the river between red and atm machine

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lyrics

 psalm 137

 my flickr 

my.tumblr 

my island my home my sister the mermaid

my rebirth place

lyrics    click me 

 

 You think that the wound you opened hurts me
but this became my joy and in life holds me.

I don’t care that you opened me a wound not healing
I only hurt that a lifetime to love you is not enough.

 

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summer in the city 

aroma of bygone era

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flickr    , .tumblr

People are strange when you're a stranger 

Faces look ugly when you're alone

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the question of the dog

weird species these bipeds, pushing carts full of things all the time ,trying to find their happiness by this way

Fidel & Che

  Women seem wicked when you're unwanted
Streets are uneven, when you're down 

 

Bulldozer

 

three different generations three different expressions

When you're strange 

Faces come out of the rain

When you're strange

Avanti o popolo, alla riscossa Bandiera rossa, 

]bandiera rossa ...from smartphone

dancing in public

No one remembers your name

When you're strange
When you're strange
When you're strange 

 dirty glass

swimming suit 

People are strange when you're a stranger
Faces look ugly when you're alone

flickr me baby

 

 sad-darkness

click me for the song

Riders on the storm

Riders on the storm

Into this house we're born

Into this world we're thrown

Like a dog without a bone

And actor out on loan

Riders on the storm

There's a killer on the road
His brain is squirmin' like a toad
Take a long holiday
Let your children play
If ya give this man a ride
Sweet family will die
Killer on the road, yeah

Girl ya gotta love your man
Girl ya gotta love your man
Take him by the hand
Make him understand
The world on you depends
Our life will never end
Gotta love your man, yeah

Wow!

Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Into this house we're born
Into this world we're thrown
Like a dog without a bone
And actor out on loan
Riders on the storm

Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm

click for contrast  

a tribute to Kavafy's work 

 

And I Lounged and Lay on Their Beds

When I went to that house of pleasure
I didn’t stay in the front rooms where they celebrate,
with some decorum, the accepted modes of love.

I went into the secret rooms
and lounged and lay on their beds.

I went into the secret rooms
considered shameful even to name.
But not shameful to me—because if they were,
what kind of poet, what kind of artist would I be?
I’d rather be an ascetic. That would be more in keeping,
much more in keeping with my poetry,
than for me to find pleasure in the commonplace rooms.

Translated by Edmund Keeley/Philip Sherrard


www.cavafy.com/

 

my only company the doves

just click me  & no comments

 

the shadow theatre

sometimes loneliness pushes for conciliation with the world of shadows

instead of a description...

 blue star

shows my mood, the last few months