Blindfold

Music for a while
Shall all your cares beguile:

Wond´ring how your pains were eas´d
And disdaining to be pleas´d

Till Alecto free the dead
From their eternal bands.

Till the snakes drop from her head,

And the whip from out her hands.

Gura mea de rai

a

a

a

Patima şi Învierea Domnului

a
Psalmul 41

În ce chip doreşte cerbul izvoarele apelor,
aşa Te doreşte sufletul meu pe Tine, Dumnezeule.
Însetat-a sufletul meu de Dumnezeul cel viu;
când voi veni şi mă voi arăta feţei lui Dumnezeu?
Făcutu-mi-s-au lacrimile mele pâine ziua şi noaptea,
când mi se zicea mie în toate zilele:
"Unde este Dumnezeul tău?"
De acestea mi-am adus aminte cu revărsare de inimă,
când treceam cu mulţime mare spre casa lui Dumnezeu,
În glas de bucurie şi de laudă şi în sunet de sărbătoare.
Pentru ce eşti mâhnit, suflete al meu, şi pentru ce mă tulburi?
Nădăjduieşte în Dumnezeu, că-L voi lăuda pe El;
mântuirea feţei mele este Dumnezeul meu.
În mine sufletul meu s-a tulburat;
pentru aceasta îmi voi aduce aminte de Tine,
din pământul Iordanului şi al Ermonului, din muntele cel mic.
Adânc pe adânc cheamă în glasul căderilor apelor Tale.
Toate talazurile şi valurile Tale peste mine au trecut.
Ziua va porunci Domnul milei Sale, iar noaptea cântare Lui de la mine.
Rugăciunea Dumnezeului vieţii mele, spune-voi lui Dumnezeu:
"Sprijinitorul meu eşti Tu, pentru ce m-ai uitat?"
Pentru ce umblu mâhnit când mă necăjeşte vrăjmaşul meu?
Când se sfărâmau oasele mele mă ocărau asupritorii mei.
Când îmi ziceau mie în toate zilele: "Unde este Dumnezeul tău?"
Pentru ce eşti mâhnit, suflete al meu, şi pentru ce mă tulburi?
Nădăjduieşte în Dumnezeu, că-L voi lăuda pe El;
Mântuirea feţei mele este Dumnezeul meu!
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God is Love

ENCYCLICAL LETTER DEUS CARITAS EST OF THE SUPREME PONTIFF BENEDICT XVI

"That love between man and woman which is neither planned nor willed, but somehow imposes itself upon human beings, was called eros by the ancient Greeks. Let us note straight away that the Greek Old Testament uses the word eros only twice, while the New Testament does not use it at all: of the three Greek words for love - eros, philia (the love of friendship) and agape - New Testament writers prefer the last, which occurs rather infrequently in Greek usage. The tendency to avoid the word eros, together with the new vision of love expressed through the word agape, clearly point to something new and distinct about the Christian understanding of love.

In the critique of Christianity which began with the Enlightenment and grew progressively more radical, this new element was seen as something thoroughly negative. According to Friedrich Nietzsche, Christianity had poisoned eros, which for its part, while not completely succumbing, gradually degenerated into vice. Here the German philosopher was expressing a widely-held perception: doesn't the Church, with all her commandments and prohibitions, turn to bitterness the most precious thing in life? Doesn't she blow the whistle just when the joy which is the Creator's gift offers us a happiness which is itself a certain foretaste of the Divine?

But is this the case? Did Christianity really destroy eros? Let us take a look at the pre-Christian world. The Greeks—not unlike other cultures—considered eros principally as a kind of intoxication, the overpowering of reason by a “divine madness” which tears man away from his finite existence and enables him, in the very process of being overwhelmed by divine power, to experience supreme happiness.

