Monday, April 11, 2011

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at the close of day;
Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright,
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieve on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight,
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night
Rage, rage against the dying of the light

Dylan Thomas

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Love Poems: Langston Hughes

|. Love Song for Lucinda

Is a ripe plum
Growing on a purple tree.
Taste it once
and the spell of it's enchantment
will never let you be

Is a bright star
Glowing in the far Southern Sky.
Look too hard
And its burning flame w
will always hurt your eye

Is a high mountain
Stark in a windy sky.
If you would never lose your breath
Do not climb too high

||. Juke Box Love Song

I could take the Harlem night,
And wrap around you,
Take the neon lights and make a crown,
Take the Lenox Avenue buses,
Taxis, Subways,
And for your love song tone their rumble down.
Take Harlem's heartbeat,
Make it a drumbeat,
Put it on record, let it whirl,
And while we listen to it play,
Dance with you till day---
Dance with you, my sweet brown Harlem girl

|||. Problems

2 and 2 are 4
4 and 4 are 8

But what would happen
If the last 4 was late?

And how would it be
If one 2 was me?

Or if the first 4 was you
Divided by 2?

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Splitting the Atom

Do you know anything about dreams? On most occasions they are unnatural, manipulated and wholly constructed by those who claim to dream them. Do you know what I dream about? I dream about something far far away. It's a rather vague thought. But what I gather from this rather vague thought is this certainty that the generic feeling in this place 'far away' is in every micro sense the antithetical of what I feel, where I am right now. Do you know what that feels like? I'm guessing not, because it's apparent that you've found excuses to embrace this inertia. These excuses include facebook, the cell phone, text messaging, 'lunches', short trips, meaningless engagements, music and substances. I, on the contrary, use the same excuses to extenuate on what I don't like about this current affair. Do you feel beaten hollow sometimes? By not just the circumstances that siege you, but also the times that we live in. There is something wrong within my arc of the world that I call the world, that I cannot quite correct. Do you know the burnt feeling on your tongue when you've had something that was a tad bit too hot? It desensitizes you to taste for a while. It clouds taste in the strangest way. Even though you cannot taste a thing, you can taste enough of it to construct the rest. And by virtue of imagining what it would taste like, you realize how you can no longer taste it.

I do not share the same doomsday as the others. I would not be surprised to trade my doomsday for theirs and be pleasantly surprised at utopia-in-a-box. Do you know how hard it is, to mutually believe in something and act for it? Do you remember what happened when they tried to split the atom? Do you remember why they wanted to do it? For the first time in my life I today realize how far the subject matter of this post is, from what has been written. It's just a feeling that I'm dispersing with it. The thick gravy of the protein dish.

Delusion is bliss. Keep dreaming.

"What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore-
then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat
Or crust and sugar over
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load

Or does it explode?"

Langston Hughes