de i love you si slam poetry

uitasem de asta. si voi reveni pe subiectu asta. hopefully.
acuma dau cu paste la niste vorbe si la o ilustrati video de la un slam poetry venue a lu o doamna din Iowa care e simpatica foc. o cheama Mary Fons.
in care se arata urmatorul citat:

the paper poem.

I wrote this world down on paper/and it is all that I have.

I’ve kept a record of the blows to the head/the words that you said/and the paper lights I have seen in the sky that fell to the earth and died/this is not solid ground/it trembles and shakes when you step down and if you’ve ever been to a paper world you know what I mean/when you walk around you fall/fall onto paper knees that buckle beneath the weight of your legs/paper necks snap beneath heavy paper heads/oh snap/paper clocks tell incorrect time/paper skyscrapers scrape the skyline/and all the city’s citizen’s want what paper needs/strength/strong stock/safety from water but it all comes pre-tattered/bleeding confetti sized ink that stains the paper streets.

and I wonder/how do you keep a smile on a cut-out face when at any moment/fire will ravage earth and space/reduce your planet to ash if you bump elbows with a cigarette or a smoking campfire log/get chewed on by a dog that thinks you’re the news/I have long since stopped getting the blues/there is no color here/on the absence of light/I mean that’s what white is/I mean that’s what white is/right.

but if you are a paper doll too then I shall know you on sight and if you are with me/then come with me tonight/I will match up our bodies by the tears in our arms/we will form paper barricades against matchstick harm/I will make paper love to you for as long as I can in this shreddable world/I will be your paper girl.

and if rage is worth nothing on paper/then I have nothing left to say/but if the greatest words of all our ancestors have been saved to this day on paper/on paper/clinging to paper for god knows the reasons why/then I will write this on paper/and send it up to the wrathful 2-D god in the sky:

make me a lover to burn with and I will be the one who burns it all/I will do your bidding with a smile/but before the cinder sparks and the Great Fall in the Fire starts/give me one day/one day/and I will make a paper boat and sail with him on the sea and after that/will gladly burn down the whole paper world/as long as he burns with me.”
„tennesee” mary fons

si acuma linku primit de la Pol la ora 01:00 am. ca recul la niste vorbe de le avuram telefonic intr-o seara empatic de ciudata si ciudat de empatica:

si in cuvinte:

„love poem 2002.

Tennessee Mary Fons
copyright 2005

this poem is for the pillow clutchers/for those looking into the imaginary eyes of the person who fills their mind with sugarplum smiles/for those who have a cannon of dreams ready and waiting to blossom/for the men and the women who want to be understood in that way that only someone who kisses you can understand you/this poem is for you.

this poem is not for the desperate/the pathetic/the lame/the loser/not for the one who hasn’t gotten laid in awhile/not for the one who says they’re “choosing not to date” for awhile/there is no such thing/this poem is for the people who cannot bring themselves to admit that they would give their right leg for any length of time with the person on their mind.

forgive me/I am not a brave woman/I do not know what lurks in the hearts of humans and I don’t really want to know/if what’s there mirrors memories I show in my face on bad days it holds kisses that are long gone/people who have disappeared/and passions that have faded into the ether of the past/nothing lasts/that is the one lesson this coward can say she is able to teach.

this poem is for all those who wish to say “I’m sorry”/I’m sorry I couldn’t love you/you deserve love/I’m sorry I couldn’t give something to you/you deserve to be given to/I’m sorry that for every person that loves somebody/another person just doesn’t want to/and sometimes we’re the lucky ones/right/we get to feel sweet truth in the night/the bodies we reach out to are miraculously there/but I know the despair that comes when they are not/I know the long nights and the doubt and the fear and that crawling back to a womb that just isn’t there/I know intensity’s address and the letdown that rents there/I’m sorry for it/it takes years off your life and it cannot be avoided.

and some times these little words are crutches for the crush that we feel/so this poem is a pathetic vehicle for me to tell you/each one of you/that I love you/in so many ways/in the same ways that stay up nights and days/dreaming up the perfect way to be there for someone/meals you would cook for them/poems you would write for them and the things you plan to say when they say no/well I love you/and you will never know how in the slight of a magician’s hand we could’ve been lovers and grandly in love/could’ve changed the whole game/written words on the horizon/changed the compromise/but you will know something else instead/bitter as bitter ever gets/more bitter than a rotten peach pit/more bitter than a child’s most terrifying nightmare at night/you will know that I don’t reflect what I see in your eyes/will will share some banal recognition/some cordial understanding but have I mentioned that I love you for not lying/so many people lying all the time/I hate them/so I love you/and you will still go home alone/and that is very hard to do.