[...] Man is a being made up of body and soul. Man is truly himself when his body and soul are intimately united; the challenge of eros can be said to be truly overcome when this unification is achieved. Should he aspire to be pure spirit and to reject the flesh as pertaining to his animal nature alone, then spirit and body would both lose their dignity. On the other hand, should he deny the spirit and consider matter, the body, as the only reality, he would likewise lose his greatness.

[...] Eros, reduced to pure “sex”, has become a commodity, a mere “thing” to be bought and sold, or rather, man himself becomes a commodity. This is hardly man's great “yes” to the body. On the contrary, he now considers his body and his sexuality as the purely material part of himself, to be used and exploited at will. Nor does he see it as an arena for the exercise of his freedom, but as a mere object that he attempts, as he pleases, to make both enjoyable and harmless. Here we are actually dealing with a debasement of the human body: no longer is it integrated into our overall existential freedom; no longer is it a vital expression of our whole being, but it is more or less relegated to the purely biological sphere.

[...] Love is indeed “ecstasy”, not in the sense of a moment of intoxication, but rather as a journey, an ongoing exodus out of the closed inward-looking self towards its liberation through self-giving, and thus towards authentic self-discovery and indeed the discovery of God.

[...] Eros is somehow rooted in man's very nature; Adam is a seeker, who “abandons his mother and father” in order to find woman; only together do the two represent complete humanity and become “one flesh”. The second aspect is equally important. From the standpoint of creation, eros directs man towards marriage, to a bond which is unique and definitive; thus, and only thus, does it fulfil its deepest purpose. Corresponding to the image of a monotheistic God is monogamous marriage. Marriage based on exclusive and definitive love becomes the icon of the relationship between God and his people and vice versa.

God's way of loving becomes the measure of human love."

Pope Benedict XVI (Joseph Alois Ratzinger) - born on 16 April 1927.

Happy B-day, Brother Leonard!

a

Happy Birthday, Lady Day!

a
A few days late,
But you were
always too
early or late.

Early r(e)aped,
Late for joy,
What a strange fruit!
But you always kept
your wits about you.

Your adamant core
still shakes me
& makes me,
it sets my every string
a-buzzin'

So much sorrow
(how rarely sweet?
or were you also
the Lady of Illusions
& Self-deceit?)
in a charred,
sharded lifetime.


Half a life-
always prime time.

They ate you up,
gobbled you
with shrieks of pleasure -
the buzzards!

Shackled
to your hospital bed,
to your heartbeat,
you draw your last breath
yearning for another low?

I
desperately
want
you
for
my Grand
mother /
lover.
I
want
you
seared
in my flesh,
since my soul
you've already
branded.

Truly
Faithfully
Forever
Yours.

B
a

(Still) My B-day

a
Woke up this morning,
found out that
I don't hate the 80s
(I am their child)
afterall
& that the sun
could still shine.

What a surprise
that I get
at least
one day of
freckled
optimism
a year!
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Johannes Caput 5

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Post haec erat dies festus Iudaeorum et ascendit Iesus Hierosolymis.
Est autem Hierosolymis super Probatica piscina quae cognominatur hebraice Bethsaida quinque porticus habens.
In his iacebat multitudo magna languentium caecorum claudorum aridorum expectantium aquae motum.
Erat autem quidam homo ibi triginta et octo annos habens in infirmitate sua.
Hunc cum vidisset Iesus iacentem et cognovisset quia multum iam tempus habet dicit ei vis sanus fieri.
Respondit ei languidus Domine hominem non habeo ut cum turbata fuerit aqua mittat me in piscinam dum venio enim ego alius ante me descendit.
Dicit ei Iesus surge, tolle grabattum tuum et ambula.
Et statim sanus factus est homo et sustulit grabattum suum et ambulabat.
a

Ramblin' on My Mind

a I got ramblin', I got ramblin' on my mind

I got ramblin', I got ramblin' all on my mind

Hate to leave my baby, but you treats me so unkind
I got mean things, I got mean things all on my mind

Little girl, little girl, I got mean things all on my mind

Hate to leave you here, babe, but you treats me so unkind
Runnin' down to the station, catch the first mail train I see

