I bought this book for a sonnet--err song ($3) during one of my forays at a local flea market. Not bad for an 1878 illustrated edition of The Complete Works of the Bard, eh?
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Tuesday, April 02, 2013
Last Song Syndrome: Corey Hart's Sunglasses at Night, a song I never heard for more than 2 decades. Damn Detroit FM radio; now I got these lines stuck in my head-
Although I hate the said song, I used to like his other power ballad and hit, Never Surrender, which won him the 1985 Juno Award for "Single of the Year" in Canada.
Cheesy and all, I still love the 80s!
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Another day, another wasted day. Another rotten day has passed, spent
in this dark old room, an abyss where not a sliver of light, have
penetrated its four corners for ages -- the dominion of the damned,
where sanity is slowly eroding inside the battered head.
In the Brain; where the never-ending labyrinth of gelatinous gyri and sulci, continues to boggle and rattle, the spirit of the demented mind.
Pitter patter-raindrops spatter-eat the matter-in the platter-
helpless tapper-leader-follower-naked in the shower-
this never-ending childish prattle-
taxes the mind, burns the soul,
castrates the emotions
and rips off the heart
In isolation, inside this padded room, the only place for lunatics- lost in space, locked in total darkness- a prisoner condemned into oblivion.
This smokey room; where the stale air flew in circles, where the mind somersaults like the high-flyer in a circus. This smelly room; where the stench of urine is stronger than the odor of filth, where the nose forgets its sorry existence. This room where darkness rules is the only one that I have ever known.
"The Sandman lurks in the dark. Take this pill and you'll be all right," says the woman in white. The lady with the perpetual smirk, the purveyor of dreams and what have you.
Eni meni mini mo, take the pill and off we go!
Blue pill or red pill it does not really matter. The brain is bursting and the neurons exploding- Time stood still, warping my sense of being.
I am a traveler. I am a gatherer. I am a pilgrim
I am home.
|'Exploding Raphaelesque Head'- Salvador Dali, 1951|