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Krapp's Last TapeOpened the window,Krapp's Last Tape
And as the cold air hit. The snow touched me, As the birds passed by above.
The inspiration came, And strangled my love, When I could not get the pen to write,
And felt sick after eating too much strawberry jam. With coldness that doesn’t rise, And steal my beautiful imagery,
turning it into a speeding disaster.
The text message, And smell of apples, Cars and rain, Soaking shoes.
Dead eyes and thundering minds,
Oh the minds! I couldn’t tie them, unless I had a rope, But even then t
by ~thexdecemberist
Banana Fishlet, Or FishThe rain has far away cleaned our lips of words, perfectly, Of every remaining one, As moths have broken into our dreams far way back, When he found himself not playing the game he was there, way far back. Honesty mightn't help now. But hope is dead, so; Often, when weather (or climate) has no more some effect, on anything. Still rain be the favorite musical of Your-self, you, with additional dazzle you stare. Then, every day is Like a day made for banana fishlet, Or fish.Banana Fishlet, Or Fish
by ~thexdecemberist
ShakingFall and cry, players They are only verses.Shaking
Don’t worry, players They’re beautiful, But they're only verses
All poets are but small boys,
That never made it. They don’t write poems on mirrors
With mascara pens. They lay during nights, With a sore neck,
Small black notebook, And blindly
They write, Until-due to lack- of- sleep- Their heads collapse. They are done with. Forever over. Over like Dover.
They are poets, They are poets. They! Are poets. And you, as we sit here, Are one
by ~thexdecemberist
Tegan and SarahTegan and Sarah, look at youTegan and Sarah
Is this honesty becoming a passion Or a drug As it has both effects But breaking out Is obviously less honest Useless Unbiased objective and straight But it has no eyes And it is a lie
When eyes hurt and choose I know it’s come Airless toohot toocold toolate Gives ideal condition Decision between the centuries Decision between the lines (Freedom in the middle of them all) Which is hurtful; there is no between the lines, as there is NO BETWEEN the lines. And if there is, which there isn’t, why would it
by ~thexdecemberist
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Ukraine, Czech nationality
- Interests: Film, poetry, prose, photography, art, politics, philosophy
- Favourite movie: Donnie Darko, Waking Life, The Great Dictator....
- Favourite band or musician: The Decemberists, Sonic Youth, The Killers, Tom Waits
- Favourite genre of music: Rock, Jazz
- Favourite artist: Philip Glass, Tom Waits, Cat Power
- Favourite poet or writer: Kafka, Salinger, Heller, Kerouac, Ginsberg...
- Favourite photographer: Dont know many
- Favourite style of art: Post modernist really
- Operating System: PC?
- MP3 player of choice: Ipod
- Personal Quote: " I saw the best minds of my generation destryoed by madness" A. Ginsberg
- Tools of the Trade: Kiev 60, pen, paper :)
- Email: philthephish@hotmail.com
- MSN: philthephish@hotmail.com
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This is the artist's privilege: to be ageless.
(Francis Bacon)
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