KENYERSEL
Blog of artist based in Glasgow, Scotland. A blog for everyone and no one. Blog includes influences and interests.
Sunday, 19 May 2013
Saturday, 18 May 2013
Thursday, 16 May 2013
Monday, 13 May 2013
Ludwig Wittgenstein
Death is not an event in life: we do not live to experience death. If we take eternity to mean not infinite temporal duration but timelessness, then eternal life belongs to those who live in the present.
"melancholia," by Charles Bukowski
the history of melancholia
includes all of us.
includes all of us.
me, I writhe in dirty sheets
while staring at blue walls
and nothing.
while staring at blue walls
and nothing.
I have gotten so used to melancholia
that
I greet it like an old
friend.
that
I greet it like an old
friend.
I will now do 15 minutes of grieving
for the lost redhead,
I tell the gods.
for the lost redhead,
I tell the gods.
I do it and feel quite bad
quite sad,
then I rise
CLEANSED
even though nothing
is solved.
quite sad,
then I rise
CLEANSED
even though nothing
is solved.
that’s what I get for kicking
religion in the ass.
religion in the ass.
I should have kicked the redhead
in the ass
where her brains and her bread and
butter are
at …
in the ass
where her brains and her bread and
butter are
at …
but, no, I’ve felt sad
about everything:
the lost redhead was just another
smash in a lifelong
loss …
about everything:
the lost redhead was just another
smash in a lifelong
loss …
I listen to drums on the radio now
and grin.
there is something wrong with me
besides
melancholia.
and grin.
there is something wrong with me
besides
melancholia.
Charles Bukowski on Individuality
too much too little
too fat
too thin
or nobody.
laughter or
tears
haters
lovers
strangers with faces like
the backs of
thumb tacks
armies running through
streets of blood
waving winebottles
bayoneting and fucking
virgins.
an old guy in a cheap room
with a photograph of M. Monroe.
there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock
people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.
people just are not good to each other
one on one.
the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.
we are afraid.
our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners
it hasn't told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.
or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone
untouched
unspoken to
watering a plant.
people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.
I suppose they never will be.
I don't ask them to be.
but sometimes I think about
it.
the beads will swing
the clouds will cloud
and the killer will behead the child
like taking a bite out of an ice cream cone.
too much
too little
too fat
too thin
or nobody
more haters than lovers.
people are not good to each other.
perhaps if they were
our deaths would not be so sad.
meanwhile I look at young girls
stems
flowers of chance.
there must be a way.
surely there must be a way that we have not yet
thought of.
who put this brain inside of me?
it cries
it demands
it says that there is a chance.
it will not say
"no."
Saturday, 4 May 2013
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)