I think with confidence
I can say that I’m nobody.
I’m just blessed to be able
to be impressed by some “special others”!
And I’m blessed to have met
those who have impressed me.
and thus I have changed
to be even more impressionable!
To cherish the best that
a person has to offer:
having been impressed persistently
by the conditions of their own lives!
Experiences that reach deep down
to places not so often touched!
And to become that “special other”,
is to be touched in those places!
We’re wired for novelty, rejoicing …
being amazed, with big wondering eyes,
seeing THAT we have never seen before,
updating the universe inside our skulls!
That’s who we are, that’s what we do!
And so those who open a new window
to a new breeze, take our breath away,
refilling us with the fresh breath of their presence!
Seeing the world in the light of their realities,
seeing it in a new light every time we chance upon them,
and yet e'er eager for that next encounter!
That is to be impressionable, that is to be nobody!
12/29/09
12/25/09
The Blue Raincoat (by firstcomet)
She came late,
stayed over,
and left around the noon.
A glass of water half less full,
A litmus paper moisten red,
A few ectopic beats,
liberation from homeostasis,
and a blue raincoat,
leaning against my guitar-stand,
all that is left from that impulse.
stayed over,
and left around the noon.
A glass of water half less full,
A litmus paper moisten red,
A few ectopic beats,
liberation from homeostasis,
and a blue raincoat,
leaning against my guitar-stand,
all that is left from that impulse.
12/21/09
12/17/09
Destination (by firstcomet)
We are all waiting to die!
To die is to silence a voice
A voice that is pounding from within
Within our senile souls,
Heading towards an unknown,
The voice in us in a monologue
That expands the years of our lives!
And after all being said,
After all the rants and frets,
All that you regret,
All that you forget,
There remains a lone voice
Trapped within a self
A frozen self floating in isolation
A few mirage Islands on the way
Casting away, casting away!
A few rain drops, a few rays,
And the sunshine
That comes to deliver a self
Dissolving in the ocean of life
Just to arrive, just to arrive!
To die is to silence a voice
A voice that is pounding from within
Within our senile souls,
Heading towards an unknown,
The voice in us in a monologue
That expands the years of our lives!
And after all being said,
After all the rants and frets,
All that you regret,
All that you forget,
There remains a lone voice
Trapped within a self
A frozen self floating in isolation
A few mirage Islands on the way
Casting away, casting away!
A few rain drops, a few rays,
And the sunshine
That comes to deliver a self
Dissolving in the ocean of life
Just to arrive, just to arrive!
12/6/09
The Algebra of Everyday Life!
The R-Algebra:
There’re things that add up, constituting the ordinary processes. There’re things that don’t add up, and those that do add up with the sum being greater than its parts; together defining the universe of mystery, serendipity, and ecstasy!
If Søren Kierkegaard was right when he said: "Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved," then the R-Algebra becomes only an algebra of living, not an algebra of solving.
However, Søren Kierkegaard proceeds to propose that "Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards". Then the R-Algebra defines a framework to study life events only backwards, while providing them with a universe to be realized in a life that is lived forwardly.
To Milan Kundera, only an attitude of lightness towards life may assist us to coup with the heaviness of emotions that surround any drama. Therefore, accepting the “lightness of being” is to believe in no ultimate meaning in life at all. To a mind that seeks happiness or fulfillment such lightness- although maybe philosophically sound- is “unbearable”. Thus, the universe of Kundera is a universe that does not yield itself to either forward or backward analysis.
In the words of Abraham Heschel: "Life lived as an event is a drama. Life reduced to a process becomes vegetation. The awareness of life as a drama comes about as a result of knowing that one has a part to play, of realizing that the self is unprecedented and of refusing to regard existence as a waste.”
The drama is thus at its zenith when a self that is “unprecedented” encounters the “unbearable lightness of being”, the experience of vertigo is then to follow! But, if this is in fact the common, inescapable, and recurrent experience of every being then existence becomes a waste, and simultaneously contradicting the unprecedentedness of the self! Thus, the R-Algebra is the algebra of those who refuse “to regard existence as a waste”, conceiving and thus realizing a framework to at least understand life backwards.
There’re things that add up, constituting the ordinary processes. There’re things that don’t add up, and those that do add up with the sum being greater than its parts; together defining the universe of mystery, serendipity, and ecstasy!
If Søren Kierkegaard was right when he said: "Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved," then the R-Algebra becomes only an algebra of living, not an algebra of solving.
However, Søren Kierkegaard proceeds to propose that "Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards". Then the R-Algebra defines a framework to study life events only backwards, while providing them with a universe to be realized in a life that is lived forwardly.
