About Today’s Pasts

About Today’s Pasts

I still hear the echo of us walking in those streets,

You, lost and blinded by an answered prayer, walking tall and confident, beautiful above an island of strangers that allowed us to take their time away,

Me, hanging on to your warm left wrist, needing your pulse to make sure I was awake in a moment I wasn’t meant to live.

Us, careless in that foggy happiness, joyful in the rain, telling secrets. It was our truth and we loved it, free, chasing darkness out of our hearts, bringing eternal longings to and end.

I was leaning towards your soft cold skin into your embrace, breathless by an awakening into a deeper dream. It was like holding her into my arms again, in that last summer, her warmth touching my heart as you were, no skin, no flesh, we’re one, and this time there’s no end… I see no end! I see no end!

There are a few hours in the world when we are both awake and we build and travel to new cities, holding hands in new streets, lights everywhere, it’s all just one story, the same embrace, in a white house, from which we never parted.

We are living, not just surviving, glorious, under all the Suns, and now we both take a second longer to look at things.

It’s the second that brought you to me, the second between dreams and reality, between our minds and our bodies. The second of pure awareness.

Oh, my almost lover, it’s the stories that killed us, the words, the easiness, when the whole world tilted and started going backwards.

I traced a map of our lives, the roads that got us here, I needed to, there was a world I went against.

But we had joy on our side, and depth, and art and poetry and we believed that the Universe can’t abandon that which IS for that which IS NOT. We only needed courage, that silver thread between Gods and humans.

“In the end, the world always wins…” says the tired voice of the King, turned Knight, turned father, turned human under regret, turned old.

“Not all have your courage…” says the tired voice of the Queen, turned Artist, turned mother, turned human under regret, turned old.

And they had a daughter who wears their curse on her shoulders and pink around her neck on the last day of the year. She sleeps with the lights on in her Roman obsession for reason and order.

You found her and left her in a sea of goneness where the planets and the moons cry for the days that lay ahead.

There’s fear filling up the white sheets of paper like an empty bed in an empty house, on an empty blue island, somewhere in an empty world where we lay the memory of each other between the pages of our thoughts like in a grave.

Our safe place became a mourning place and not a single word was said after the Sun died, not one word…

M.

About How It Felt

“The world you desire can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible, it’s yours. But to win it requires total dedication and a total break with the world of your past, with the doctrine that man is a sacrificial animal who exists for the pleasure of others. Fight for the value of your person. Fight for the virtue of your pride. Fight for the essence, which is man, for his sovereign rational mind. Fight with the radiant certainty and the absolute rectitude of knowing that yours is the morality of life and yours is the battle for any achievement, any value, any grandeur, any goodness, any joy that has ever existed on this earth.” 

AR

About Fear

About Fear

“The sea strikes the pier onto which, that night, we did not have the courage to go all the way.

The wet, slippery, broken stone, one step from where we were…

If we were careless,

We could have fallen into the boiling water underneath.

But we were careful. As always.

So careful, that one day we will restrain ourselves from walking on the pier.

We will merely remember it,

then we will remember it less and in the end, we will forget that

One night we were determined to go all the way.

Now, if I go on the pier, I can only do it alone.

If I slip or march bravely, it’s all the same.

And I would like to forget what day it is, what year and place,

As I’m listening to the vast sea hitting the pier, wondering who and how old I am and what I’m doing here.

And why have I stopped in front of this pier, Iike I’ve seen it before?”

OP

About Modi

“When I’ll know your soul, I will paint your eyes. … With one eye you are looking at the outside world, while with the other you are looking within yourself. … It is your duty in life to save your dream.”

About Mirrors

“Love is blind, they say; sex is impervious to reason and mocks the power of all philosophers. But, in fact, a person’s sexual choice is the result and sum of their fundamental convictions. Tell me what a person finds sexually attractive and I will tell you their entire philosophy of life. Show me the person they sleep with and I will tell you their valuation of themselves. No matter what corruption they’re taught about the virtue of selflessness, sex is the most profoundly selfish of all acts, an act which they cannot perform for any motive but their own enjoyment – just try to think of performing it in a spirit of selfless charity! – an act which is not possible in self-abasement, only in self-exultation, only on the confidence of being desired and being worthy of desire. It is an act that forces them to stand naked in spirit, as well as in body, and accept their real ego as their standard of value. They will always be attracted to the person who reflects their deepest vision of themselves, the person whose surrender permits them to experience – or to fake – a sense of self-esteem .. Love is our response to our highest values – and can be nothing else.”

AR

About “…the best of both!”

About “…the best of both!”

Explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste

yu mean when Picasso
mix red an green
is a half-caste canvas?

yu mean when light an shadow
mix in de sky
is a half-caste weather?
well in dat case
england weather
nearly always half-caste
in fact some o dem cloud
half-caste till dem overcast
so spiteful dem don’t want de sun pass
ah rass?

yu mean tchaikovsky
sit down at dah piano
an mix a black key
wid a white key
is a half-caste symphony?

Ah listening to yu wid de keen
half of mih ear
Ah looking at yu wid de keen
half of mih eye
an when I’m introduced to yu
I’m sure you’ll understand
why I offer yu half-a-hand
an when I sleep at night
I close half-a-eye
consequently when I dream
I dream half-a-dream
an when moon begin to glow
I half-caste human being
cast half-a-shadow
but yu must come back tomorrow
wid de whole of yu eye
an de whole of yu ear
an de whole of yu mind.

an I will tell yu
de other half
of my story.

John Agard – Half Caste