kundalini vexed
Restless stirrings
Unknown quantities
Let me burn
- these fires know
no limits
unquelled yearnings
for the ultimate climax
Let it ebb and rise again
Slain dragons of deceit
and frightened horses
crashing back into the waves
This world is beautiful and green,
unplucked potentials
screening paradise in the palm of my hand.
The ultimate restless surf
screaming to ride the pinnacle of
this ocean's desire
Fire burns untold stories behind
the retinas of my dreams
- lucky charms chime me to sleep
where i walk worlds we've never seen before.
Quiet now,
.....Soft now,
...........over now,
...............Sated now,
(melted back into the earth)
higher now,
.....flying now,
...........crying now
for nothing more than the taste of salt;
wondering now
................................wandering now
seeking nothing more than breath
DO YOU KNOW...
that words are the pictures drawn around nothing
that dance this illusion of
movement
The truth lies in the darkness,
in the space
between words
A flicker, that paints
a moving picture
of stillness
Unknown quantities
Let me burn
- these fires know
no limits
unquelled yearnings
for the ultimate climax
Let it ebb and rise again
Slain dragons of deceit
and frightened horses
crashing back into the waves
This world is beautiful and green,
unplucked potentials
screening paradise in the palm of my hand.
The ultimate restless surf
screaming to ride the pinnacle of
this ocean's desire
Fire burns untold stories behind
the retinas of my dreams
- lucky charms chime me to sleep
where i walk worlds we've never seen before.
Quiet now,
.....Soft now,
...........over now,
...............Sated now,
(melted back into the earth)
higher now,
.....flying now,
...........crying now
for nothing more than the taste of salt;
wondering now
................................wandering now
seeking nothing more than breath
DO YOU KNOW...
that words are the pictures drawn around nothing
that dance this illusion of
movement
The truth lies in the darkness,
in the space
between words
A flicker, that paints
a moving picture
of stillness
posted by tara at 5:27 pm
2 Comments:
My Kundalini is horribly vexed. Burried under pound after pound of wasteful flesh. If we really thought of our bodies having a scond, secret mind would we treat them the way we do?
I have not prepared my body breathing. I have neglected ny body altogether in favor of the mind-- the familiar one. Instead, I rely on words, soley. Though, I know now that they cannot handle the load I wish them to bear. I should have taken care of my body.
hey noah, do you know roland barthes? you may find him interesting... i've just been reading him today for an essay - he is a master of post-structuralism, embarked on great explorations of semiotics,and the delicacies of language . . .
"'The Pleasure of the Text' is a short book published in 1973 by Roland Barthes. In the book, Barthes divides the effects of texts into two: pleasure and bliss.
The pleasure of the text corresponds to the readerly text, which does not challenge the reader's subject position.
The blissful text provides Jouissance (bliss, orgasm, explosion of codes) which allows the reader to break out of his/her subject position. This type of text corresponds to the "writerly" text.
The "readerly" and the "writerly" texts are identified and explained in Barthes's S/Z: An Essay (ISBN 0374521670). Barthes feels that "writerly" is much more important than "readerly" because he sees the text's unity as forever being re-established by its composition, the codes that form and constantly slide around within the text. It is thus that one may passively read, but actively write, even in a fashion that is a re-enactment of the writer himself. The different levels of codes (hermeneutic, action, symbolic, semic, and historical) inform and reinforce one another, making for an open text that is indeterminant precisely because it can always be written anew.
As such, although one may experience pleasure in the readerly text, it is when one sees the text from the writerly point of view that the experience is blissful.
Retrieved from "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Pleasure_of_the_Text"
in Barthe's 'a lovers discourse' he writes as one of his fragments,
"'The Uncertainty of Signs' (Whether he seeks to prove his love, or to discover if the other loves him, the amorous subject has no system of sure signs at his disposal).
I look for signs, but of what? what is the object of my reading? Is it: am I loved (am I loved no longer, am I still loved)? Is it my future that I am trying to read, deciphering in what is inscribed the announcement of what will happen to me, according to a method which combines paleography and manticism?
Freud to his fiancee: "The only thing that makes me suffer is being in a situation where it is impossible for me to prove my love to you."
Signs are not proofs, since anyone can produce false or ambiguous signs. Hence one falls back, paradoxically, on the omnipotence of language: since nothing assures language, I will regard it as the sole and final assurance: I shall no longer believe in interpretation. I shall receive every word from my other as a sign of truth; and he, too, receives what I say as the truth. Whence the importance of declarations; I want to keep wresting from the other the formula of his feeling, and I keep telling him, on my side, that I love him: nothing is left to suggestion, to divination: for a thing to be known, it must be spoken; but also, once it is spoken, even very provisionally, it is true."
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