Vee
Felis_Catus_Domesticus3 magi..
grobi@VeroniqueB99 @Felis_Catus_Domesticus
.. We all know exactly what these young people were actually looking for ..
So hurry up and bring your jukebox money !!!
Message from the Intergalactic Press Agency (IGPA):
"Trump's War Department is deliberately misleading peace activists!"
Strange to think Kate Pierson was born the same year as my mother. While my mom was raising 3 kids + man-baby husband, Kate Pierson was half a decade away from being in the B-52's. I guess there is some variety and variation among boomers. A little at least. Different life paths, different fates.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Severely overplayed when it was new, but I think it's aged well just the same..
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYOKMUTTDdA&list=RDYYOKMUTTDdA&start_radio=1
R.E.M. - Shiny Happy People (Official Music Video)
Sad to see that we currently live in a world where cult of individualism is taken to such excess has made sentiments like those in that song, utterly toxic. Who'd have guessed we'd end up in this place, starting out from where we did? Full circle, from one form or repression and intolerance to another, different form of exactly the same thing.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C7kkjPDryFM&list=RDC7kkjPDryFM&start_radio=1
Pet Shop Boys - This Must Be The Place I Waited Years To Leave (Official Audio)
Each new generation that is born had to re-learn the old lessons all on it's own and on their own terms.. in a world (mess) they create for themselves, based on their own specific internal brokenness.
@VeroniqueB99 @Felis_Catus_Domesticus
.. not only decades ago ..
My favourite of Arthur Rimbaud:
Hunger
I only find within my bones, A taste for eating earth and stones.
When I feed, I feed on air, Rocks and coals and iron ore.
My hunger, turn. Hunger, feed: A field of bran.
Gather as you can the bright, Poison weed.
Eat the rocks a beggar breaks,
The stones of ancient churches' walls,
Pebbles, children of the flood, Loaves left lying in the mud.
* * *
Beneath the bush a wolf will howl, Spitting bright feathers
From his feast of fowl: Like him, I devour myself.
Waiting to be gathered, Fruits and grasses spend their hours;
The spider spinning in the hedge, Eats only flowers.
Let me sleep! Let me boil, On the altars of Solomon;
Let me soak the rusty soil, And flow into Kendron.
Finally, O reason, O happiness, I cleared from the sky the blue which is darkness, and I lived as a golden spark of this light, Nature. In my delight, I made my face look as comic and as wild as I could:
It is recovered.
What? Eternity.
In the whirling light
Of the sun in the sea.
O my eternal soul,
Hold fast to desire
In spite of the night
And the day on fire.
You must set yourself free
From the striving of Man
And the applause of the World!
You must fly as you can...
No hope, forever; No _orietur._
Science and patience,
The torment is sure.
The fire within you,
Soft silken embers,
Is our whole duty--
But no one remembers.
It is recovered.
What? Eternity.
In the whirling light
Of the sun in the sea.
I became a fabulous opera. I saw that everyone in the world was doomed to happiness. Action isn't life; it's merely a way of ruining a kind of strength, a means of destroying nerves. Morality is water on the brain. It seemed to me that everyone should have had several other lives as well. This gentleman doesn't know what he's doing; he's an angel. That family is a litter of puppy dogs. With some men, I often talked out loud with a moment from one of their other lives-- that's how I happened to love a pig. Not a single one of the brilliant arguments of madness-- the madness that gets locked up-- did I forget; I could go through them all again, I've got the system down by heart. It affected my health. Terror loomed ahead. I would fall again and again into a heavy sleep, which lasted several days at a time, and when I woke up, my sorrowful dreams continued. I was ripe for fatal harvest, and my weakness led me down dangerous roads to the edge of the world, to the Cimmerian shore, the haven of whirlwinds and darkness. I had to travel, to dissipate the enchantments that crowded my brain. On the sea, which I loved as if it were to wash away my impurity, I watched the compassionate cross arise. I had been damned by the rainbow. Felicity was my doom, my gnawing remorse, my worm. My life would forever be too large to devote to strength and to beauty. Felicity! The deadly sweetness of its sting would wake me at cockcrow-- ad matutinum, at the Christus venit-- in the soberest of cities.
O seasons, O chateaus! Where is the flawless soul?
I learned the magic of Felicity. It enchants us all.
To Felicity, sing life and praise, Whenever Gaul's cock crows.
Now all desire has gone-- It has made my life its own.
That spell has caught heart and soul, And scattered every trial.
O seasons, O chateaus! And, oh, the day it disappears, Will be the day I die.
O seasons, O chateaus! All that is over. Today, I know how to celebrate beauty.
CREDIT Music/Poetry Video:
Music by Hector Zazou & The Sahara Blue Orchestra
* Poetry by Arthur Rimbaud
20 October 1854 – 10 November 1891 / Charleville, Ardennes
* performed by John Cale
Title: HUNGER
@grobi so 1) o Rimbaud in anything other than French... and 2) my fav's Verlaine (sooo many!) who was his lover as everyone knows...
@VeroniqueB99 @Felis_Catus_Domesticus
Does this French have a German accent or am I mistaken.. But yes, French sounds more poetic, of course .. maybe ..
Paul Verlain
Chanson d'Automne/Herbstlied
performed by Stefan George
@grobi ohhh dear gawd!!! 🤣 👍 Yes he has a heavy accent....
@VeroniqueB99 @Felis_Catus_Domesticus
Mais je ne connais vraiment rien au français. Mais ça sonne bien...
🤩