The Constricted Soul

Been Thinking Lately

silver_spoon — Sun, 26 Jun 2011 20:20:47 +0000

Been thinking lately, a lot about death and how the one that matters the least is your own,
Not that it’s inconsequential, just not that relevant.
The death of circumstance is the one that counts.
Death will change everything
From your pet bird to the person that gave you life.
At some point it will take them from you, where once was a letter will be blank
Not that this comes as any surprise, you remember when you figured out that this whole mortality thing meant you as well.
Then, childlike, even death became about you.
You became singular, alone in this confrontation.
Truth is, it’s not death that confounded you but life.
Your life isn’t about you, it’s about the things you go through, including death.
But not yours.
Your life will flow and ebb, with death the tide.
And some branches will not survive, but the tree lives on.
People will come into your life and change you.
And your life.
People will leave your life and change you.
In your life.
And when you leave this life, that will not change you.

by Mike Turner

breaking

silver_spoon — Sun, 26 Jun 2011 20:18:09 +0000

“If you feel like breaking, think of all the other dreams unfulfilled, the children unseen, the books unwritten, the work never to be done, the last nights together, the countless acres of anguish and the darkened haunted cities: consider the pity war distils and ourselves as creatures of luck, compared with the others who can gain no last moments more.”

Malcolm Lowry

Stumble

silver_spoon — Sun, 26 Jun 2011 20:16:14 +0000

“The nervous bride laughed at her husband’s nakedness. He stumbled, blinded by shame and hate. ”

Mason Cooley

I shall despair

silver_spoon — Sat, 30 Apr 2011 07:32:32 +0000

[...] There is no creature loves me;
And if I die, no soul shall pity me.
Nay, wherefore should they? Since that I myself
Find in myself no pity to myself.

Shakespeare
(Richard III)

The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd

silver_spoon — Sat, 30 Apr 2011 07:30:43 +0000

If all the world and love were young,

And truth in every Shepherd’s tongue,

These pretty pleasures might me move,

To live with thee, and be thy love.

Time drives the flocks from field to fold,

When Rivers rage and Rocks grow cold,

And Philomel becometh dumb,

The rest complains of cares to come.

The flowers do fade, and wanton fields,

To wayward winter reckoning yields,

A honey tongue, a heart of gall,

Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of Roses,

Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies

Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten:

In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and Ivy buds,

The Coral clasps and amber studs,

All these in me no means can move

To come to thee and be thy love.

But could youth last, and love still breed,

Had joys no date, nor age no need,

Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee, and be thy love.

Sir Walter Ralegh

The Company of Wolves

silver_spoon — Sun, 24 Apr 2011 11:00:48 +0000

Little girls, this seems to say,
Never stop upon your way,
Never trust a stranger-friend;
No one knows how it will end.
As you’re pretty so be wise;
Wolves may lurk in every guise.
Handsome they may be, and kind,
Gay, and charming – never mind!
Now, as then, ‘tis simple truth -
Sweetest tongue has sharpest tooth!

wikipedia

September Song

silver_spoon — Sun, 24 Apr 2011 10:59:01 +0000

Oh, it’s a long, long while from May to December
But the days grow short when you reach September
When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
One hasn’t got time for the waiting game

Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November
And these few precious days I’ll spend with you
These precious days I’ll spend with you

video

wikipedia

be broken

silver_spoon — Sun, 24 Apr 2011 10:47:08 +0000

Let sorrowful longing dwell in your heart.
Never give up, never lose hope.
Allah says, The broken are my beloved.
Crush your heart. Be broken.

Abu Saeed Abil Kheir

all the dead generations

silver_spoon — Sun, 24 Apr 2011 10:13:50 +0000

Men make their own history, but they do not make it just as they please; they do not make it under circumstances chosen by themselves, but under circumstances directly encountered, given and transmitted from the past. The tradition of all the dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brain of the living.

Marx

the place of greed

silver_spoon — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 05:45:48 +0000

“To be truly selfish, one needs a degree of self-esteem. The self-despisers are less intent on their own increase than on the diminution of others. Where self-esteem is unattainable, envy takes the place of greed.”

Eric Hoffer