dolores666's photos with the keyword: Poetry

The focus is getting smaller and narrower and meaner with each passing day. Perspective is lost and subsequently obliterated. The centre cannot hold because it has disappeared down into its own myopic microscopic asshole; therefore things fall apart and fall into a black hole of various vulgar solipsisms. The true substance of Anarchy is but the thin, starved ghost of a vanished memory and what is loosed upon the world is the shrill cackle of hysteric dribblings and superstitious ravings and the spasmodic gusts of whingeing wounded entitlement. A Great Reset is much needed, verily, yeah! But not the great reset "They" have in their poxy, tired and geriatric minds. Snap, snap! Snip, snip! We need to get out of our self-inflicted prisons, break our self-imposed chains, renounce our voluntarily assimilated impotence, stop trying to explain the world and come out into the streets to welcome the R-Evolution, before the slouching beast gets us all. There. Have a fab weekend.

The Mad Muse strikes again, Bumba help us all. And although the pic bears (pun not intended) no relation whatsoever to the subject, I dedicate it to my family and friends in Barcelona who today, September 11, sodding Diada Day, must be suffering from horrible, hardly containable urges to grab the matches and take to the streets to incinerate a few yellow ribbons. I could dedicate it to myself, for that matter, since I feel as strongly as they do about this disgraceful caper that has divided the country in two and spoiled the fun of and for nearly everybody, with the exceptions of: 1) the indepes, who are all having collective stiffies just thinking about how virtuous and superior they are and 2) the Chinese shop owners, who are making a killing selling cheap estelades and tacky yellow ribbons and silly T-shirts with even sillier slogans. Happy Diada, then, xiquets. May the senseless chickens you have set free to riot and destroy come home to roost on your thoughtless doorsteps sooner rather than later. Please note that the Shoggies have sprouted temporary ursine feet and partial claws to appear more bear-like. But this is a private joke between me and Hayao Miyazaki so I’ll disclose no more.

Here, this’s got everything he would have liked: Sun, Moon, wee stars, olive trees, cerros and, more to the point, gloworms, gusanitos luminosos or luciernagas, for short. The only thing missing is a river but you can imagine it meandering its way to the sea, now wild now peaceful, just behind the hills. Here’s to you, me old dead china!

For Federico, who wrote, and for Paco, who sang, and for Maria Clara, who likes them both. El lagarto está llorando. La lagarta está llorando. El lagarto y la lagarta con delantaritos blancos. Han perdido sin querer su anillo de desposados. ¡Ay, su anillito de plomo, ay, su anillito plomado! Un cielo grande y sin gente monta en su globo a los pájaros. El sol, capitán redondo, lleva un chaleco de raso. ¡Miradlos qué viejos son! ¡Qué viejos son los lagartos! ¡Ay cómo lloran y lloran. ¡ay! ¡ay!, cómo están llorando! Federico García Lorca. Canciones para niños Mr. Lizard is crying. Mrs. Lizard is crying. Mr. and Mrs. Lizard with little white aprons. They have inadvertently lost their wedding ring. Oh, their little ring of lead, oh, their little leaden ring! A large sky without people carries the birds up in its balloon. The sun, round captain, wears a satin waistcoat. See how old they are! How old the lizards are! Oh, how they cry and cry, oh, oh, how they are crying! (Slapdash translation by yours truly)