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Repentance means a change of mentality
"Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!" Man, and even the best Christian, has a tendency to order himself inwardly in order to create a system. From a spiritual perspective this is death, because the system does not allow you to benefit spiritually. Repent means to overthrow the system, so that nothing remains standing; it means a change of mind, of vision, of thoughts, a change of our whole being. We need to leave behind our mentality of "belonging" to ourselves and live as we wish - in which case our only concern is how to maintain a false relationship with God - and we must return equally, honestly and truly to God. The kingdom of God will not come to our souls, nor will our souls enter the kingdom of God unless we repent. The point is that God's grace begins to flow into our souls. And this can happen within us through the most usual things. That is, only by saying our prayers: Our Father, Lord, have mercy, etc. However, we must continue to do, to insist on these family practices, until the springs of heaven open up. To begin with repentance means: I will get up in the morning and stand before God as if it were the first day of my life, but also as if it were the last. I will stand humbly, praying and trusting in myself with God, waiting for Him to have mercy on me. And, wonder, the time will come when our souls will open and we will experience true inner repentance and we will feel what it means to have communion with God.
* Symeon Kragiopoulos (Orthodox Archimandrite - † 2005
De repente intentó aprender la Ligereza, maravillosa virtud existencial que consiste en saber vivir el presente con plenitud serena…
Rosa Montero – La ridícula idea de no volver a verte
Please read this. It is important.
Charles Spurgeon:
This chapter speaks to many people who know nothing of peace, for “there is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked” (Isa. 57:21). “The wicked is like the troubled sea, which cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt.” I do not address this to you with any desire of making a false peace with your souls. Woe to the prophets who say, “Peace, peace, when there is no peace!” (Jer. 6:14). Rather let me, first of all, expose the warring state of your soul that is without peace.
O soul! You are at war with your conscience. You have tried to quiet it, but it will prick you. You have shut up the recorder of the town of Mansoul in a dark place, and you have built a wall before His door. Still, when he has His fits, your conscience will thunder at you and say, “This is not right; this is the path that leads to hell; this is the road to destruction.” Oh! there are some of you to whom conscience is like a ghost, haunting you by day and night. You know the good, though you choose the evil. You prick your fingers with the thorns of conscience when you try to pluck the rose of sin. To you the downward path is not an easy one; it is hedged up and ditched up. There are many bars and gates and chains on this road but you climb over them, determined to ruin your own souls.
Oh, there is war between you and conscience. Conscience says, “Turn,” but you say, “I will not.” Conscience says, “Alter this system of trade, it is cheating.” Conscience says, “Lie not one to another, for the Judge is at the door.” Conscience says, “Away with that drinking cup, it makes the man into something worse than a brute.” Conscience says, “Rip yourself from that unchaste connection, be done with that evil, bolt your door against lust;” but you say, “I will drink the sweet though it damns me. I will go still to my haunts, though I perish in my sins.”
There is war between you and your conscience. Still your conscience is God’s vicegerent in your soul. Let conscience speak a moment or two this morning. Fear him not, he is a good friend to you, and though he speak roughly, the day will come when you will know that there is more music in the very roarings of conscience than in all the sweet and enticing tones that lust adopts to cheat you to your ruin. Let your conscience speak.
But more, there is war between you and God’s law. The Ten Commandments are against you this morning. The first one comes forward and says, “Let him be cursed, for he denies me. He has another God besides me. His God is His belly; he yields homage to His lust.” All the Ten Commandments, like ten great cannons, are pointed at you today, for you have broken all God’s statutes, and lived in the daily neglect of all His commands.
Soul! You will find it a hard thing to go to war with the law. When the law came in peace, Sinai was completely in smoke, and even Moses said, “I do exceedingly fear and quake” (Heb 12:21). What will you do when the law comes in terror, when the trumpet of the archangel shall tear you from your grave, when the eyes of God will burn their way into your guilty soul, when the great books shall be opened, and all your sin and shame shall be published? Can you stand against an angry law in that day? When the officers of the law will come forth to deliver you up to the tormentors, and cast you away forever from peace and happiness, sinner, what will you do? Can you dwell with everlasting fires? Can you abide the eternal burning? Oh,
“agree with your adversary quickly, whiles you are in the way with him: lest at any time the adversary deliver you to the judge, and the judge deliver you to the officer, and you be cast into prison. Verily I say unto you, you shalt by no means come out thence, till you have paid the uttermost farehing.” (Matt. 5:25-26)
But, sinner, do you know that you are this morning at war with God? He that made you and was your best friend you have forgotten and neglected. He has fed you, and you have used your strength against him. He has clothed you, — the clothes you have upon your back today are the garb of His goodness — yet, instead of being the servant of Him whose garments you wear, you are the slave of His greatest enemy. The very breath in your nostrils is the loan of His charity, and yet you use that breath perhaps to curse Him, or at the best, in lewdness or loose conversation, to do dishonor to His laws. He who made you has become your enemy through your sin, and you are still today hating him and despising His Word.
You say, “I do not hate him.” Soul, I charge you then, “believe in the Lord Jesus Christ.” “No,” you say, “I cannot, I will not do that! “Then you hate Him. If you loved him, you would keep His great command. “His commandments are not grievous” (1 John 5:3), they are sweet and easy. You would believe in His Son if you did love the Father, for “everyone that loveth the Father loveth him also that is begotten of him” (1 John 5:1).
Are you at war with God in this way? Surely this is a sorry plight for you to be in. Can you meet Him who comes against you with ten thousand? Can you stand against Him who is Almightly, who makes heaven shake at His reproof, and breaks the crooked serpent with a word? Do you hope to hide from Him? “Can any hide in secret places, that I shall not see him? saith the Lord” (Jer. 23:24). Though you dive into the caverns of the sea, He will there command the crooked serpent, and it will bite you. If you make your bed in hell, He will find you out. If you climb to heaven, He is there. (Ps. 130:8). Creation is your prison house, and He can find you when He will. Or do you think you can endure His fury? Are your ribs of iron? Are your bones brass? If they are so, they will melt like wax before the coming of the Lord God of hosts, for He is mighty, and as a lion will He tear in pieces His prey, and as a fire will He devour His adversary, “for our God is a consuming fire” (Heb. 12:29).
This, then, is the state of every unconverted man and woman. You are at war with conscience, at war with God’s law, and at war with God himself. And, now, then, as God’s ambassadors, we come to talk of peace. I urge you to give heed. “As though God did beseech you by me, I pray you, in Christ’s stead, be you reconciled to God.” (2 Cor. 5:20).
Look and listen. It is Christ speaking to you now. I think I hear Him speak to some of you. This is the way He speaks, “Soul, I love you; I love you from my heart, I would not have you at enmity with my Father.” The tear proves the truth of what He states, while He cries, “How often would I have gathered you, as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wing, but you would not” (Matt. 23:37). “Yet,” He says, “I come to treat with you of peace. Come, now, and let us reason together. (Isa. 1:18). I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of David. (Isa. 55:3). Sinner,” He says, “you are bidden now to hear God’s note of peace to your soul, for thus it runs — ‘You are guilty and condemned; will you confess this? Are you willing to throw down your weapons now, and say, Almighty God, I yield, I yield, I would no longer be Your foe?’ If so, peace is proclaimed to you. “Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him turn unto the Lord, for he will have mercy upon him, and to our God, for He will abundantly pardon.” (V. 7) Pardon is freely presented to every soul who sincerely repents of his sin; but that pardon must come to you through faith.
So Jesus stands here, points to the wounds upon His breast, and spreads His bleeding hands. He says, “Sinner, trust in me and live!” God no longer proclaims to you His fiery law, but His sweet, His simple gospel, which is “believe and live.” “He that believeth on the Son is not condemned, but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God” (John 3:18). “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whosoever believeth on him should not perish, but have eternal life” (vv. 14-15).
O soul! does the spirit of God move in you this morning? Do you say, “Lord, I would be at peace with you?” Are you willing to take Christ on His own terms in the matter, and give yourself up, body, soul, and spirit, to be saved by Him? Now, if my Master were here visibly, I think He would plead with you in such a way that you would say, “Lord, I believe; I would be at peace with you.” But even Christ Himself never converted a soul apart from the Holy Spirit, and even he as a preacher won not many to him, for they were hard of heart. If the Holy Ghost is present as you are reading this, He may as much bless you when I plead in Christ’s stead as though he pleaded Himself.
Soul! Will you have Christ or not? Young men, young women, you may never hear about this Word again. Will you die at enmity against God? You who are sitting there, still unconverted, you may never see tomorrow. Would you go into eternity “enemies to God by wicked works (Col. 1:21)?” Soul! will you have Christ or not? Say “No,” if you mean it. Say “No, Christ, I never will be saved by You.” Say it. Look the matter in the face. But I pray you do not say, “I will give no answer.” Come, give some answer this very moment — yes, this very moment. Thank God you can give an answer. Thank God that you are not in hell. Thank God that your sentence has not been pronounced — that you have not received what you have deserved. God help you to give the right answer!
