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When Someone Loves You And You're No One

for Kristine Marie

When someone loves you and you're no one,
what happens then? What do you have to give
that they aren't already in full possession of?
The many I have loved have become one woman.
And this is an orchid that blooms in fire at night.
And this is the dove that returns from earth
with a wing like a broken arrow and asks to be healed.

When someone loves you and you're no one,
what happens then? This picture-music flowing
like a carillon of bliss and despair through
my body, heart, mind as if they were all
poured like dragon iron into the casting of the same bell
that yesterday raised like a sword to kill it back into life?
And this is a doorway you can stand in forever
as if you were greeting someone who never comes.
And this is that butterfly among wildflowers
that flutters about like a symbol of the mind

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poem by Patrick White
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The Painting Finished

for Sally

The painting finished, I sit at my desk
and go on painting windows and computer screens.
My body is grateful and my heart a submarine.
I don't know if I expressed what I meant to mean
but there it is and that's an end of it for the night.
Time now to rely on my resident metaphors.
Stop looking at things that flower in space like stars
and coercing the light into compliance.
Sit in my apartment and watch the weave of the rain
unravelling the loom of the window in tears.

Feel like a seance trying to talk to an exorcism
when I address myself in my solitude
at cruising altitude over the sirens and car horns,
the wailing of long distance freight trains
like graffiti art shows on the road all the way
from North Carolina, the land of talented spray bombs,
and the gleeful shrieking of a gaggle of girls

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poem by Patrick White
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At The Gate Of The Convent

Beside the Convent Gate I stood,
Lingering to take farewell of those
To whom I owed the simple good
Of three days' peace, three nights' repose.

My sumpter-mule did blink and blink;
Was nothing more to munch or quaff;
Antonio, far too wise to think,
Leaned vacantly upon his staff.

It was the childhood of the year:
Bright was the morning, blithe the air;
And in the choir I plain could hear
The monks still chanting matin prayer.

The throstle and the blackbird shrilled,
Loudly as in an English copse,
Fountain-like note that, still refilled,
Rises and falls, but never stops.

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poem by Alfred Austin
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Argentile and Curan. - Albion's England (excerpt)

The Brutons thus departed hence, seven kingdoms here begun,--
Where diversely in divers broils the Saxons lost and won,--
King Edel and king Adelbright in Diria jointly reign;
In loyal concord during life these kingly friends remain.
When Adelbright should leave his life, to Edel thus he says:
'By those same bonds of happy love, that held us friends always,
By our bi-parted crown, of which the moiety is mine,
By God, to whom my soul must pass, and so in time may thine,
I pray thee, nay I conjure thee, to nourish as thine own
Thy niece, my daughter Argentile, till she to age be grown;
And then, as thou receivest it, resign to her my throne.'
A promise had for this bequest, the testator he dies;
But all that Edel undertook, he afterward denies.
Yet well he fosters for a time the damsel, that was grown
The fairest lady under Heaven; whose beauty being known,
A many princes seek her love, but none might her obtain:
For gripple Edel to himself her kingdom sought to gain,
And for that cause from sight of such he did his ward restrain.
By chance one Curan, son unto a prince in Danske, did see
The maid, with whom he fell in love as much as one might be.

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poem by William Warner
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... As The Future Repeats Today

There's no place that still remains
Just deserted space all left in grey
Why did we lose, the knowledge of time?
Is this the price, the hell we pay?
The poisoned fear known to man
is he who try to find his path
The collective force blaming you
"This is day day we split in half"
Thrown to the gallow, forgotten and sore
sworn to be different in what way I can
The sultry taste that is special to me
is the last gleeful glimpse of a bitter man
Down and troubled, in search for better days
Back to the beginning, I'm at the end
All my time, compressed to itching moments
as the future repeats today
So impressed, lost the faith in all I had
Broken down, I'm on my way to be dissolved
The hopes and prays of things to come
I've lost them all with glory

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song performed by In Flames
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sell It & They Will Come

I fell asleep on the couch last night, woke up with the tv on.
There was a woman in tight cotton exercise shorts
And a big plastic machine she was climbing on.
She said the abacycle guarantees ten inches off your waist,
And 50 pounds in just 3 minutes a day.
I went to bed knowing the revolution had been postponed
And everything was ok.
You can buy it, you can try it, go right ahead.
But dont be fooled folks, theres only one.
I forget the guys name but I know somebody must have said
Sell it and they will come boys, sell it and they will come.
I switched the channels and there was evel knievel, I thought that he was
Dead.
I found myself sitting there quietly, hanging on every word he said.
Now folks, the stimulator removes all pain from your life.
And the best day of your life will be when you try this little thing out.
The camera moved in as he said, now let me tell you ladies and gentlemen,
Pain is something old evel knows a little about
You can buy it, you can try it, thats what I said.
But dont be fooled folks, theres only one.

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song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sell It And They Will Come

I fell asleep on the couch last night, woke up with the tv on.
There was a woman in tight cotton exercise shorts
And a big plastic machine she was climbing on.
She said "the abacycle guarantees ten inches off your waist,
And 50 pounds in just 3 minutes a day."
I went to bed knowing the revolution had been postponed
And everything was ok.
You can buy it, you can try it, go right ahead.
But dont be fooled folks, theres only one.
I forget the guys name but I know somebody must have said
Sell it and they will come boys, sell it and they will come.
I switched the channels and there was evel knievel, I thought that he was
Dead.
I found myself sitting there quietly, hanging on every word he said.
"now folks, the stimulator removes all pain from your life.
And the best day of your life will be when you try this little thing out."
The camera moved in as he said, "now let me tell you ladies and gentlemen,
Pain is something old evel knows a little about"
You can buy it, you can try it, thats what I said.
But dont be fooled folks, theres only one.

