Friday, March 16, 2007
While my mother waters plants my father loads his gun.
He says, "Death will give us back to God,
just like the setting sun
is returned to the lonesome ocean."
We must blend into the choir, sing as static with the whole
We must memorize nine numbers and deny we have a soul
And to this endless race for property and privilege to be won
We must run, we must run, we must run
We must hang up in the belfry where the bats in moonlight laugh
We must stare into a crystal ball and only see the past
And in the caverns of tomorrow with our flashlights and our love
We must plunge, we must plunge, we must plunge
And then we'll get down there,
way down to the very bottom of everything
and then we'll see it, we'll see it, we'll see it
Oh my morning's coming back
The whole worlds waking up
Oh the city bus is swimming past
I'm happy just because
I found out I am really no one.
-- bright eyes, at the bottom of everything
+ fictions&fires
9:07 PM
----
plangere, latin: to strike, or to lament.
in the depth of winter i finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.
--albert camus
--
to be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best night and day to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle any human being can fight and never stop fighting.
-- ee cummings
--
--