I raised my head and looked before me
And there she was again,
Looking back at me
A face that, tomorrow, will no more be
This mortal coil that I carry with me
Nothing but frail,
Will decay back to nothing, eventually
Someday, will be forgotten
But when will that be?
Now? … Today?
Tomorrow, or after a century?
I get closer, approaching
The cold hand that reaches out for me
And I see it, right into my eyes
Quietly, and patiently,
And, endly, set her free.
Picture Credit: Mike Wilson
Amidst rough, stormy days,
A close light spills from every
Picture Credit: Michal Bielejewski
Sometimes blood splashes on his misshapen face
As the ubiquitous screams he constrains
Echos of helpless cries of agony and torment,
And sounds of flesh against saw chains.
A smile of amusement flashes
And on he goes.
Photo Cred: Luis Paico
Running towards a deceitful mirage
A snake that inserts its fangs,
Crushing your limbs and cutting into your flesh,
Tearing it apart
Its venom pouring into your veins,
But throeing every inch back to life
Killing and reviving
It’s toxic …
A reminder of your existence,
And the aching yet ahead.
Photo Cred: Zachary Young
”Quand, nous dit Haldane, un enfant dit à sa mère: J’ai faim ou je veux dormir, il est encore animal. Quand il dit: voici ce que j’ai fait ce matin, il commence à être homme”. -P. Chauchard.
I’ve been reading ‘Le Langage et la Pensée’ for quite some time now. The book is good. Extremely informatory. But throughout the pages I have yet gone through, I stumbled upon some passages that made me question whether I really want to go on reading. I mean, there is not a single doubt about it: this man is unbelievably and unreasonably and SO carelessly racist and I can’t help but cringe at some of his “ways of thinking”. I am following the advice my friends gave me and am forcing myself to keep on reading till the end. (And then I can properly bombard him in a considerably long review) But this… guy!… is making it so hard for me to do any of this!
I hate to say this but he’s making me hate non-fiction altogether and that’s the last thing I want to do.
This book was published in the 1960’s. So from the bottom of my heart I’m hoping they published other editions where all this bullsh*t is removed. Or something! Dammit.
#whysoracist #wakethehellup #damn
Pic cred: Myself and the coziest reading place ever–the uni bus!
Wandering in a somber void ..
Thinking about nothing.
It’s so close and
Out of reach.
At the surface of everything
Yet burried deep within.
A sentiment of lostness that unfolds.
My soul ruptured into fragments
Of sweeping, agonous memories ..
Gathering these scattered pieces in an excavated drawer
Longing for insulating, coveted sleep!
A warm pool molds
Around the wellsprings of her face
Streaming its way down to agony
Draw a line.. and name it art..
Photo Cred: #Kafka