(I think I hear her comin' now)

Runnin' down to the station, catch the old first mail train I see

I got the blues about Miss So-and-So and the child got the blues about me
And I'm leavin' this mornin', with my arm' fold' up and cryin'

And I'm leavin' this mornin', with my arm' fold' up and cryin'

Hate to leave my baby, but she treats me so unkind
I got mean things, I've got mean things on my mind

I got mean things, I got mean things all on my mind

I got to leave my baby, well, she treats me so unkind

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Wistful Thinking

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„Nu ştiam că am astfel de idei. Le-am rostit acum ca fiind gîndurile mele. Erau cele mai profunde sentimente ale mele care căpătau o formă pe care n-ar fi căpătat-o niciodată dacă nu le-aş fi exprimat cu glas tare, dacă nu le-aş fi formulat astfel într-o conversaţie cu altcineva. Atunci am crezut că am o minte pasivă, într-un fel. Mai precis, că mintea mea se putea aduna, putea forma gânduri din încâlceala de dorinţe şi dureri, cînd lua contact cu o altă minte, cînd era fertilizată de ea, cînd era foarte întărâtată de mintea aceea şi îmboldită să formuleze concluzii. Simţeam acum cea mai rară şi mai acută alinare a singurătăţii.”

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Perambulaţiuni şi periegheze

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Iacătă cam pe unde mă duc pe mine picioarele mele neliniştite in the midnight hour. Ca de obicei, Bucureştiul e un amant mereu surprinzător.

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Noul meu panaceu muzical II

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A doua variantă – mult mai lentă – îmi răscoleşte atât de plăcut my old nausea, încât pur şi simplu renunţ să mă mai întreb “what the f*ck’s wrong with me?” Iar Gattaca e unul din puţinele filme care rulează în loop în lobul meu temporal.

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Noul meu panaceu muzical I

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a

Thank You for Your Time!

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We are
all
ebbing towards
our Origin.

The only
palpable
reality
is that of
the fluxes
underneath
my skin.
The only
lullaby
is that of
my own pulse
which I
no longer feel
in my dermis.
I seize the icy
panic
& thrust it
between
my shoulderblades,
but my ossified skin
shrieks with pleasure.

Squandering
& meandering
self-seekers /
twisted
nostalgic
collectors ─
we all learn
to wield
that deadly weapon
─sooner or later─
we kill by
absence,
which is
nothing but
remoteness
in time.
Where have
all the
Good Samaritans
gone?

Life is
Love is
the unconditional
Giving of
Time.
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To My Lover

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Your sweet weight

is pinning me down

on velvet cushions.

My body ―

numb

& deaf

feels your every

muscle

twitching ―

the same current

builds up

in my skin

at first,

then

deeper.

My breath

rides on

your breath ―

ever faithful,

shadowing,

anticipating.

You seem

indolent,

detached ―

eyes closed ―

but you prey

on my

every heartbeat ―

if only I could

skip one for you!

I long

to dive

in your pupils,

yet you

postpone &

tease,

making my brain

tingle.

Then you open

your eyes,

I find myself

dumbstruck

illiterate ―

I cannot

read you.

Scorn

Defiance

Possession

or Defeat?

I mirror you

as you reflect me.

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Games People Play

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You go your way
I'll go mine:
itsy bitsy spider
crawlin' up the wall.
You can hop,
I'll get the scotch ―
your place
or mine?

Odd man out
― always ―
isolate &
desecrate
since the dawn
of time.
No one
holier than thou ―
counting their last breaths
with rabid eyes
with red rabbit eyes.
Follow the leader
plunder & burn
heaven awaits you!

Spin the bottle
― mating games ―
at full throttle.
Truth or dare?
Analyze that!
Hide & seek
behind chlorotic
eyelids.
One alligator
Two alligator
First one out
Gets to shout!

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Thalassa! Thalassa!

