#lewis
朝が明ける前に、地図はすでに描かれていた。
敵地に書かれた名前は
最初の言葉が発せられる前に。
日食を見つめすぎて
光がどんなものか思い出せなかった。
あらゆる顔に影が
まだ照らされ続けようとしていた。
港はここにあった。
君はまるで天候のように、
波止場で揺れながら、
まるで岸が海を荒々しくしているように、やって来た。
8時間の静寂。
そして、死んだ哲学者の後…
まだ間違った座標で航海している。
まだ岸を嵐と間違えている。
恐怖は現実だ。日食は現実だ。
君が見ている敵も現実だ。
でも、君が何を狙ったのか、よく考えてみろ。
港は海と口論はしない。
ただ、海になることを拒んでいるだけだ。
地図を描き直せ。
岸はまだここにある。
同じ光。まだ待っています
The philosophers are restless in their graves. Mill is being passed around like a wanted poster at a town meeting where everyone already agreed on the verdict before the defendant arrived. Mill did not ask for this. Mill is tired. Mill has been tired since 1873.
Two thousand years ago a carpenter let a rich man walk away and did not run after him with "better" theology. This has never once been the sermon. This should always be the sermon. cslewis ordered another round and waited and waited and waited and this was considered weakness by people who have never grown anything.
Somewhere a seed is inside the ground pretending to be nothing.
It is not nothing.
It is just not yet.
Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 7:46 PM UTC
'Twas brillig, when the wee sleek beasty
Did gyre and gimble in my fields
And ach! I feel but naught, but sadness
Plowing his home and stealing his meals
Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 9:43 PM UTC
Where is this book
Where can i find
It will encourage my growth
It stimulate my mind
This book will teach me
To become a competitive rival
It’s called Be Knowledgeable
The Strategy of Survival
Where is this book
Where can I find
It will encourage my growth
It will stimulate my mind
This book is the pen, the sword,
The tongue and the rifle
It’s called Be Knowledgeable
The Strategy of Survival
Dec 5, 2019
Dec 5, 2019 at 4:56 PM UTC
Called Otherland
From old green hills
Pray kept or creeping
Or keeping still
Oh so the worry
More so the ought
Tender and hurried
Also the knot
Away on skyline
Up close unwaiving
Flounced in the grey
Fraught from saying
Better to die me
Bitter the notion
Across Otherland
To answer oceans
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
JERRY LEWIS HAS PASSED AWAY
A GIANT AND COMIC GENIUS
THE LAST REMAINING MEMBER OF THE RAT PACK
HE NEVER TOOK LIFE TO SERIOUS
HIS PARTNERSHIP WITH DEAN MARTIN
MADE LAUGHTER A CONTAGIOUS DISEASE
WHEN EVER THEY PERFORMED TOGETHER
THE LAUGHTER BROUGHT YOU TO YOUR KNEES
HIS DEDICATED WORK FOR RAISING MONEY
HELPED MANY A CHILDREN'S HEART
HE RAISED MANY HUNDRED MILLIONS OF DOLLARS
SO LOVING FAMILIES WOULD NEVER PART
LAUGHTER BRINGS A WARMTH TO YOUR HEART
JERRY LEWIS DELIVERED IT WITH LOVE
HIS SKILL AND BRILLIANCE WILL ALWAYS BE
SHINING ON US FROM ABOVE
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 11:02 PM UTC
I am sorry
It wasn't my intentions,
It wasn't something I've planned
to happen,
I never meant to hurt you,
I didn't mean it.
I'm sorry,
It just happened
By the blink of an eye,
It came to me as
a distraction of
a beautiful day,
Which I'm still talking
about even today,
in this month of may,
I do wish to so those guys
to pay
for what they did to you.
I did saw those guys
what they did to you,
I did saw how you were
tortured by those guys,
I did saw how painful
it was,
**** those guys
lost their brains
they nearly killed you
In front of my very eyes,
But because I was so
afraid
and so stupid to help,
I did panic,
And so afraid to get into trouble,
I didn't bother to tell the cops,
I didn't try to give them
a clear statement,
Everything was complicated
like a sentence
without a space,
And confusing like a question
without answers,
I saw what happened to you,
I did saw when those guys
put you in the boat,
I was just a state witness
for you to stay stressless
but I thought it is so harmless
to confess,
To take you out of this mess.
I'm so sorry,
I know if I was victimized
you wouldn't hesitate
or panic to tell the state,
If I did tell the cops
none of those people
could've ran away,
With no punishment
for what they did to you.
I'm sorry,
I'll keep on praying for you
since you are still in a coma,
In I.C.U ,
Where I see you,
So conscious
and so paralyzed physically
and mentally,
Be strong, I know
you will overcome all the battles
of your life,
Seeing you lying on the
hospital bed it is painful,
And so hurtful
and also heartbreaking.
I believe you'll make it,
And your hope,
you won't fake it,
And the life test
you'll pass it.
I'm sorry
Written by: Lewis DaLyricist
All Rights Reserved
©CopyRighted 2017
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 5:08 PM UTC
One day
One day I'll be no where
to be found,
I'll be in a place
which I understand better,
I'll be no where to be found,
A place where I'll find
my self,
A place where I'll
define my self,
Accept my self
the way I am,
And the way I make decisions
with no divisions
to stop my visions.
