Hidden things…

From all I did and all I said
let no one try to find out who I was.
An obstacle was there that changed the pattern
of my actions and the manner of my life.
An obstacle was often there
to stop me when I’d begin to speak.
From my most unnoticed actions,
my most veiled writing—
from these alone will I be understood.
But maybe it isn’t worth so much concern,
so much effort to discover who I really am.
Later, in a more perfect society,
someone else made just like me
is certain to appear and act freely.

poem by Kavafy

Chez Moi Je Suis La Reine

Searching for FOREVER...beyond eternity if I have too...because I know it's somewhere out there...and I really don't care if it means nothing to you all

It's all about believing…

...when you hurt without wounds to heal and reality is filled with empty promises and flawed expectations, life can bring you to your knees…. Just don't let it dissipate your soul into the 4 winds … and spread your salt in water and pies. For only ancient wisdom seems true….And I rather hold to mythic fairytales than contemporary lies…

...word

…word, who can be so delightfully perverse… to thee,
shadows of conscience, in the abyss of my existence,
shut the fuck up… and listen to silence screaming ...
your armor means nothing against my being!
My breastplate in goat skin lined, wisdom's cup
will safely keep filled with blood and tears sublime,
seed to sow the earth divine, essence void of time.
Words like honey, crawl up the soul from the deep
poem that makes this mead complete.
...word,
you can be delightfully perverse... to thee,
shadows of conscience, from the abyss of my existence
you will hear silence screaming ... shut the fk up...
your armour means nothing against my being!
My breastplate sown with goat skin line,
wisdom's cup will safely keep, filled with blood and tears divine
until next time we meet.
that's why ... my misanthropic essence,
drink the soul and spit out the body
so that the flesh can leave anytime it may wish.
Form, that across time and void will perish.

Salt More Precious Than Gold

More Powerful than SALT only the Salt of Life Around the world and throughout history, salt has been cherished both as a healer, preserver and vital symbol of life and blood. It has been considered a token of love and a guard against evil. The Native Americans considered salt a gift of the deity and by keeping it safely in a box, it had the power to ward off evil; in Andalusia, salt is synonymous with grace and charm and to pay a lover a high compliment you call her your "salt box"; and in Morocco people carry salt on them for protection against evil spirits. The great historic value of salt is also depicted in the following Czech fairytale: The story begins with a king who had three daughters, each of whom were to seek suitors. The two oldest daughters found wealthy and powerful men who could show their wealth to the king. The youngest, however, had met and fallen in love with a young man in secret, who found her one day crying that she needed a man to show her father. When she explained, he said that she was not to worry, that he would appear before her father and show his wealth, she was very relieved. On the fateful day, the two older girls presented their suitors and the king was very pleased. When he began to question his younger daughter, he was very upset to learn that she did not even know his name or where he came from. Suddenly he appeared, dressed well and presented himself to the king. When asked who he was, he said he was the Prince of Salt and he would inherit his father's kingdom of salt. When the father heard this, he grew very angry and yelled that salt was worthless and his daughter could not marry him. At that instant, the prince's father appeared and laid a curse on the kingdom because the king did not know the value of salt. From henceforth, there would be no salt in the land and every bit of salt would turn to gold. The prince would never be allowed to see the daughter of someone who did not value salt. In a whirl they both disappeared. At first the king thought nothing of the curse, but slowly the fields withered without salt, the people grew ill and left the kingdom in droves. The food had no flavor, and illness spread. In vain they tried to import salt from a neighboring kingdom, but the minute the wagons of salt crossed the border, the salt would turn into gold, which was now worthless. The wealth of the king's sons-in-law was to no avail. Meanwhile, the youngest daughter was stricken with grief at the loss of her beloved. She vowed to try and find him. She left the castle and began her wanderings, searching everywhere for the kingdom of salt. After many trials, she finally found a deep cave and discovered the location of the kingdom of salt. The King of Salt was still very angry and at first refused to see her. Finally, when she begged enough, he told her that his son had become a pillar of salt. And sure enough, in the cave there she saw a life-sized pillar of salt. At first horrified, she finally succeeded in finding out that only the dew drops of all the flowers in the kingdom, which were in fact the tears of all the people who had suffered from her father's outburst and discounting of salt, had to be collected and brought back to the cave and poured over the pillar of salt to rescue the prince. So the daughter went out and tirelessly collected the drops in a pitcher, working until she could not stay awake, falling asleep in the fields, and again and again persevering, until finally she collected all the drops in her pitcher and sneaked inside the cave. The king tried to stop her, but she was finally able to pour the pitcher over the pillar of salt and her loved one emerged. Finally, the king was convinced of her devotion to his son and salt, and he lifted the curse. When they both returned to the castle with some salt, they found father and courtiers all ailing. When she handed her father the salt, he told her he had been mistaken, that "salt was more precious than gold," and with that, ... and they all lived happily ever after.

