La Blanchisseuse

Once I read: “Love is so small it can tear itself through the eye of a needle.” If I am not mistaken; The English Patient 

Over the last seven days, rain has been. Simply nothing but rain. Perhaps, there were occasions lasting minutes with a bright sunny sky or resting dark clouds but I did not notice them, or simply chose not to notice them. Rain is good. Rain is what washes away. Sometimes the good, sometimes the bad and at times the innocence. The soul is only irrigated through the bathe of rain. Only rinsed when rains deluge. We must dance underneath them. We must be jubilent they choose to fall. These must be our gayest of times. And we must love. We must love, not underneath the rain, but simply with the rain.

Life is at times what La Blanchisseuse (The Laundress) is; All your life you think the world to be something. Then it turns out to be nothing. Nothing at all. Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec brought her to life. She’s not for everyone I suppose, but she definitely is. And that is why we must love. And that is why the rain is; to remind us of love. Because the universe is fulled by love. Love, that is most fragile.





The Inviting Sea

Learning is, almost always, amongst the holliest and purest of time allocations. We must know so very much to know we know nothing. Though schools can harm this at times, it is worth reminding ourselves of this. The same way a puppy is reminded of the horrors of nature when a lightning strikes. No matter how gentle and loving and caring the owner may be, under the dining table is the safest place to be.

Looking deep into one’s own eyes seems as an impossible challenge. However, staring into the mirror, centimeters away, one comes to be reminded of how beautiful nature is. The details lying in our face are to be cherished by all means. Hours one could spend and still leave out components of what seems to be the most appealing part of the human body. Simply by glaring at the reflection of your most apparant feature, you will be reminded of the importance of solitude. Even momentarily, it is worth to be served every day, each day and in all days.

The night sky is calm. Things are about to be changed. There is plenty of rain and wind to be dealt with. Rains flooding pavements, winds throwing bycicles off bridges. These nights are cherished with absolute respect and gratitude. Thanks to them, the sea is still inviting. The mighty sea.

For each moment to last an eternity, simply living them should be enough. And how easy it has come to be for life to be lived.

To The Night

Einstein said "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result." Except Einstein was not the first person to define this very intricate and puissant state through such puerile words, some shmuck in the 1930's said, or wrote, it for the first time. However, judging by the fact no one truly remembers him, the online world decided it best to put the name of the world's most popular theoretical physicist on it for either hits or attention. It truly would be crazy to hope for a different result through routine actions. We all do it, though. For the very same reason there stands to be a 1%, we do it.

The lamp posts in the street where my home is located somehow survived a World War and nearly half a dozen sea floods. Two days ago they were taken away. Replaced by the new technology which consumes solar power. A step forward on our path of evolution and progress in the face of the limits presented through relying on petroleum. When those lamp posts were taken away, part of the identity of this street died as well. And since only humans are capable of being poetic enough to give identities to streets, a bit of all souls on this street died. We do not leave parts of our entity in the objects surrounding us, but they become part of our entity and after a while we begin depending on the most meaningless of artefacts. Happy still they do not cut down trees. Not around here, anyways.

Many children are afraid of the night. Due to television, their parents or teachers or some arsehole relative, most of them come to garner a dread of the dark. Especially when left alone. When years go on by and most come to realize the television show was looking for ratings, their parents were addicted to any propaganda generating hollow excitement and their teacher was going throw a divorce and the relative is now constantly drunk, those children begin to love the night. The Dark. The only time of their every 24 hours where they may be left alone to their peace, with their thoughts and in the loving embrace of nothingness. The only place where some can lay back and watch the world pass on by without any care.

Here's to those "night owls". Living the night, because sunshine somehow got boring.

All The Best

Gladiolus Fucking UnAlatus

We have flowers in our little front yard. Gladiolus alatus, gladiolus unalatus and gladiolus dalenii. I refer to them as the orange, the white and the crimson flower. And the crimson in itself is an improvement as it used to be red. A female companion truly can bring confusion to a man’s life. Not any man but, certainly those as detached and retrograded as yours truly. A flower is a flower; beautiful beyond description and more fragile than a new-born child.

The winds are so very strong these days. Do not know why. Supposedly it is summer and the poor gulls, who out of sheer mis-information decided to spend these months of 12,017 in the skies bringing smiles to the folks of this land, can hardly gather food. They scream and they shout, mother nature simply gives no attention.