for all the humans with love for those who aren’t their lovers/I love you.

and so the poem ends because we know that it will/but before it slips away like everything else/I will attempt the only words I can think of that are a fraction as good as a kiss: when you reach out at night and find not someone/but the cold grey light of day that wakes you up like a slap/like a curse/like an insult/I love you/when you stay at home thinking of those who are long gone or those who are getting kisses from someone that is not you/I love you/for those who want what they probably need and whose bodies are starving not for food/for me and for you and for all the people who never knew or understood what you would do for them/I love you/I love you/I love you.

I think the poem gets to me personally because I have always wanted to say „I love you” to the world. I actually attempted to start a story once in which the main characters find little notes that say „You don’t know me, but I care about you. You don’t know me, but I’m like you. You don’t know me, but I know what you’re going through. You don’t know me, but I cried with you.” You see, awhile ago, a little over a year I’d say, I realised that even when you feel alone, there really are people in the world you care about you. There are people who can relate to you, there are people like you. No, I’m not referring to QA, though it has certainly helped me feel less alone. I don’t know, I was just really happy to see someone sending out the message that has been in the back of my mind for quite some time. It justs gets to me”
www.maryfons.com.

Anunțuri

de acum 20 de ani

in care se arata ca deja pot spune: oho… acum 20 de ani...
chiar, oare ce faceam acu 20 de ani?
– cautam cuvinte in dictionar. citeam ziare si reviste. funny
– ma plictiseam la scoala
– faceam gimnastica sportiva
– aflam ca nu pot tine o racheta de tenis in mana
– jucam volei in fata blocului
– ma imprieteneam cu vecina oana de la scara de alaturi. e ziua ei de nastere azi
– scriam la plictis biletele de amor de la colege pt colegi si invers
– remarcam faptu ca vlad munteanu, actualmente fotbalist, era un baiat simpatic
– aveam impresia ca lui tudor v ii place de constatina a si lui katy de liviu
imi rodeam unghiile si le dadeam cu oja imediat dupa. inca mai practic
– incepeam shoppingu d martisoare si imi planificam aranjatu in foi, cu nume dedesubt
– o rugam pe maica-mea sa nu ma mai trimita la scoala cu pantaloni de lana sub uniforma
– vedeam pt prima data o pereche de ciorapi de nailon
– mi se parea ca norii au forme ciudate, ma urmaresc si-mi scriu chestii pe cer
– auzeam prima data de kanji
– stabileam cu tata traseul unei vacante in care urma sa facem turul tarii
– mergeam la inmormantarea cuiva

– mergeam la nunta cuiva. dormeam in masina la faza cu darul.
– miroseam parfumul fleur de paris. or sthin like that
– il intrebam pe tata de ce carpati si nu snagov
– imi cumparam o rochie. castigasem 100 lei la loto
– incepea sa ma enerveze rau tovarasa. mai ales l faza cu imnu
– rupeam canafii de la o caciula ciudata. inainte sa facem o colasa de pionieri la marasesti
– incercam sa-i explic mamei ca satanismul n-are treaba cu muzica rock. i still do.
– mergeam inca la ciufolici. pt freza castron confundata de tata cu freza lu mireille mathieu
– invatam versurile de la ceva cantece. pt o excursie
-ma imbatam prima oara. cu vin alb. la bunicu la tara
– aflam ca brazilienii vorbesc portugheza. voiam sa invat limba asta.
– stiam 50 de capitale
– stiam s fac diferenta intre apele de la izvoarele din slanic-moldova numai dupa miros
– imi placeau pastravii
– purtam pe ascuns prin casa pantofii guban aia negri super misto ai maica-mii la rochia rosie plisata a matusa-mii. imi amintesc exact fiecare detaliu.
– dormeam cu prima perehe de pantofi negri de lac
– ma bucuram de prima fusta plisata alba. ma saturasesm de uniforma
– incercam sa fac prima data crema de zahar ars. nu mi-a iesit. nici acum nu-mi iese
– invatam cantecu ala cu „hai liberare”
– citeam frumos. si mult. si-mi placea
– ii era frica de intuneric. nu puteam merge l bucatarie daca in restu casei era intuneric
– visam saptamanal lupi. lately it happens the same. in rest visam frumos. voiam pantofi rosii si fusta mini de „shifon”. credeam c-o sa fiu in continuare printre alea mai inalte din clasa. n-a fost sa fie.