Will you have Christ or not? “I am not fit.” There is no question of fitness; it is, will you have Him? “My heart is black.” He will come into your black heart and clean it. “Oh, but I am hard-hearted.” He will come into your hard heart and soften it. Will you have Him? You can have Him if you will. When God makes a soul willing, it is a clear proof that He means to give Christ to that soul, and if you are willing He is not unwilling. If He has made you willing, you may have Him. “Oh,” says one, “I cannot think that I might have Christ.” Soul, you may have Him now. Mary, he calls you! John, he calls you! Sinner, whoever you may be reading this, if there is a holy willingness towards Christ in your soul, or if there is even a faint desire towards Him, He calls you, He calls you! Oh, do not tarry, but come and trust in Him.
Oh, if I had such a gospel as this to preach to lost souls in hell, what an effect it would have upon them! Surely, surely, if they could once more have the Gospel preached in their ears, I think the tears would wet their poor cheeks, and they would say, “Almighty God, if we may but escape from Your wrath, we will lay hold on Christ.” But here it is preached among you, preached every day, until I fear you listen to it as an old, old story. Perhaps it is my poor way of telling it; but God knows, if we knew how to tell it better, we would do so. O my Master, send better ambassadors to people, if that will woo them. Send more earnest pleaders, and more tender hearts, if that will bring them to Yourself! But oh! bring them, bring them! Our hearts long to see them brought.
Sinner, will you have Christ or not? This morning is the time of God’s power to some of your souls, I know. The Holy Spirit is striving with some of you. Lord, win them, conquer them, overcome them! Do you say, “Yes, happy day! I want to be led in triumph, captive to my Lord’s great love?” Soul, it is done, if you believe. Trust Christ, and your many sins are all forgiven you. Cast yourself before His dear cross, and say —
“A guilty, weak, and helpless worm, Into your arms I fall;
Be you my strength and righteousness, My Jesus and my all.”
And if He rejects you, tell of it. If He refuses you, let us hear it. There was never such a case yet. He always has received those who come. He always will. He is an openhanded and an openhearted Savior.
O sinner, may God bring you to put your trust in Him once for all! Spirits above! Tune your harps anew. There is a sinner born to God this morning. Lead the song, O Saul of Tarsus! And follow the sinner with sweetest music, O Mary! Let music roll up before the throne today; for it is there that heirs of glory are born, and prodigals have returned! To God be the glory forever and ever! Amen.
La repentance pour les anciens monuments devrait passer par une véritable politique d'envergure pour le patrimoine, qui fut pendant si longtemps mal restauré. Pour une question matérielle, de temps et d'argent, pendant le XIXe et une partie du XXe siècle, le mortier de chaux a été remplacé par du ciment, voire du béton. Les restaurations pour les joints et les enduits s'en servirent largement. Or, ces matériaux modernes sont incompatibles avec ces maçonneries anciennes, car elles piègent l'humidité dans la pierre, provocant la destruction depuis l'intérieur de ces blocs.
Nous pouvons notamment voir ces effets sur ce contrefort de l'église Saint-Denis de Sanvic, où l'enduit en ciment est érodé et laisse apparaître une partie de la maçonnerie calcaire (pierre de Saint-Leu) très malade.
Se o toque do outro de repente for bom? Bom, a palavra é essa. Se o outro for bom para você. Se te der vontade de viver. Se o cheiro do suor do outro também for bom. Se todos os cheiros do corpo do outro forem bons. O pé, no fim do dia. A boca, de manhã cedo. Bons, normais, comuns. Coisa de gente. Cheiros íntimos, secretos. Ninguém mais saberia deles se não enfiasse o nariz lá dentro, a língua lá dentro, bem dentro, no fundo das carnes, no meio dos cheiros. E se tudo isso que você acha nojento for exatamente o que chamam de amor? Quando você chega no mais íntimo, No tão íntimo, mas tão íntimo que de repente a palavra nojo não tem mais sentido. Você também tem cheiros. As pessoas têm cheiros, é natural. Os animais cheiram uns aos outros. No rabo. O que é que você queria? Rendas brancas imaculadas? Será que amor não começa quando nojo, higiene ou qualquer outra dessas palavrinhas, desculpe, você vai rir, qualquer uma dessas palavrinhas burguesas e cristãs não tiver mais nenhum sentido? Se tudo isso, se tocar no outro, se não só tolerar e aceitar a merda do outro, mas não dar importância a ela ou até gostar, porque de repente você até pode gostar, sem que isso seja necessariamente uma perversão, se tudo isso for o que chamam de amor. Amor no sentido de intimidade, de conhecimento muito, muito fundo. Da pobreza e também da nobreza do corpo do outro. Do teu próprio corpo que é igual, talvez tragicamente igual. O amor só acontece quando uma pessoa aceita que também é bicho. Se amor for a coragem de ser bicho. Se amor for a coragem da própria merda. E depois, um instante mais tarde, isso nem sequer será coragem nenhuma, porque deixou de ter importância. O que vale é ter conhecido o corpo de outra pessoa tão intimamente como você só conhece o seu próprio corpo. Porque então você se ama também.
Shot taken at Yorba Regional Park in Anaheim California.
I'm in the process of deleting most of my contacts cause it's pointless to keep most of them. Some are great and I'll keep but allot are on the way out. I mean if I don't notice your name cause I've never seen an interesting post or have never gotten a comment from you, what's the point?
Hope your enjoying your week,,,
If you saw a man drowning and you could either save him or photograph the event...what kind of film would you use? -
This is a painting by Henry Utoaluga.
(POEM HOLDING TANK)
CAMERA
This little machine gives the daily
Heaviness some levity. Captures
Moments so perfectly. Images –
Cherish them but beware of them,
They’re just one small part of a
Much bigger picture, one moment
In a much bigger story. Regardless
Of whether the overall story is going
Hopelessly or otherwise, smile for
My lens like it’s going to end happily.
FORMING
Clouds hide the stars tonight. No rain,
Not yet, no wind, just a stillness that
Amplifies any calm or disquiet you came
Here with. In emptiness like this, the
Mind tries to fill in the blanks. So maybe
It’s my imagination, but I think there’s
Something forming in the void. It won’t
Reveal itself, not yet, but I just feel it.
Can’t attach good or bad associations
To it, just have to wait and see. So will
My dread be justified, or will it surprise
Me when out pops something good?
Could be music trying to define itself from
Noise, or meaning seeking to make itself
Clear through chaos. Life itself, they say,
Formed through particles, through like
Minded molecules that just needed time
To cluster around a center before they
Could figure out how they fit together.
If that can happen in a darkness longer
And far more uncertain than ours, then
We have no reason to fear whatever
Might be forming in the void.
WHAT THEY WHISPER ABOUT CHOCOLATE
The depression I didn’t realize I’d been
Carrying around for months suddenly
Vanished after one small cup of my
Friend’s koko samoa. Maybe the old
Family recipe just has a kick to it, but
Suddenly my senses remembered their
Capacity for optimism . Optimism does
Not have to mean being unrealistic, it’s
More of an attitude that even if things
Don’t go your way, you needn’t feed
Your pessimism till you’ve grown fat
On despair without even trying. As far
As mood improvements go, that was
Pretty significant for me. So of course
My first thought was to seek an increased
Koko dose, but rather than court certain
Chocolate addiction, I’d rather adopt a
Chocolate philosophy, i.e. remember the
Sweet regardless of how sour things get.
What’s whispered about the seemingly
Innocent chocolate might not be merely
Old wives’ tales - cook it up right and it’s
Really more like a medicine.
MENEHUNE
The day shift begins before morning
Hoping to make the world right again
In time for another day. So goes the
Myth of the little men who always put
Everything back together so well that
We can’t even tell what a horrendous
Mess was made during the night. If
That reality ever came to light there’d
Be laws to lock up everyone under 30
Between dusk and daybreak. Daybreak
Is a misnomer – what gets broken each
Night? Hearts, wills, confidences, bonds,
Promises, plans, marriages, friendships,
Partnerships, battleships, faith – you
Name it. If someone wasn't repairing as
Much of the damage as they can, then
There'd be no point in any of us getting
Out of bed. Damaging, nasty, careless,
Heartless - don't you ever wonder why
Our whole world doesn't just stop? It's
Little men laboring at their repairs to
Make sure we're back together just as
Fast as we all fall apart. It's not just for
This endless work that each of these
Little men truly deserves a medal, it's
Also for knowing the truth but never
Giving up on us.
PROVE
I can’t prove clouds don’t have emotions
When they drop rain, can’t prove roaches
Mean to be rude, can’t prove fish deny the
Existence of nets, can’t prove the desert lets
Its winds whip its sands from malice. Can’t
Prove if barking is ever justified or just an
Indulgence, nor whether a breeze means to
Be nice on purpose or is just being itself. So
Much I can’t prove, no wonder I anticipate
Skepticism. There’s really no right or wrong,
True or false, or good or bad, is there? It just
Depends on the circumstances. There’s only
What’s agreed upon or not. If only we could
Agree on something, anything, who knows
What else might fall into place? But if you
Want proof, you’ll have to ask a scientist. As
For me, I’d only say, I see it like this, do you?
