invitation

I’m glad you told me you want me
to be and what not to be in order to be
what you could, should, would wish.

I don’t care what you want or don’t.
I want what I want and don’t want
what you think I should be.

If I can be and not give up myself
I’ll be what I am with you while you
be all that you can be.

Now that you know what you want
maybe you will spend some time
finding out who and what you are

What you want is far from what I want
because I am far more than what you want.
Be careful what you care about is more
than that you don’t care.

(a response to The Invitation by Oriah Mountain-Dreamer)

signs will show

signs show the sun casts no solstice shadow
what the cold cape of winter now reveals
a love bed of rose like stars glimmer through
hidden in folds of threadbare velvet night
the contrails from her solar chariot
drawn by lions to the hazy horizon
like looking at floating feathers dancing
riddles me sleepy memories full of dreams
we are both angels in love with the sky
she soars high but I am bound to the ground
while watching her enter heaven flying
to that lingering look back in my mind
inceasantly whisper “I love you”

the wait for her return is so very long
though I know she has only barely gone

her hair like silent stars too far from here
I miss her kisses and arms around me
the mist after midnight slides in to hide
trees snap fingers wiggle to the rhythm
rain weaving a tapestry of echo
as the wind throws pine cones hailing down
the first snowfall filters through nearby trees
she spreads her silken rainbow faerie wings
to the station of the sun in the south
I climb steep trails to the highest peak
to the tower of winter in the north
just to get a last chance distant glimpse of her
better a chance than all the warmth at all

the sun is shining through the trees and snow
with longer days I’ll see her soon I know

homepage and the dialectic between honesty vs truth

Last night, I watched “homepage” which is an interesting documentary about the early culture that surrounded the web, the revolutionary fanaticism, and a bit about its demise.

However, there was a part that had me thinking about some stuff from my own past, actually previous to all the events of the movie.

honesty vs. truthfulness is an interesting topic. If one accepts that they are not identical, one wonders how much truth is necessary for complete honesty, and if it’s possible to have truth without honesty. Is truth communicated by the non-present presenter still honesty, when not professed? As the better part of valour is restraint, is that also the better part of honesty in regards to the truth?

I’ve suspected that moderation in all things is a guiding principle. Not that it means moderation in _all_ things, but rather _moderation_ in all things. The difference being that it’s not necessary to partake of everything in moderation, but rather to be moderate in all things in which one partakes.

I had written a bit on this topic.

Strong Drink, 1993 (c) j g bell

it is a strong drink
to drown adultery in drunkenness
it is a stronger drink
to face my lover’s face with honesty
stronger than fidelity
it is an even stronger drink
to drink to my own weakness

it is a great grief to me
to weakly write myself
into my father part
it is a greater grief to me
to strongly write my lover
into my mother part
it is the greatest grief to me
to wholly write my past
into my future past

there is no art in drink
there is no salvation in sorrow
there is no love in lies
there is no love in lies
there is no love in lies

I’ve learned my sorrow from my father
I’ve learned myself from my sorrow
I’ve learned to lie from myself
I’ve learned myself from my lie

there is no love in lies
but honesty ruins love with revealed lies
there is no love in lies
but justice ruins love with concealed lies
there is no love in lies

there is no salvation in sorrow
but somehow sorrow saves lovers from future pain
there is no salvation in sorrow
but somehow suffering saves me from future pain
there is no salvation in sorrow

there is no art to drink
but drink can remind me to forget
there is no art to drink
but drink can force me to sleep
there is no art to drink

it is a strong drink
to drown adultery in drunkenness
it is a stronger drink
to face my lover’s face with honesty
stronger than fidelity
it is an even stronger drink
to drink to my own weakness
my honesty stronger than the lie
will ruin my love and with this in mind
I will tell the truth in time

The Sense of Pleasure

In this age we have created a senseless pleasure with no quality other than a one dimensional quanity. We’ve created an age that has no sense of a quality in pleasure other than dissatisfaction with intensity. This dissatisfaction is gained from the ever increasing need for more from a one dimensional pleasure that is a scalar of intensity. There’s no aesthetic of pleasure, rather merely a quantity.

A simple transposition of quality for quantity will not be enough to return an aesthetic to pleasure. This culture needs to touch the texture of a new aestheic pleasure. As a culture we need to re-connect with the taste, smell, sound and sight of pleasures. Rather than a focus on the greater pleasures, we can focus on the moderation of pleasure with the purpose of maximal experience of qualities.

Pleasure should be an art, not a commodity. Rather than a shallow pleasureless pursuit, we would have a rich pursuit of pleasures.