To Milan Kundera, only an attitude of lightness towards life may assist us to coup with the heaviness of emotions that surround any drama. Therefore, accepting the “lightness of being” is to believe in no ultimate meaning in life at all. To a mind that seeks happiness or fulfillment such lightness- although maybe philosophically sound- is “unbearable”. Thus, the universe of Kundera is a universe that does not yield itself to either forward or backward analysis.
In the words of Abraham Heschel: "Life lived as an event is a drama. Life reduced to a process becomes vegetation. The awareness of life as a drama comes about as a result of knowing that one has a part to play, of realizing that the self is unprecedented and of refusing to regard existence as a waste.”
The drama is thus at its zenith when a self that is “unprecedented” encounters the “unbearable lightness of being”, the experience of vertigo is then to follow! But, if this is in fact the common, inescapable, and recurrent experience of every being then existence becomes a waste, and simultaneously contradicting the unprecedentedness of the self! Thus, the R-Algebra is the algebra of those who refuse “to regard existence as a waste”, conceiving and thus realizing a framework to at least understand life backwards.
12/1/09
The way to return (by firstcomet)
Is it yet after midnight on your time?
Should I say something? Anything?
Or should I just take them for a walk;
the transparent crystals
beneath those exaggerated lines!
When did it start, when did it end?
How did it go, what did it say?
Was it sweet, gentle, or was it …
the transparent crystals
beneath those exaggerated lines?
Was it a summer night or a fall’s eve;
when the nether moon winked at the thieves?
Oh, I do remember that I did forget ….
And now I’m left with nothing, naught!
Not a single memory or a grain of thought!
I’m too transparent to miss,
You don’t believe me? Remember the kiss?
Maybe it was too much, do you agree?
Torrid are the roots of this ash tree;
that's why, "it's hard to tell", hard to see!
Could you show me the way to return?
Is it the Passion road where I turn?
Crossing the random alley of encounter,
to the spring or the summer before when
the transparent crystals strayed to yearn!
Should I say something? Anything?
Or should I just take them for a walk;
the transparent crystals
beneath those exaggerated lines!
When did it start, when did it end?
How did it go, what did it say?
Was it sweet, gentle, or was it …
the transparent crystals
beneath those exaggerated lines?
Was it a summer night or a fall’s eve;
when the nether moon winked at the thieves?
Oh, I do remember that I did forget ….
And now I’m left with nothing, naught!
Not a single memory or a grain of thought!
I’m too transparent to miss,
You don’t believe me? Remember the kiss?
Maybe it was too much, do you agree?
Torrid are the roots of this ash tree;
that's why, "it's hard to tell", hard to see!
Could you show me the way to return?
Is it the Passion road where I turn?
Crossing the random alley of encounter,
to the spring or the summer before when
the transparent crystals strayed to yearn!
11/25/09
In Progress!
Terry and Janet said: “Okay, we’re pretending that we didn’t hear this!”
Steve said: “I’m pretending I didn’t hear this!”
Steve said: “I liked it!”
Steve said: “You’ve been extended!”
George said: “That’s interesting!”
Riccardo said: “That’s great!”
Riccardo said: “Let’s apply together!”
Math said: “Looking forward!”
I said: “Life goes on!”
Steve said: “I’m pretending I didn’t hear this!”
Steve said: “I liked it!”
Steve said: “You’ve been extended!”
George said: “That’s interesting!”
Riccardo said: “That’s great!”
Riccardo said: “Let’s apply together!”
Math said: “Looking forward!”
I said: “Life goes on!”
Beyond common sense!
Is it really that hard to trust somebody? Is it really that hard to accept your mental model for somebody was wrong and moving on? Is it really that hard to get over hurt?
How easy is it to become a cynic? How many disappointments tips you over that “razor’s edge”? What do you lose and how much do you gain while trying to protect yourself from hurt and disappointments?
Within these lines are hidden hundreds of years of suffering and hundreds of years of moral evolution.
How easy is it to become a cynic? How many disappointments tips you over that “razor’s edge”? What do you lose and how much do you gain while trying to protect yourself from hurt and disappointments?
Within these lines are hidden hundreds of years of suffering and hundreds of years of moral evolution.
11/13/09
reflections (by firstcomet)
I see your reflection, on the glass window of night
The flickering lights, twinkling in your eyes
Beyond these walls, the city is quietly napping
Just to arise, another pale day of fluffy flakes
I won't be able to hold on to your image;
eyelids are giving up, I'll catch you later
Beyond the borders of this shuttered town ...