Clown in the Clouds

Kneeling On The Pavement, You Can’t Say Shit Your Mouth Is Gagged, You Surrounded By A Thousand Guys Totally Under Your Spell They All Totaly Scared Of The Power You Hold You Can Change The Rules Of The Game And Devour Their Souls Now’s The Time Girl ...artist Zef Antwood

yawehtSISIsksatsolnoshtneves

In the infinity of space... you'll find my resting place... across the abyss of imagination... a star will show your destination...

Nocturnal Silences

I think I know now, why the nocturnal silence in this illustrious place is such a bad silence. The words, all of them destined to oblivion, have died out. That shouldn’t matter as they died out in the street too. But outside of this enclosed gray frame, no one pretends that it’s more than talk, people talk and enjoy talking, as they enjoy licking ice cream, so the tongue can take a break from the words. While here, everyone always acts as if it were different. As if it were enormously important, what they “said”. But they too, have to sleep in their self-importance, and then a silence remains that smells rotten because cadavers of pomposity are lying around everywhere and stincking without words. People say they understand each other, answer each other. But it isn’t so. No one, not a single one of the discussions shows the slightest indication of a change of mind in view of the reasons presented. With a heavy heart I realize: that’s how it always is! Saying something to another, or plethora of others, how can we expect it to affect anything? Really…?! The current of thoughts, images and feelings that flows through us, on every side, has such force, this torrential current, that it would be a miracle if it didn’t simply sweep away and consign to oblivion all words anyone else says to us, if they didn’t by accident, sheer accident, suit our own words. It’s sad, such sign of putrid minds; how everybody just goes around talking only to themselves. Well, I guess, it’s just talking. People like to talk. Basically, that’s it: just talking. No meeting of minds! Meeting of Minds? What? Why? The mind is not a bicep or broad chest nor a firm ass or perky breast, you can suckle on or feel … flaunt it to be admired and groped. It can’t be seen or possessed …so who cares? What an irrational expectation in today’s fleeting lives. How disdainful. I wonder…Is it different with me? Do I really listen to anybody else? Let them into me, with their words so that my internal current might be diverted? Why does this nocturnal silence, my sole companion, as I wander this insipid city streets at night, seem so lifeless to me? So queasy and desolate, so completely vapid and without charm? So completely different from those rooms of dusty velvet silence, which flash with life even in the early hours of the morning, when no human souls are out and about. Where the bright unearthly shining encloses buildings with sacred names, cells of scholarship, exquisite libraries, where perfectly shaped sentences are spoken, weighed pensively, refuted, and defended. V

Fight!

Your sons have come to kill you... Those, whom you birthed, of Hellene and Barbarian mother, who once worshiped you as Gods, now desecrate your name. Bastards, they are the enemies at your gate, rejoicing in your slaughter. You raised them from dust and taught them everything…quenched their thirst in the Pierian Spring, and inebriated yourself in fame. Treacherous and frothing scum, they rebel in desire to possess your eternal glory and extinguish your flame. Your sons have come to kill you … dedicated to my soul's eternal lover...greece

para o Grego

why should it be? search not for ithaka on your voyage... for ithaka is but of the past memory. to there return, all your springs you'll exhaust, tame in feeling, wild summers lost. A thousand unborn eyes will weep your misery Lamenting your broken soul’s destiny. For the gods take away the life they give and spoil the beauty they made live. The ashes of a fire no flame can burn… so why a lifeless color should you become, that leaving Xaros hauls on his back, leaving the world hollow with thy lack? A wild tiger’s fate can not be that! May Thetis guide you to Delos without delay, Far from the gloomy whirlwinds of hurt’s dismay That since ever, you captive in exile hold, And from her divine waters a new heart mold. When you set off on your journey home, In the soothing embrace of Thetis foam let your heart guide you and behold. For Poseidon shall lead our ships to cross at sea So I may catch a glimpse of thee... whole." ....A Portuguesa