POLAR BEAR
Life on the ice isn't as cold when you
Don't waste your warmth. I should
Know, I'm a Polar Bear. It isn't so
Empty if you see a different kind of
Fullness. You say it's barren but I'm
Not starving. Not to brag but you need
To know where to look to sustain
Your life on the ice. My only worry is
This rumbling that shakes the cold
Ground. The volcano has to either
Melt its way through or take it's fire
Somewhere else. Isn't this earth a
Contradiction? So warm deep within,
With a surface so cold. Just like some
People we know? I don't blame them.
After all, you just survive wherever you
Find yourself. I should know, because
I'm a Polar Bear.
WIL – BUR
Truth can be like a horse that
Will take you places you could
Never imagine going. Provided,
Of course, that you don’t find
Yourself flat on your ass every
Time it throws you for a loop.
ESSENCE
Eternal – not subject to our changing
Human moods, nor the evolution of
Our flesh. Has always been there and
Always will be. Temorary – our roles
And our hour upon the stage. In the
Midst of grand illusions, you might
Catch a glimpse of the truth. In the
End it’s all just so much drama, but
The essence of the story lasts long
After lights have dimmed. We may
Change over and over, looking for a
Foothold in this soap opera life, but
The essence never changes, never
Needs to, and any time you like, you
Can return to it. Be true to the
Essence and it will be true to you
LOVE AND WAR
Heart is both weapon and defense when
You enter this fray. Know your weapon
Well, use it wisely. The only thing worse
Than receiving the wound that’s hardest
To heal is knowing you’ve given it. At least
Those wounded in war still long to fight
Another day, but woe to those wounded
In love who no longer care whether they
Continue or simply cease.
FORMULAS
Would you love me if I was always on TV?
Would you love me if I played rugby? Would
You love me if I had the money to buy you
An elephant? Would you love me if I had
Big muscles? A King Dong like King Kong?
Would you love me if I needed love to get
Off drugs? Would you live me if everyone
Else did? If no one else did? Would you
Love me if I spanked your bare butt with a
Belt for being bad, like your daddy did? If I
Punished you for being bad? If I forgave
You for being bad? How ‘bout if I was the
Baddest badass in the history of badness?
How ‘bout if I said you were sacred to me?
Is it fair I have to figure through so many
Formulas for yours when all you have to
Do is be yourself?
PAPER
Papers rule my life, my whole being
Is just a series of papers. Thank you
Trees for turning into paper, Term
Paper, rolling paper, news paper, wall
Paper, paper plates, certificates of birth,
Death and divorce. Diplomas. Pages
And pages of unfinished poems. Hey
My blank page dear, it sure looked good
On paper. Paper tiger. Someone cut me
Out of the paper and said now you're
Printed material made flesh. When I die
Please wrap me in paper and offer me
On special at KS with the frozen fish.
Maybe the one I love will fry me for her
Sunday feast and finally our flesh will
Become one until she flushes me out
After wiping away my last traces with
Paper.
NOTES
You can never force a true harmony,
Only sing what you’d sing anyway,
Let someone else sing what they’d
Sing with or without you, and the
Notes either blend naturally or not.
Same old song since Adam and Eve,
But our notes make it new and the
Harmony makes it ours.
WATER
Water, fall from the sky. Life,
Rooted or otherwise, needs
What you bring. Water, go
Underground. Cool the Earth
And she’ll hide you away from
The jealous sun wanting to
Take you back no sooner than
You’re given. Water, make me
Clean. Get beneath the dirt,
Flow. Nothing is dirty by nature,
Only by design or neglect, and
Even the purest water joins as
A river to find the sea together..
CONVENTIONAL
If conventional would make you
Comfortable, then curse anything
Original in me. Out, unconventional,
Halu! Fee, fi, fo, fidual, I smell the
Blood of an individual. I stopped
Paying attention to convention long
Ago, much to my own detriment,
But now I want to repent. Please
Lord let me be average again. I want
To be normal. I want to be boring, to
Blend in, to not be noticed, except
By you. Let me be so well adjusted
And healthy in mind, body and
Haircut it’s sickening. Being myself
For better or worse has been bad for
My social standing, so Convention,
Please lock me in the cage of your
Protective embrace. Convention,
Take me to your ample breasts so
Like a typical faceless citizen I can
Suck to my heart’s content.
MONSTER
Last time I checked there wasn’t
A trail of dead bodies in my wake,
Nor broken hearts like bread crumbs
Leading back to a hidden lair in the
Forest of doomed love. So I’m at a
Loss as to what kind monster you
Think I am, and why. But all that
Frankenstein had to do to scare
Someone was just be himself.
BREAKFAST BIRDS
Birds in the morning flock to steal my dogs’
Breakfast, cause my canines are so occupied
Eating they don't notice the thievery. Eating
Is contagious - when one feeds, others want in
On the act. Like when love gives off its warm
Glow that others can’t help but find attractive
Too. When two feed, twice as many want in
On the act. Usually we see sharing as positive,
And want to let our friends in on our good thing.
But just because birds are remarkably consistent
In contributing their saxophone impressions and
Little hip hop moves every morning, is this from
Friendship or just a free breakfast?
PAINTER
Long before entering politics, Hitler
Wanted to be a painter. It’s true! I
Looked it up. As a very young man,
Hitler loved art, music, architecture,
And his country’s history. For awhile
He tried making a living by selling his
Watercolors on the streets of Vienna.
He wasn’t very successful, but one of
His watercolors has survived and you
Can see it online. That watercolor, to
Me, looks skillful enough, but twice the
University of Vienna rejected Hitler, said
His work lacked sufficient evidence of
Ability, crushing is aspiration to paint
Seriously. Instead he enlisted in the
Amy and the rest is history. 5.5 million
Killed. It would be unfair to blame the
University of Vienna (how could they
Have known), but still it's tempting to
Speculate on how differently history
Could have turned out had Hitler
Been able to stick to his painting.
RIFLE
I can see it clearly and I don’t
Like it, but clarity is the kind of
Dangerous gift you just have to
Learn how to handle. It’s like
When you’re given a rifle, you
Can use it to terrorize or to put
Food on the table.
CUT
First just a tiny one to remind me I’m
Not afraid of pain. Growing numb
Terrifies me more. Look, my body is
Liquid, it flows. Color small crimson
Hearts on m arm – your Valentine’s
Card. Cut deeper, somewhere no one
Will see the scars, my tattoos of your
Gain at my loss. Cut your name into
My skin – I’m your billboard dripping
Red. Cut open a window so this bird
Of prey eating me inside can fly into
The night.
BREAKFAST
Cereal and milk welcome the day
With a dip together. Toast opens
Itself to richness from butter, then
Feels a little tart from jam. Omelet
Anticipates a special sauce bringing
Out hidden nuances in its warm mix
Of flavors. Coffee takes in its two
Favorites, sugar for sweetness and
Cream to mellow its edge. I finish
Them all off. We’ll do it again
Tomorrow, promise.
MARAE
Everyone deserves a place of safety for their
Relationship to the eternal. Somewhere the
Spirits of that which you cherish most deeply
Are protected and can live and breathe. Here
I stand outside your marae. I call in greeting.
No answer comes from within. Without your
Welcome, I cannot enter. If you judge me as
Unworthy of your sacred ground or displeasing
To your spirits, I will call no more. I leave as I
Came, quietly, with respect. Inside, your spirits
Can hear me, and know my heart and mind. Is
It they who say deny me, or am I one you wish
To hide from them?
THE JUSTICE SYSTEM
When you return to the scene of the
Crime, is it to see if anything’s changed?
No, nothing’s changed – what’s good will
Always be good, and what’s bad is still
Bad. All that changes is our ability to
Tell one from the other.
TALIBAN
What they want is not genuine creativity
Or self expression. What they want is
Politically correct lies. We fight the
Taliban in Afghanistan? Too late! We
Already have them in our back yard.
MANNERS AND MORALS
I wish I could just make you feel good.
Many moons ago, when this all started,
That was sort of the point. Everything
Said and done since then may tend to
Obscure a related point, which is how
Ridiculously easily you could make me
Feel good if you wanted to. I was busy
Calling your manners and morals into
Question, so it may have slipped my
Mind to mention it. But yeah, in those
Few moments where it seemed like
There was something to be optimistic
About, nothing before or since has
Ever felt better. How could I get so
Preoccupied with manners and morals?
Maybe thinking my own had to adhere
To some high standard, but funny how
Little they matter now. In spite of the
Worst possible thoughts I could have
About you, if I thought you could still
Feel good about me then all I’d do is
Try and make you feel good.
PRICELESS
Like a diamond in a shop window I stop
And stare at, something personal makes
This more than just another glittering rock.
It feels like everything meant for me,
Everything I was meant for, so naturally
I start conjuring what the future should
Be, will be, already is. Fatally forgetting
This is not mine yet, as much as I firmly
Believe no one else will ever love it more.
How obscene to see something precious
As this subject to an exchange rate, to be
Lost or gained through trade. This could
Turn me criminal - stick ‘em up mister
And watch me walk away with what you
Only thought was yours. Is any price too
High for what’s priceless? What a tragedy
To see it fall into the hands of one who
Would treat it as worthless, just another
Glittering rock.
NAVIGATING
The word friendship evokes kind winds
And calm seas. It’s friend, someone you
Can be close to, plus ship, something
That travels great distances, certainly
Further than one could swim or paddle
A canoe. Sounds like you and a friend
Can make the voyage together. Sad,
Then, how so many friendships and
Fledgling loves lie shipwrecked on the
Rocky shores of mistrust and betrayal.
