When you wake tomorrow

I will give you a poem when you wake tomorrow.
It will be a peaceful poem.
It won’t make you sad.
It won’t make you miserable.
It will simply be a poem to give you
When you wake tomorrow.

It was not written by myself alone.
I cannot lay claim to it.
I found it in your body.
In your smile I found it.
Will you recognise it?

You will find it under your pillow.
When you open the cupboard it will be there.
You will blink in astonishment,
Shout out, ‘How it trembles!
Its nakedness is startling! How fresh it tastes!’

We will have it for breakfast;
On a table lit by loving,
At a place reserved for wonder.
We will give the world a kissing open
When we wake tomorrow.

We will offer it to the sad landlord out on the balcony.
To the dreamers at the window.
To the hand waving for no particular reason
We will offer it.
An amazing and most remarkable thing,
We will offer it to the whole human race
Which walks in us
When we wake tomorrow.

Brian Patten
photos by Nina http://www.nin-a.com/

if it were not for the rain*

with a single matchstick
and a handful of dry leaves
you set on fire

all the silent explosives
i was arranging patiently
into desperate patterns

paintings by d.templeton

*

“I do not care what car you drive. Where you live. If you know someone who knows someone who knows someone. If your clothes are this year's cutting edge. If you are A-list B-list or never heard of you list. I only care about the words that flutter from your mind. They are the only thing you truly own. The only thing I will remember you by. I will not fall in love with your bones and skin. I will not fall in love with the places you have been. I will not fall in love with anything but the words that flutter from your extraordinary mind.”

-Andre Jordan

dancing with myse-elf oh oh

time out (of mind)

i am off for a walk look well after my heart i am leaving it with you

.

But baby, baby, I said it's over, Charlie

the music stopped i am dancing to your heartbeat

*

Touch me. Soft eyes. Soft soft soft hand. I am lonely here. O, touch me soon, now. What is that word known to all men? I am quiet here alone. Sad, too. Touch, touch me...

Ulysses James Joyce

*

"Love has got complicated, tied up with promises, bruised with plans, dogged with an ending that nobody wants -- when all love is, is what it always is -- that you look at me and want me and I don't turn away. If I want to say no, I will, but for the right reasons. If I want to say yes, I will, but for the right reasons. Leave the consequences. Leave the finale. Leave the grand statements. This simplicity of feeling should not be taxed."


From POWERBOOK by Jeanette Winterson

Baby It's You

polkadots etc:)

gingerandclove by Antosha Po (WHO'S BACK BACK BACK FROM ROOOOSSIA!!!)

Hold me like a mother would
Like I always knew somebody should
though tomorrow don't look that good
Well, it just goes to show

Though people say we're an unlikely couple
I'm seeing double of you

Oh.

This is life
This is life
And everything's all right
Living living living living living living living living life

Oh
I'm hoping though
because I'm learning to cope
with the emotion-less mediocrity
Oh.

Day-to-day living

Oh
I can't help being restless
When everything's so tasteless

And all the colors seem to have faded away.

Oh.
This is life
This is life
And everything's all right
Living living living living living living living living life

Hold me like a mother would
Like I always knew somebody should, yeah.
though tomorrow don't look that good
Well, just goes to show
Though people say we're an unlikely couple
Doris Day, and Mott the Hoople

Oh...

*

And instead of singing in the shower I would write out the lyrics of my favorite songs, the ink would turn the water blue or red or green, and the music would run down my legs

-Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer

hey

hey it's Firday shall we get drunk drunk?

The Quiet World

In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn't respond,
I know she's used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

Jeffrey McDaniel

hmm

My dear boy, the people who love only once in their lives are really the shallow people. What they call their loyalty, and their fidelity, I call the lethargy of custom or their lack of imagination. Faithfulness is to the emotional life what consistency is to the life of the intellect—simply a confession of failure. Faithfulness! I must analyse it someday. The passion for property is in it. There are many things that we would throw away if we were not afraid that others might pick them up.
— Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

the hardest part of losing /the head/

is finding /that trampled dress/



dress by Bogdan Zwir www.zwir.ru

From what we cannot hold the stars are made

Through all of youth I was looking for you
without knowing what I was looking for

or what to call you I think I did not
even know I was looking how would I

have known you when I saw you as I did
time after time when you appeared to me

as you did naked offering yourself
entirely at that moment and you let

me breathe you touch you taste you knowing
no more than I did and only when I

began to think of losing you did I
recognize you when you were already

part memory part distance remaining
mine in the ways that I learn to miss you

from what we cannot hold the stars are made

W.S. Merwin

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

“‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ First single. Fucking brilliant. Perhaps the most fucking brilliant song ever written. Because they nailed it. That’s what everyone wants. Not 24-7 hot sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche or a blow job or a million-dollar crib. No. They wanna hold your hand. They have such a feeling that they can’t hide. Every single successful love song of the past fifty years can be traced back to ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ And every single successful love story has those unbearable and unbearably exciting moments of hand-holding. Trust me. I’ve thought a lot about this.”

- Dev, Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist, Rachel Cohn and David Levithan



Today, John is forty again. Only looks much younger.

"Rebel Without a Clue" (c)

if you don't treat me better
baby i'll just run away
if you don't
treat me
one day
you'll wake up cold
then you'll know
you'll know
you'll know
you love me

t. amos

"Only half a page left now. Shall I fill it with ‘I love you, I love you’… No. Even a broken heart doesn’t warrant a waste of good paper.
.
.
He said he would come back
.
Only the margin left to write on now. I love, I love you, I love you."
Dodie Smith

October song for a ballerina

So I'm there
Charging around with a juggernaut brow
Overdraft, speeches and deadlines to make
Cramming commitments like cats in a sack
Telephone burn and a purposeful gait

When out of a doorway the tentacles stretch
Of a song that I know
And the world moves in slow-mo
Straight to my head
like the first cigarette of the day



And it's you, and it's May
And we're sleeping through the day
And I'm five years ago
And three thousand miles away

Do I have
time? A man of my calibre
Stood in the street like a sleepwalking teenager
No.
And I dealt with this years ago
I took a hammer to every memento
But image on image like beads on a rosary
pulled through my head as the music takes hold
and the sickener hits; I can work till I break
but I love the bones of you
That, I will never escape



And it's you, and it's May
And we're sleeping through the day
And I'm five years ago
And three thousand miles away

And I can't move my arm
Through the fear that you will wake
And I'm five years ago
And three thousand miles away




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

V for verse libre

"We also write to heighten our own awareness of life. We write to lure and enchant and console others. We write to serenade our lovers. We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection. We write, like Proust, to render all of it eternal, and to persuade ourselves that it is eternal. We write to be able to transcend our life, to reach beyond it. We write to teach ourselves to speak with others, to record the journey into the labyrinth. We write to expand our world when we feel strangled, or constricted, or lonely. We write as the birds sing, as the primitives dance their rituals. If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don't write, because our culture has no use for it. When I don't write, I feel my world shrinking. I feel I am in a prison. I feel I lose my fire and my color. It should be a necessity, as the sea needs to heave, and I call it breathing."
- Anaïs Nin

“‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ First single. Fucking brilliant. Perhaps the most fucking brilliant song ever written. Because they nailed it. That’s what everyone wants. Not 24-7 hot sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche or a blow job or a million-dollar crib. No. They wanna hold your hand. They have such a feeling that they can’t hide. Every single successful love song of the past fifty years can be traced back to ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ And every single successful love story has those unbearable and unbearably exciting moments of hand-holding. Trust me. I’ve thought a lot about this.”

- Dev, Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist, Rachel Cohn and David Levithan