love and war – neil young
life
what is this progression of time
if time is nothing
well i’m full of it
searching, devouring, improvising
a play of too many parts
colliding
collapse
a friend once wanted to call his band that name
i said hurrah for saying yes
in a land of no
it is a busy thing
to feel and consider
the consequences of thoughts and projections
bubbles
conjurer of happy thoughts
bliss walks in
gleaming and shiny
i’d like to say i’m above feeling good
i’m not
passages into and through me
dictate that to feel is to live
and to live is…
to breath
in and out
at least once in a while
to believe that life is a process
like any other transaction
there is a price
what are you willing to pay to feel?
what is worth the bother of deconstruction
because to feel is to deconstruct
to analyze
to interpret
life is a ship venturing out into unknown waters
i gingerly set foot upon it
and hope for the best
and of course to think to myself
silently
or at least under my breath
that i am worthwhile in a selfish
all or nothing sort of way
that life is good
that solitude warms me more than the presence of others
it isn’t that you’re less
but that the absence takes up more space
because it is full of itself
and rearing it’s beautiful head back in a laugh
i crumble in the face of eternity
relishing every moment alone
-loveblushfever
piece
1. a thing considered as a unit or an element of a larger thing, quantity, or class; a portion: a piece of string
2. a portion or part that has been separated from a whole: a piece of cake
3. an object that is one member of a group or class: a piece of furniture
4. an instance; a specimen: a piece of sheer folly
If time is not real, then the dividing line between this world and eternity, between suffering and bliss, between good and evil, is also an illusion. -Herman Hesse
Nothing is more important than reconnecting with your bliss. Nothing is as rich. Nothing is more real. -Deepak Chopra
Life is a pilgrimage. The wise man does not rest by the roadside inns. He marches direct to the illimitable domain of eternal bliss, his ultimate destination. -Swami Sivananda
Clocks slay time… time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life. -William Faulkner
“your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.”
— Charles Bukowski
“Love is a form of prejudice. You love what you need, you love what makes you feel good, you love what is convenient. How can you say you love one person when there are ten thousand people in the world that you would love more if you ever met them? But you’ll never meet them. All right, so we do the best we can. Granted. But we must still realize that love is just the result of a chance encounter. Most people make too much of it. On these grounds a good fuck is not to be entirely scorned. But that’s the result of a chance meeting too. You’re damned right. Drink up. We’ll have another.”
— Charles Bukowski
“Nothing was ever in tune. People just blindly grabbed at whatever there was: communism, health foods, zen, surfing, ballet, hypnotism, group encounters, orgies, biking, herbs, Catholicism, weight-lifting, travel, withdrawal, vegetarianism, India, painting, writing, sculpting, composing, conducting, backpacking, yoga, copulating, gambling, drinking, hanging around, frozen yogurt, Beethoven, Back, Buddha, Christ, TM, H, carrot juice, suicide, handmade suits, jet travel, New York City, and then it all evaporated and fell apart. People had to find things to do while waiting to die. I guess it was nice to have a choice.”
— Charles Bukowski (Women)
“The Laughing Heart
your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.”
— Charles Bukowski (Betting on the Muse: Poems & Stories)
“I was a man who thrived on solitude; without it I was like another man without food or water. Each day without solitude weakened me. I took no pride in my solitude; but I was dependent on it. The darkness of the
room was like sunlight to me.”
— Charles Bukowski (Factotum)
“I’ve never been lonely. I’ve been in a room — I’ve felt suicidal. I’ve been depressed. I’ve felt awful — awful beyond all — but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me…or that any number of people could enter that room. In other words, loneliness is something I’ve never been bothered with because I’ve always had this terrible itch for solitude. It’s being at a party, or at a stadium full of people cheering for something, that I might feel loneliness. I’ll quote Ibsen, “The strongest men are the most alone.” I’ve never thought, “Well, some beautiful blonde will come in here and give me a fuck-job, rub my balls, and I’ll feel good.” No, that won’t help. You know the typical crowd, “Wow, it’s Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there?” Well, yeah. Because there’s nothing out there. It’s stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I’ve never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, because I didn’t want to hide in factories. That’s all. Sorry for all the millions, but I’ve never been lonely. I like myself. I’m the best form of entertainment I have. Let’s drink more wine!”
— Charles Bukowski
“It was true that I didn’t have much ambition, but there ought to be a place for people without ambition, I mean a better place than the one usually reserved. How in the hell could a man enjoy being awakened at 6:30 a.m. by an alarm clock, leap out of bed, dress, force-feed, shit, piss, brush teeth and hair, and fight traffic to get to a place where essentially you made lots of money for somebody else and were asked to be grateful for the opportunity to do so?”
— Charles Bukowski (Factotum)
“For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can’t readily accept the God formula, the big answers don’t remain stone-written. We adjust to new conditions and discoveries. We are pliable. Love need not be a command nor faith a dictum. I am my own god. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.”
— Charles Bukowski
Checkmate
we are broken down bit by bit,
we
drain away by the minute, the hour, the week, the
month, the year, we
leak away
in cafes, backyards, stadiums, parking lots, in
parlors of chance, in movie houses, at church,
at clambakes,
we dissolve
we dissolve while
putting on our shoes, while
putting out the cat, while
turning out the light,
while clipping our toenails.
so we continually dissolve from substance to
shadow, endlessly
dissolve while listening
to bad music or in total silence,
forever dissolve
while reading old love letters and new books,
during peace and war,
on and off TV.
thus our lives dissolve and disappear between the helmet and
a high-heeled shoe, between an olive seed and a buried
corpse, between a lost key and the exposed film, between a
child’s smile and the magnolia’s scream.
Checkmate by Charles Bukowski. Published in “Slouching Toward Nirvana – New Poems” First Ecco Paperback Edition, Harper Collins. 2005.
“My life has actually been without a dynamic for over a year, and I just keep taking too long to do very simple things, and my heart has been like a colony on the moon populated by unique icicles who have apparently no transition.” Richard Brautigan. An Unfortunate Woman. P. 57
“Probably the closest things to perfection are the huge absolutely empty holes that astronomers have recently discovered in space. If there’s nothing there, how can anything go wrong?” random Brautigan quote
We tend to regard our age as exceptional, and in many ways it is. But the parochialism of the present – the way our eyes follow the ball and not the game – is dangerous. Absorbed in the here and now, we lose sight of our course through time, forgetting to ask ourselves Paul Gauguin’s final question: Where are we going? If so many previous ages ran into natural limits and crashed, how has our runaway train (if that’s what it is) been able to keep on gathering speed?
-Robert Wright
Wright, Robert. A Short History of Progress. House of Anansi Press Inc. Toronto, Canada. 2004. Ch. 5 The Rebellion of the Tools, P. 109.
NEW SONGS – August 1920
(Vega de Zujaira)
The afternoon says: “I’m thirsty for shadow!”
And the moon: “I want stars.”
The crystal fountain asks for lips,
the wind, for sighs.
I’m thirsty for scents and for laughter.
Thirsty for new songs
without irises or moons,
without dead loves.
A morning song that can shiver
quiet backwaters
of the future and fill
their waves and silt with hope.
A luminous and tranquil song
full of thought,
virgin to sadness and anguish,
virgin to reverie.
A song skinned of lyric, filling
silence with laughter.
(A flock of blind doves
tossed into mystery.)
A song to go to the soul of things
and to the soul of winds,
resting at last in the bliss
of the eternal heart.
Excerpt from BOOK OF POEMS
Federico Garcia Lorca
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