Sailing can be dangerous. It’s not clear
Who’s captain and neither of us have
The map, only a compass of the heart.
Stars might guides us or storms could
Throw us off course. Pirates try for a
Piece of us, sirens entice us towards
The rocks for spite and Moby Dick
Rams our ship for sport. The reward
For all the risks is arriving somewhere
We’d never reach alone, provided we
Survive navigating each other’s waters.
BOP TEMPLATE
Jazz rose up from the streets, coming
From somewhere I couldn’t see. This
City’s warm even in the middle of the
Night. So many working at night, in
Reverse of the natural order like bats
Or owls. Ask them if they’d take the
Day shift and they say that’s crazy.
The day is just so much play acting.
You can’t fake it at night, you know.
Night is the truth, where we came
From, where we’re going. Why do
You think a coyote needs moonlight
To sing the blues? Night is the truth,
Man. I nod and follow the streetlights,
Wondering if all those dreams of
Normal people don’t just float in the
Air this time of night, or if some find
Their way into the horns of a jazz
Band during the late set and get
Breathed back out as music .
BULLSHIT GLASSES
In the back of my mind there’s a
Voice saying, “You’re wasting your
Time. Trying to cast your pearls
Before a swine.” That brings out
The part of me that’s stubborn
As a mule (and maybe as stupid)
That says, “No! If she could just
Take off her Bullshit Glasses then
She would see it too. I know it!”
But of course the other side of
That coin is maybe I’m the one
Who can’t take off his own.
STRING THEORY
For better or worse, my poetry comes
Out most naturally when I’m in a highly-
Strung emotional state. This doesn’t
Mean I’m not a fairly reasonable human
Being the rest of the time. Still, I don’t
Recommend a highly-strung emotional
State no matter what it does for your
Poetry. For one thing, it won't work
Wonders on your general affability or
Outlook on life. For another, you have
To check constantly to ensure your
Highly-strung strings haven’t gone out
Of tune, and take caution not to strum
Them so passionately that one of them
Goes pwack and snaps.
(Note: The closest approximation to the sound of a snapping guitar
string is "pwack", although you won't find it in most dictionaries.)
BAD HISTORY MONTH
Do you think a deception
Is any less of a deception
Just because it involves a
Computer? It still becomes
Part of a bad history, one
More nail in the coffin of
Honesty and trust.
DISPOSABLE
Sacrificed again on the altar of your pride,
Only I don’t feel such a holy object. More like
A surrogate for your interests in an offshore
Account. Trying to petition the Gods offering
Breadcrumbs in hope of gold? He who receives
Your sacrifice, on high or down low as you
Decide, knows the difference between what’s
Truly valuable to you and what’s decidedly
Disposable. You’ll be rewarded accordingly
With blessings of the disposable variety.
BOXES
Sometimes people deserve the boxes
We put them in. Other times the boxes
We choose for them say more about us.
Careful not to mislabel. Nothing worse
Than putting a right thing in a wrong box
And shelving it somewhere you’d rather
Forget. Put me in a rubbish box and you
May find one day you’re searching the
Dump in vain for what you threw away.
POEMS
Poems are… Individual flowers from the
Mind’s garden, plus an occasional weed…
Escaping pus from a wound inside that
Won’t heal… Shards of debris from an
Emotional explosion equal to the creation
Of the universe… An SOS from a ghost ship…
Little eruptions of volcanoes undersea
Dreaming of being islands… Notes posted
For God on what you hope and pray is his
Refrigerator… Flying the flag of your true
Self to see who salutes… Something you
Sleepily clean up in the morning from
Your soul’s front porch… Proof positive
So-called sanity, when accepted without
Question, would happily render a death
Sentence on a deeper reality… Usually
Permanence’s enemy, change’s friend…
(Unless it’s the kind of open permanence
That provides poets sanctuary…) Written
In tears, sweat, blood, and other juices we
Can use to make poems in private... All this,
Plus. On and on, on and on, on and on.
JESTER
In medieval times, even a jester toasted by
The court could find himself separated from
His head for saying the wrong thing at the
Wrong moment. Nothing uplifts and nothing
Wounds as surely as humor. The jester’s lot
Was bringing merriment yet stopping short
Of heresy, which must have taken incredible
Insight and skill. He walked a tightrope: be
Funny or starve, but calculate the laughter
Carefully or be stabbed. Can you imagine
What stress the poor jester would come
Under, having to make light of even the
Darkest circumstances? And when a King
Or Queen revealed themselves as the true
Fool, it fell to the jester to save royal face by
Appearing an even bigger clown. I have no
Doubt more than a few monarchs treasured
Their jesters for this very reason. I’ve felt
Making someone else smile was a matter
Of life or death, worried terribly over my
Wording, sensed imminent doom when it
Seemed I’d gotten it wrong. A jester needs
A keen eye for tragedy, given how easily he
Could become one. No wonder even today
So many comics are also alcoholics.
JAGGER AT 70 a/k/a BLUNTLY ON YOUR BIRTHDAY
Yours will remain a most unlikely, most
Amazing tale – two teens (you and Keith)
Inspired to play the devil’s music and
Ending up feted as gods. Was your own
Mephistophelian trade 20 untouchable
Years followed by 30 in exile on main
Street? Did all your satanic majesty
Culminate in artistic bankruptcy amidst
More dough than Robert Johnson would
Have dared to dream of? Sorry I’m so
Blunt on your birthday, but being studied
(Not just a stud) comes with your cultural
Role, and your truest believers still can’t
Figure what happened after Tattoo You.
So what, Sir Mick, if you won’t likely be
Mentioned in history with the same awe
As Picasso or even Muddy? It’s only rock
And roll. Like our own Prometheus,
You’re still rolling - we find something
Oddly comforting in that, even if with
Each push your peaks just grow further
Distant. Meanwhile, naïve believers
Unwisely await miracles, like one more
Stones album worthy of your past to
Silence every told-you-so, to prove it’s
Never too late if you’re not too lazy.
(Note: Jagger and I share the same birth month - July - but I'm on the 9th and he's on the 26th so I'm a Cancer and he's a Leo.)
SUBJECT TO CHANGE WITHOUT NOTICE
An obvious mystery, one’s person’s gold,
Another’s garbage. One man’s madonna,
Another’s whore. One woman’s devotion,
Another’s indifference. All personal, and
If you’re not careful, all subject to change
Without notice.
ALL IN TRADE
Our passions, hopes, time, attention
Exceptions, investments, generosity,
Resilience, forgiveness, willingness to
Risk, all in trade for that one thing we
Haven’t found yet. Your space, special
Places, faithfulness, kisses, intimacy,
Tendency to see the diamond but not
The blood behind it, all in trade for that
One thing you haven’t found yet. The
Devotion I’ve reserved for someone
Deserving, openness when I’m not
Inclined to close up, a skill I learned of
Nurturing, songs I learned from
Loneliness and joy, all in trade for that
That one thing I haven’t found yet, the
One perfect exchange that makes
Everything right, makes sense of the
Mysteries, makes the contradictions
Finally reveal the truths they hide.
DIFFERENCE
Despite all you disbelieve about yourself,
You could still make a difference if you
Wanted to. In case no one’s told you,
Your whole pose is one of indifference.
By all appearances, you don’t care, and
That impression will remain unless you
Try somehow to change it. Neither one
Can win when playing by two different
Sets of rules. Someday when all your
Shit has hit the fan, you’ll understand
How you can’t fight for someone while
You’re also fighting with them. Even if
The effort ends up seeming to not even
Make much difference, the truth will
Always be that you tried, not that you
Simply settled for the hand-outs of fate.
AD INFINITUM
You can find a new friend… And another…
And another… And another ad infinitum,
Till you eventually realize these aren’t
Really friends at all, only bargain hunters
Out to get what they want as easily and
As cheaply as they can. But maybe that’s
All you’re shopping for too. Careful how
You advertise – your brand name already
Has a reputation on the market, thanks
To all the free samples you’ve given. If
You think these friends of yours are truly
Friends, try putting them all in the same
Room together and see how friendly
They are face to face, among those who
They have something in common with.
Or better yet, invite them all to your
Wedding if you ever have one – I’m
Sure you’ll be proud to introduce them
All to your spouse.
MY WORLD
My thoughts have gotten so disjointed,
Like a planet coming apart. My center
Of gravity can’t hold it together. And so
My world goes flying off in a million
Different pieces. I was always trying to
Go in more than one direction at once,
But not like this. I feel the explosion, tear,
Rip, crack in my time-space continuum,
Violence of involuntary end. How there’s
Still a voice to say these words, I don’t
Know. I could already be a ghost. Feels
Like I’ve been away, and I have to admit
The familiar feels more comforting when
You know it won’t last forever, just for
A long time.
SUSPICIONS
Suspicions can be creative. Take information,
Make a story, then feel betrayed by your own
Imagination. My suspicions could fill novels,
Television shows, dramas that leave audiences
Traumatized by the tension. My suspicions
Always seem plausible enough to unnerve me,
So why not the public too? When all is said
And done, I really know nothing, so suspicions
Fill that void, channeling passions like a lost,
Warlike tribe wreaking havoc in anger at being
Denied their homeland, or so they believe.
