fallslikesnow

"It is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one's existence--that which makes its truth, its meaning--its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live, as we dream--alone. " - Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness, Part 1

While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead I played about the front gate, pulling flowers. You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse; You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums. And we went on living in the village of Chokan: Two small people, without dislike or suspicion. At fourteen I married My Lord you. I never laughed, being bashful. Lowering my head, I looked at the wall. Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back. At fifteen I stopped scowling, I desired my dust to be mingled with yours Forever and forever and forever. Why should I climb the lookout? At sixteen you departed, You went into far Ku-to-en, by the river of swirling eddies, And you have been gone five months. The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead. You dragged your feet when you went out. By the gate now, the moss is grown, the different mosses, Too deep to clear them away! The leaves fall early this autumn, in wind. The paired butterflies are already yellow with...

Everything was broken and poisoned. The light was too bright but had no force. It leached into the deep shadows unenthusiastically, lending a spotted and diseased look to the battle ground between light and dark. The roses no longer looked like an integrated whole but rather like a collection of random elements stuck together by the diseased light. Sounds were high pitched and painful to the ear. Escape came only in sleep and slowly the idea of endless sleep became attractive. Poor brain chemistry inexorably translated into a simple series of stereotyped actions that would end the world. If perception caused reality and , though it deeply deserved destruction, destroying the universe was impractical then destroying the perceiver could have the same effect. Suicide as mass destruction. Fall into a bottom-less pit of sleep and drag the world in afterwards.

Listen to my voice And please try to understand The one you call Messiah is a lie You are not the plan And your beginning to annoy You are just a game and It has won You will never see The places promised by your faith You will never know eternal peace The God you love is gone He lies broken by your shame The thing that took His place already died It will send Angels Send black Angels for you I am just a voice That no-one else will hear Only you are pure enough for truth You must write 'The Book' And then tear away belief Only you can save the light of man It will send Angels Send black Angels for you

My Body So Thin So Tired Beaten For Years Ploughshare To Bomb So Hard Bone Bomb Bone Bomb Bone Bomb My Town So Dusty So Dry Buildings Pushed Over Lives Heaped Together Young Girls Dreaming Of Beautiful Deaths Popstar Pictures Above Their Beds Above Their Heads Troops Everything Stolen Except My Bones Now I Am Only Bone I Waited For Peace And Here Is My Peace Here In This Still Last Moment Of My Life

The sound is on the visions move The image dance starts once again They shuffle with a bovine grace and glide in syncopation Just living lines from books we've read With atmospheres of days gone by With paper smiles The screenplay calls a message for the nation Chorus: And those who sneer will fade and die And those who laugh will surely fall And those who know will always feel their backs against the thin wall The thin wall Thin wall Grey men who speak of victory Shed light upon their stolen life They drive by night and act as if they're moved by unheard music To step in time and play the part With velvet voices smooth and cold Their power games a game no more And long the chance to use it (Chorus) And those who dance will spin and turn And those who wait will wait no more And those talk will hear the word And those who sneer will fade and die And those who laugh will surely fall And those who know will always feel their backs against the thin ...

by Franz Kafka Many complain that the words of the wise are always merely parables and of no use in daily life, which is the only life we have. When the sage says: "Go over," he does not mean that we should cross over to some actual place, which we could do anyhow if the labor were worth it; he means some fabulous yonder, something unknown to us, something too that he cannot designate more precisely, and therefore cannot help us here in the very least. All these parables really set out to say merely that the incomprehensible is incomprehensible, and we know that already. But the cares we have to struggle with every day: that is a different matter. Concerning this a man once said: Why such reluctance? If you only followed the parables you yourselves would become parables and with that rid yourself of all your daily cares. Another said: I bet that is also a parable. The first said: You have won. The second said: But unfortunately only in parable. The first said: No,...

A black eyed dog he called at my door The black eyed dog he called for more A black eyed dog he knew my name A black eyed dog he knew my name A black eyed dog A black eyed dog. I'm growing old and I wanna go home I'm growing old and I don't wanna know I'm growing old and I wanna go home. A black eyed dog he called at my door A black eyed dog he called for more.

T. S. Eliot Mistah Kurtz—he dead. A penny for the Old Guy I We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass Or rats’ feet over broken glass In our dry cellar Shape without form, shade without colour, Paralysed force, gesture without motion; Those who have crossed With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom Remember us—if at all—not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men The stuffed men. II Eyes I dare not meet in dreams In death’s dream kingdom These do not appear: There, the eyes are Sunlight on a broken column There, is a tree swinging And voices are In the wind’s singing More distant and more solemn Than a fading star. Let me be no nearer In death’s dream kingdom Let me also wear Such deliberate disguises Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves In a field Behaving as the wind behaves No nearer— Not that final meeting In t...

some can shine some can fly some are glorious some are ancient some are wise some are strong some are everything you could dream of some are clouds some are rain float like angels wings on an ocean some can sing songs of gods words so beautiful they fall like raindrops but none are like me all i know is you're not with me like me some will cry cry for you take your pain away while you're sleeping some will die in your name give their soul to you for safe keeping but none are like me all i know is you're not with me like me

Coleridge : A grief without a pang, void, dark and drear A drowsy, stifled, unimpasssioned grief, Which finds no natural outlet or relief In word, or sigh, or tear. (From “Dejection) Richard Burton: Ile change my state with any wretch, Thou canst from geale [jail] or dunghill fetch: My paines past cure, another Hell, I may not in this torment dwell, Now desperate I hate my life, Lend me an halter or a knife. All my griefs to this are jolly, Naught so damn'd as Melancholy. (from "Abstract of Melancholy")

"After the age of thirty the great mass of human beings abandon individual ambition and live chiefly for others."

"To fall in love is to create a religion that has a fallible god." Jorge Luis Borges

I made these twice over Christmas. They were a great hit with everyone and were pretty easy to make, albeit time-consuming. They are, however, about a million calories each ... This recipe makes about 24 truffles INGREDIENTS: * 1/2 cup heavy cream * 2 Tablespoons unsalted butter * 1 teaspoon light corn syrup * 8 oz. chopped, semi-sweet chocolate + 6 oz. for dipping * about 1/2 cup Dutch-process cocoa powder, sifted PREPARATION: 1. Mix the cream, butter and corn syrup together in a saucepan. Place over medium heat and bring to a full boil. Turn off heat. 2. Add 8 ounces of the chopped chocolate, and gently swirl the pan. Do not stir. Allow to rest for 5 minutes. 3. After 5 minutes, whisk slowly to combine. 4. Transfer the mixture to a bowl and refrigerate for 45 minutes, stirring every 15 minutes. In the meantime, line baking sheets with parchment paper. 5. After 45 minutes, the mixture will start to thicken quickly, keep refrigerated another 11 to 15 minutes, stirri...

Whanganui Bay, Lake Taupo, New Zealand

(An Old Persian Legend) to C. E. H. It started with a stabbing at a well Below the minarets of Isfahan. The widow took her son to see them kill The officer who'd murdered her old man. The child looked up and saw the hangman's work -- The man who'd killed his father swinging high, The mother said: 'My child, now be at peace. The wolf has had the fruits of all his crime.' From felony to felony to crime From robbery to robbery to loss From calumny to calumny to spite From rivalry to rivalry to zeal All this was many centuries ago -- The kind of thing that couldn't happen now -- When Persia was the empire of the Shah And many were the furrows on his brow. The peacock the symbol of his throne And many were the jewels and its eyes And many were the prisons in the land And many were the torturers and spies. From tyranny to tyranny to war From dynasty to dynasty to hate From villainy to villainy to death From policy to policy to grave The...