Friday, August 30, 2019

Clear Night by Charles Wright & My Pink Flowers

By Charles Wright

Clear night, thumb-top of a moon, a back-lit sky. 
Moon-fingers lay down their same routine 
On the side deck and the threshold, the white keys and the black keys. 
Bird hush and bird song. A cassia flower falls. 

I want to be bruised by God. 
I want to be strung up in a strong light and singled out. 
I want to be stretched, like music wrung from a dropped seed.   
I want to be entered and picked clean. 

And the wind says “What?” to me. 
And the castor beans, with their little earrings of death, say “What?” to me. 
And the stars start out on their cold slide through the dark.   
And the gears notch and the engines wheel.

Charles Wright, “Clear Night” from Country Music: Selected Early Poems

Confederate Rose

Thursday, August 22, 2019

All Things Pass - Timothy Leary & Lao Tzu

All Things Pass - Lao-Tzu

From:  “Psychedelic Prayers”, page 51

All things pass
A sunrise does not last all morning
All things pass
A cloudburst does not last all day
All things pass
Nor a sunset all night
All things pass
What always changes?

These change
And if these do not last

Do man's visions last?
Do man's illusions?

Take things as they come

All things pass

(from translations adapted by Timothy Leary [1920-1996])===============================
Lao-Tzu (ca. 6th century BC) is traditionally considered the author of the Tao Te Ching and the founder of Taoism. Timothy Leary was a Harvard professor and advocate for the use of LSD to expand conciousness. He compiled this version of the poem from a collection of English translations.

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

I Envy the Wind By Lucinda Williams

I envy the wind
That whispers in your ear
That howls through the winter
That freezes your fingers
That moves through your hair
And cracks your lips
That chills you to the bone
I envy the wind
I envy the rain
That falls on your face
That wets your eyelashes
and dampens your skin
And touches your tongue
And soaks through your shirt
And drips down your back
I envy the rain
I envy the sun
That brightens your summer
That warms your body
And holds you in her heat
That makes your days longer
And makes you hot
And makes you sweat
I envy the sun
I envy the wind, I envy the rain, I envy the sun, I envy the wind
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Lucinda Williams

My flowers are loving our deliciously hot days!  Over 100 degrees today...

 Passionflower or Alienflower, as I call it.  Smells grape!

Buddha with spent Moonflower

I notice multiples of one every day...being here now.

Passionflower vine, grooving & grasping.  One open; one closed.

Datura Moonflower, slowly opening...

I used to have this van in the 1970's!  So groovy. 

Saturday, August 10, 2019

I Think I’ve Seized the Wrong Damn Day!!

Phoenix by Ijeoma Umebinyuo
From:  "Questions For Ada"
One day,
your bones will get weary
of men
who refuse to worship the God in you.
On that day,
you will either slit your soul
or gather your spirit
leaving any man
who has never called you
how your mother kept her bones warm
on nights your father was far away.
do not love a man who keeps you clinging
to the pillow for too many nights.
Stay away
from men who peel the skin
of other women, forcing you to wear them.
Remember how your mother struggled
to find her skin in the pile.
Do not
scratch your words,
soften your pain or scrub yourself in shame.
Do not
drown yourself in a man.
He will leave you struggling to breathe.

Tuesday, August 6, 2019

You let it flow from you...

TAO 78, translated by Stephen Mitchell

Tao 43, translated by Stephen Mitchell

From:  “Portrait of a Lady” by T. S. Eliot

Now that lilacs are in bloom
She has a bowl of lilacs in her room
And twists one in her fingers while she talks.
“Ah, my friend, you do not know, you do not know
What life is, you who hold it in your hands”;        45
(Slowly twisting the lilac stalks)
“You let it flow from you, you let it flow,
And youth is cruel, and has no remorse
And smiles at situations which it cannot see.”
I smile, of course,        50
And go on drinking tea.
“Yet with these April sunsets, that somehow recall
My buried life, and Paris in the Spring,
I feel immeasurably at peace, and find the world
To be wonderful and youthful, after all.”


Sunday, August 4, 2019

Happy 50th, Woodstock!

My custom Blythe hippie sisters, Tee Joy & Sunny, customized by the talented Sandra Coe in Detroit.  Her shop at Etsy is:

Alice in Wonderland Blythe.  “White Rabbit” by Grace Slick is her fav song.  ;-)

Happy 50th anniversary to peace, love & rock & roll!  The birth of the 1970's began at Woodstock in 1969.  Magical music, peaceful gatherings and a generation of the best music ever composed in my generation.  

WOODSTOCK (Crosby, Stills & Nash)

Well, I came upon a child of God
He was walking along the road
And I asked him, Tell me, where are you going
This he told me
Said, I'm going down to Yasgur's Farm
Gonna join in a rock and roll band
Got to get back to the land and set my soul free
We are stardust, we are golden
We are billion year old carbon
And we got to get ourselves back to the garden
Well, then can I roam beside you?
I have come to lose the smog,
And I feel myself a cog in somethin' turning
And maybe it's the time of year
Yes and maybe it's the time of man
And I don't know who I am
But life is for learning
We are stardust, we are golden
We are billion year old carbon
And we got to get ourselves back to the garden
We are stardust, we are golden
We are billion year old carbon
And we got to get ourselves back to the garden
By the time we got to Woodstock
We were half a million strong
And everywhere was a song and a celebration
And I dreamed I saw the bomber death planes
Riding shotgun in the sky,
Turning into butterflies
Above our nation
We are stardust, we are golden
We are caught in the devils bargain
And we got to get ourselves back to the garden
Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Joni Mitchell

Thursday, August 1, 2019

Self Pity by D. H. Lawrence

Datura Moonflower opening on a stormy afternoon...

Garfield & I holding paws..., so many...


I never saw a wild thing 
sorry for itself. 
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.

~D. H. Lawrence