Introduction from Collected Poems - e e cummings
The poems to come are for you and for me and are not for mostpeople.
-it’s no use trying to pretend that mostpeople and ourselves are alike. Mostpeople have less in common with ourselves than the squarerootofminusone. You and I are human beings:mostpeople are snobs.
Take the matter of being born. What does being born mean to mostpeople? Catastrophe unmitigated. Socialrevolution. The cultured aristocrat yanked out of his hyperexclusively ultra voluptuous superpalazzo,and dumped into an incredibly vulgar detentioncamp swarming with every conceivable species of undesirable organism. Mostpeople fancy a guaranteed birthproof safetysuit of nondestructible selflessness. If mostpeople were to be born twice they’d improbably call it dying-
you and I are not snobs. We can never be born enough. We are human beings;for whom birth is a supremely welcome mystery,the mystery of growing:the mystery which happens only and whenever we are faithful to ourselves. You and I wear the dangerous looseness of doom and find it becoming. Life,for eternal us,is now;and now is much too busy being a little more than everything to seem anything,catastrophic included.
Life,for mostpeople,simply isn’t. Take the socalled standardof living. What do mostpeople mean by ‘living’? They don’t mean living. They mean the latest and closest plural approximation to singular prenatal passivity which science,in its finite but unbounded wisdom,has succeeded in selling their wives. If science could fail,a mountain’s a mammal. Mostpeople’s wives can spot a genuine delusion of embryonic omnipotence immediately and will accept no substitutes.
-luckily for us,a mountain is a mammal. The plusorminus movie to end moving,the strictly scientific parlourgame of real unreality,the tyranny conceived in misconception and dedicated to the proposition that every man is a woman and any woman a king,hasn’t a wheel to stand on. What their most synthetic not to mention transparent majesty,mrsadmr collective foetus,would improbably call a ghost is walking. He isn’t an undream of anaesthetized impersons,or a cosmic comfortstation,or a transcendentally sterilized lookiesoundiefeelietastiesmellie. He is a healthily complex,a naturally homogeneous,citizen of immortality. The now of his each pitying free imperfect gesture,his any birth or breathing,insults perfected inframortally millenniums of slavishness. He is a little more than everything,he is democracy; he is alive:he is ourselves.
Miracles are to come. With you I leave a remembrance of miracles: they are by somebody who can love and who shall be continually reborn,a human being;somebody who said to those near him,when his fingers would not hold a brush ‘tie it into my hand’-
nothing proving or sick or partial. Nothing false,nothing difficult or easy or small or colossal. Nothing ordinary or extraordinary,nothing emptied or filled,real or unreal;nothing feeble and known or clumsy and guessed. Everywhere tints childrening, innocent spontaneous,true. Nowhere possibly what flesh and impossibly such a garden,but actually flowers which breasts are among the very mouths of light. Nothing believed or doubted; brain over heart, surface:nowhere hating or to fear;shadow, mind without soul. Only how measureless cool flames of making;only each other building always distinct selves of mutual entirely opening;only alive. Never the murdered finalities of wherewhen and yesno,impotent nongames of wrongright and rightwrong;never to gain or pause,never the soft adventure of undoom,greedy anguishes and cringing ecstasies of inexistence; never to rest and never to have:only to grow.
Always the beautiful answer who asks a more beautiful question.
“Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for.”
(Source: drkcrnn)
The Church - Under The Milky Way
(Source: youtube.com)
Even
After
All this time
The Sun never says to the Earth,
“You owe me.”
Look
What happens
With a love like that,
It lights the whole sky.
I can’t help it if you might think I am odd
If I say I’m not loving you for what you are
But for what you’re not.
Everybody will help you,
Discover what you set out to find
But if I can save you any time,
Come on, give it to me,
I’ll keep it with mine.
(Source: youtube.com)
I’ve been out walking
I don’t do that much talking these days
These days
These days I seem to think a lot
About the things that I forgot to do
And all the times I had the chance to
And I had a lover
I don’t think I’d risk another these days
These days
Now if I seem to be afraid
To live the life that I have made in song
It’s just that I’ve been losing so long
Please
Don’t confront me with my failures
I had not forgotten them
I don’t do that much talking these days
These days
These days I seem to think a lot
About the things that I forgot to do
And all the times I had the chance to
And I had a lover
I don’t think I’d risk another these days
These days
Now if I seem to be afraid
To live the life that I have made in song
It’s just that I’ve been losing so long
Please
Don’t confront me with my failures
I had not forgotten them
(Source: youtube.com)
by way of the green line bus
(Source: youtube.com)
I hate the way you talk to me,
and the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car,
I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots
and the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick,
it even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you’re always right,
I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh,
even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you’re not around,
and the fact that you didn’t call.
But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you,
not even close…
not even a little bit…
not even at all.
(Source: unicorngate)
Anonymous asked: You're so beautiful. I love your broken hearted lyrics because they remind me that beauty goes through pain too. I hope you find everything you've ever dreamed of.
I really appreciated that :)
Oh doubt in the girl by your side
She’s feeding your pride
As you go for a ride
Down the Star Mile
Worlds arise as she lets you come in
A duo begins
To the Hollywood Inn
Of the lonely
And all the gold dust in her eyes won’t reform into rain
You had and lost the one thing
You kept in a safe place
Remember the face
Of the girl who had made you her own
And how you left her alone
All’s well at the base of the hill
You might need to fill
A prescription to kill
Off the silence.
Look down from your tower on high
And take in the night
Look her right in the eye
She’ll listen
Life goes to those that are true
The regular news
Over playing the blues
With the light on
And if you burn the road
That’ll lead you back to her in time
I watch you turn to stone
You can’t find the sunlight
She’s moving on without you
The tide breaks
You watch the stars fade
They gather you back to their home
I guess it’s better than being alone
(via felidaeunited)
Your heart sings like a kettle
and your words, they boil away like steam.
A lie burns long while the truth bites quick,
a heart is built for both it seems.
You are lonely as a church,
despite the queuing out your door.
I am empty as a promise, no more.
When the time comes,
and rights have been read,
I think of you often
but for once I meant what I said.
I was salted by your hunger,
now you’ve gone and lost your appetite
and a little bird is every bit as handy in a fight.
I am lonely as a memory
despite the gathering round the fire.
Aren’t you every bird on every wire?
When the time comes,
and rights have been read,
I think of you often
but for once I meant what I said.
Here I stay, I lay me down,
in a house by the Hill.
Dug from the rubble, cut from the kill.
Lesands - This Is Ours (by lesandsmusic)