This is how destruction, emotional or physical,
So easily follows when suspicions inform
Initiative and explode.
PROTECT
Protect your ego by justifying what you’ve
Done as right from your point of view. If
Someone has a different perspective, it’s
Just their problem. They don’t have to
Walk in your shoes. If you walk roughshod
Over someone else’s feelings, it’s just
Their problem. Maybe next time they’ll
Know better than to get in your path. Fine,
You protect your ego and I’ll protect mine.
ALMOST VEGETARIAN
They say Americans spend more on porn
Than they put into their pensions. Ok, so
Much for technology and progress, but if
We’re such sex experts why can’t we get
Our pigs to breed as fast as we eat them?
One more Sunday, no pig on the table at
Louise. Too expensive, I’m told. We have
A pork shortage, something must be done.
Encourage your pigs to be more romantic,
Get them drunk, read them the works of
Anne Rice, play them Marvin Gaye non-
Stop, tell them it’s Valentine’s Day, offer
Honeymoon specials, open more motels,
Tell them the Sexual Revolution happened
In the ‘70s and they’re behind the times.
Guilt trip them into getting it on, whatever
It takes, our plates are lonely. Meanwhile,
The pigs are thinking, why should we breed
Just to be eaten? We won’t contribute to
Your Butthead Buffet. We refuse. What if
The tables were turned and we consumed
All the unwanted fruit of your porn addictions?
The pigs have always wanted to say that,
They just had to find the language.
FREE ASSOCIATION IS ALIVE AND WELL
Fork tongue Nike, window spy whiskey,
Hooligan stadium, rabbit transit, card
Socket, pie face casino night, sliding scale,
Fall through the ice, trash dress muddy,
Front view frog, hard drug drive-thru, milk
Cowboy, shoulder tattoo map, treasure in
Every pack of Cracker Jacks, heron robs
National treasury, Hal open the pod bay
Doors, run away from home and join the
Circus, civil wars and domestic violence,
Homeland insecurity, Merrill Lynch Mob,
Liz Pharisee, every purchase with us a
Guaranteed betrayal of your faith, buy
Now cry later, crocodiles in Manhattan
Sewers, here pussy, bluebird paintbrush,
Able-bodied volunteers needed for
Beaver company, Frankenstein pop singer
Rejuvenates alternative music, cream shirt,
Scream soda, intravenous and Mars, let’s
Go out to the bald game, we interrupt this
Program just because we can, you got a
Problem with that?
WAR STORY
Caught in the crossfire of your
Good and bad selves, I’m just a
Casualty of battle. If Heaven’s
Own angels rebelled, small
Wonder we can’t resist the bad
Side of ourselves. A door more
Easily opened than closed. Like
Money changers in a holy temple,
What you first invited you must
Eventually fight or else surrender
To completely. In the end, good
Usually wins, but bad can make
A memorable stand. Entering
The crossfire means being shot
By both sides, since bullets don’t
Know friend from foe, and in self
Defense you’re advised to just
Keep firing and ask questions
Later. The best I can say is I
Survived, though I wish it all
Had meant more than just
A good war story.
SILVER
The Moon doesn’t hold anger or sadness
In spite of all it’s seen. Know why I shine?
Asks the Moon. Everyone’s troubles have
Rubbed against me since the dawn of time.
In appearance I’m not as constant as my
Cousin the Sun, but he burns like never
Ending passion while I rise, fall, and rise
Again in endless reflection. As I reflect all
I’ve seen, I use the troubles for fuel to
Provide you a light in the darkness. I’m a
Symbol. My cycle is renewal, while Mr. Sun
Might burn out one day if he’s not careful.
COUP
Do you envision a golden future where
Everyone’s forgotten the truth about
You? Most dictators do, but soon their
Own conscience makes them unable to
Settle comfortably into their newfound
Security. Subtly, they feel threatened
Not by what anyone’s done but by what
Everyone knows, not by what anyone’s
Said but by what they suspect you must
Be thinking. There’s no bigger threat to
A liar than those they can rely on to tell
The truth. No bigger threat to a cheater
Than those who play fair. No bigger
Threat to someone drunk on power
(Or just alcohol) than the sober. No
Bigger threat to the guilty than the
Innocent. Everyone must buy in or
Be edited out.
NEW AMUSEMENTS
Hey you Pharisees, if you show up
At my sacred mountain, be sure to
Take off your shoes. With faith you
Can walk on hot coals, but with
Attitude all you’ll find is your fancy
Footwear melted. Be respectful or
You'll regret it. Lightning will fry you
If you run amok at night. Try an orgy
In the forest, as if it's some disco
With trees, and you’ll fall into rivers
Hidden underground full of hungry
Fish who’ll love you. This ain’t no
Disneyland, and it did quite well
Without you before you walked
In acting like you own the place.
STOLEN BY THE SKY
Legend has it craters are the lovers and
Wives of mountains stolen by the sky.
Sheltering them from unsympathetic
Eyes, the moon hides craters within his
Glow. No stranger to separation’s pain,
The moon spends half his time shining
With undeniable brilliance and the other
Half hidden in cold darkness hoping his
Wounds heal in time for his next
Scheduled appearance. And when has
The moon ever kept us waiting? Some
Mothers soothe children to sleep telling
Stories of the craters on the moon. See
How some craters have already made
Room for mountains they still await.
Remember how others, long ago,
Embraced mountains so closely as to
Become one with them, until a black
Hole with a jealous heart, a cosmic
Storm, a hungry magnetic asteroid or
Heaven for reasons unknown reached
Down to snatch the mountains away.
See how easily these craters could catch
All manner of moon and star material to
Fill them again, but curiously, how most
Choose instead to remain empty.
CHILD
The older I get, the more I intuit
That it’s children, not adults, who
Have the right idea. Everything’s
Open, everything’s new, it’s all
One big possibility. Whoever came
Up with the bright idea that we
Have to carve ourselves in stone
When we hit 18 needs a lobotomy
From Dr. Ramone to re-connect
With their inner child. Is insight
That just closes us off really
Insight at all?
INDEX
I never figured clarity of expression
Could come across as so dramatic,
But if I stopped clocks the way I
Stop conversations, the digital age
Would be in for some major shit.
If I like you, I'll say look at it this
Way: no matter how different you
Are, you're still walking on the same
Flowers and stones and breathing
The same air as everyone else.
We're all an index of each other's
Possibilities.This is bad. This is
Good.
UP AGAINST THE WALL STREET IN YOU
The fates have granted me the grace of
Keeping the catastrophe quiet. Declaring
Bankruptcy’s a private matter, even if the
Currency’s only emotions. Feelings subject
To foreclosure. Liquidate these dreams,
They have amusement value. See the
Easily amused nod their approval. They
Can relate to being left holding the bag.
It’s nice they sympathize, and avert their
Eyes as I face an exile of uncertain length.
In exile, one at least has small freedoms.
Returning is not one of them. I can’t see
Anything bringing me back, once I’ve been
Tagged as unmanageable, too risky an
Investment, certain only to compromise
Your profits. In exile, one at least has small
Comforts, like appearing free while serving
A sentence of indefinite confinement inside.
Fools the easily amused, at least. But it’s all
Show, far from sweet, with the bitter taste
Of the incomplete.
SHAKESPEARE SHOE FITS
Strange name, Shakespeare. Evokes images
Of primitives trying to scare off progress, or
To pursue spear as a euphemism, civilized
Males reading Playboy. Seriously, it’s kind
Of comic, the name Shakespeare. A name
Like Deathspeare would be sexier, or
Bloodspeare more macho. But try picture
The enemy quaking in fear hearing
Shakespeare. Doesn’t quite fly. Sounds like
Braveheart shaking his sword, Robin Hood
Shaking his bow, Sir Lancelot shaking his
Lance a lot, the Three Musketeers shaking
Their rapiers or Bonnie and Clyde shaking
Their machine guns. Weapons must be
Scary, not shaken like a martini or a
Maraca. So with the name Shakespeare,
What would you do to be taken seriously?
We don’t know what really drove him, but
Wouldn’t he be having the last laugh if his
True reason for writing so relentlessly was
He was mad at being laughed at? So next
Time you’re angry, channel that negative
Energy into something creative. They might
Still hear your echo 400 years later.
DEFINITION
I’ve always been grateful for my place
In the world, but I never bothered to
Define it, for a statement as to what
I am would be a comparison to what
I am not, and my knowledge of what
I am not is at best surface level, so
Who am I to talk? Thank you for
Telling me who I am. I know you’re
Trying to be helpful, but why do I
Suspect you’re the one who really
Needs help? What makes you such
An authority? I want to be one too.
Does it take a degree? A badge? A
Gun? A certain tattoo? Or do you
Just pick a definition of yourself that
You like, wear it like wrapping paper
Around a gift to the world, and hope
This colorful sight inspires someone
Or other to sing happy birthday to
You because you appear to fit their
Definition of cake-deserving?
BRICKS
These poems are just so many bricks
In a fragile wall a cold stare could
Crumble or a warm smile could melt.
