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#bernard
a quote of Bernard-Henri Lévy ~~~ the divers’ recovery, diverse, shipwrecked salvage from different locations, auctioned to the highest bidder, tho the excised excerpts are exceptional, none come to do the bidding, for the provenance of words belongs to all, and to none ~~ “so oft we trifle words, expel them from the country of our body, without passport and earnestness, as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler, day tourists, to be treated as leavings, refuse for daily discardation, barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance, but leaving not, a mark of distinction” “the addicted pleasure words granted to we privileged few, like every enslaved soul to the mind, which I am, I am, evening dreams, midnight thinkings, sunrise seeings, how can I infect and thus protect the young to the liberty to love the crafted content of our human essence to better comprehend that a moment caught on tape of our shared words is a holiday, a celebration for the ages...and every molecule, becomes a human tuning fork in concert, in pitch identical, in blood tainted with the simplicity of we are all the same, only words, this will transmit” “murmur me, with soft downy charms, these words discovered recoursed and intended well to pointedly offset and contradict their very own tumultuous discovery uncovering, tear tongue me with calming, lapping word  wages, hymns harmonious and fine homilies, a call, a request, a bequest to sedate my shrill life “some cells, microscopic, preserved digitally, aged to imperfection, thrash my eyes, making me speak in tongues I do not recognize, but fluently possess, no wonder there, the memory place fairly empty, room aplenty for passerby's and the imagery                                                          ­ of the vaguest of dearly departed skin is not the only mot shed,                                                 sloughing of woeful words” “speak them slow and distinct, for they arrive slow to you, a trickling of refugees for your sheltering, harbor them as full companions, protected by natural law, provision them well, prepared and ever ready for a quick departure, moor these words at the embarcadero, for the next restless leg of endlessness, which they themselves will inform you will last longer than eternity, long after there are no humans to speak them”
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Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 4:55 AM UTC
“diving into the depths of my words”
a quote of Bernard-Henri Lévy ~~~ the divers’ recovery, diverse, shipwrecked salvage from different locations, auctioned to the highest bidder, tho the excised excerpts are exceptional, none come to do the bidding, for the provenance of words belongs to all, and to none ~~ “so oft we trifle words, expel them from the country of our body, without passport and earnestness, as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler, day tourists, to be treated as leavings, refuse for daily discardation, barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance, but leaving not, a mark of distinction” “the addicted pleasure words granted to we privileged few, like every enslaved soul to the mind, which I am, I am, evening dreams, midnight thinkings, sunrise seeings, how can I infect and thus protect the young to the liberty to love the crafted content of our human essence to better comprehend that a moment caught on tape of our shared words is a holiday, a celebration for the ages...and every molecule, becomes a human tuning fork in concert, in pitch identical, in blood tainted with the simplicity of we are all the same, only words, this will transmit” “murmur me, with soft downy charms, these words discovered recoursed and intended well to pointedly offset and contradict their very own tumultuous discovery uncovering, tear tongue me with calming, lapping word  wages, hymns harmonious and fine homilies, a call, a request, a bequest to sedate my shrill life “some cells, microscopic, preserved digitally, aged to imperfection, thrash my eyes, making me speak in tongues I do not recognize, but fluently possess, no wonder there, the memory place fairly empty, room aplenty for passerby's and the imagery                                                          ­ of the vaguest of dearly departed skin is not the only mot shed,                                                 sloughing of woeful words” “speak them slow and distinct, for they arrive slow to you, a trickling of refugees for your sheltering, harbor them as full companions, protected by natural law, provision them well, prepared and ever ready for a quick departure, moor these words at the embarcadero, for the next restless leg of endlessness, which they themselves will inform you will last longer than eternity, long after there are no humans to speak them”
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58
Reaching Across a Canyon is Easy, when I'm too drunk to see the distance. And sometimes I find myself Drunk enough to Fly across to the other Side. But in the sober morning I look across at you, my arms tucked into my sides, my wings disappeared, and I wonder if you'll Ever reach across for Me.
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Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
Reaching Out
Maybe today I feel More like ****** rap lyrics than art; Like talking from my ****** Rather than my heart. You told me You'd **** me again when we got back. We've been back for days, Where's your **** at?
0
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
Whispered in a Tent
Sometimes, I think about you and I have to ********** furiously thinking of you and me. Something about the way you                                                                   raised your eyebrows as greeting                     Makes me suspect                                     it's a mutual feeling.
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Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 3:18 AM UTC
Furiously
Be yourself There is no one else Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind And I don’t mind I guess I Shouldn’t cry because it's over, But  smile because it happened It might overcome the sadness, But i never quite escape the nostalgia… How do you live, With these broken memories in your head, And happy feelings in your heart? No one ever listens How do I move on with the weight of my past on my back, The comfort so welcoming I always cry Over the things that don’t matter Hiding the hurt, hiding the pain, Hiding the tears that fell like rain… So long ago, and yet, Time is weird in my head
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Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 2:03 PM UTC
Nothing, everything, me, and everyone else.