mda. si in rest chiar faceam chestii care chiar  imi placeau. da asta era acu 20 de ani…

de fefeleaga a urcat muntele cu copilu-n brate

care asa mi-a zis mie leonash ca incurajare de raspuns la „ma duc sa fac pipi”.
ce ti-e si cu barbatii astia.

vbeam zilele trecute cu schatzy despre strategia relationala marte-venus si viceversa in care de multe ori pt scor mai mare, venus tre sa fie mai puternica si mai putin complexata decat marte. evident, pe dinafara. ca lu marte, precum stim, au inceput sa-i placa manifestarile de putere.

si-acuma nu pot decat sa repet de ce-urile:

1.  de ce, intr-o relatie netradionala cum ii zicem acuma, tre sa ne raportam tot la modelele de putere: 

– fefeleaga care-a urcat cu copilu si cu dii batore,

– agripina din la vulturi, tot cu copilu care plangea,

– vitoria lipan stramoasa lu tandarica, aia cu baltagu, visele si fiu-su ala pe care voia in sinea ei sa-l emancipeze sunt sigura, ca m-a fascinat subiectul, as scrie si nuvela pe tema data,

– ana lu manole de s-a sacrificat ea din amor gen k n-a avut de ales, o avea promisa,

– ana lu ion, alta oligofrena sensibila de pe vremea cand se nastea pe camp (cik ink se mai practica, mai ales k se mai inkid maternitati) si era greu sa te mariti fara pamant

– nevasta-sa lu moromete care vedea de interesele financiare ale copiilor favoriti

– mara lu slavici care-si dadea duhu la pod sa-si faca progeniturile oameni de seama

– etc ma am da m-am plict, u get my point

astea toate e femei fara viata personala, asa cum tre s fie orice femeie puternica sau orice femeie dupa casatorie indif. daca e mama au ba, dar e vazuta oricum cu potential matern. nevasta= mama, nevasta=muiere nu exista.

barbatii cu cipu activat intru admiratia materna, un lucru de altfel din ce in ce mai rar, si tocmai de aceea de laudat – pt ca denota respect, tre sa invete  sa-si dezactiveze cipu asta cand vine vba de amice, prietene, logodnice, neveste, daca vor sa nu le omoare cu nervii. bai, ce dracu, intelegeti odata ca femeia nu trece de la mona lisa la victoria lipan decat dk vrea ea si atunci o face fie pt k tu meriti s fie gheorghe al ei (ceea ce e f rar), fie pt k n-are de ales k te iubeste si-ti face tie viata mai usoara: nu plange in fata ta, n-o doare nimic, te spala, te calca, te hraneste, iti grijeste plozii. si dooh, victoria lipan nu are nici macar vibrator. nu-ti face masaj thai, nu-si cumpara bici pt amor, da e posibil s te biciuasca dk pleci si-o lasi aiurea cu copiii. nu-si ia costumashe sexi de pe net, pt ca prefera sa-ti ia tie shosete sa ai sa te mandresti cand esti in vizita la parinti. got it?

a, in fiecare femeie e un pic de vitoria lipan. da din cand in cand vrea s fie miorita aparata de ciobanu moldovan, vrea sa fie traci lords, vrea sa fie angelina jolie, vrea sa fie ce mai are ea pe dinauntru cu pasiune, sau audrey cea fragila. kkt, oricat de puternica ar fi, tot are nevoie sa fie pisicita, mangaiata, protejata, alintata. ce dracu’ o fi asa d greu de inteles ca pe femeia suparata o iei cu umoru, nu stai morocanos, ca pe femeia suparata sau suferinda o iei in brate, o suni, o pupi, o ingrijesti, o alea, ca dupa aia se inzdraveneste si-ti face si paket la munca si striptiz la usa de sufragerie daca esti baiat bomboana si stii cum sa te porti. got it? dk nu, revin pe tema asta.

2. de ce zic barbatii ca vor „cu cartile pe fata” cand nu-si pot controla vanatoarea aia din sange?
nu ma refer la inseaciuni si alte cele, ci la simpla cunoastere a limitelor personale. adik dk tu man stii ca esti agasabil cand esti cautat, zi-i s nu te caute, daca stii k te atrage cand nu-ti da niciun semn, da-i un hint, daca stii k esti bizi biii, pana peste cap, si ea e suferinda, fa-ti timp de-un tel si sugereaza-i k iti scade apetitu daca se plange, pt k tu te gandesti ca uite ce bine se descurca victoria lipan si nu se plangea…

cum sunt sigura ca n-a inteles nimeni nimic din nimic, clarific prin prezentul indemn: vorbeste-i, man, in cuvinte simple, ca de aia ai gura, sa iasa cuvinte dintr-insa! acuma got it?

ps. acest post este o datorie catre cireasa care nu m-a sunat, da io tot o ador, pt. schatzy care l-a inspirat, pt leonash care m-a enervat azi, pt. cutza maimutza cu care n-am vbit de ceva vreme si, evident t toti fanii mei secreti.

iaca rezumatu in 2 poze:

1- fefe a lu agarbiceanu

fefe

2 – victoria lu beckham. pe care o gasiti dand search victoria/ vitoria lipan. subtila, nu?
victoria

happy b 4 stressy m

2 ani de la hello world. iaca chestie. a facut 2 ani blogu’. in cinstea lu acest eveniment inkin o buctutza de ciocolatutza alba cu crema de zmeura. de la ciocolaterie. e scumpa, de aia e numa una. ca nu bloggeresc p bani. adik nu bloggaresc, dooh, scriu prostii pe un blog. unu caruia mi-a venit in cap sa-i numar zilele pana sa-l pun pe un domeniu de mi l-am luat anu trecut pe vremea asta si pe care nu-l folosesc, desi i-am platit hostingu. cred ca expira si ala curand. deci cand voi sti pe de rost definitia de la DNS, fac pasu. glumesc, atata stiu si eu.  deci cand m-oi face bine si-oi putea urca scari, oi urca si blogu pe domeniu ala. nu-i o promisiune. e un plan. ca si ala cu urcatu scarilor. saptamana viitoare pe vremea asta imi propun sa urc cu brio 5 trepte. so help me xefo! and god who created the men who created xefo.

de ce ne doare

de aia. pentru ca asa e chestia asta cu viata. ne doare cand ne apare o boala, o treaba din asta care ne baga corpu-n suferinta. si ne doare lipsa. si disparitia. lipsa si disparitia unui om. si asta ne doare altfel. mai rau decat corpu care ne tintuieste la pat. unii zic ca e explicabil mecanic. o fi. dar asta nu inseamna ca doare mai putin, stiind ca e vba de niste reactii chimice ale organismului la o situatie data…

cui mi-a spus ca nu-i este teama de moarte, ci de locul gol pe care-l lasa ranindu-i pe altii, nu-i pot aminti decat ca lasa deja un gol imens, lipsind.

cui trece acum prin durerea lasata de o disparitie, nu-i pot spune decat… condoleante… ai grija de tine, sa-ti dea Domnul toata puterea de care ai nevoie… pt ca disparitia te lasa fara cuvinte. dar te umple de imagini…

noapte buna!

stop joc la filmele din cap

Bagi zice ca eu inca am timp pentru filmele din cap. adik imaginile alea pe care le ai in cap cand mergi sau cand stai, dupa caz. chiar cand faci alte lucruri la care nu te poti concentra prea bine. sau cand vbesti cu cineva la tel. si conversatia o da in termeni de genu hpv… anyway, ideea e ca Bagi e de parere ca la 30 de ani tre sa zicem stop joc la filmele din cap. sa fim gen mai cu picioarele pe pamant in sensu brut al expresiei. nush ce sa zic. important e ca mai am 1 an si 8 luni in care sa decid daca jocu asta e nasol si trebuie intrerupt. asta cu filmele din cap adica.

noapte buna!

antiinflamatoare

am vazut ca si asta se regaseste, undeva aproape de „teama” in chestia aia simpatica denumita Wordle.

n-am vazut bricheta. poate de aia nici nu mai am una functionala. nici chibrituri.

ps- era undeva life sau viata. asta inseamna ca traiesc, ceea ce se vede dooh pt ca am postat pe blog. that doesn’t mean im alive. pt cine intelege subtilitatea. whatever. tehnic, functionez deja la 30% din capacitate.

wordle

mako