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 Post subject: Let the poet talk
Unread postPosted: Sat May 22, 2010 9:48 am 
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As I sit here thinking of those who are talented enough to express their own ideas with words or other creative means , I find it difficult to make an introduction to honor the powerful poem I will post.
It may look unoriginal to post someone's else work but I have the urge to share this inspirational (even life changing) poem written by the great poet Pablo Neruda. Originally written in spanish the poem might have lost some of its meaning in translation.
I will let the poet talk now ...


Die Slowly

by Pablo Neruda

He who becomes the slave of habit,
who follows the same routes every day,
who never changes pace,
who does not risk and change the color of his clothes,
who does not speak and does not experience,
dies slowly.

He or she who shuns passion,
who prefers black on white,
dotting ones "it’s" rather than a bundle of emotions, the kind that make your eyes glimmer,
that turn a yawn into a smile,
that make the heart pound in the face of mistakes and feelings,
dies slowly.

He or she who does not turn things topsy-turvy,
who is unhappy at work,
who does not risk certainty for uncertainty,
to thus follow a dream,
those who do not forego sound advice at least once in their lives,
die slowly.

He who does not travel, who does not read,
who does not listen to music,
who does not find grace in himself,
she who does not find grace in herself,
dies slowly.

He who slowly destroys his own self-esteem,
who does not allow himself to be helped,
who spends days on end complaining about his own bad luck, about the rain that never stops,
dies slowly.

He or she who abandon a project before starting it, who fail to ask questions on subjects he doesn't know, he or she who don't reply when they are asked something they do know,
die slowly.

Let's try and avoid death in small doses,
reminding oneself that being alive requires an effort far greater than the simple fact of breathing.

Only a burning patience will lead
to the attainment of a splendid happiness.


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 Post subject: Let All Poets Talk
Unread postPosted: Tue Nov 09, 2010 11:22 am 
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I really love this post Choco. So Beautiful. I read this poem from time to time, and it pauses me in quiet introspection. It makes me want to fly and fight against complacency. It makes me aware of how relative and tenuous our freedoms are when I wash it over myself who, chained to my own delusions and self righteous apathy, live inside a dream world protected by denial and stalk higher meaning like a vulture waiting for roadkill. Self deception is probably the most sinister thing in the world. It makes the taste of decay …. delectable, yeah. It turns our dungeons into pretty gardens where we can sit and rot and feel like martyrs, kissing our own egos, patting ourselves on the back for all the good things we’ve done, glorious in our zombie skins while we wait for the worms. Heh. This was supposed to be a positive response. Perhaps it is. I tend to believe until we genuinely face what is really constraining us we will always be restrained from truly living.

The following excerpt from Zora Neale Hurston’s, Their Eyes Were Watching God, sums up in a very poetic way how I see most people dealing with their purpose and this gift we call Life. But this perspective probably has more to do with me avoiding my responsibilities and hanging out too much on winmx too, heh.

“The Flock had to wait the white-headed leader, but it was hard. They jostled each other and pecked at heads in hungry irritation. Some walked up and down the beast from head to tail, tail to head. The Parson sat motionless in a dead pine tree about two miles off. He had scented the matter as quickly as any of the rest, abut decorum demanded that he sit oblivious until he was notified. Then he took off with ponderous flight and circled and lowered, circled and lowered until the others danced in joy and hunger at his approach.

He finally lit on the ground and walked around the body to see if it were really dead. Peered into its nose and mouth. Examined it well from end to end and leaped upon it and bowed, and the others danced a response. That being over, he balanced and asked:

‘What killed this man?’
The chorus answered, “bare, bare fat.”
‘What killed this man?’
“Bare, bare fat!”
‘What killed this man?’
“Bare, bare fat.”
“Who’ll stand his funeral?”
‘We!!!!!!’
‘Well, all right now.’

So he pecked out the eyes in the ceremonial way and the feast went on. The yaller mule was gone from the town except for the porch talk, and for the children visiting his bleaching bones now and then in the spirit of adventure.”


