silence

My child mistress/mother sister/dream
How acceptable all things would be
Were we to live in that land where
The slow and the long, short and the strong
Die in the dance of being less than one another
In a perpetual summer of imageless desire.
Flagellated and forgotten suns
Drink in the step of my azure lost skies
And move to mysterylessness our chemical miseries
Within which the treadling eyes of indefiniteness
Are no more than the tears of the damned.
Take from my heart, a platinum measure
Free of solitude's false grace
And awkward adolescent pleasures.
Here is the furniture
That caresses the dust of the years
And counts the wrinkled set into the brain
On fingers that have made their own doom.
Evil the eyes that look back at us in dreams,
Evil the touch of the deaths that have not loved us
Evil the sorrow which shelters itself from release
And the evils accumulate
Leaving us idle and alone
Though an Eastern splendor,
An Eastern hatred of the idea of loss
Eddies in the river of slime
That has not won us.
Hidden from the waves in still canals
We sit in a small boat that refuses
To set forth.
To satisfy need,
To accommodate our need of forever,
We sit in the boat
And wait for a clearer sky,
A more propitious moment to launch
While thinking of Cortez'
Miraculous slaughter of and victory over
The children of the sun.


'L'invitation au voyage'-Charles Baudelaire — translation Will Schmitz

Well, the clock says it's time to close now
I guess I'd better go now
I'd really like to stay here all night
The cars crawl past all stuffed with eyes
Street lights share their hollow glow
Your brain seems bruised with numb surprise
Still one place to go
Still one place to go

Let me sleep all night in your soul kitchen
Warm my mind near your gentle stove
Turn me out and I'll wander baby
Stumblin' in the neon groves

Well, your fingers weave quick minarets
Speak in secret alphabets
I light another cigarette
Learn to forget, learn to forget
Learn to forget, learn to forget

Let me sleep all night in your soul kitchen
Warm my mind near your gentle stove
Turn me out and I'll wander baby
Stumblin' in the neon groves

Well the clock says it's time to close now
I know I have to go now
I really want to stay here
All night, all night, all night

Soul Kitchen as sung by Patti Smith originally by The Doors

Neon Licht, schimmendes Neon Licht
Und wenn die Nacht anbricht ist diese Stadt aus Licht

Kraftwerk

Enormous enlargements of an object or a fragment give it a personality it never had before, and in this way, it can become a vehicle of entirely new lyric and plastic power.
Fernand Leger

Nous sommes tous de lopins et d'une contexture si informe et diverse,que chaque piece, chaque momant, faict son jeu. Et se trouve autant de difference de nous à autruy.
- Michel de Montaigne, 'Essais'

hommage à Louise

blue negen

blau acht

bleu sept

blue six

blue cinco

blue 4

blue three

blue second layer

blue first state

Blue, songs are like tattoos
You know I've been to sea before
Crown and anchor me
Or let me sail away
Hey blue, here is a song for you
Ink on a pin
Underneath the skin
An empty space to fill in
Well there's so many sinking now
You've got to keep thinking
You can make it through these waves
Acid, booze, and ass
Needles, guns, and grass
Lots of laughs, lots of laughs
Everybody's saying that hells the hippest way to go
Well I don't think so
But I'm gonna take a look around it though
Blue, I love you

Blue, here is a shell for you
Inside you'll hear a sigh
A foggy lullaby
There is your song from me

-Joni Mitchell

twilight zone

The rain is all over, it's only stopped for an hour
And I stop you, and I stop you
When you go too far
And you stop me when I go too far
And it tried to freak me
But I should have known
It's not the twilight zone no, it's not the twilight zone
Yes it's just a party phone, pure honeycomb, honeycomb, honeycomb

You tried to take me in a slow poke draw
Like the cowboy wished
And you got just what you saw
Well, you got what you saw
Didn't you get, didn't you get, didn't you get
So, don't let it freak you
When, when it gets down to the bone
You know it's not the twilight zone, it's not the twilight zone
It's just a party phone, and honeycomb, honeycomb
It's not, it's not the twilight zone
It's just a party phone
Honeycomb, honeycomb, honeycomb, honeycomb

[Spoken:]
It's not, it's not the twilight zone
It's just a party phone

And honeycomb, ya!
You know it's not the twilight zone
It's, it's just a party phone
Honeycomb, honeycomb, honeycomb, honeycomb

You know what it is
Just a party phone, party, phone
Honeycomb, honeycomb, honeycomb, honeycomb
Hmm, hmm, hmm
Honeycomb, honeycomb
Honeycomb

Van Morrison