I wish I could change many things,
But the truth is I haven't a clue how
To change anything. Arguably I have
A clue how to write a poem, though
I can hear critics my disagreeing. At
The risk of sounding even more
Egotistical than usual, if this is what
I can do with their cynicism ringing
In my ears, think what I could do if
I could hear you singing my praises!
On a cold day in hell, you might scoff,
But who knows. If sincerity only gets
Me in trouble, then maybe it’s the
Utterly ridiculous that might make
You see things differently. If we
Can’t share a reality, we can always
Share an idea, as innocently as the
Public shares germs. Imagination:
Change in the dark, germinating. I
Just keep laying bricks, sometimes
High like a wall, other times low,
Down to earth, imagining a road.
THE UNDEAD
I know you don’t want it so I’m
Trying to destroy it but it won’t
Die. It just gets uglier each time
It crawls from the grave and says,
I come from you - send me six
Feet under, but isn’t it really a
Part of you you’re trying to bury?
I reply, you got that right – part
Of me I don’t want to see walking
Around, looking over my shoulder
In the mirror, in pictures, in stories.
A constant reminder of cursed love,
Of failure, and the other partner in
Your creation doesn’t want you
Either. Living things with limited
Insight are so challenged grasping
The concept of inconvenience.
SORTING ITSELF
Heavy rain, stay inside. Stay inside, look
Inside. Just as turbulent, even more so.
The storm outside is nothing. Nature is
Sorting itself, throwing air, water and
Light into a fray while the earth tries
To remember dryness and warmth,
Knows they’ll come again, but wishes
They’d put on some speed. I try to see
My troubles as my life sorting itself.
Hoping that, as with nature, in the end
A balance will be restored. As the storm
Clearly shows, a lot of conflict goes into
The making of a sunny day.
SYMBOLIC
Hey Sky, who you crying for all day
And all night? Freud said water
Symbolizes emotion. Sky wants to
Grow fat on emotion, hold it all in,
Gain substance like Earth, hoping
Earth might look up from its typical
Lazy passivity and actually take
Notice for a change. But alas, Sky
Can’t keep the weight on. Gets to
A certain size and it all comes flying
Off from gravity. Most Americans
Would be envious. And predictably,
Earth just callously says thanks for
The drink, call me sometime, ok?
Stevie Ray Vaughn sang “The Sky Is
Crying” with a lot of emotion, as is
Only fitting for this tale of yearning
Frustrated every time, no matter
How sincere or how determined.
WERE I SANTA CLAUS
The joy’s in the giving of gifts as much
As the receiving. And were I Santa Claus,
You wouldn’t have to wait till Christmas.
Were I the master gift builder, I’d make
Myself into one you’d want to unwrap,
A present you’d enjoy again and again,
Something you’d accept without the
Slightest hesitation, indulge in with no
Second thoughts, omit mentioning to
Your friends to avoid them becoming
Covetous, something you’d sighed for
Each time you saw it in the shop window.
In other words, I wish I were chocolate.
EXPERTS
I'm such an expert - I know
Exactly what you mean and
Exactly what you're thinking
Even before you do. You're
Such an expert - you know
Exactly what I mean and
Exactly what I'm thinking
Even before I do. Things
Can get complex, unclear.
Lucky we’re such experts.
OUR BEST
Maybe Las Vegas can make you rich
Beyond your wildest dreams, but how
Often does that happen? Please don't
Use our best as a gambling chip.
DESERVE
Bad guys in movies get
What they deserve. Why
Not nice guys in real life?
ROCKS
People ‘round here throw rocks so
Often you’d think they’d never sinned.
I wish Cupid could aim arrows on my
Behalf as accurately as my neighbors
Aim rocks at transgressing dogs, cats
Advertising a heat, birds soiling the
Clothesline, pigs digging up the roses,
And sometimes one another.
SPYING IN PERSPECTIVE
Our nation, born of rebellion, founded on the
Ideal of liberty or death. If leaders take the
Liberty of spying on their citizens, it must be
For our own good. Traitors walk among us,
Trying to establish a new dark ages. Humans
Are fallen by nature and foolish in notion, so
Thank the Lord we have so many laws for our
Own protection. Laws fill books that fill rooms
Which fill buildings. No wonder you can break
A law without even knowing. Laws, it seems,
Come and go these days like Vegas paychecks.
Do they still need probable cause to probe into
Our private business? Just some little bird that
Whispers nasty things? Words on my t-shirt
They don’t like seeing? A blip on their radar
Screen they think is me flying on a broom?
It changes so fast, I don’t bother keeping
Track. All I know is, in today’s USA, if you’re
A conservative wage slave you’re ok (for now),
But any deviation could place you under
Suspicion. Part of the standardization plan
For our own good. We’re a democracy, an
Equal partnership between people and our
Leaders . We should be as honest with them
As they are with us.
REMEMBER?
Remember when I tried reaching out to
You? At first you seemed pleased, but
Then you treated me like you wished I
Would just go away. So I did. Why do
You still wear that hurt look? Even
When I’ve done what you want, you’re
Not happy? Doesn’t seem likely. Must
Be it’s just someone else now who’s
Making you sad.
PEARLS
When our pearls have fallen in the
Pig sty, who will pull them out? All
The crap in the world can’t tarnish
Their true worth, only obscure it.
But who’ll be left with dirty hands?
Is saving something precious worth
Sorting through something ugly?
CONTINUED NEXT PHOTO OVER ("CYCLONE SCENE")
... y de repente comienza un momento dorado, en donde las flores parecen dar la bienvenida al sol con una bella danza dirigida por la brisa y la vida parece despertar al sentir su calor. Es un breve instante que ayuda a encontrar inspiración en la luz y la magia para volver a ilusionarse...
*Indian Harbour, NS
Finished Project
Goal: To promote an upcoming baptism service. We are trying to emphasize the importance of baptism – an initiatory act that visualizes repentance.
Audience: Churchwide.
Direction: Wanted to avoid the more common text-in-a-fish-tank sort of images. Fresh and direct.
Project: Web and digital signage.
Other important info: This is finished up, but I would still appreciate any input. Would it make you want to get baptized?
Caught this guy holding up a religious sign on the street of Chinatown in San Francisco. I thought it was quite a contrast from the Chinese New Year decors all over the street.
"Todo había cambiado de repente: el tono, el clima moral. No sabías qué pensar, a quién escuchar. Era como si durante toda tu vida te hubieran llevado de la mano como a un niño pequeño y, de pronto, te encontraras solo y tuvieras que aprender a andar. Ya no quedaba nadie, ni la familia ni las personas cuya opinión merecía tu respeto. En aquel tiempo sentías la necesidad de comprometerte con algo absoluto —la vida, la verdad o la belleza— que gobernara tu vida y reemplazara unas leyes del hombre que habían sido descartadas. Sentías la necesidad de entregarte a una meta última con todas tus fuerzas, sin reservas, como no habías hecho nunca en los apacibles viejos tiempos, en la antigua vida que ahora estaba abolida y había desaparecido
para siempre. "
"De repente a gente pára, e começa a enxergar felicidade
em coisas miudinhas.
Canto de pássaro, som de riacho, riso de criança ...
Alguém que se lembrou da gente
e trouxe aquele doce...
De repente a gente aprende que ser feliz é simples
E é tão bom quando a gente aprende isso."
Arnalda Rabelo
By Luciana Angarten
Primera Ley Fundamental: Siempre e inevitablemente cada uno de nosotros subestima el número de individuos estúpidos que circulan por el mundo.
Personas que uno ha considerado racionales e inteligentes en el pasado se revelan después, de repente, inequívoca e irremediablemente estúpidas.
Día tras día, con una monotonía incesante, vemos cómo entorpecen y obstaculizan nuestra actividad individuos obstinadamente estúpidos, que aparecen de improviso e inesperadamente en los lugares y en los momentos menos oportunos.
Segunda Ley Fundamental: La probabilidad de que una persona determinada sea estúpida es independiente de cualquier otra característica de la misma persona.
La educación y el ambiente social no tienen nada que ver. Son proporcionalmente tan numerosos entre mujeres y hombres, entre una “élite” galardonada de premios nobel o entre los bedeles de los colegios, entre los países desarrollados y subdesarrollados,...
Persiste el hecho de que se esté donde se esté, deberá enfrentarse siempre al mismo porcentaje de gente estúpida, porcentaje que, de acuerdo con la primera ley superará siempre las previsiones más pesimistas.
Concepto de estupidez humana: Los individuos se caracterizan por diferentes grados de propensión a la socialización. Existen individuos para los que cualquier contacto con otros individuos es una dolorosa necesidad. Estos se ven obligados a soportar a las personas y las personas se ven obligados a soportarlos a ellos. En el otro espectro, se hayan los individuos que no pueden soportar de ningún modo vivir solos, y están dispuestos a pasar el tiempo incluso en compañía de personas que desprecian. Entre estos dos extremos existe una gran variedad de situaciones, si bien la gran mayoría se halla más próxima al tipo que no puede soportar la soledad. Aristóteles: “El hombre es un animal social”.
