Tonight your eyebrows are dark and furrowed
Clouds, the filling smell of humidity and wet earth came
On the eve of the evening showers, sliding
Down cheeks and quickly wiped away
Just trying to endure the heart of the storm,
Or maybe the other way around.
There is no umbrella, no protection this time
Only the emotional wind tossing you,
Like it cannot decide where you should go,
And the rain slowly hiding the tears
Falling and forgotten amongst the sorrow
Of the city who never sleeps.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
New Poem on delirium, and an old rant on the nature of beauty
On the edge of quicksand or quicksilver,
we stop for a moment, to look within at the
nature of causality and other merry nonsense.
We say and we wander without purpose in sleep
and awake, or maybe on the edge
of the fire that burns before it was lit,
of things we convince ourselves are real.
And become real, as we are a form of reality
I think,
therefore I am more certain.
Yet the curtain is crashing, form is forcing itself back in,
on the edge of the morning light.
I wanted to publish this rant on here so it would not only be on facebook. I wrote this 2 years ago I believe.
The true nature of beauty
Some say that beauty is another form of truth, yet I would argue that beauty, by their implied definition, is the exact opposite, it is deception. In fact the only truthful works of art about humans, whether photography, literature, sculpture, etc, are ugly, for that is the heart of man, there is no beauty in mans dark and primal “Heart of Darkness” rather all perceived beauty merely masks the turmoil and imperfection of humankind.
True beauty is raw perfection, which of course is unattainable by humans, and therefore is distinctly inhuman. Therefore any beauty seen within humans, such as true empathy, and self-sacrificing love and the form that is the human body, is not human at all, it is divine.
Yet how can I find beauty to be in anything that is imperfect? That is ugly or crude? That is primal or dark? Because it is truthful, not truth, but truthful about itself. It is honest and unpretentious which is what I would prefer rather than the deceit of what men call beauty, which is selfish and vain. I can find beauty in honesty, whether or not it is perfect. Maybe that is what I have been searching for in my friends and others, I find those who are honest (or I believe are honest) about their shortcomings, and I stay away from those people who seem too good to be true (that is why I dislike david beckham). This is one trait I have to have in my spouse, an unpretentious, raw, honest ugliness. Not that they have to be physically or emotionally or mentally ugly, but rather they have to be human, not raised on any pedestal. I would like them to be slightly beautiful (in the most perfect sense of the word). But I must know that they are human (I know there are no aliens among us, I am just trying to exclude robots, :P )
we stop for a moment, to look within at the
nature of causality and other merry nonsense.
We say and we wander without purpose in sleep
and awake, or maybe on the edge
of the fire that burns before it was lit,
of things we convince ourselves are real.
And become real, as we are a form of reality
I think,
therefore I am more certain.
Yet the curtain is crashing, form is forcing itself back in,
on the edge of the morning light.
I wanted to publish this rant on here so it would not only be on facebook. I wrote this 2 years ago I believe.
The true nature of beauty
Some say that beauty is another form of truth, yet I would argue that beauty, by their implied definition, is the exact opposite, it is deception. In fact the only truthful works of art about humans, whether photography, literature, sculpture, etc, are ugly, for that is the heart of man, there is no beauty in mans dark and primal “Heart of Darkness” rather all perceived beauty merely masks the turmoil and imperfection of humankind.
True beauty is raw perfection, which of course is unattainable by humans, and therefore is distinctly inhuman. Therefore any beauty seen within humans, such as true empathy, and self-sacrificing love and the form that is the human body, is not human at all, it is divine.
Yet how can I find beauty to be in anything that is imperfect? That is ugly or crude? That is primal or dark? Because it is truthful, not truth, but truthful about itself. It is honest and unpretentious which is what I would prefer rather than the deceit of what men call beauty, which is selfish and vain. I can find beauty in honesty, whether or not it is perfect. Maybe that is what I have been searching for in my friends and others, I find those who are honest (or I believe are honest) about their shortcomings, and I stay away from those people who seem too good to be true (that is why I dislike david beckham). This is one trait I have to have in my spouse, an unpretentious, raw, honest ugliness. Not that they have to be physically or emotionally or mentally ugly, but rather they have to be human, not raised on any pedestal. I would like them to be slightly beautiful (in the most perfect sense of the word). But I must know that they are human (I know there are no aliens among us, I am just trying to exclude robots, :P )
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