nunia
[个人文集]
加入时间: 2005/11/04
文章: 2184
经验值: 5079
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作者：nunia 在 寒山小径 发贴, 来自 http://www.hjclub.org
Chorus of exa
...
'hehe...
Can you spell troll?
GNU Generation 2005'
...
1st ACT OF DISACTION
The dove is filled with spilt papers
its breast is staned with erasers and weeks,
with blotting computer whiter than a corpse
and screens frightened by their sinister color.
Come with me to the shadow of internetworkings
to the weak, delicate, pallid color of the chiefs,
to the tunnels deep as calendars,
to the doleful thousand-mega disk.
Let us examine now the licenses and the conditions,
the special affidavits, the vigils,
the petitions with their teeth of nauseous autumn,
the fury of ashen destinies and sad decisions.
It is a tale of wounded bones,
bitter circumstances and interminable languages,
and opensource suddenly serious.
It is the dead of night, the veinless head
from which day suddenly falls
as if from a bottle broken by a lighteningbolt.
They are the feet and the clocks and the fingers
and a locomotive of dying enterprise,
and a bitter sky of soaked silicon,
and a yellow river of smileys.
Everything reaches the tips of fingers like flowers,
and fingernails like lighteningbolts, withered keyboards,
everything reaches the ink of death
and the violet mouths of the copyrights.
Let us weep for the death of earth and fire,
swords, grapes,
the sexes with their touch realms of roots,
the alcohol ships sailing among ships
and the perfume that dances at night, on its knees,
dragging behind a planet of perforated roses.
With safari's suits and stains on our browsers
let us fall into the depths of google searches,
into the anger of enchained keywords,
into demonstrations tenaciously defunct,
into systems wrapped in blue ciscos.
Come with me to the Offices, to the uncertain
smell of ministries, and tombs, and postage stamps.
Come with me to the white day that is dying
screaming like a murdered bride.
...
Chorus of exa
'Hehe, can you spell troll?
GNU Generation of 2005...'
PopeOnaRope enters the scene...
chanting a solemn tune as always.
Life is sweet.
Law and order must be stern
in preserving our happy way of life.
Rebels must be crushed
by all means avail to humankind.
So that the Spirit
shall rise and permeate
overflowing the smokey mountains
where paradise regains
itself and itself alone
beyond all wanderous souls...
9 Oct 2005 (updated 9 Oct 2005)? ? [ Edit ]
EFFORT AT SPEECH BETWEEN TWO PEOPLE
: Speak to me. Take my hand. What are you now?
I will tell you all. I will conceal nothing.
When I was three, a little child read a story about a rabbit
who died, in the story, and I crawled under a chair :
a pink rabbit : it was my birthday, and a candle
burnt a sore spot on my finger, and I was told to be happy.
: Oh, grow to know me. I am not happy. I will be open:
Now I am thinking of white sails against a sky like music,
like glad horns blowing, and birds tilting, and an arm
about me.
There was one I loved, who wanted to live, sailing.
: Speak to me. Take my hand. What are you now?
When I was nine, I was fruitily sentimental,
fluid : and my widowed aunt played Chopin,
and I bent my head to the painted woodwork, and wept.
I want now to be close to you. I would
link the minutes of my days close, somehow, to your days.
: I am not happy. I will be open.
I have liked lamps in evening corners, and quiet poems.
There has been fear in my life. Sometimes I speculate
on what a tragedy his life was, really.
: Take my hand. Fist my mind in your hand. What are
you now?
When I was fourteen, I had dreams of suicide,
I stood at a steep window, at sunset, hoping toward
death :
if the light had not melted clouds and plains to beauty,
if light had not transformed that day, I would have leapt.
I am unhappy. I am lonely. Speak to me.
: I will be open. I think he never loved me:
he loved the bright beaches, the little lips of foam
that ride small waves, he loved the veer of gulls:
he said with a gay mouth : I love you. Grow to know
me.
: What are you now? If we could touch one another,
if these our separate entities could come to grips,
clenched like a Chinese puzzle . . . yesterday
I stood in a crowded street that was live with people,
and no one spoke a word, and the morning shone.
Everyone silent, moving . . . Take my hand. Speak to
me.
- Read From The New Classics Series
"The Wanderer" by Alain-Fournier
"Nightwood" by Djuna Barnes
"Monday Night" by Kay Boyle
"Under Western Eyes" by Joseph Conrad
"Three Tales" by Gustave Flaubert
"Siddhartha" by Hermann Hesse
"The Aspern Papers" & "The Europeans" by Henry James
"The Spoils of Poynton" by Henry James
"Exiles" by James Joyce
"Amerika" by Franz Kafka
"The Princess of Cleves" by Madame de Lafayette
"The Man Who Died" by D H Lawrence
"Selected Poems" by D H Lawrence
"Reflections in a Golden Eye" by Carson McCullers
"Poems" by Stéphane Mallarmé
"Poems" by Wilfred Owen
"Selected Poems" by Kenneth Patchen
"A.B.C. of Reading" by Ezra Pound
"Selected Poems" by Ezra Pound
"A Season in Hell" by Arthur Rimbaud
"The Illuminations" by Arthur Rimbaud
"Selected Poems" by Muriel Rukeyser
"Three Lives" by Gertrude Stein
"A Handful of Dust" by Evelyn Waugh
"The Day of the Locust" by Nathanael West
"Miss Lonelyhearts" by Nathanael West
"The Glass Menagerie" by Tennessee Williams
"In the American Grain" by William Carlos Williams
"Paterson" by William Carlos Williams
"Selected Poems" by William Carlos Williams
作者：nunia 在 寒山小径 发贴, 来自 http://www.hjclub.org |
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