Henry Miller documentary

The one, which is haunting me

My translation of French poem - from English through Polish to English again - with a great support of my sista. Yes, both of us speak no French at all:) Good fun though:)

Antonin Artaud, Dark Poet

Dark Poet, a breast of a virgin
haunts you,
embittered poet, life seethes
and life burns,
and the sky turns itself into rain,
and your pen scratches at the heart of life.

Forest, forest, eyes abound
multiplied on pignons;
hair of storms, the poets
mount horses, dogs.

Eyes fume, tongues stir,
the sky is pouring into the nostrils
as a milk, nourishing and blue
I hang suspended on your lips

women, hard hearts of vinegar.

Umbilical Limbo 1926

Second-hand songs!

Just some of my favourites:

Hellsongs - Paranoid ( Black Sabbath cover)



Hypnogaja - Here Comes The Rain Again (Eurythmics cover)



Skye - Call Me (Blondie cover)



The Veils - Drive (REM cover)



Therion - Summer Night City (Abba cover)

Songs for new week: Tuesday

Songs for new week: Monday

Bukowski says - Hug the Dark

turmoil is the god
madness is the god

permanent living peace is
permanent living death

agony can kill
or
agony can sustain life
but peace is always horrifying
peace is the worst thing
walking
talking
smiling
seeming to be.

don't forget the sidewalks
the whores
betrayal,
the worm in the apple,
the bars, the jails,
the suicides of lovers.

here is America
we have assassinated a president and his brother,
another president has quit office.

people who believe in politics
are like people who believe in god:
they are sucking wind through bent
straws.

there is no god
there are no politics
there is no peace
there is no love.

there is no control
there is no plan.

stay away from god
remain disturbed

slide.

Soap & Skin (With Ensemble) - Marche Funebre @ WUK Wien

Two poems on Wednesday. By Marcin Swietlicki.

M – Black Monday

The moment when all the town's streetlamps light up
simultaneously. The moment when you say
your incredible 'no,' and suddenly I don't know what
to do next: die? go away? not respond?
The moment in the sunshine when I watch you from the bus,
your face different from when you know I'm looking
– and now you can't see me, you're looking into nothing, into the glassy
sheen in front of me. Not me anymore, not with me,
not in this way, not here. Anything can
happen, since everything happens. Everything is defined
by three basic positions: man on top of woman,
woman on top of man, or the one right now
– woman and man divided by the light.

Tuesday, March

here
we'll be lovers, in a peeling house
at the crossroads, we'll cross with each other,
peeling, right through

mattress? sure, a mattress, only the mattress,
and ashtray? an ashtray, two
cups and mugs, a kettle, a plate, two,
and music? music, music without end

slowly the layers, more and more layers,
the layer of shadow, the hand above the body, slowly
the texture, slowly the roughness

the sky unveils itself,
separates, like a curtain,
there appears a clear-lit cave.