of day - man.
all who are passion's slaves are mad.
*
why should i try to soothe you with kind words which will later make me a liar? Truth is always best.
Howl - Allen Ginsberg
(an amazing beatnik poem that i hate to break up...)
who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty
incantations which in the yellow morning were
stanzas of gibberish,
*
who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot
for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks
fell on their heads every day for the next decade
*
with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book
flung out of the tenement window, and the last
door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone
slammed at the wall in reply and the last fur-
nished room emptied down to the last piece of
mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted
on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that
imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of
hallucination --
*
I'm with you in Rockland
in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-
journey on the highway across America in tears
to the door of my cottage in the Western night
****
Antigone
Happiness is the shortest candle of all:
light for one minute, then darkness.
*
passion always wins the fight;
passion ravishes all.
you pass the night on the soft cheeks of a girl;
you wander over the sea and visit the
haunts of those who live in the wild.
no immortal can escape you,
nor that creature of day - man.
all who are passion's slaves are mad.
*
why should i try to soothe you with kind words which will later make me a liar? Truth is always best.
Howl - Allen Ginsberg
(an amazing beatnik poem that i hate to break up...)
who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty
incantations which in the yellow morning were
stanzas of gibberish,
*
who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot
for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks
fell on their heads every day for the next decade
*
with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book
flung out of the tenement window, and the last
door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone
slammed at the wall in reply and the last fur-
nished room emptied down to the last piece of
mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted
on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that
imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of
hallucination --
*
I'm with you in Rockland
in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-
journey on the highway across America in tears
to the door of my cottage in the Western night
****