begginnersmind

[begginnersmind]

To kill a copycat (Narcissus)

Yes, they did warn me of their presence on Earth. They are this, they are that. You won't believe it: they feel nothing. Nothing? No-thing. How is that possible? There is no scientific agreement upon this, though vast literature you may read. Is there any way I can avoid them? You cannot. Why? They are everywhere. How can I defend myself? You just need proper tools to deflect and flee on time. What if I don't? You better watch out. Why? They are potentially dangerous. How dangerous? From serious harm to irreversible harm. Why do they do it? They are not people, not people as you would expect them to be. What on earth do you mean? They do not feel what they say they feel, ever. Manipulation is their constant language. Not as in a feeble person's occasional fallible tactic. Manipulation is their tone of voice, their gestures, their stories, their bonds, their decisions. So thus is how you detect them. And what is their goal? To feed themselves from you. Like a vampire? Yes, like a vampire. Only vampires do have a personality. These don't. Or if they do, it is buried deep, deep, down their mask. What is that mask made of? One side is inflated ego, the other is shame. Is it my fault? No, it is never your fault. It is a lesson to be learned, that's all. Anything else? Yes. They are allergic to boredom. Be boring as a grey rock, they'll flee.

[begginnersmind]

Gretel

Once there was a handful of words

behind came a handful of notes

True, I despised the mocking birds

Stepping tripping stones

I reserve myself the right to dwell my heart in the (s)now

With eyes and ears looking at the past if I please

Riding horseback thunder blood

Against

Deceitful advertising

Chilling poetry including trademarks

Avoiding trolley cart videogames

8-Bit happy

Hidden coded fantasy

Blocks moving as black and white keys

Sounds like broken harpsichord

Cobble stones shining in the dark

forest is music /

music my home.

[begginnersmind]

Dear Claude

I am sorry I missed your birthday again. I was so busy listening to reveries and thinking what would be the tone of your voice, the temperature in your piano room and the way your hands would touch the keyboard. Please excuse my forgetfulness. I think of you as an eternal presence and a fleeting inspiration as the ever changing landscape is. My tyrant heart believes I am the only person in the world that understands your feelings, because they are so close to my own.

Please be born again. Maybe you already are. And thus your birthday might change, and your song too. But once in a while you will listen to yourself in your very own voice and fingers, in your new body. And you will smile and keep as silent as a mountain.

True hearts eternal, forever yours.

The one and only listener.

[begginnersmind]

Yes, the fire was blue

Yes, the fire was blue

to begin with

atmospheres past

condensed present dew

iridescent dawns

million crystal balls

hanging on patient cobwebs

music longing of song

forgotten language by some.

Yes, the fire was blue

the stones were silver

the earth was black

the star was white

and therefore

all colours summoned

in the daylight bright

in the forest might

in the wordsmith sword.

A hundred years from now

T'was a second ago.

[begginnersmind]

Made of music

The arrow landed on arrival

of the wretched deceit

mind lost in jeopardy

of multiple ego(con)undrums

The I, the me, the mine

Indeed a gold one

Bothered by boring

Invitations of sorts

Turned the music

ON

Alive in my heart

Triumphant

above the vast maelstrom

of strangers of the microstardom

not the studious cello

not the dancing violin

not the profound rhythm of drum beat heart.

And then:

An arrow.

A single arrow on my thigh.

Why, books South told me of darkness and ill- death

e a s t

Why, books North told me of sunshine cupid and song

w e s t

But I,

Me,

Mine heart made of music

Listened and cried

laughter and sorrow

the same

song and silent morrow

the same

all delightful in mystery

all powerful on score

My symphony,

My elegie

eternal song.

[begginnersmind]

The Hidden Pagodas - by Vicente Huidobro

To the sister of my spirit,

she who when I speak takes the attitude

of children when listening to

a miraculous legend.

V.H.

Oh Soul of mine! gather in yourself and do not look any further on the enigmas of life in the midst of bustle, come to Silence.

The souls are mysterious and Hidden Pagodas whose solitude is full of worlds and possess strange resonances.

These are Hidden Pagodas in which very tiny gestures dwell, barely perceptible, but only to rise above all those which appear grand to the mind. Over the strongest passions in life these gestures show and excite themselves and are annunciations of superior things.

Soul of mine, penetrate fearlessly into the Divine Pagoda, the moonlight that enters through the door will keep you company for a few steps; where her domain ends stop, meditate on all you have seen and then cross the line towards total darkness, soon your eyes will grow accustomed to it.

The Hidden Pagoda is filled with a sweet Harmony and thou shall feel your senses swimming through infinite drunkenness.

My eyes have gone blind staring in vain at the obscurity of the light and this is how they now seek for the light of the obscurity.

My feet have grown tired of wandering other roads.

Come, Soul of mine, we have arrived: The Silk Road is the only one which leads to the Hidden Pagoda.

But first, listen:

To be able to reach the great Pagoda your forehead must turn pale in meditation.

Your eyes shall become luminous with tenderness.

You shall cover your ears with your cloak so as to numb any external noise whatsoever but the delicious internal chant that is similar to those nightly sounds heard in the mountains.

You shall love Nature with a fervent dazzle and shall ever be willing to the greatest stupors.

Search always for the true sense of everything.

The sense of the trees, the river and the fire, the sense of the mountains and the night, the sense of the earth and the air, of love and pain.

You, Soul of mine, shall be in contact with the soul of things, shall reach to its ultimate roots.