** me plants some flowers on her grave **

Let all poets talk. And may our souls be free to walk.

Long live the yaller mule.


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 Post subject: Re: Let the poet talk
Unread postPosted: Sat Jan 22, 2011 8:50 pm 
Be Angry At The Sun:-

Robinson Jeffers

That public men publish falsehoods
Is nothing new. That America must accept
Like the historical republics corruption and empire
Has been known for years.

Be angry at the sun for setting
If these things anger you. Watch the wheel slope and turn,
They are all bound on the wheel, these people, those warriors.
This republic, Europe, Asia.

Observe them gesticulating,
Observe them going down. The gang serves lies, the passionate
Man plays his part; the cold passion for truth
Hunts in no pack.

You are not Catullus, you know,
To lampoon these crude sketches of Caesar. You are far
From Dante's feet, but even farther from his dirty
Political hatreds.

Let boys want pleasure, and men
Struggle for power, and women perhaps for fame,
And the servile to serve a Leader and the dupes to be duped.
Yours is not theirs.

Radio 4's good innit.


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 Post subject: Re: Let the poet talk
Unread postPosted: Sat Jan 22, 2011 10:13 pm 
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I think from time to time of the Tibetan funeral, and how lovely was the white buzzard.

There's always someone who is thankful that we're here in the world, no matter how. We should never take that for granted.


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 Post subject: Re: Let the poet talk
Unread postPosted: Sat Jan 29, 2011 2:24 am 
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This isn't the most beautiful or well written thing I've ever seen, but I enjoy it quite a bit....

Nobody gives a damn about anybody else,
Think everyone should feel the way they feel themselves,
Rich men think that happiness is a million dollar bills,
So how come half of them O.D. on sleeping pills,
Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, you all know what I mean,
What's the use of a cry for help, if no one hears the screams,
No one hears the scream,
No voices in the sky, confusion blinds the eye,
Can't take it with you when you die,
No voices in the sky,

The ones who dedicate the flags to make you brave,
They also consecrate the headstone on your grave,
Ritual remembrance when no one knows your name,
Don't help a single widow learn to fight the pain,

Politicians kissing babies for good luck,
T.V. preachers sell salvation for a buck,
You don't need no golden cross, to tell you wrong from right,
The world's worst murderers were those who saw the light.

=================================================

Yeah.

Motörhead....btw.

_________________
A lie is something that's only valuable to yourself. Truth is valuable to everyone. If the only thing you have to offer is something that is only valuable to you, then people will eventually not seek you out for what you have to offer.


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 Post subject: Re: Let the poet talk
Unread postPosted: Sat Jan 29, 2011 2:28 am 
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Ashwing777 wrote:
I think from time to time of the Tibetan funeral, and how lovely was the white buzzard.

There's always someone who is thankful that we're here in the world, no matter how. We should never take that for granted.



Where the hell you been?


Don't tell me its one of those resolution things.

Good to see your name at any rate.... Oh...a haiku from the recent snow.

the snow is falling, it falls slowly but it falls, still too fast for me ~ 01/09/11

_________________
A lie is something that's only valuable to yourself. Truth is valuable to everyone. If the only thing you have to offer is something that is only valuable to you, then people will eventually not seek you out for what you have to offer.


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 Post subject: Re: Let the poet talk
Unread postPosted: Sun Jan 30, 2011 6:47 pm 
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Restless changes wait.
Hail the wanton New Year Queen!
Resolutions suck.


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 Post subject: Re: Let the poet talk
Unread postPosted: Mon Apr 04, 2011 7:48 pm 
Sat here in my underpants
watching some absolute shit
outside a dog barks...
and I'm going to go and tread on it.

Morning has broken,
which fucking sucks ass.
I will endeavour, from this point...
to make the afternoon the morning.

If I go faster than light...
I can go backwards in time...
But only in a forwards direction.
And fuck black holes. (or any hole)

Pineapple is the greatest fruit,
it is juicy and large,
and excellent value for money,
and amour plated.


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