[...] Read more

song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
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Seasonal Cycle - Chapter 02 - Rainy Season

"Oh, dear, now the kingly monsoon is onset with its clouds containing raindrops, as its ruttish elephants in its convoy, and with skyey flashes of lighting as its pennants and buntings, and with the thunders of thunderbolts as its percussive drumbeats, thus this rainy season has come to pass, radiately shining forth like a king, for the delight of voluptuous people...

"By far, the vault of heaven is overly impregnated with massive clouds, that are similar to the gleam of blackish petals of black-costuses... somewhere they are similar to the glitter of the heaps of well-kneaded blackish mascara... and elsewhere they glisten like the blackened nipples of bosoms of pregnant women, ready to rain the elixir of life on the lips of her offspring, when that offspring is actualised...

"The stock of Caataka birds that is disquieted with thirst, and though praying prayerfully for raindrops, those water-filled danglers in the sky, namely the clouds, that have many showers to shower, and though their rumblings are heart-stealing and ear-filling indicating rainfall, but those clouds are drifting away, slowly... heedless of the prayers of poor Caataka birds...

"The clouds in their warrior-march are wielding crashes of thunderbolts as their drum kits, and the flashes of lightning as the fluttering flashes of the bowstring of rainbow, and even they are unloosening very sharp arrows from that rainbow, called the sharply torrents, only to rend the lovelorn hearts of itinerants, that too ruthlessly... in their war on behalf of their ladyloves...

"The earth with grass sprouts seems spread with lapis gems that are shred to smithereens, for the grass has yet not attained that much greenery, and muchly sprouted and overspread are the greenish leaves of Kandali plants that suddenly sprout in rainy seasons, and amidst which greensward red insects are muchly mosaicked, thus the earth is beaming forth like a best lady decorated in many coloured jewels, other than whitish diamonds and other crystalline ones...

"This cloudy and showery environ is evermore heart-pleasing to peacocks, hence they are screaming with hilarity and fidgety, and the whole stock of peacocks is brilliant when its fanlike expansive plumage is outstretched, and on impulsively petting and pecking peahens, now they have commenced their peacock-dance

"Highly intensified is the rapidity of the waters of these maidens called rivers, which similes with the promptitude of maidens with misdemeanour, where these waters are new and thus miry, while those dames are newly maturated and thus they are in the mire of maturity, while these waters are hurtling hastily towards their lover, called the ocean, with a seasonally created excitement, those damsels are flirtatiously jaunting with their flirty lovers, and in doing so both of them are reckless about their own kith and kin, since the rapid watercourse of rivers is felling its riverine trees, ubiquitously... and the flirty jaunting of those dames is felling the reputation of her family, far and wide... ah, a season is the culprit to cause a seasonal itch...

"With the advent of rains upshot are the tender sprouts of grass, and the greensward when grazed by deer and other grazers, it is divers in its hue, somewhere with blackish patches, elsewhere with stacks of grass, and somewhere else with verdant pastures, and with their upcast tender leaflets the trees are ornately decorating the Vindhya mountains, thus the environ is heart-stealing, picturesquely...

"Oh, dear, sheeny are the faces of the deer with their swiftly zipping eyes, which are akin to black-lotuses and to your eyes as well, and they the deer and you, zip your eyes more and more, when there is a thunder or a rumble, then you run into my embrace, as they run to overcrowd the white sand-beds amidst lushly thickets of forests, and this georgic beauty of forests and the graceful beauty of yours, all this is promptly rendering the heart highly ecstatic...

"Though the cloud-cover rendered the nights as pitch-dark, and though thundering is thunderous, and though the pathways on ground are indiscernible for it is pitch-black, even in such nights the lover-seeking women are making haste on those paths, that are indiscernibly shown by the flashes of torch-lights, called the flashes of lightning, for they are impassioned to meet their lovers, to all intents and purposes...

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poem by Kalidasa
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A Reading Of Life--With The Persuader

Who murmurs, hither, hither: who
Where nought is audible so fills the ear?
Where nought is visible can make appear
A veil with eyes that waver through,
Like twilight's pledge of blessed night to come,
Or day most golden? All unseen and dumb,
She breathes, she moves, inviting flees,
Is lost, and leaves the thrilled desire
To clasp and strike a slackened lyre,
Till over smiles of hyacinth seas,
Flame in a crystal vessel sails
Beneath a dome of jewelled spray,
For land that drops the rosy day
On nights of throbbing nightingales.

Landward did the wonder flit,
Or heart's desire of her, all earth in it.
We saw the heavens fling down their rose;
On rapturous waves we saw her glide;
The pearly sea-shell half enclose;

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poem by George Meredith
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The Old-Home Folks

Such was the Child-World of the long-ago--
The little world these children used to know:--
Johnty, the oldest, and the best, perhaps,
Of the five happy little Hoosier chaps
Inhabiting this wee world all their own.--
Johnty, the leader, with his native tone
Of grave command--a general on parade
Whose each punctilious order was obeyed
By his proud followers.

But Johnty yet--
After all serious duties--could forget
The gravity of life to the extent,
At times, of kindling much astonishment
About him: With a quick, observant eye,
And mind and memory, he could supply
The tamest incident with liveliest mirth;
And at the most unlooked-for times on earth
Was wont to break into some travesty
On those around him--feats of mimicry

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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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