Tanto si uno pertenece al tipo eremita como si pertenece al tipo mundano, en cualquier caso tiene que tratar con la gente. Lo que podría haber hecho por un individuo o por un grupo, y no lo he hecho, representa un “coste-oportunidad” (es decir, una ganancia frustrada o una pérdida) para aquella persona o grupo concreto. La moraleja es que cada uno de nosotros tiene una especie de cuenta corriente con cada uno de los demás. De cualquier acción u omisión, cada uno de nosotros obtiene una ganancia o una pérdida y al mismo tiempo proporciona una ganancia o una pérdida a algún otro. Las ganancias y las pérdidas pueden ser ilustradas oportunamente por una gráfica. El eje de la X mide la ganancia que, pongamos, Ticio, obtiene como consecuencia de su acción. La ganancia puede ser positiva, nula o negativa; una ganancia negativa equivale a una pérdida. El eje Y, por encima y por debajo del punto 0 respectivamente, mide las ganancias y las pérdidas de la persona (Cayo por ejemplo), o grupos de personas, con quienes Ticio está relacionado. Para determinas la ganancia o la pérdida de Cayo, es absolutamente indispensable tomar como referencia el sistema de valores de Cayo, y no el de Ticio. Y para medir la satisfacción de Ticio habrá que medir su sistema de valores. Un ejemplo: Ticio da un golpe en la cabeza a Cayo y obtiene por ello una satisfacción. Tal vez Ticio sostenga que Cayo es feliz por ello. Pero es muy probable que Cayo no sea de la misma opinión. Es más, puede que Cayo considere que el golpe en su cabeza ha sido un desagradabilísimo incidente. Si el golpe en la cabeza de Cayo ha sido una ganancia o una pérdida para Cayo, es Cayo quien debe decirlo, no Ticio.
La Tercera Ley Fundamental presupone que todos los seres humanos están incluidos en una de estas cuatro categorías fundamentales: los incautos, los inteligentes, los malvados y los estúpidos.
Si Ticio comete una acción y obtiene una pérdida, al mismo tiempo que procura un beneficio a Cayo, el signo de Ticio recaerá en el campo H: Ticio ha actuado como un incauto. Si Ticio realiza una acción de la que obtiene un beneficio, y al mismo tiempo procura un beneficio también para Cayo, el signo de Ticio recaerá en el área I: Ticio ha actuado inteligentemente. Si Ticio realiza una acción de la que obtiene un beneficio causando un perjuicio a Cayo, el punto deberá situarse en el área M: Ticio ha actuado como un malvado. La estupidez corresponde al área E:
Tercera Ley fundamental. Ley de Oro: Una persona estúpida es una persona que causa un daño a otra persona o grupo de personas sin obtener, al mismo tiempo, un provecho para sí, o incluso obteniendo un perjuicio.
Las personas racionales reaccionan instintivamente con escepticismo e incredulidad ante la Tercera Ley, tienen dificultades para entender un comportamiento irracional. Nadie sabe, entiende o puede explicar porqué esta absurda criatura hace lo que hace. En realidad, no existe explicación –o mejor dicho- sólo hay una explicación: la persona en cuestión es estúpida.
Distribución de la frecuencia: La mayor parte de las personas no actúa de un modo coherente. En determinadas circunstancias una persona actúa inteligentemente, y en otras, esta misma persona puede comportarse como una incauta. Si bien una persona puede comportarse de diversas maneras, tendrá un media ponderada que le sitúe en un cuadrante u otro. La persona en cuestión será fundamentalmente inteligente, o fundamentalmente incauta, por ejemplo. La única excepción importante a la regla la representan las personas estúpidas que, normalmente, muestran la máxima tendencia a una total coherencia en cualquier campo y actuación.
El malvado perfecto, es aquel que con sus acciones causa a otro pérdidas equivalente a sus ganancias. Él te roba: él gana 10.000 liras, tú pierdes 10.000 liras. El malvado que se sitúa cerca del área E, por ejemplo, estará muy cerca del límite de la estupidez pura. La distribución de la frecuencia de personas estúpidas, sin embargo, es completamente diferente de las demás áreas. Mientras los demás se hallan esparcidos en el ámbito de su propia área, los estúpidos están concentrados, en su mayor parte, a lo largo del eje de la Y, por debajo del punto 0. La razón de esto es que la gran mayoría de personas estúpidas son fundamentalmente y firmemente estúpidas. Esto es, causan daño a los demás sin obtener ninguna ganancia para sí. Cuando se causan daño a sí mismas, estas pertenecen al género de superestúpidos.
Estupidez y poder: El potencial de una persona estúpida depende antes de nada del factor genético. El segundo factor que determina ese potencial procede de la posición de poder o de autoridad que ocupa en la sociedad. La pregunta que se plantean a menudo las personas razonables es cómo es posible que estas personas estúpidas lleguen a alcanzar posiciones de poder o de autoridad. Las castas y las clases fueron las que permitieron un flujo constante de personas estúpidas a puestos de poder en la mayoría de sociedades preindustriales. Hoy, hay que recordar que, según la Segunda Ley Fundamental, una fracción constante de personas que votan son estúpidas.
El poder de la estupidez: No resulta difícil de comprender de qué manera el poder político, económico o burocrático aumenta el potencial nocivo de una persona estúpida. Pero nos queda aún por explicar qué es lo que básicamente vuelve peligrosa a una persona estúpida.
Esencialmente, son peligrosos y funestos porque a las personas razonables les resulta difícil imaginar y entender un comportamiento estúpido. Una persona inteligente puede entender la lógica de un malvado y por lo tanto se pueden prever y preparar la oportunas defensas. Con una persona estúpida todo esto es absolutamente imposible. Frente a un individuo estúpido uno está completamente desarmado. Generalmente el ataque nos coge por sorpresa e incluso cuando se tiene conocimiento del ataque, no es posible organizar una defensa racional, porque el ataque, en sí mismo, carece de cualquier tipo de estructura racional. No sólo hace problemática la defensa, sino que es extremadamente difícil el contraataque. Dickens: “con la estupidez y la buena digestión el hombre es capaz de hacer frente a muchas cosas”. Schiller: “contra la estupidez hasta los mismos dioses luchan en vano”.
Hay que tener en cuenta otra circunstancia: La persona inteligente sabe que es inteligente. El malvado es consciente de que es un malvado. El incauto está penosamente imbuido del sentido de su propia candidez. Al contrario que todos estos personajes, el estúpido no sabe que es estúpido. Esto contribuye poderosamente a dar fuerza, incidencia y eficacia a su acción devastadora. No está inhibido por ese sentimiento self-consciousness. Con la sonrisa en los labios, como si hiciese la cosa más natural del mundo, el estúpido aparecerá de pronto para echar a perder tus planes, destruir tu paz, complicarte la vida y el trabajo, hacerte perder dinero, tiempo, buen humor, apetito, y todo esto sin malicia, sin remordimientos y sin razón. Estúpidamente.
No es de extrañar que las personas incautas, generalmente no reconozcan la peligrosidad de las personas estúpidas. Pero lo que resulta sorprendente es que tampoco las personas inteligentes ni las malvadas consiguen muchas veces reconocer su poder devastador y destructor. Es imposible explicarlo pero se puede formular la hipótesis de que cuando son abordados por estúpidos cometen el error de abandonarse a sentimientos de autocomplacencia y desprecio, en vez de segregar inmediatamente cantidades mayores de adrenalina y preparar la defensa.
Se tiende a creer que una persona estúpida sólo se hace daño a sí misma, pero esto significa que se está confundiendo con la candidez. A veces hasta se puede caer en la tentación de asociarse con un individuo estúpido con el objetivo de utilizarlo en provecho propio. Tal maniobra está basada en la total incomprensión de la naturaleza esencial de la estupidez. Uno puede hacerse la ilusión de estar manipulando a una persona estúpida y, hasta cierto punto, puede que lo consiga. Pero debido al comportamiento errático del estúpido y la imposibilidad de previsión, muy pronto uno se verá arruinado y destruido por sus imprevisibles acciones.
Cuarta Ley Fundamental: Las personas no estúpidas subestiman siempre el potencial nocivo de las personas estúpidas. Los no estúpidos, en especial, olvidan constantemente que en cualquier momento y lugar, y en cualquier circunstancia, tratar y/o asociarse con individuos estúpidos se manifiesta infaliblemente como un costosísimo error.
A lo largo de los siglos, en la vida pública y privada, innumerables personas no han tenido en cuenta la Cuarta Ley Fundamental, y esto ha ocasionado pérdidas incalculables a la humanidad.
Quinta Ley Fundamental: La persona estúpida es el tipo de persona más peligrosa que existe. Corolario: El estúpido es más peligroso que el malvado.”
(Carlo M. Cipolla)
El texto está pasado a cachos, no es exacto al original.
Siempre agradeceré a Moraza que nos descubriera este texto... da para pensar y divertirse un rato.
¿Seré una de ell@s? XD
De repente, todo ese futuro que tenias pensado se va. A veces desaparece por una persona, a veces por un lugar, quizás por un recuerdo, pero siempre por un sentimiento. Y es que eso de los sentimientos es de locos, por eso el destino es una jodida locura.