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Born of thee
I cannot
but lend my
conched ear
to your beat.
My flesh
pulsates
under the full moon,
quivers
& dissolves
the night.
My luminescent
organs ―
known only to thee ―
exist
when you
call them by name.

I hold
your protean
face
'tween my hands
& ravish you.
Once ― when
you had fled from me ―
I went searching
& found you
on a blurred
northern shore
licking the ribs
of a whale ―
I wished
they were mine.
Another fight
& I had to cross
the nec plus ultra
for you ―
received your pardon
on an Irish (l)edge.
I long for the
moment when
we'll both collapse ―
burning with melancholy
exhausted &
content ―
in the
Portuguese
twilight.

Then
you'll speak
only of me ―
my ember ashes
ingrained in your tongue ―
I in every vowel
You in the smooth consonants
of your name.
Thalassa! Thalassa!
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Lark

A
I swing
in the hammock
of my fling ─
sipping
the greenish brew ─
diluting
the dusky bile /
travelling towards
an embittered dawn?

Sifting through hues
─ secundum non datur ─
I swirl in the aurora.
The price paid:
give in
to the arctic night
I ─ dervish of light ─
give in
to devilish fright.

Give in
Step in_to
Trans-cend
Your cinders /
Your senders

What if
When / if
Who if
Not Me
Is You?

I
tie
I
lie ─
my lisping thoughts
betray me
you say?
The trail leads to Erewhon:
Welcome to my Garden of Wonders.
Though you’ll
ride in circles
you’ll never
tread on the
same patch
twice.

Ensnaring
Circe
you call me?
Forgetfulness
is the foremost gift
of a goddess.
Mischief
inherent ─
my true insignia
─ hidden in plain view,
held sky high,
under the wing of a lark.


A

Black Coffee

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“Sober up”
the drill-sergeant yells.
“You’re in the army now”
- been here all your life -
neck deep,
boot up the ass.
“Straighten up
& fly right!”

Wrigglin’ on your hook
memories peelin’
one
by
one.

You are
who you were –
that’s what
they never tell you
- no use knowin’ it
anyway –
always too late.
Catchin’ up
Sunny side up
Flip flop.

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Je ne sais quoi

a

Aceste cuvinte ne doare... sau nu?

a

I'm sorry but I don't want to be an Emperor - that's not my business - I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible, Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another, human beings are like that.
We all want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone and the earth is rich and can provide for everyone.
The way of life can be free and beautiful.
But we have lost the way.
Greed has poisoned men's souls - has barricaded the world with hate; has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed.
We have developed speed but we have shut ourselves in: machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little: More than machinery we need humanity; More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost.
The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me I say "Do not despair".
The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress: the hate of men will pass and dictators die and the power they took from the people, will return to the people and so long as men die [now] liberty will never perish...
Soldiers - don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you and enslave you - who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel, who drill you, diet you, treat you as cattle, as cannon fodder.
Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts. You are not machines. You are not cattle. You are men. You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate - only the unloved hate. Only the unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers - don't fight for slavery, fight for liberty.
In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written " the kingdom of God is within man " - not one man, nor a group of men - but in all men - in you, the people.
You the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy let's use that power - let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give you the future and old age and security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie. They do not fulfil their promise, they never will. Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfil that promise. Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men's happiness.
Soldiers - in the name of democracy, let us all unite!
Look up! Look up! The clouds are lifting - the sun is breaking through. We are coming out of the darkness into the light. We are coming into a new world. A kind new world where men will rise above their hate and brutality.
The soul of man has been given wings - and at last he is beginning to fly. He is flying into the rainbow - into the light of hope - into the future, that glorious future that belongs to you, to me and to all of us. Look up. Look up."

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Vreo idee ce e cu discursul ăsta? Mai are vreo relevanţă pentru cineva?

a

a

In Gallarus Oratory

Seamus Heaney

You can still feel the community pack

This place: it’s like going into a turfstack,

A core of old dark walled up with stone

A yard thick. When you’re in it alone,

You might have dropped, a reduced creature,

To the heart of the globe. No worshipper

Would leap up to his God off this floor.