The flickering lights, twinkling in your eyes
Beyond these walls, the city is quietly napping
Just to arise, another pale day of fluffy flakes
I won't be able to hold on to your image;
eyelids are giving up, I'll catch you later
Beyond the borders of this shuttered town ...
11/12/09
It's Satin (by firstcomet)
And she said:
look at my bed sheet, it is satin,
and a pause, but it is not …
an invitation inside the bed!
And I looked at her bed sheet,
And it was now a satin, and it was strange,
since I had not seen a satin bed sheet before:
No gloss, no float, only fire that blazed and arose!
And I was thinking, limitations of knowing;
Just like a satin with dull reflections,
wavering, under the weight of urges:
nylon, polyester, and silk. Sinking!
And when I finally emerged
I found myself gazing
At your hazelnut eyes
What a wondrous feeling it was!
Though, anxious they looked
As if I caught a glimpse of them
While in a free fall
From the sky above
And it crossed my mind
That while falling
Can we fall for each other,
The certainty of our uncertaint lives?
I did not know.
It was your lips
Emancipated slave of thoughts
That broke the lull ...
I heard your voice
Over a cumulus cloud
About to reconvene with her old mates
To wash the city off my loneliness
Voices that boil your blood
And tightens your jaws
And chest, and fists
Pushing you to the other side …
The nowhere man’s land
The warm feeling propagating
Through my veins, up the ladder
Where the angles reside!
It’s no longer a fight;
likely a gradual transcendence
To where I heard your voice once,
Twice, and again on a Saturday
In the middle of a road,
In the middle of a song,
In the middle of an oblivious life
In the presence of your unbounded reality!
look at my bed sheet, it is satin,
and a pause, but it is not …
an invitation inside the bed!
And I looked at her bed sheet,
And it was now a satin, and it was strange,
since I had not seen a satin bed sheet before:
No gloss, no float, only fire that blazed and arose!
And I was thinking, limitations of knowing;
Just like a satin with dull reflections,
wavering, under the weight of urges:
nylon, polyester, and silk. Sinking!
And when I finally emerged
I found myself gazing
At your hazelnut eyes
What a wondrous feeling it was!
Though, anxious they looked
As if I caught a glimpse of them
While in a free fall
From the sky above
And it crossed my mind
That while falling
Can we fall for each other,
The certainty of our uncertaint lives?
I did not know.
It was your lips
Emancipated slave of thoughts
That broke the lull ...
I heard your voice
Over a cumulus cloud
About to reconvene with her old mates
To wash the city off my loneliness
Voices that boil your blood
And tightens your jaws
And chest, and fists
Pushing you to the other side …
The nowhere man’s land
The warm feeling propagating
Through my veins, up the ladder
Where the angles reside!
It’s no longer a fight;
likely a gradual transcendence
To where I heard your voice once,
Twice, and again on a Saturday
In the middle of a road,
In the middle of a song,
In the middle of an oblivious life
In the presence of your unbounded reality!
11/8/09
Toi Derricotte
i knew you before you had a mother, ...
i knew you when your connections belonged only to yourself, when you had no history to hook on to, ...
to night, turning, and the stars blinked like a cat. we swam in the last trickle of champagne before we knew breastmilk
"that saw through
her clothes, under
her skin, all the way down
to the transparent
genes confessing."
i knew you when your connections belonged only to yourself, when you had no history to hook on to, ...
to night, turning, and the stars blinked like a cat. we swam in the last trickle of champagne before we knew breastmilk
"that saw through
her clothes, under
her skin, all the way down
to the transparent
genes confessing."
The Forgotten Dialect Of The Heart (Jack Gilbert)
How astonishing it is that language can almost mean, and frightening that it does not quite ... What we feel most has no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses, and birds.
11/7/09
nothing
I am nothing.
I will never be anything.
I cannot wish to be anything.
Apart from that, I have in me all the dreams of the world.
F. Pessoa
11/6/09
Faulkner
I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.
10/27/09
10/7/09
In Progress ...
I pick up a new papper,
review afew thoughts,
and a moment of insight:
aha! That's an interesting idea!
A war torn family,
traveling for days and nights,
landing in a abandoned village;
"Seems like this land is fertile," says the dad.
The son, excited,
with a surge of hope and a vision,
although vague, replies:
"shall we explore the land tomorrow morning?"
To which the old dad replies:
"causiously,
keeping in mind the landmines
that wars often leave behind!"
review afew thoughts,
and a moment of insight:
aha! That's an interesting idea!
A war torn family,
traveling for days and nights,
landing in a abandoned village;
"Seems like this land is fertile," says the dad.
