Let's get lost

Annelies Verbeke-Dormi!

"Totul s-a scurs din mine, pana n-a mai ramas decat o epuizare profunda.Am vrut sa ma opun, sa alerg dupa ea, sa lipesc cioburile, sa dau ceasul inapoi, sa fac ceva. I-am strigat numele, dar i l-am auzit rezonand inlauntrul craniului meu. Ea nu ma putea auzi, chiar daca ar fi vrut asta."

"Traiasca relatiile extraconjugale! Maine dimineata aveau sa se lamenteze din nou, bineinteles, dar acum cei doi se amuzau.Cine doarme noaptea nu poate intelege ce deosebeste atata de tare lumina de intuneric.Cui doarme noaptea ii este mai putin frica de zi."

The laughing heart

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

-- by Charles Bukowski

The Raven

Edgar Allan Poe
The Raven
[First published in 1845]


Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

Scrisoarea 45

-Hai sa le cumparam ceva. Oprim?
-Dap.
-Nu esti in apele tale?
-Da..mami...nu stiu...mi-a dat un sentiment ciudat la telefon...
-Vrei sa intorc?
-Nu...o sa am fata cam acra dar....stii ca eu nu ma pot ascunde....
-Nu-i nimic iubita...stiu despre ce e vorba...dai un semn cand simti ca nu mai poti sta. Si mergem.Bine?
-Dap. Pup?
-Pup tu ca eu tre sa fiu atent aici.

A parcat masina.
Se dezbraca si ii dadu fetei hanoracul lui.Ii saruta gatul.

-Vin imediat.Intra tu si gandeste-te ce sa le luam pana vin eu.

Arata ca un brad de Craciun. Radea de el.

-Cafea fara zahar si pain au chocolat. Tigarile sunt in buzunarul drept de la pantaloni.
Au fumat, am baut cafeaua.

-Vin imediat.Acum gandeste-te si tu.

-Inghetata cu sos de fructe de padure pentru tine si ciocolata neagra cu menta pentru mine.

-Pitico imi citesti gandurile.
-tu vorbesti!

-Vine vara hai sa le luam o piscina daia de curte. Ce zici?
-E perfect.Cumnatica sigur isi doreste.Aia e prea mica iubi. Uite am gasit eu asta. Ce parere ai?
-Asta dap. Iti place si tie si mie. Gata. O luam.
-Stai asa. Uite asta e la fel dar are alt pret. Stai sa vorbim cu cineva de pe aici sa vedem ce zice.
-Buna ziua, am avea nevoie de ajutorul dumneavostra, sunt sigura ca ne ...varianta...avem incredere in ...va multumim.Sarumana
-mei iubita dar ce debit aveai...la vrajeala nota 10.
Radeau

Lacrimile se materializau. Ii lua degetele fetei si impreuna dansau pe foaie.

Daniels,

Am un cantar cu talerele la acelasi nivel. Talerele balantei mele iubesc echilibrul. Egalitatea. Se respecta unul pe altul. Unul cantareste emotia, celalalt ratiunea. Imaginea lor reflecta lumea construita de cea care tine cantarul ridicat spre Cer.

In Lumea ei se perinda multa lume, dar langa ea nu rezista decat cei asemanatori ei. Nu pentru ca nu si-ar dori prezenta lor, ci pentru ca ei nu se simt in largul lor. Ati auzit de rau de mare? Rau de emotii. Multi sufera de boala asta. Sau de frica de inec? De pierderea capului de atata iubire. Si pe boala asta o intalnim la destui oameni.

Daca viata este amara si acra nu e oare nevoie de ceva dulce? Daca Pamantul e inundat de apa nu are el nevoie de razele Soarelui pentru a se usca? Soarele nu se naste oare din apusul lunii? Si lumina diminetii din intunericul noptii?Ghiocelul atat de delicat si firav nu rasare el de sub zapada stiind ca la finalul drumului rece va intalni caldura?

Iubirea veritabila nu iti lasa pe buze miere? De ce sa vorbesti despre otzet daca gustul e dulce? Doar pentru auditoriu? Nu.

Daca exista posibilitatea ca viata sa iti aduca necazuri si griji provocandu-te la lupta supravietuirii nu trebuie oare ca langa tine si cu tine sa traiasca un om cu care sa infrunti viata? Si daca l-ai gasit dar el a murit de ce sa negi intalnirea? Mai mult, daca iubirea celui de langa tine te-a urcat pe norii unde stau Zeii, cum o poti trata ca pe un lucru banal?