~Mi blog: cogiendoelcielo.blogspot.com/
~Twitter: twitter.com/#!/AlbaFirewaves
~Tumblr: batmanisnotreal.tumblr.com/
~Ask me: ask.fm/Firewaves
De repente en mi vida
Hay algo que me tiene confundida
No lo puedo evitar, puedo intentar
Conservar el asombro hasta el final
Mil palabras ya he oido
Solo las tuyas no han desvanecido
No puedo escapar de sus sonidos
Estoy hipnotizada en un sueño continuo
De repente, en El Retiro, el suelo y el cielo cambiaron momentáneamente sus tareas. Sólo pude mantenerme pegado a la hierba agarrándome a la cámara de fotos.
Ouve como o silêncio
Se fez de repente
Para o nosso amor
Horizontalmente...
Crê apenas no amor
E em mais nada
Cala; escuta o silêncio
Que nos fala
Mais intimamente; ouve
Sossegada
O amor que despetala
O silêncio...
Deixa as palavras à poesia...
Duas canções de silêncio - Vinicius de Moraes
De repente despiertas y te das cuentas de que estás encerrado en un habitáculo, pero este no está totalmente a oscuras. Hay una ventana grande, -compuesta a su vez de ventanas más pequeñas- de las que emana una luz blanca. Un porcentaje ridículo de luz en comparación con la oscuridad que gobierna el habitáculo pero suficiente para evitar que los órganos del cuerpo se vuelvan locos. ¿Qué haces encerrado en un lugar como ese? Posiblemente hayas caído preso de algo que no aciertas a clarificar. Quizá estés en mitad de un mal sueño que amenaza con volverse eterno. Quizá la realidad se haya evaporado y toda las construcciones que observabas a tu alrededor han desaparecido, siendo arrojado a la realidad de verdad, en la que solo hay un habitáculo oscuro con una ventana a ninguna parte.
O que mais as espanta é que, de repente, elas percebem que já são balzaquianas. Mas poucas balzacas leram "A Mulher de Trinta", de Honoré de Balzac, escrito há mais de 150 anos. Olhe o que ele diz:
'Uma mulher de trinta anos tem atrativos irresistíveis. A mulher jovem tem muitas ilusões, muita inexperiência. Uma nos instrui, a outra quer tudo aprender e acredita ter dito tudo despindo o vestido. (...) Entre elas duas há a distância incomensurável que vai do previsto ao imprevisto, da força à fraqueza. A mulher de trinta anos satisfaz tudo, e a jovem, sob pena de não sê-lo, nada pode satisfazer'.
Mas voltemos à nossa mulher de 30, a brasileira-tropicana, aquela que podemos encontrar na frente das escolas pegando os filhos ou num balcão de bar bebendo um chope sozinha. Sim, a mulher de 30 bebe. A mulher de 30 é morena. Quando resolve fazer a besteira de tingir os cabelos de amarelo-hebe passa, automaticamente, a ter 40. E o que mais encanta nas de 30 é que parece que nunca vão perder aquele jeitinho que trouxeram dos 20. Mas, para isso, como elas se preocupam com a barriguinha!
A mulher de 30 está para se separar. Ou já se separou. São raras as mulheres que passam por esta faixa sem terminar um casamento. Em compensação, ainda antes dos 40 elas arrumam o segundo e definitivo.
A grande maioria tem dois filhos. Geralmente um casal. As que ainda não tiveram filhos se tornam um perigo, quando estão ali pelos 35. Periga pegarem o primeiro quarentão que encontrarem pela frente. Elas querem casar.
Elas talvez não saibam, mas são as mais bonitas das mulheres. Acho até que a idade mínima para concurso de miss deveria ser 30 anos. Desfilam como gazelas, embora eu nunca tenha visto uma (gazela). Sorriem e nos olham com uns olhos claros. Já notou que elas têm olhos claros? E as que usam uns cabelos longos e ondulados e ficam a todo momento jogando as melenas para trás? É de matar.
A mulher de 30 ainda não fez plástica. Não precisa. Está com tudo em cima. Ela, ao contrário das de 20, nunca ficou. Quando resolve, vai pra valer. Faz sexo como se fosse a última vez. A mulher de 30 morde, grita, sua como ninguém. Não finge. Mata o homem, tenha ele 20 ou 50. E o hálito, então? É fresco. E os pelinhos nas costas, lá pra baixo, que mais parecem pele de pêssego, como diria o Machado se referindo a Helena, que, infelizmente, nunca chegou aos 30?
Mas o que mais me encanta nas mulheres de 30 é a independência. Moram sozinhas e suas casas têm ainda um frescor das de 20 e a maturidade das de 40. Adoram flores e um cachorrinho pequeno. Curtem janelas abertas. Elas sabem escolher um travesseiro. E amam quem querem, à hora que querem e onde querem. E o mais importante: do jeito que desejam.
São fortes as mulheres de 30. E não têm pressa pra nada. Sabem aonde vão chegar.
E sempre chegam.
Chegam lá atrás, no Balzac: 'A mulher de 30 anos satisfaz tudo'.
Ponto. Pra elas.
Feliz aniversário pra mim. E parabéns a todas as "trintonas". ;)
Creí estar a sólas frente al mar, disfrutando de un inóspito paisaje junto a unos amigos cuando de repente se escuchó un ensordecedor " clack " que provenía de nuestras espaldas.
Alex se dió la vuelta de inmediato pero a pesar de que apuntó con su megalinterna, no vimos nada.
Raúl fué más allá y salió corriendo hacia la ladera superior derecha como alma que lleva al diablo gritando al tiempo que hacía muecas con sus dedos en los ojos " Te he visto, que te conste que te he visto ", pero al regresar nos confesó que no había nadie ... y temblaba. No era para menos.
Esteban, el más precavido se ocultó de inmediato en la mini tienda de campaña que habíamos llevado, por aquello de resguardarnos de la incipiente humedad que a veces atizaba en el lugar. Y estaba pálido ... aún en la en las últimas horas de la noche, su cara semejaba la luz de la luna ...
Yo me dediqué a disfrutar del espectáculo y a rezar para que mi cámara llegara a su momento de exposición para poder recogerla y salir pitando ... ¡ No era plan de quedarme sin la foto, oiga !
De vuelta a casa, cuando me puse a revelar las fotos me encontré con la última foto que hice a la roca y descubrí que el "crack " no era ni más ni menos que el ojo que todo lo ve ...
Hoy no es 13, pero es viennnnnnnes :))
La roca … o el ojo que todo lo ve
_________
No usar esta imagen sin mi autorización. © Todos los derechos reservados.
Please don't use this image without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved.
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Si utilizas Internet Explorer o Google Chrome, Firefox o Opera, no podrás ver la gama completa de colores que tienen mis fotos. Recomiendo Safari para Mac o Windows.
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If you use Internet Explorer or Google Chrome, Firefox or Opera, it will not be able to see the complete range of colors that have my photos. I recommend you Safari for Mac or Windows.
"To those who repent, God permits return,
and he encourages those who were losing hope.
Return to the Lord and leave sin behind,
plead before his face and lessen your offence.
Come back to the Most High and turn away from iniquity,
and hold in abhorrence all that is foul.
Who will praise the Most High in Sheol,
if the living do not do so by giving glory to him?
To the dead, as to those who do not exist, praise is unknown,
only those with life and health can praise the Lord.
How great is the mercy of the Lord,
his pardon on all those who turn towards him!"
– Ecclesiasticus 17:20-28, which is today's 1st reading at Mass.
"Desta vida já estou desiludido
Porque fui pela sorte castigado:
Quando erro, não sou dissimulado,
Quando acerto, não sou compreendido.
Eu assim muito mal tenho vivido
Para os olhos desse mundo desumano;
Cada ano que passa é mais um ano
Que a esperança de mim se distancia;
Cada dia que passa é mais um dia
De saudade, tristeza e desengano!"
Autor: José Alves Sobrinho, Poeta, Cantador e Repentista Popular nordestino - Nascido em Picuí/PB.
In "De Repente Cantoria: Uma Coletânea de Versos e Repentes dos Maiores Cantadores do Brasil", de Geraldo Amâncio e Vanderley Pereira (Editora Press Publicitários Associados Ltda. - Fortaleza: LCR, 1995) - p. 261.
OBS: Veja no maior tamanho. // See at larger size.
Taken in September 1973.
This woman's "repent" sign refers to Acts 17:30 in the Bible ("In the past God overlooked such ignorance, but now he commands all people everywhere to repent"). Here in the hubbub of London's Piccadilly Circus she didn't seem to attract much notice.
Confesionario - Confessional
Convento de Santo Domingo, Buenos Aires, Argentina
Built in the year 1751.
"De repente un ruido extraño se colaba entre nuestra conversación, un tic tac cada vez más rápido incomodaba nuestra voz. Entonces me miraste y me dijiste que era la hora de despedirnos, te mire atónita, no entendía el por qué de esa despedida, me saltaban las lagrimas y me sentía afligida de escuchar ese ruido sin parar. Me abrazaste fuerte y me dijiste en el oído que no me atemorizara, que en esos momentos volvería al mundo real y dejaría a un lado ese sueño súbito. No pude responderte, cuando me giré para hacerlo ya estaba en mi habitación, tan sola y vacía como siempre."
*Vuelvo con unos amaneceres que espero que os dejen sin habla :)
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