The son, excited,
with a surge of hope and a vision,
although vague, replies:
"shall we explore the land tomorrow morning?"
To which the old dad replies:
"causiously,
keeping in mind the landmines
that wars often leave behind!"
10/1/09
viva absurdita!
If I don’t engage in absurdism once in a while then I will fall into a philosophical quagmire of nihilism which sucks me into the vagueness of the moments. So, viva absurdita!
Proposal
A few thoughts I write
On the blank sheet of intentions
Like the marks on a sandy shore
Awaiting further contemplations
To create and to annihilate
Seasons gone in worldly abstentions
Seeking a wormhole, imagination
To the universe of elation!
9/12/09
WE'LL SEE AGAIN
We'll see the green leaves shake,
thirsty rivers laugh,
and cherries blossom... Read More
Tomorrow we'll see
Nights thinking the night
and thousands oppressed
claim for justice
Soon we'll see
unbreakable borders fall
and those innocent in the streets freed
Very soon we'll see
victims rise up,
embracing each other
while singing melodies of hope.
We'll part then,
with a blow of fresh liberty
With certainty and strength
You and me at the same pace
We'll see again,
Tomorrow we'll see
Soon we'll see
Very soon we'll see
We'll see...
thirsty rivers laugh,
and cherries blossom... Read More
Tomorrow we'll see
Nights thinking the night
and thousands oppressed
claim for justice
Soon we'll see
unbreakable borders fall
and those innocent in the streets freed
Very soon we'll see
victims rise up,
embracing each other
while singing melodies of hope.
We'll part then,
with a blow of fresh liberty
With certainty and strength
You and me at the same pace
We'll see again,
Tomorrow we'll see
Soon we'll see
Very soon we'll see
We'll see...
9/2/09
8/17/09
Ordinary
Certain stories do worth writing and others don’t. Those which do are called extraordinary. In our world, ordinary events are abundant and are considered mundane, however, every ordinary event is extra ordinary from someone’s prospective.
How does an ordinary summer day look?
The schoolyard of MIT, an arc-like seating structure designed by one the world’s most accomplished landscaping designer, surrounded by tall trees who solemnly observed generations of scientists walk passing them, carrying copies of the annals of mathematics and physics. Beyond those branches and leafs, where the clouds dance in a leafy frame of summerly sky is a white sphere that emits radio frequency waves, oblivious to the significance of days.
I take a moment to key in the code KVQF-VBDJ-067T at the drpepper.com to evaluate my chances of winning a 2010 Chevy Camaro. Now, that’s an extra ordinary event! Bear with me …. “Sorry but today is an ordinary day!”
How does an ordinary summer day look?
The schoolyard of MIT, an arc-like seating structure designed by one the world’s most accomplished landscaping designer, surrounded by tall trees who solemnly observed generations of scientists walk passing them, carrying copies of the annals of mathematics and physics. Beyond those branches and leafs, where the clouds dance in a leafy frame of summerly sky is a white sphere that emits radio frequency waves, oblivious to the significance of days.
I take a moment to key in the code KVQF-VBDJ-067T at the drpepper.com to evaluate my chances of winning a 2010 Chevy Camaro. Now, that’s an extra ordinary event! Bear with me …. “Sorry but today is an ordinary day!”
8/3/09
Re: hello
What do I know of you?
An image, distant, far
A song on my Guitar …
Desires, Dissolve
Broken hearts, revive
No reason I seek
No justice, no critique
It’s the way of time;
To sculpture on ice,
To decide on a pair of dice!
Back fresh to the game,
Alas! it won’t be the same!
An image, distant, far
A song on my Guitar …
Desires, Dissolve
Broken hearts, revive
No reason I seek
No justice, no critique
It’s the way of time;
To sculpture on ice,
To decide on a pair of dice!
Back fresh to the game,
Alas! it won’t be the same!
7/16/09
Far away!
Oh yeah, wanted to make a note of ones (life-event driven) personality and how remote one may be from the realities of human life and the society. One reason being that to ease our pain we often seek refuge in distance caves of abstraction! One day we open our eyes and we find out we are far way from home ... far away!
7/3/09
7/1/09
It was nice meeting You
I wonder if it was really (I mean really) nice meeting you! Or maybe it was just an ordinary event, in which case I would not be using the term 'nice'. But, maybe it was an ordinary event and I was using the term 'nice' as a matter of social etiquette!
6/23/09
becoming (by firstcomet)
A dream maker, a freelance heart
That’s what I negligently thought.
That’s what I negligently thought.
Your image, shadowed, dark;
To me, a gloomy season it did remark!
To me, a gloomy season it did remark!
Looking back, you’re far
Far in history, out of sight ...
Far in history, out of sight ...
The chasm and the divide,
and the restlessness I can't hide!
Feeling guilty, of a hubris id
That I've become, out of being,
That I've become, out of being,
Being impressionable, being lost,
In a world immersed in lust!
5/12/09
My atomic clock (by firstcomet)
My kitchen and my living room are the same. And if you're not yet impressed, in how many kitchens have you seen an atomic clock hanging next to a water tap?! Kudos to the wonders of modern physics, especial thanks to the Dollar Store!
And what's up with the water tap-atomic clock rivalry? I noticed since yesterday dripping of the water has been synchronized! And yes, the atomic clock sometimes jolts along a single dimension of that spongy continuum; especially when I'm washing dishes!
Talking about sponges and living at the expense of others, somebody got to fix that dripping!
5/3/09
End of why
We are going back to basics again
Questions such as: who are you?
And what is your deal, is it all real?
You hit the bottom once a while
You bounce back, or just
Re-establish yourself along the bottom
It’s a never ending struggle
And struggles can get boring after a while
Just like …
When you swim against the currents
For just about too long!
Okay, tears tears, sigh sigh …
Enough is enough, end of why!
5/2/09
A Dream Within A Dream (by Edgar Allan Poe)
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
4/11/09
A Clear Midnight
THIS is thy hour O Soul,
thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art,
the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing,
pondering the themes thou lovest best.
Night, sleep, and the stars.
thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art,
the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing,
pondering the themes thou lovest best.
Night, sleep, and the stars.
Walt Whitman
4/5/09
Confabulate
Am, am not, tick and tock, do and don’t, will and won’t, I invent, moment after moment, the I in me. What about what you see? I wonder, if you know, if you see, that I fabricated me, the will to be, a distinct entity, or just a con, the strawman’s son, willing to do, confabulate to construe, the urge to will, the will to do!
2/27/09
As Is
There is nothing magical here
Only occasional temporary traces
Of tango-like steps
Left on the snow white ground
Near the place where I
Occasionally lay down to
An intimate moment
And a soft music
Filling the air
with some particular magic;
Ah, Ah, facts, general, specific
do not make a big fuss about!
Sometime it’s sweet
Sometime it’s bloody
Sometime it makes sounds
Sometime it stares and smiles!
And then the next song
And then the next voice
And the breath-ins and the breath-outs
And the turn-lefts and the turn-rights ...
And then I try to follow
Those traces that intersect
And diverge before our time
Comes up, and I say:
I think it’s snowing again,
And I need to figure out
what color it is this time!
And you whisper “was that cum-
your emotional brain
or was that cum-
your logical brain?”
And then we both laugh!
2/8/09
An impulse (by firstcomet)!
She came late,
stayed over,
and left around the noon.
A few ectopic beats,
liberation from homeostasis,
and a red dress
leaning against my guitar-stand,
all that is left from that impulse.
stayed over,
and left around the noon.
A few ectopic beats,
liberation from homeostasis,
and a red dress
leaning against my guitar-stand,
all that is left from that impulse.
1/21/09
Anjou Pear
Red Anjous now can be found on grocery produce counters from late September or early October through the spring months.The best indication of ripeness for any pear is the thumb test: gentle thumb pressure near the stem will yield slightly when the pear is ripe.
Depending on their level of ripeness when purchased, it may take several days before they are ready to eat. The results, however, are well worth the wait. Red Anjous develop a mild, sweet flavor with very smooth texture and abundant juices when ripe.
1/20/09
La Petite Mort
Having been surrounded, I thought it was going be a real problem … spending the night in a hotel room, queen size bed, windows wide open to the anticipation of a warm sunny day, and two travelers having come hundreds of miles … just to come:
“the pleasures in this world,
soft breeze, soft
thighs, a bit of music,
words that make
a good sound …”
It might cause us to experience some real discomfort, a little death or La Petite Mort!
“the pleasures in this world,
soft breeze, soft
thighs, a bit of music,
words that make
a good sound …”
It might cause us to experience some real discomfort, a little death or La Petite Mort!
Signals
So many signals around Fortunate those who decode
Plenty points to be found Where does the secret abode
--Hafez
Plenty points to be found Where does the secret abode
--Hafez
1/10/09
How do you really know?
I knew it, I knew it! Behind those gazing eyes there was something deeper; an anxious excitement, trying to play it safe while exploring, discovering, and prevailing.
Dancing to the winds
Of the heaven’s dreams,
Your hair of silky willow
You toss and turn
till your neck, finally
finely settles on the pillow
But, how do you really know?
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