One day I'll be in gone,
I'll be in
a place where I'll have
my own meeting alone,
One day,
I'll be no more,
I will not be found
even in the coffin,
I will not be found
even in a mortuary.
Like I said,
just to remind you,
Please scroll back and
read my first line,
I said "I'll be no where to be found"
so don't expect
to find me one day,
Cause I'll be gone.
I will not be found,
Even in hospitals
I will not be found,
Even in prison
where a discipline
and a lesson lives,
Nor person
will find me.
I'll be searched from North
to South,
I mean from where the sun
is born
and to where it dies,
Even at church,
a place of wisdom
and spiritual freedom,
Where lies the Gospel
of self-respect
And faith,
The faith that rise
like dust
and meets the sky,
From holy to glory,
I won't be found.
You'll search me like a rare treasure,
You'll search me like a gold in mine,
You'll remember me
since the picture cannot give
a reply,
And tell where I am at.
One day,
No one will know exactly where I am,
A picture might be plugged
with my name on it
around corners
and written "Wanted" or "Missing",
All you have to do
is to scroll back and read my first line,
just to remind you that "I'll be no where to be found"
No matter what you try.
Don't waste any seconds
which can't be measured with a glass
of water,
Spend each time with me
and don't miss any joy
I share with you,
Cause one day I'll be gone
and not be found.
One day.
by Lewis DaLyricist
All Rights Reserved
© Copyrighted 2017
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 4:58 PM UTC
Prisoners of their own success
Their world now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
A truck driver from Tupelo
A pop band from the 'pool
A superstar from Hoboken,
And one...the King of Cool
The superstar from Hoboken
Became the Chairman of The Board
If you made it into his 'rat pack'
You knew you'd really scored
His movies and his music
Made him the world's number one
But he had to minimize his world
When someone stole his son
His boy was kidnapped, truthfully
Back in 1965
And through his contacts in the mob
He got his son back home alive
This is the price of fame folks
Behind the glitter and the glam
They've got to have their safety
But the fans don't give a ****
Prisoners of their own success
Their world now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
The Memphis Mafia gave protection
To The King of Rock and Roll
But, by choice his world got smaller
And he went into a hole
He built a house in Memphis
To protect him from his fans
And thanks to Dr. Feelgood
He died a lonely, broken man
He couldn't live the life he earned
He was a prisioner instead
It's a shame he has more value
Now that he is dead
Prisoners of their own success
Their world now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
He'd a partner and was cool
He was suave and sang songs
And he worked with a "fool"
They conquered the nightclubs
They were known near and far
But his created alter ego
Lived his life at the bar
He ran with Frank Sinatra
He was the King of Cool
But when The Chairman started lessons
Dean was right there in his school
The Beatles broke in Hamburg
But way back in sixty two
Their bubble was just forming
There was nothing they could do
They lived their life behind the scenes
For when they did go out
The girls would all go crazy
And the world would twist and shout
Privacy came hard for them
They went four separate ways
These four young men from Liverpool
LIved life inside a maze.
It's sad that adulation
takes their freedom, makes them hide
But they're safer locked away from us
They're safer locked inside
Prisoners of their own success
Their world's now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 8:21 PM UTC
homage to Wallace Stevens
I - My Focus pistoned up the rise
and all at once, the Rockies -
silhouettes against the western skies.
II - On the road to Boulder
a pleated ridge crawls north
like a blue whale bound for the open sea.
III - Appalachia's intoxicating verdure
never fails to induce in us
a certain mellowing of the spirit.
IV - You 'conquered' my North Face, did you?
Why, I should skewer your arrogant ***
like a holiday lamb culled for the sacrifice.
V - Lewis and Clark looked west
surveying the Bitterroots' frigid expanse.
Farewell Northwest Passage!
VI - Pueblos stranded on Enchanted Mesa -
their rock stairs crumbled to the valley floor.
Should they dive to their death or starve?
VII –Touristas at Big Bend Park
wonder at its pastel window -
its romantic haze a toxic gift
from stacks across the Rio Grande.
VIII – The once mighty Ozarks humbled by age,
dwarfed by the youthful Rockies.
Listen up, youngsters, your time will come!
IX – We de-bussed to seize the dolomites
with our hyper-kinetic shutters.
Pausing for a draught of Italian air,
I felt the whack of an Alpine snowball.
X - Before Oregon's crater had its lake,
the mountain scorched the village below.
Today its azure waters preach only serenity.
XI – Looking down from Shissler peak
to the golden meadow below
where the elk herd calmly grazes.
XII – Do mists veil the Blue Ridge Mountains
or are there really no mountains at all -
only clouds decked out in mountain attire?
XIII – They say that peaks more steep than Everest
soar up from the ocean floor.
Who will scale their sunken heights?
May 28, 2010 – Boulder Colorado
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
Western Sources
Mist, rain and snowmelt gather
And soak the Montana crests.
A trio of rivulets carves the slopes,
Grow to rivers that braid into a single course
And the Missouri is born at Three Forks.
