The Exileds

Andrew's version

Like stars on windy night
That shine at night so bright
Expelled from Eden's light
Roams Adam and his wife.

mine

Like a star on windy night
Lone shines a Garden bright
Expelled from Eden's light
Goes Adam and his wife.

Vagabonds in fluid quays
Boats of straw cross water ways
In their belly a couple lays
who knows only of storm and haze.

When the Garden's beauty fade
Among the beasts and torments laid
their home - New World is made
to love the prison is the exiled's fate.

Knowledge is Blindness

How fresh is hail in summer's heat
How calm the sea is from the shore.
There is sweet ignorance to keep
Men away from learning more
Stories that stop stories from coming.
He calls it Truth, no more can see
No secret, broken universes
In the blinding light of Total Libraries.
Single tracks of It's Evident minds
Men's domestication so much shuns
Other ways unlearned to see
He looses when he thinks to learn.
The man who knows well what to do
Walks in sunshine of assuredness
Without seeing the world as new,
As blind as knowledgeable.

Casa

(o cheiro é o mesmo)

Karen's recitation of the seven kinds of Magic

Seven Arcane Moons stand up, she said:
Under them power thrives!
The Green One is used for all cursing
Correct words and you're there!
Yellow Mother is Movement, afar.
Just look and take, just move.
Blue Circle for illusions to see:
Image is falsity.
From Red Mouth over all is Control.
And gestures demanded.
Purple Door for doors to be open
- chalk powder encircles.
Black Eyes deals with mutation and change
... and changes mutation.
Above all stands Pink Moon, moon of moons
Sole mother of all gloom.

Everyone Was In Love

(Galway Kinnell)

One day, when they were little, Maude and Fergus
appeared in the doorway, naked and mirthful,
with a dozen long garter snakes, draped over
each of them like brand-new clothes.

Snake tails dangled down their backs,
and snake foreparts in various lenghts
fell over their fronts, heads raised
and swaying, alert as cobras. They writhed their dry skins
upon each other, as snakes like doing
in lovemaking, with the added novelty
of caressing soft, smooth, moist human skin.
Maud and Fergus were deliciously pleased with themselves.
The snakes seemed to be tickled too.
We were enchanted. Everyone was in love.
Then Maud drew down off Fergus's shoulder,
as off a tie rack, a peculiarly
lumpy snake and told me to look inside.
Inside that double-hinged jaw, a frog's green
Webbed hind feet were being drawn,
like a diver's, very slowly as if into deepest waters.
Perhaps thinking I might be considering rescue,
Maud said, "Don't. Frog is already elsewhere."

De acordo com a doutrina sufi...

... todos os grandes mestres sufi podem se comunicar por telepatia. Ao mesmo tempo, eles enviam sinais telepáticos para toda a humanidade nos fazendo acreditar que a telepatia não existe.

My Lover is the Forest

I
Her hair is now a chain of blooming flowers
Her fingers touch the reeds under the shade
Above her breast the Lark sings out the hours
Her lovely form under tombstone firmly laid.

In the hollow of Oulard I laid my love to sleep
Trusted herons and deers for her to keep
Now every scent brings from the woods her scent
Every gale carries on my long lament.

II
I would have fought a thousand fights for thee
Holding on to just your faith in me
But when I found the faith a fake and love no more
I broke, from left to right, from skin to core.

The one in the grave is not you but the one
That I created myself from loving alone
Now I´m in exile and she crowned with a girdle
Where the lark and the wind accuse me of murder.

The Hunt

(Esse post sai do post anterior. Entáo é preciso ler o outro primeiro)

- The embellishment and ritualization of the hunt done by animals as population control wouldn't be a step closer to the defense of social "cleaning" and "hygiene" that develops into massacres and intolerance?

No.

Weakness of Man is not weakness of limb.
Blind-man and limp-man are no lesser kin.
No longer in arms our strenght now lays,
We are long past those feral days.
Strenght belongs to he who seeks.
But those who hunt the body-weaks,
the different of face or of other complexion,
He is the Weak, he who breeds Hate,
He who suffers of Man's worst fate:
For Hate only comes where there is no imagination
He is the uncontrolled prey, that without predation
makes wastes of the valleys, minds and hills.
Hunt him we must, make him our kill!
Look him in the eyes and speak of death!
True death, life-death, show him Strenght.
With thirst and joy we will hunt the hollow-men.
With love we destroy the weak hollow-men!
Their hiding disguise presents perfect health
But Oh!, The lame cow will reveal itself...

Of Animals II

"The conversation of Death

In the preceding section on hunting I merely touched on that moment of eye contact between wolf and prey, a moment which seemed to be visibly decisive. Here are hunting wolves doing many inexplicable things (to the human eye). They start to chase an animal and then turn and walk away. They sniff, and go on, ignoring them. They walk on the perimeter of caribou herds seemingly giving warning of their intent to kill. And the prey signals back. The moose trots toward them and the wolves leave. The pronghorn throws up his white rump as a sign to follow. A wounded cow stands up to be seen. And the prey behave strangely Caribou rarely use their antlers against the wolf. An ailing moose, who, as far as we know, could send wolves on their way simply by standing his ground, does what is most likely yo draw an attack, what he is least capable of carrying off: he runs.
I called this exchange in which the animals appear to lock eyes and make a decision the conversation of death. It is a ceremonial exchange, the flesh of the hunted in exchange for respect for its spirit. In this way both animals, not the predator alone, choose for the encounter to end in death. There is, at least, a sacred order in this. There is nobility. And it is something that happens only between the wolf and his major prey species. It produces, for the wolf, sacred meat.
Imagine a cow in the place of the moose or white-tailed deer. The conversation of death falters noticeable with domestic stock. They have had the conversation of death bred out of them; they do not know how to encounter wolves. A horse, for example - a large animal as capable as a moose of cracking a wolf`s ribs or splitting its head open with a kick - will usually panic and run.
What happens when a wolf wanders into a flock of sheep and kills twenty or thirty of them in apparent compulsion is perhaps not so much slaughter as a failure on the part of the sheep to communicate anything at all - resistance, mutual respect, appropriateness - to the wolf. The wolf has initiated a sacred ritual and met with ignorance.
This brings us to a second point. We are dealing with a different kind of death from the one men know. When the wolf "asks" for the life of another animal he is responding to something in that animal that says, "My life is strong. It is worth asking for." A moose may be biologically constrained to die because he is old or injured, but the choice is there. The death is not tragic. It has dignity.
... To illustrate, begin with a classic case that took place in Wood Buffalo National Park, Alberta, Canada, in 1951. Two buffalo bulls and two cows are lying in the grass ruminating. Three of them are in good health; one cow is lame. Woulves approach and withdraw a number of times, apparently put off by a human observer. At each approach, tough, the lame cow becomes agitated and begins looking all around. her three companions ignore the wolves. When one wolf comes within twenty-five feet, the lame cow gets up on shaking legs to face it alone. It seems clear that prey selection is something both animals play a role in."

(Barry Lopez, United States)