William Faulkner wrote in “As I Lay Dying”: It takes two people to make you, and one people to die. That’s how the world is going to end. The Book was published in 1930. Considering all which is happening now, not only with politics and global warming and world hunger and the almost apparent lack of water but the people and how humanity is falling deep into the dark more often than it runs to the light, I very much enjoy Faulkner’s perspective. I actually dream of it. Seems to me as it would be the most peaceful manner in which the earth and all of her species will survive us. Will finally go about their natural existence: the hunting of the animals and the quakes of the earth.

No point is trying to be made here. Just a glimpse of how peaceful the universe is!!!

All The Best

Pest or Best


Some consider seagulls a pest begging for our lunch
stealing our chips before they even enter our lips

But any who’ve read about Livingstone
knows that they are great adventurers

Pitting their might against the sea
risking their life, flying free

It’s all in our attitude of how we regard
others as pests or give them respect

If considered a pest then why try their best
if respected they have more to live up to ..

It’s our choice to lift others to aim higher
better than forcing them into a quagmire

Daily Prompt: Pest

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All the doors and windows are open and yet, somehow, I still am in dire need of cold shower for my body temperature to ease and my head to stop itching. The seagulls make such wonderful sounds. Sounds of life. It is so very interesting how, even though life maybe short each moment can last an eternity.

Watering a garden is essential. For the life of the plants, that is. One should not feel responsible and yet some do. Part of the reason is due to the peace and joy and pleasure one recieves from them; in the end, we live for ourselves. Watching them grow and a great feeling a bit of pride as with anything. However, nature is good and when surrounded by the good of this world, we are bound to feel good ourselves. Presume now there is no good in this world for any member of humanity to care about evil. Would it not be fun?! All of us living each moment of life to the fullest due to our single need of survival.

Numerous is the correct number for the amount of times most individuals use the word “difficult” in their lives. For running the simplest of errands, many feel the request or requirement to be difficult. Being a Jew in 1942 Germany was difficult, not buying milk.

All The Best

My Pasture

To the wheat fields I took my heart

Was rejected; never told why

The long walk along the sea

Hardly as gladdening, with no love for thee

Summer is freedom, summer is for three

Lovers, Players and Artists to be

A poet with poems is a cadet with cocotte

The poet a delegate and the cocotte the glee

A breeze had you flee to me

Only to make love and then leave me be

A Strong Breeze

The first time I tried “OREO” was preciesely one months ago. They are bloody delicious. The taste of chocolate wafers with a cream as sweet as it should be.

The sky is going from red to dark red to dark. A bit of breeze is making the branches dance. They are only some decades old, thus they are still only learning. There is this field surrounding our home. In extreme requirence of mowing, my father suggested I plant a shrub of strawberry. “They don’t require any care and since you didn’t spend any money on them, it’ll be a good profit” he said. I could use the money, I guess. I can cover my costs but, it would be nice to save a little something. And considering a kilo goes for 8€, I presume the profit would be of interest.

Our species falls into two categories: Humans and Whores. The wind is getting stronger. The rhythm has sifted from fox-trot to cha-cha. Between the twon with abandoned field and the next are 3 light poles which have taken on a new function as simply poles. Neither town hall takes responsibility and so there stands 70 meters of darkness between these two towns. Pure darkness. Fields of, for only 2 months of the year, flowers are all this area has to offer. Absolute beauty during the time of harvest but for the entity of some 10 months, purely winds throwing bicycles into the middle of the road. Peaceful as hell.

Those who live for a better day will always be a whore to the future they so desperately desire. They so desperately prey. Those who use what they’ve learned from the past, in order to have a good future by living the present are the humans. The species capable of anything it dares to dream of.

All The Best

A Post

Years ago a friend and I made a vow; “Never mention ourselves in any conversation. Who are we to be set as examples.”

A good essay, speech or others of the same nature are those, in my opinion, which begin with the point, lead with the point and end with the point. I have not written a single word in months. My apologies if this goes on to be not interesting. However, what despairs me most is the fact I have not read the posts of those whom I respect in this community: My Apologies, then.

The world is a shit place for us humans, said a teacher of mine once. His only advice.

A commercial often appears which is trying to gather funding for children in certain African nations. I change the channel. We are all in need of help. But these children, they should not have been born. For years, organizations have been gathering funding and yet, it is never enough. More than 600 million people on this planet without a safe water source. Humanity has done its best to show we do not deserve life. The ignorance which lead to those children being born in the very first place helps this concept even futher.

It is better if we mean less. Those great men and women who dedicated enrgy and time for a better world will always be remembered as examples of what a human can achieve. They will be remebered as the magnificant and the awesome, in the history of a species not worth remebering. To this, a conclusion is made: Live your life and help those you may. The less we are, the less is expected. Life has never asked us anything. Life does not enforce us to choose between good evil. It truly is only what one can stand.

All The Best