Nu asta-i echilibrul? O mana care o spala pe alta, un om care matura si unul care tine forasul. Unul care murdareste si altul care curata. Unul care stinge lumina si unul care o aprinde. Unul care loveste si altul care bandajeaza. Nu oameni diferiti ci asemanatori dar total diferiti prin insasi asemanarea lor.

Daca un cititor se opreste in cuvinte si nu intra in ele sa le caute fondul si radacinile ce poate sa faca scriitorul?Sa scrie. Sa tot scrie.

Eu nu sunt scriitoare ci doar o fata care redacteaza pe o rana o poveste de dragoste prea scurta si prea frumoasa ca sa poata sa vietuiasca pe Pamant si sa se pateze cu mizerie.O astfel de poveste fie traieste intre paginile romanelor, fie in cimitire, fie ingropate in suflet.Eu am fost norocoasa pentru ca am trait intr-o poveste. Si povestea noastra nu a murit, ci traieste pe Cerul pe care el desena inima iar eu o umpleam cu saruturi.Acum inima a luat forma unei stele. Noaptea avioanele par stele. Povestea noastra tinand cont de finalul ei pamantesc s-a eternizat.

Scriitura asta nu e a voastra ci a mea si a lui. Glasul ei nu poate fi ascultat de toata lumea. Ci doar de aceia care aud cantecul emotiilor, danseaza iubire si viseaza. Si asta nu-i nici bine nici rau. Ci doara asa este. La fel cum e zapada alba si nu verde.

La fel cum Orchis ramane Noir.
si a ta
Daniels.

Dull Flame Of Desire

Scrisoarea 44

Tricoul lui ii mangaia trupul pana cand se imbraca in El. Acum, citea. Era absorbita de carte..Adam si Eva...iubirea si reincarnarea...misticism...nu il auzise cand a intrat in camera...dar ii simti parfumul ..Le male....Jean Paul Gaultier....Ea mirosea a La Femme...un alt indiciu lasat de Soarta. Parfumul patrunde in tine prin piele pastrand in memoria celulei amintirea parfumului.

Isi gaseau libertatea unul in bratele celuilalt....libertatea sinceritatii,curajul de a spune ce gandesti fara a fi criticat si judecat...ci doar inteles. Prin ochii iubirii lor vedeau intelegere si sprijin. Imbratisati se eliberau de lanturile societatii...de mastile si platosele de cresteau la vederea celorlalti.Numai impreuna si doar iubindu-se unul pe altul pastrau goliciunea si singuratea la distanta.Trupul si chipulomului se imbraca cu hainele, armurile create de ceilalti. Asa se intampla in comunitate.

Gandurile o aruncau la pamant. Inima era lovita.

Foaia ii intinse mana si o ajuta sa se ridice. Scrisul ii bandaja sufletul.

Daniels,

In Durerea sfasietoare totul este permis. Nu se judeca, nu se critica, nu se analizeaza.Nu se gandeste Doar se simte. Omul aflat in chin se ajuta si se intelege. In lupta ai nevoie de aliati.

Suferinta paralizeaza ratiunea, regulile de convietuire, nevoile, distruge mastile si armura. Omul ramane gol. Goliciunea aduce singuratatea. O singuratete infioratoare care dezgroapa pacatele si parerile de rau. Incepe lupta. Din sine.

Daniels, au aparut filme 3D. Hai sa ne punem ochelarii si sa privim.Ecranul e in mine.

Chinul innoada stomacul. Il strange. Stomacul sufera. Pierde. Nu poate sa manance. Kilogramele se topesc de pe trupul omului.

Somnul si durerea chinuitoare se bat.Loviturile lor ametesc omul.Capul vajaie. Ochii sunt umflati. Durerea castiga. Victoria ei inseamna trezirea monstrilor. Insomnia si oboseala.
Omul are nevoie de ajutor, de imbratisare. Striga dar aliatii dorm. Dimineata cearcanele rasar. Ochii sunt acoperiti de floriile vinetii.

La un moment dat Suferinta ataca fulgerator. Tinta: Dorinta de viata. A incercuit-o. Sulitele ei ii inteapa ficatul. O alta se indreapta catre inima. Soarele strpunge norii. Pe o raza se coboara inaripatul alb.

Ingerul isi deschide aripile. Varful sulitei cade ca o frunza.Cealalta aripa elibereaza din stransoarea pacatelor bunatatea. Sufletul se scalda in apa curata. Dorinta de viata cucereste teritoriul trupului si a inimii.

Ingerul saruta omul si zboara pe raza de Soare.

Fata saruta ingerul si ii multumeste Astrului.

Orchis zambeste cerului albastru pe teritoriul caruia un avion desena inima.

A ta.
Noir.

Intr-o zi cand Lumina a invins Intunericul eliberand bunatatea si inima.