Put in all, soul of mine, your very own passion and see how many a thing you shall surprise.

But do not let that passion disturb your peace, you shall always be tranquil, swimming in an ineffable sweetness, filled with a saintly rapture, as those big flowers which float in plain sunlight in the midst of serene lakes.

Soul of mine, search for the silk road which goes inside yourself.

Seek isolation.

An how easy it is if you are already convinced of the vacuity of it all.

How easy it is if you realize that this desire of absolute plenitude, which is what makes you infinite, you shall never achieve.

When you have savored all pleasures and enjoyed all charms and you wonder -are you happy? You will answer yourself from deep within: Not yet.

When you have dominated all sciences and ask yourself - Are you happy? You will answer yourself filled with pain and disenchantment: Not yet.

When you have achieved all the desirable successes, all your longings and you ask yourself -Are you happy? You will answer yourself desperate and tragic: Not yet.

Not yet. Something is lacking. Not yet and always not yet. Nothing can make us happy. No embrace could hold forever our imprecise longings, no love can isolate us to the point of forgetting all things, no great and kind act will free us from this desperate restlessness and when our head rests upon a beloved breast, is maybe, thinking of another breast.

We cannot prolong any half joyous moment, and if we could, weariness would surely hit us with a lash in the face.

Soul of mine, if you wish to achieve plenitude, search for the silk road and penetrate into the Hidden Pagoda.

Soul of mine, if you wish to achieve plenitude, immerse yourself in thyself.

Translated from original Spanish by Gisela Frick Hassenberg.

CC BY-NC-SA

Las Pagodas Ocultas. Vicente Huidobro. Imprenta Universitaria. Santiago, Chile. 1915.

[begginnersmind]

I loved thee for no reason

Sole presence made me smile

Though thorns and shadows

Brought your hand

T'was your voice oblivion wide

The theft of heart

Beat posture logic time

Long lost

Long melt

Lost edges of pulse

Disarray.

[begginnersmind]

Ancient flower spirit

Walking past night buds

I heard a soft murmur

Humming breezy green

Moonlit spell of sleep

Guardian angel's song

Tell me

There is more

But stumble and fall.

Chaos finds both

secret wings

shoots them high

Twin stars aligned

To perish

To blast

Unforgiven

By God

Their might.

[begginnersmind]

I had to say goodbye

Walked by this Iris

Saw the ancient face

Recalled his voice

As if speaking

To this definite

Petal

Soul

I heard him say

Goodbye

A promise wouldnt cry

Both feet closing the door

The red the blue the thorn

Not you

Not I

Not mine

To hold.

[begginnersmind]

Persephone

Berooted deep feeling

Fleeting earthen scent

Secrets untold

You beheld me as if

I was

Mine, yours

Heavenly stone.

Stop typing you fool

-the tyrant said

He's not here

He's not there

He cannot see you.

Not now, said I

Not now, my hand

(Wondering if ever, as always)

Disgusted by the rolling tyrant head

Staining thine white carpet

I bite the pomegrenate.

[begginnersmind]

People chatter and chat

The latest AI

Overwhelmed

I take a long walk

Pine and sigh

And a soft pink flower

I find to wonder:

Is this the geometrical intelligence

We secretly wish for

Without long slow self selective

Evolutionary voyage?

And the soft pink flower

Answers:

Silence and sun

Silence and water

Silence and earth

The music of heart

My fingers

My mind.

[begginnersmind]

Calmly I step on every street

Hall

Nursery

Weighing modulars

Grasping geometries

Pondering love stories.

They all look the same to me

Except the incandescent

Pervading repetition

Stark, original rendition

As if fifty or a hundred and five years ago

Melodies, sweet melodies

The Autumn leaves

Heart wanderings

Why, I used to love

The face of youth

I changed my mind

That afternoon

[begginnersmind]

Snow will come again my love

Slow tears glow

Both shining fiery logs

Scented cauldron

Warmest darkness

Room of thunder

Cabin wood of hopeful wonders

Glimpses futures yet not known

Cut my finger, waiting morn

Thrust below your smell of beasts

A thousand worlds

A thousand fleece

Short price to pay

In gentle May

The temple gone

The manor torn

Ten thousand footsteps

Remembrance lost

[begginnersmind]

I will summon loud winter rain

Wash away fancy colours

Of contemptuous summer flare

I will summon winter chill

Frosty foam the heart stands still

Empty cupboards oven filled

Fire longing

From within

I will summon blistered skies

Would you find me

Day or night?

[begginnersmind]

Book of stars

I used to have a book of stars

In times of despair and loneliness

Caressed its pages gigantic and thick

The sound it made in the midst of silence

Turning fine lined engravings

Ursa minor

Ursa major

Scorpio

Medusa

Reminded me of home

Soul

Eternity

Where is my star map now?

Why did I lose it?

Was it stolen?

Did it ever belong to me?

Apparently no.

Not in this lifetime.

Seen and lost forever to remind

Transience

Frailty

Disposession.

[begginnersmind]

I will cross.

I always do.

By myself

The only way.

[begginnersmind]

Semillas espectrales

Guarden mi voluntad.

El sol no es para todos

Ni luna ni soledad.

Subí al monte

Y me dejé parir.

Recordé la roca

Mejor souvenir.

Tu perfume en mi recuerdo

Seré feliz.

Un día de estos

Pisaré la tarde estrellada

Mis suelas pinchadas

Sangran noches

descontentas

Sin embargo

despojadas

Sin prisa

Mi huella

Plurialmada.