sexta-feira, 27 de março de 2009

holy! holy! holy!

Footnote to Howl,
by Allen Ginsberg

Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy! The nose is holy! The tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy! Everything is holy! everybody's holy! everywhere is holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman's an angel! The bum's as holy as the seraphim! the madman is holy as you my soul are holy! The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy! Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cas- sady holy the unknown buggered and suffering beggars holy the hideous human angels! Holy my mother in the insane asylum! Holy the cocks of the grandfathers of Kansas! Holy the groaning saxophone! Holy the bop apocalypse! Holy the jazzbands marijuana hipsters peace & junk & drums! Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements! Holy the cafeterias filled with the millions! Holy the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets! Holy the lone juggernaut! Holy the vast lamb of the middle class! Holy the crazy shepherds of rebell- ion! Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles! Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria & Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow Holy Istanbul! Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch! Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucina- tions holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the abyss! Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours! bodies! suffering! magnanimity! Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul!

terça-feira, 24 de março de 2009

Deus.

.
.
.
God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don’t let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousnes.
Give me your hand.
.
.
.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke ~

domingo, 22 de março de 2009



“Oskar? Over.”
“I’m OK. Over.”
What’s wrong, darling? Over.”
“What do you mean what’s wrong? Over.”
“What’s wrong? Over.”
“I miss Dad. Over.”
“I miss him too. Over.”
“I miss him a lot. Over.”
“So do I. Over.”
“All the time. Over.”
“All the time. Over.”



I couldn’t explain to her that I missed him more, more than she or anyone else plain to her, because I couldn’t tell her what happened with the phone. That secret was a hole in the middle of me that every happy thing fell into.

...

I woke up once in the middle of the night, and Buckminster’s paws were on my eyelids. He must have been feeling my nightmares."
.
© "Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close", Jonathan Safran Foer

terça-feira, 17 de março de 2009

budapest shots.



















gentle now a tender breeze blows
whispers through the Gran Torino
whistling another tired song
engines humm and better dreams grow
heart locked in a Gran Torino
it beats a lonely rhythm all night long
it beats a lonely rhythm all night long
it beats a lonely rhythm all night long

(Clint Eastwood & Jamie Cullum)


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