Shoshone and Hidatsu rest from the hunt,
Kneel and cup their hands
To raise life giving liquid to their lips
While horses bow beside them
Bellies filled with the refreshing waters.
The river flows north dividing the tall grasslands,
Plunges over the cataracts at Great Falls,
Churns on the rocks below
And drives inexorably toward the sea.
Mandan and Sioux
Soft flute sounds drift from the Mandan village
Intertwining with the riffling music of the river.
By its banks a coarse French trapper roasts a rabbit
To share with his Shoshone child-bride.
Sacagawea sings softly beside him -
Charboneau's son stirring in her womb.
Sioux warriors on horseback
Stand guard by the shores.
How many travelers have passed?
How many are yet to come?
Beyond the rolling hills
A buffalo stumbles and falls
Pierced by Lakota arrows and spears.
Boats in the Water
At River du Bois where the Missouri
Collides with the Mississippi,
Forty men slip into boats and take to the oars
To interpret Jefferson’s continental dream -
Their keelboat laden with sustenance,
Herbs, weapons and powder.
They carry trinkets to dazzle the natives
And cast bronze medals to give them
Bearing images of their "Father in Washington"
That none had asked to have.
May, 2004
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 5:42 AM UTC
Dark bat, would I were curious as thou art-
Like a tea-tray twinkling at night,
And lying with eternal wings apart
Til morning when you end your flight,
And spend the day at your raven-like desk
Chanting incantations old and obscure
With lyrics obscene and Kafkaesque
Quoting first Foucault, then Sassure -
No-yet still puzzling, still remarkable
A black beacon amid shades of grey -
Elusive, and in pursuit quite snark-able.
To you I am drawn as a ****** to ****
I’ll be your muse and you’ll be my death.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 7:07 PM UTC
a blonde waitress in a diner on minimum wage
located off route 66
reads a battered book with a missing last page
hoping to find a quick fix
with no family, friends, or cash to her name
she needed to find a way out
but a greying old man with a monocle came
and quickly sorted her out
he placed a tablet before her
and ran off in a terrible state
but he called back over his shoulder
"oh my goodness, how could i be late?"
she was puzzled and thought she had imagined it
as the night shifts had made Alice sleepy
but she peered down at the strange looking tablet
and made out the two words 'eat me'
'what harm could it do?' she inquired
as she carefully picked up the pill
as she swallowed, her throat was on fire
and she began to feel rather ill
her surroundings, they became hazy
and her the blood in her body ran cold
she convinced herself it was a daydream
as she felt herself fall down a hole
she fell with a thud, then looked around
and noticed that objects were massive
then she realised that she was 10 feet underground
stuck in a dark, ***** passage
a light in the distance lead her to a door
'what's behind it?' Alice then wondered
and as she was now incredibly small
she was able to just slip right under
peering around, she was taken aback
as Alice saw things she did not understand
in the midst of the night lay a large cheshire cat
which grinned and said 'Welcome to Wonderland'
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
I have a fairy by my side
Which says I must not sleep,
When once in pain I loudly cried
It said "You must not weep"
If, full of mirth, I smile and grin,
It says "You must not laugh"
When once I wished to drink some gin
It said "You must not quaff".
When once a meal I wished to taste
It said "You must not bite"
When to the wars I went in haste
It said "You must not fight".
"What may I do?" at length I cried,
Tired of the painful task.
The fairy quietly replied,
And said "You must not ask".
Moral: "You mustn't."
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 6:14 AM UTC
My blood runs cold
My heart beats slow;
and I can see the world
groaning as it spins
upon the point
of a finger.
My pupils dilate
I fear it may be too late;
and trees are twisting
mouths are yawning
open to swallow
the stars.
My veins contract
Life no longer intact;
so far from the horizon
and that burning bright sun
dazzling my blind
creamy eyes.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
He fell away with his uffish head all full
and he bought what we couldn’t buy him and
he didn’t buy what we swallowed whole
or at least he sold it back or gave it away
for vorpal heresies & novel fascinations
And just like we taught him to ride the red
a few swipes away from bankruptcy and desolation
but welcome and chortled to fail if that’s
easier for now than climbing the Tumtum tree
or trying to make it in this world
well fed - given all to eat and truly loved
It’s curious how the rain gyred down today
and stopped and came again and stopped
because the cadence of his windshield wipers
seemed to coincide with the crankier parts:
only working when there’s nothing left to wipe
We don’t even give two ***** if a Jubjub bird
falls dead and he whiffles away, sword
between his legs (though that is dangerous)
and the beast escapes. He can eat the **** bird
for all we care, but for sustenance, not triumph
But our son is still lost; he’s frabjously
writhing in the tulgey fiber of disappointment
unable to slay even the puniest of borogoves
His melancholy surpasses all comprehension
and he isn’t coming home any time soon
He’s not galumphing back.
What use is a mimsy rhyme to the famished?
How often are we warned, beamishly chastised
of the brillig peril of worrying ourselves
with feeding the slithy soul
when the body burbles, always demands to eat first
and is satisfied by no less
than the frumious flesh of the fatted calf?
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC