All of a sudden everything changed

All of a sudden, everything changed.
Why did I answer your call?
You said I was right. We are estranged.
All of a sudden, everything changed.
It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t arranged.
You left. And that is all.
All of a sudden, everything changed.
Why did I answer your call?

*Painting “Tityrus Meliboea and the departure of Gauguin” by Pauls Serusier, 1892.

* I have a rendezvous with Death – Alan Seeger

I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air—
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath—
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows ‘twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear…
But I’ve a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.

*Poem by Alan Seeger

 

Words that inspire: I’m helping to build a cathedral

It surprises me how often we hold ourselves back until we have no choice.

….

Three guys laying bricks are asked why they’re doing it. The first guy says, “I’m doing it for the wages.” The second guy says, “I’m doing it to support my family.” The third guy says: “I’m helping to build a cathedral.”

….

Put your dream in a lockbox, go out and make Fuck You money, then come back to the lockbox and pick up where you left off. I met plenty who tried, but none who succeeded.

….

Seek out that at which you might fail. And just keep going. Take more risk. Plow ahead.

….

Is it better to succeed at something you don’t really believe in, or is it better to fail at something you really do believe in?

…

Our fears should be attacked, not run from. From our deepest wounds come our greatest gifts.

…

The things we really want to do are usually the ones that scare us the most.

…

Usually, all we get is a glimmer. A story we read or someone we briefly met. A curiosity. A meek voice inside, whispering. It’s up to us to hammer out the rest.

 

*Quotations above are taken from Po Bronson’s “What should I do with my life?”

** Painting “Sketch to the portrait of a builder” by Kazimir Malevich

Scared. Frightened. And not afraid.

Scared. Frightened. And not afraid.

Involved. Immersed. And not drowning.

Bitter. Sad. And not depressed.

Enraged. Annoyed. And not angry.

Unseeing. Eyeless. And not blind.

Ill. Impaired. And not sick.

Useless. Vain. And not futile.

Mute. Speechless. And not silent.

Demolished. Crushed. And not broken.

Far. Gone. And not away.

*Painting – Scarecrow by Candido Portinari (1959)

Goodnight I say to you, my morning

 

Goodnight I say to you, my morning.
How was your day, I greet the night.
In this life, what’s worth exploring?
Is there something worth a fight?

Goodnight I say to you, my sunshine.
How was your day, I greet the gloom.
Close to my lips I hold a glass of wine
and sip it slowly till I reach my tomb.

Goodnight I say to you, my sunrise.
How was your life, I greet the dead.
Ignore the ground, ignore the skies,
what matters most is in your head.

Goodnight I say to you, my summer.
How was the snow, I greet the spring.
My piercing eyes fell into a slumber.
I cannot see clearly any thing.

Good morning I say to you, my late hour.
How was your night, I greet the day.
On nonsense I’ve spent my time and power,
while hoping to prolong this decay.

 

*Painting “Morning” by Caspar David Friedrich.

Words, do not leave me, please

Words, do not leave me, please.
Stay with me and hold me close.
Words, I beg you on my knees.
Words, do not leave me, please.
Words, come and be at ease.
Say something that no one knows.
Words, do not leave me, please.
Stay with me and hold me close.

*Painting “Pheidippides giving word of victory” by Luc-Olivier Merson, 1869.

Play the cards you get, my friend

Play the cards you get, my friend.
Play the cards to the very end.
Play them uncomplainingly.
Play them freely, willingly.
Though the stakes may not be worth the winning,
Every day can be a new beginning.
Play the hand you have been dealt,
No matter what your heart has felt.
And if the game may not be worth the while,
face every moment with a smile.
Play the cards you get, my friend.
Play them bravely to the end.

 

*Painting “The Card Players” by  Paul Cezanne, 1893.

Let us spend our time alone

Let us spend our time alone
In silence, without talking.
Searching for wisdom’s stone,
Let us spend our time alone
And cultivate what we have sown.
Come, let’s keep on walking.
Let us spend our time alone
In silence, without talking.

 

*Painting “The Way of Silence” by Frantisek Kupka, 1903.

To take all things as they are

To take all things as they are
and adjust my life to what must be.
Then in this world I’ll go far
beyond what any eyes can see.

To say not one dishonest word
and avoid all sham and deceit.
Then my mind’s eye won’t be blurred
and life will seem more upbeat.

To make the most of my lonely hours
and quit day dreaming about the past.
Then I’ll tap into my hidden powers
and live my life with joy at last.

To do what no one has done before
but know that I’m like the rest.
Then I’ll find a cause to fight for
and live my life with zeal and zest.

But I take all things as they are not
and try to sink my inner ship.
Thus my efforts come to nought –
what a splendid ego trip!

 

*Painting “Small Girl Presenting Cherries” by John Russell, 1780.

With no plan, with no purpose

With no plan, with no purpose
I walk around in circles.
I feel calm, not nervous.
With no plan, with no purpose.

With no worry, with no fear
My path is straight and clear.
Here I am to disappear.
With no worry, with no fear.

With no hope, with no promise
I look into the silent abyss.
Everything has gone amiss.
With no hope, with no promise.

With no thought, with no mind
My eyes are dark and blind.
Myself I daily lose and find.
With no thought, with no mind.

With no sorrow, with no pain
I repeat my sins again.
I cannot cleanse this ugly stain.
With no sorrow, with no pain.

*Painting “Planning for the Future” by Basuki Abdullah

 

There is no future, friend

There is no future, friend.
No other life to spend.
Clear out your mind, unbend.
Death really is the end.

There is no future, friend.
So why you still pretend
that broken things you can mend
and that death is not the end?

There is no future, friend.
No peaks and mountains to ascend.
Against the stream though you may wend,
your path quite soon will find its end.

There is no future, friend.
No truth or honor to defend.
To live forever you may intend,
but when death calls, it is the end.

There is no future, friend.
On no god you can depend.
This life you cannot transcend.
Death really is the end.

There is no future, friend.
No other life to spend.
Clear out your mind, unbend.
Death really is the end.

*Painting “Graveyard under Snow” by Caspar David Friedrich, 1826.

Open up the closet door

Open up the closet door,
let the skeleton come out.
With a violent cry and a mighty roar,
strive to overcome your doubt.

Leave your skeleton to roam
freely at its pace and will.
Where he is, there is your home –
a place to rest and to stand still.

Look at his pale blue face
with neither fear nor shame,
Longing for a warm embrace,
into your life he came.

Let him do what he wants,
but you observe patiently.
See what ghosts he seeks and hunts,
know the place where he likes to be.

And lock your soul in that place
where your skeleton had been.
Then a smile won’t leave your face,
anew your life will begin.

*Painting “Funeral Symphony” by Mikalojus Ciurlionis, 1903.

It matters not one bit

What the world may think of me,
it matters not one bit.
Whether chained, enslaved or free
my life is as I see it.

What I do for good or ill,
it matters not one bit.
Nothing I do of my own will,
only what my genes permit.

How high I seem to climb,
it matters not one bit.
All things come in good time
to those who never quit.

How many small ambitions I have achieved,
it matters not one bit.
My brain is tricked and deceived
to think as I see fit.

And if our lives fell short,
it matters not one bit.
No one is a different sort.
to death we all submit.

*Painting “A Boor Asleep” by Adriaen Brouwer.

For thousand years I wait and wait

For thousand years I wait and wait
and spin in vain my prayer wheel.
Is this my life, is this my fate?
For thousand years I wait and wait.
Myself I can invent, create.
From nothingness to something real.
For thousand years I wait and wait
and spin in vain my prayer wheel.

*Painting – “Cupid with the Wheel of Fortune” by Titian, c.1520.

Set a goal before your eyes

Set a goal before your eyes.
Stretch your wings and reach the skies.
Countless times fall down and rise.
Set a goal before your eyes.

Leave all fears and doubts behind.
With clenched teeth work hard and grind.
Only these few things keep in mind –
Leave all fears and doubts behind.

