flahute

I AM NOT YOURS

I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

Oh plunge me deep in love—put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.

  — Sara Teasdale (1884 – 1933), American Poet.

BE NEAR ME

Be near me now,
My tormenter, my love, be near me—
At this hour when night comes down,
When, having drunk from the gash of sunset, darkness comes
With the balm of musk in its hands, its diamond lancets,
When it comes with cries of lamentation,
                                             with laughter with songs;
Its blue-gray anklets of pain clinking with every step.
At this hour when hearts, deep in their hiding places,
Have begun to hope once more, when they start their vigil
For hands still enfolded in sleeves;
When wine being poured makes the sound
                                             of inconsolable children
                       who, though you try with all your heart,
                                             cannot be soothed.
When whatever you want to do cannot be done,
When nothing is of any use;
—At this hour when night comes down,
When night comes, dragging its long face,
                                             dressed in mourning,
Be with me,
My tormenter, my love, be near me.

  — Faiz Ahmed Faiz (1911 – 1984), Indian/Pakistani poet. Translated by Naomi Lazard

OPAL

You are ice and fire,
The touch of you burns my hands like snow.
You are cold and flame.
You are the crimson of amaryllis,
The silver of moon-touched magnolias.
When I am with you,
My heart is a frozen pond
Gleaming with agitated torches.

  — Amy Lowell (1874 – 1925), American Poet.

ITHAKA

As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

  — C.P. Cavafy (1863 – 1933), Greek poet and journalist. Translated by Edmund Keeley

Every once in awhile, you just feel like telling people to … thankfully, I haven’t had one of THOSE days in a while, but I’m still diggin’ the song, what … 15 years later?

CATHERINE WHEEL – EAT MY DUST (YOU INSENSITIVE FUCK)

I think I have the best of me
Inside my head
No one else competes with me
I think I’m great
Got spirit tucked away inside

Eat my dust you insensitive fuck
Eat my dust you insensitive fuck
Eat my dust

THE MAHOGANY TREE

Christmas is here;
Winds whistle shrill,
Icy and chill,
Little care we;
Little we fear
Weather without,
Shelter’d about
The Mahogany Tree.

Sorrows, begone!
Life and its ills,
Duns and their bills,
Bid we to flee.
Come with the dawn,
Blue-devil sprite,
Leave us to-night,
Round the old tree.

&nbsp — William Makepeace Thackeray (1811 – 1863), English novelist & poet

THE GASLIGHT ANTHEM – THE ‘59 SOUND

Well I wonder which song they’re going to play when we go
I hope it’s something quiet, mannered, peaceful, and slow
When we float out into the ether
Into the everlasting arms
I hope we don’t hear Marley’s chains before July
‘Cause the chains I’ve been hearing now for most of my life
And the chains I’ve been hearing now for most of my life

Did you hear the ‘59 sound coming through our grandfather’s radio?
Did you hear the rattling chains in the hospital walls?
Did you hear the old gospel choir when they came to carry you over?
Did you hear your favorite song one last time?

And I wonder were you scared when the metal hit the glass
See I was playing a show down the road when your spirit left your body
And they told me on the front lawn, I’m sorry I couldn’t go
But I still know the song and the words and the name and the reasons
And I know ’cause we were kids and we used to hang
And I know ’cause we were kids and we used to hang

Did you hear the ‘59 sound coming through our grandfather’s radio?
Did you hear the rattling chains in the hospital walls?
Did you hear the old gospel choir when they came to carry you over?
Did you hear your favorite song one last time?

Young boys, young girls
Young boys, young girls
Ain’t supposed to die on a Saturday night
Ain’t supposed to die on a Saturday night
Well they ain’t supposed to die on a Saturday night
Ain’t supposed to die on a Saturday night

Did you hear the ‘59 sound coming through our grandfather’s radio?
Did you hear the rattling chains in the hospital walls?
Did you hear the old gospel choir when they came to carry you over?
Did you hear your favorite song one last time?

Young boys, young girls
Young boys, young girls

I find it hard not to think that there is some sort of all encompassing power tying us all together. Just from a molecular standpoint, an atom that was once part of me could now be part of you, and there is an energy that ties all atoms together (or pushes them apart).

Now whether that energy takes the form a a singular, intelligent being … who knows?

I just find it very difficult to say one person’s god is “true” and another person’s god is “false”. To me, the Great Spirit of the Native Americans is just as valid as the Christian and Jewish God, as Allah, as Vishnu (or whatever the Hindu god is), etc.

Even the “Force” in Star Wars has religious overtones if you think about it; after all, it is an all-encompassing power that guides and protects those that use it properly, and twists those who would misuse it … much like religion.

When people ask me about my religious beliefs or if I believe in God, I tell them I don’t reject God; but that I do reject religion. For me, it’s what a person carries inside themselves, and how they treat other people that counts. A person should have a moral and ethical code that they follow, and if that code is inspired by one particular religious sect or another, then so be it.

The problem is when one person attempts to impose their religious beliefs on another, either by argument, legislation or force.

I think really, it’s that I believe in the Golden Rule, and not much else. As a cyclist, I will continue to wear my Madonna del Ghisallo medallion, for while it may not have any true power to protect me, I feel safer when I wear it because it reminds me that the roads are dangerous and keeps me more aware.

I will continue to carry my turtle totem, given to me by woman I dated for a couple months immediately after my divorce, because it reminds me to focus on my thoughts and actions, to remain grounded and to try to maintain a harmonious flow to my existence.

I will keep the yin/yang background image on my laptop as a reminder that there is no way but the way (and that way may differ from one person to the next), and that everything is comprised of light and dark, masculine and feminine, good and evil.

And I will do all that I can to be the best person that I can be … not the best athlete, not the smartest person in school or at work; but inside at my core, my very soul. I will do this not with a belief in God or Jesus or this church or that temple, but with the knowledge that my actions (and inaction) affect those around me and that my effect on others affects me in return.

THE SECOND COMING

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

  — William Butler Yeats (1865 – 1939), Irish poet.