С Новым Годом!

Let's be happy *

"Have you ever in your life had hours, or days, or even weeks when all your ordinary activities provoked a rather agonizing discomfort, and when everything you usually consider important and worthwhile seemed silly and worthless? When you didn't know what to do or where to turn? When you vaugely felt that somewhere, sometime, a desire transcending the sphere of earthly pleasure might be fulfilled, and you grew silent about everything around you the way a child brought up too strictly dares not express himself at all? When the spirit filled your heart with longing for an unknown something hovering everywhere you went, in transparent shapes that fled from closer scrutiny like an ephemeral dream? When you crept around with sad looks like a forlorn lover, and all the things you saw people doing in life's gay, colorful tumult incited neither sorrow nor joy, as if you no longer belonged to this world?"

T.A.Hoffmann

*

vanya buchel

your hand is a warm stone
I hold between two words

M. Atwood

pick-up-sticks and candlelight

Prayer

Whatever happens. Whatever
what is is is what
I want. Only that. But that.

Galway Kinnell

******************************************

Merry Christmas !

ps: I am making THOSE tonight:)

Where Babies Come From

For my eighth birthday
I got a toy train set
my father helped assemble.

My job was to hand him
pieces of track and re-light
the cigarettes that went out

in his mouth. Halfway
through, I asked him
where babies come from.

He told me that eight years
ago today I showed up
on the front stoop

in a cardboard box, how
he spent the whole afternoon
putting me together,

just like this train set,
that I was probably lucky
the box arrived on a Saturday.

Jeffrey McDaniel

*

*

dream phases

by http://www.photosight.ru/users/32361/

the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says


we are for each other




ee cummings

*

what makes an apple float,

is what makes the sea rise
trees sway
and flowerbuds burst open,

what makes milk spill when i pour it
sleepily
into your morning coffee

what tickles my palate
and fills your eyes with quiet laughter
is what makes an apple float

ps: the thing is 123 by 123:) Huge:)

January and December

==INTRO==
G Em C G
G Em C G

G Em C G
The years answers melts, in a wet, winter kiss.
G Em C G
January and december, you and me forever.
G D Em C G
My horse is as tall as a wall fully recovered from the fall.
G Em D C G
Hit record and watch him crawl, into your pocket.


D Em C
If you hold me like you planned too, never let me go.
G D C
What i want to know is when this pub closes.


G Em C G
G Em C G


G D Em C
My horse is as high as a house, with the furniture burning and the windows smashed out.
G Em D C G
Hit pause and walk him out, out of your pocket.


D Em C
If you hold me like you planned too, never let me go.
G D C
What i want to know, is when this pub closes.
D Em C
If you hold me like you planned too, never let me go.
G D C
what i want to know is when this pub closes.
C G Em C
When this pub closes.

G Em C G

whan i was little, New Year's Eve smelled of elm-tree, and frosty air and mandarins. decorations for the xmass tree were all made of glass and some glowed in the dark. the most popular were balls (small, big, some with patterns, some without, some with the whole story painted on), and twisted icycles. and pine-cones dusted with glass sugar. those were typical. but there were also brigantines, and stars, and huts with snowy roofs, and mushrooms, and apples, Ded Moroz (Father Frost) and Snegurochka (his granddaughter. the rest of the family being an unsolved mystery); there were little girls and little boys, and little cosmonaut boys in helmets. the box with the fragile treasures wrapped in last year's newspaper and cottonwool would be taken down from the furtherest corner in the pantry, and the careful unfolding and decorating would take the whole day and the entire family. and it smelled of mandarins. and snow:)

do you have your xmass tree up yet?

some special action with motives unclear

for it is almost Winter

what if we had as many
words for love as the inuits
have for snow
what if my heart pumped snow instead
of blood this love is soft and puffy don’t
slip on this love because it is packed hard as ice
this love is dry and crunchy this love is
wet and muddy this
love is ideal
for packing into
tidy rectangular prisms and
using to build the
igloo that we
will try hard to
melt from the
inside.

Michael Glaviano

tiziana cerri

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=UL06AUwZlGg

with no clear purrrrrrpose

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there's the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, or George or Bill Bailey -
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter -
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular,
A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum -
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there's still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover -
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

T.S.Eliot

:)

Fritz Fabert

every time
i swallow your name
it goes down my throat
like slow translucent honey

look
the trajectories
it takes inside my body
are all directed towards the heart

then faster
along the veins
through the fingertips
and onto the paper

trying to make it clear :)

I quite agree with you. And the moral of that is: Be what you would seem to be, or if you'd like it put more simply: Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.
Alice in Wonderland


yaaaaaaaaawwwwwwn:)

a love poem

Y o U
f
a
l
l
into my eyes
like red
chilli
d u s t.

Sivakami Velliangiri

The Rules of Evidence

What you want to say most
is inadmissible.
Say it anyway.
Say it again.
What they tell you is irrelevant
can’t be denied and will
eventually be heard.
Every question
is a leading question.
Ask it anyway, then expect
what you won’t get.
There is no such thing
as the original
so you’ll have to make do
with a reasonable facsimile.
The history of the world
is hearsay. Hear it.
The whole truth
is unspeakable
and nothing but the truth
is a lie.
I swear this.
My oath is a kiss.
I swear
by everything
incredible.


Lee Robinson

Love is a mix-tape

and most of it is guitar





zhana viel

we

andreas kauppi

It is said there are flowers that bloom only once in a hundred years. Why should there not be some that bloom once in a thousand, in ten thousand years? Perhaps we never knew about them simply because this "once in a thousand years" has come only today?

- Yevgeny Zamyatin, We

http://www.photosight.ru/users/56581/

море

by http://www.photosight.ru/users/95181/

It must just be the colors
And it must just be the kids...

"Toco tu boca, con un dedo toco el borde de tu boca, voy dibujándola como si saliera de mi mano, como se por primera vez tu boca se entreabriera, y me basta cerrar los ojos para deshacerlo todo y reomenzar, hago nacer cada vez la boca que deseo, la boca que mi mano elige y te dibuja en la cara, una boca elegida entre todas, con soberana libertad elegida por mi para dibujarla con mi mano en tu cara, y que por un azar que no busco comprender coincide exactamente con tu boca que sonríe por debajo de la que mi mano te dibuja.
Me miras, de cerca me miras, cada vez más de cerca y entonce jugámos al cíclope, nos miramos cada vez más de cerca y los ojos se agrandan, se acercan entre si, se superponen y los cíclopes se miran, respirando confundidos, las bocas se encuentran e luchan tibiamente, mordiédose con los labios, apoyando apenas la lengua en los dentes, jugando en sus recintos donde un aire pesado va y viene como un perfume viejo y un silencio. Entonces mis manos buscan confundirse en tu pelo, acariciar lentamente la profundidad de tu pelo mientros nos besamos como si tuviéramos la boca llena de flores o de peces, de movimientos vivos, de fragrancia oscura. Y se nos moderdemos el dolor es dulce, y si nos ahogamos en un breve y terrible absorber aimultáneo del aliento, esa instantánea muerte es bella.Y hay una sola saliva y un solo sabor a fruta madura, y yo te siento temblar contra mi como una luna en el agua."


Julio Cortázar Rayuela Capítulo 7

...i prefered to leave the misspellings:)

goodmorning:)

photo by Virginia Gálvez

Szara Reneta

http://plfoto.com/150484/autor.html

:)

i wonder if you were aware
how much
you rock my boat
i wonder if you were aware
how much
you rock my boat
i wonder if you were aware
how much
you rock my boat
you rock my boat

oh i love

photos © Cid Harvey

this drug

photos © Cid Harvey