Founded there like heroes in a barrow,

They sought themselves in the eye of their King

Under the black weight of their own breathing.
And how he smiled on them as out they came,

The sea a censer and the grass a flame.

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Soul Food

a
“Nimeni nu este atât de sărac ca să nu aibă nimic să dea şi, pe de altă parte, nimeni nu este atât de bogat ca să nu aibă nimic de primit.”
Papa Ioan Paul al II-lea
a

Old Love = Nostalgia

a

Ce surprindere dureros de plăcută să constaţi că deşi ai îndesat ceva în străfundul unui sertar al memoriei, nu s-a prăfuit deloc.

a

Retrospectiva anului 2008

a

După verde de Aiud

Verde de Paris

Şi Irish Green

Tot mai dulce e iarba de acasă, of course.

a

Fever

a
When wrought pain
melts your axons
do not gasp
in protest.
Let the ice
crystals
expand &
caress your blood.
What use are your
fingers
anyway
'xcept to
imprison
all that is free?
- pouring
murdered thoughts
on paper
- shaping
the untouchable
- spreading
the thighs
of the Universe.

Do not increase
your burden,
accept & welcome
the imminence
of the explosion.
Get high
on the current
running thru your spine
and if you're lucky enough,
you won't feel
the intrusion
of the iced blood
on your overheated
core.
Then,
only then
will you know -
for a split second
before non-existence -
your centre.
a

Trial & Error

a
I try to
erase the paths,
yet I find
myself
retracing
your steps.
Had I been
a hermaphrodite
snail,
I would have
gone back
to my other
half,
blissfully
speeding
on the rainbow
snail trail.

But
every building is
a daguerreotype
of an encounter.
The stubborn stucco
clings
yellow with jealousy,
the cherubs
accusing me of
a roundness
we never had.

Waiting for the
sword
of the gargoyly
Justice
to cleave
my vertebrae,
I suckle
the remembrance
seeping through
the cracks.

Waiting to
putrify /
petrify,
I try to
unlearn
what you
never
taught me.

Waiting for
illumination
through stultifying
repetition -
chanting the mantra &
waiting.
a

In a Killer Mood - again

a

a

Lions & Rams - For Jo

a
We both love
the sheen,
the sheer
pleasure of it -
creating our
very own
Big Bang,
just for
the kick &
spark of it.

We collide
contuse
confront
question -
therefore
we are.

We seed
each other
with strength,
forever playing
"last man standing",
knees jitterbugging
after midnight.

The last of those
who cut their breast off
for better fitting
the bow.

(the other
breast
quivers
with sharp
expectation)

Unchecked
Unspoiled
Unyielding

We.
a

God Save the Brits!

a
O bătrână aristocrată bretonă mi s-a destăinuit, după decenii trăite în Marea Britanie: „Englezii nu au simţul ridicolului”.

Fiica ei, pe jumătate evreică şi apatridă într-un procent variabil, mi-a şoptit conspirativ mai târziu: „Excentricitatea este virtutea supremă a britanicilor”.

Enjoy Little Britain!
a

Rien que / Nihil sine...

a

Ga(s)ping,

the pearly chasm

falls cracking&
crackling

into the abyss.

I wish I had that depth!

As it is, I am only

dredging -

dangling,

rattling my sinews.

Motley ribbons

flow from the

Fool's mouth:

despair

desire

decadence&

destruction.

Of course.

Condemned since childhood

by a decibelous fart -

rien que douleur

dorénavant! -

he shuffles his feet

from yellow to purple rooms.

Never allowed the

velvety blackness of

his own eyelids

he lingers on -

a mock-heroic illustration

of his sententious

sentence.

The asinine infants

point & cry

as he drags on -

the quicksand of his pain,

so beautiful when shifting,

what a treacherous landfill!

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