Archive for Poetry

Lost and found old dutch saying

18.03.2010 |  by Ollie Rolly  |  Humor, Poetry, Vintage  |  , ,  |  Feel free to reply  |  Share

Blieft Uhwene shemene nhim­mer aon ehnere anderene Men­sche,
whann Uhwe hoat inne Uhwene eighenere boackes spui­jhten khoan!

Kubla Khan | Samuel Taylor Coleridge

17.03.2010 |  by AW  |  Music, Poetry  |   |  Feel free to reply  |  Share

writ­ten autumn of 1797 or (more likely) spring of 1798, pub­lished 1816, 1828, 1829, 1834

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through cav­erns mea­sure­less to man
Down to a sun­less sea.
So twice five miles of fer­tile ground
With walls and tow­ers were gir­dled round :
And there were gar­dens bright with sin­u­ous rills,
Where blos­somed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfold­ing sunny spots of greenery.

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Vintage cycling sounds

05.03.2010 |  by AW  |  Film & footage, Music, Poetry, Vintage  |  ,  |  Feel free to reply  |  Share

Annette Peacock | The Succubus

03.03.2010 |  by AW  |  Analog music, Music, Poetry, Spirit  |  , , ,  |  Feel free to reply  |  Share

From the album the per­fect release, 1979, fan­tasy aborts real­ity, yeah!

Lyrics:
Voglio una perla da cul­ti­vare I don’t need to take val­ium or opium to know how it feels to leave you. I don’t need no cocaine highs or Span­ish flies to need you. No DMT, DMC, LSD, to blow my mind. Hero­ine, mesca­line or metadream to loose the time. Any­way, drugs tends to dimin­ish my body and it seems so far­away in my mind to me. And if my hilari­ant form to yours, is a door to each our con­cen­tric souls to meet, I don’t wanna miss it. I WANT MY FEMININE BODY: CORPOREAL MIND: MATERIAL SOUL sym­pa­thize in a very finely atemp­tive in the other side of par­adise. And I don’t need no blind thoughts, wipes, boots or rub­ber suits, school girl uni­forms to turn you on. Any­way fan­tasies are only boy’s real­ity, forc­ing one to live within a dis­tor­tion. Pure skin, soul to soul, belly touch­ing, strait is great ‘cause I don’t need the pain or the hate to feel inten­sively. And I don’t need to be dom­i­nated, degraded or fla­gel­lated, and I don’t need to be extorted, exalted or sup­ported, com­pli­cated, con­tem­plated, tol­er­ated or lib­er­ated. BUT I DO NEED TO BE PENETRATED, ELEVATED AND APPRECIATED. And I need to embrace my inescapable fem­i­ni­ness, like all the ani­mals nat­u­rally embrace. Totally suc­cumb to erotic­ness of the intu­itive risk – life’s hope­ful between the guys and all dif­fer­ent falls, falls in the base of uncon­trolled cries!

The death of William Burroughs

03.03.2010 |  by AW  |  Docs & Lectures, Poetry  |   |  Feel free to reply  |  Share