Dare to walk the path you choose.
Fear not any bumps or bruise.
Before you win, you have to lose.
Dare to walk the path you choose

Never let your head hang down.
Be a king and wear your crown.
In your dreams immerse and drown
Never let your head hang down.

For this life you have been made
Do not stand in the dark and shade.
There is no reason to be afraid.
For this life you have been made.

*Painting “Landscape with an Archer” by David Ligare, 1991.

After all these forlorn bygone years

After all these forlorn, bygone years,
it turns out – I am a fool.
My mind is filled with petty fears.
I worry much and lose my cool.

After all these grudging days of past,
I have come to this lonely place.
At what I’ve done, I stand aghast.
My inner fears I cannot face.

After all these nights of cold and frost,
I haven’t found a single light.
The hopes I had, have all been lost.
My death, so near, yet out of sight.

After all these stupid words I’ve said,
I go to bed and have my sleep.
I do not care what lies ahead –
My thoughts are dull and not that deep.

After all these wasted happy hours
I feel joyful and content.
My life is sweet bed of flowers.
I have no reason to lament.

*Painting “Resting on the Vine” by Carl Spitzweg, 1845.

What are these words compared to sex?

What are these words compared to sex?
Folly and mere nothing.
All simple things are complex.
What are these words compared to sex?
Desires, wants have side effects.
On to this thought I hold and cling.
What are these words compared to sex?
Folly and mere nothing.

*Painting “The Beautiful Meditation On An Egg” by George Saru, 1993.

I urinate on the Holy Ghost

I urinate on the Holy Ghost.
My golden rain he loves the most.
For godly things I have an itch.
This triune god is my bitch.

I urinate on Jesus Christ,
no lesser man would have sufficed.
Your sins, let me wash away,
repent and be baptized today.

I urinate on God the Father
for besides him, there is no other.
Let me shave your white beard off
and in your face then laugh and scoff.

I urinate on the Blessed Virgin
for she was born without a sin.
Would you like to fuck as well
and then promptly go to hell?

I urinate on Lucifer
for it is human – to sin and err.
May all the devils see this sight
in which your star will burn so bright.

I urinate on the muslim prophet
and do this proudly without regret.
Your Allah, too, can suck my cock
24/7 around the clock.

I urinate on all Hindu idols.
In ugliness they have no rivals.
Shiva, Vishnu, Krishna, Ganesh,
from this earth you soon will vanish.

I urinate on Buddhist enlightenment.
It offers nothing but confinement.
I better smoke weed to death
than meditate on my breath.

I urinate on all holy books,
on fanatics and religious crooks.
No godly man is spared this fate
Come and see, before it’s too late.

I urinate on all sacred things,
Be they heroes, gods or kings.
No spirit, deity or rule of law
can force my mind to withdraw.

*Photograph “Piss Christ” by Andres Serrano, 1987.

The best I can do today, I must

The best I can do today, I must.
For I do not know what tomorrow brings.
Let all my worries into smoke combust;
The best I can do today, I must.
Let all my fears return to dust.
As they are, I take these things.
The best I can do today, I must.
For I do not know what tomorrow brings.

*Painting “The working mower” by Ferdinand Hodler, 1909.

And then arrived reality

And then arrived reality.
From deep slumber she disturbed me.
Now I see, there is no god.
Reality is much more odd.

And then arrived reality
in all her beauty and brutality.
I greet her with a hug and kiss.
She smiles and says: what is amiss?

And then arrived reality
reminding me of life’s finality.
She put her hands on my eyes
and said: each life one day dies.

And then arrived reality
coupled with illness and agony.
I cried and prayed: Please go away.
But she replied: I came to stay.

And then arrived reality
without gods and morality.
She doesn’t mind to be ignored.
She walks slow, on her own accord.

And then arrived reality
restoring things to normality.
All fears and hopes she swept away.
I trust in her. Let come what may.

*Painting – “Wind Fallen Trees” by Ivan Shishkin, 1886.