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Charlotte Whitton

I really think that effective acting has to do literally with the movement of molecules.

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Rumi

Love has nothing to do with the five senses

Love has nothing to do with
the five senses and the six directions:
its goal is only to experience
the attraction exerted by the Beloved.
Afterwards, perhaps, permission
will come from God:
the secrets that ought to be told will be told
with an eloquence nearer to the understanding
of these subtle confusing allusions.
The secret is partner with none
but the knower of the secret:
in the skeptic's ear
the secret is no secret at all.

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Do You Think That's Fair

Well I see you've got a new boyfriend
Got your mixed up husband too
I got 25 dollars in my pocket
Want me to spend it all on you
But I know that you cheat on all of us
That's just the way that you do
Hey, girl, I don't care where you've been
I know, I've been there too
Chorus:
Woo, woo baby, Do you think that's fair?
Do we really have to be so lonely and so scared
Woo, woo baby, Do you think that's fair?
Well I know this is up to me and you
We make this thing turn out like we want to
Well, last time I thought about you
Didn't really think that much
And the last time we spoke you said
You were afraid of my touch
And then you went your way
I stumbled down a highway, I went mine
You know, I think it's funny the
Way infatuation gets beat up by the time
CHORUS
Well I see your life has evolved
Into one big masquerade
And all of those old fools you used to run to
They shot you full of old age
Well, don't go expecting too much no, no
From this new love affair
Probably fall flat on its face
No one to pick you up, no one who cares
CHORUS

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Erica Jong

The Keys

Broken ivories
playing
the blue piano
of the sea.

We have come
from the bitter city
to heal ourselves.
We have come
looking for a patch of beach
not yet built into a fortress
of real-estate greed,
a coral reef
not yet picked clean
of buried treasure,
not yet bare of birds.

The first night in the Keys,
I dreamed I was a bird
soaring over a hilly city,
soaring & dipping
like a gull or egret.
& I thought:
'Ah- this is a flying dream!
Enjoy it.'

But I really think
that my soul
has been transported
for a night
into the body of
a bird
& I was flying.

I woke up
exhausted,
arms weary,
eyes red.
The beach was dazzling
with its white sand,
the sun blinding,
& I seemed to know the palm trees
from above
as well as below.

They root in the sand
with elephant feet,
yet they also root
their delicate fronds
in air.
& these are a comfort
as you fly
half bird, half human
through a dream of sky.

Everything was new
to a spirit
so divided
between two kingdoms.
The water was alive
with fish,
the air with birds
& palm fronds,
clouds, thunderous presences
of rain
gathering & parting,
& fiery sun playing through.

I knew
that I stood
on a patch of earth
connected to the sky,
that my heart beat
with the sea,
that my arms moved
with the clouds,
that my flesh
was finally irrelevant
though it surrounded me
as the case of a piano
surrounds its strings,
while the fingers play
on the ivory keys
& the human music
rises to the sky.

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Do You Think That I Do Not Know?

They say that I never have written of love,
As a writer of songs should do;
They say that I never could touch the strings
With a touch that is firm and true;
They say I know nothing of women and men
In the fields where Love's roses grow,
And they say I must write with a halting pen
Do you think that I do not know?

When the love-burst came, like an English Spring,
In days when our hair was brown,
And the hem of her skirt was a sacred thing
And her hair was an angel's crown.
The shock when another man touched her arm,
Where the dancers sat round in a row;
The hope and despair, and the false alarm
Do you think that I do not know?

By the arbour lights on the western farms,
You remember the question put,
While you held her warm in your quivering arms
And you trembled from head to foot.
The electric shock from her finger tips,
And the murmuring answer low,
The soft, shy yielding of warm red lips
Do you think that I do not know?

She was buried at Brighton, where Gordon sleeps,
When I was a world away;
And the sad old garden its secret keeps,
For nobody knows to-day.
She left a message for me to read,
Where the wild wide oceans flow;
Do you know how the heart of a man can bleed
Do you think that I do not know?

I stood by the grave where the dead girl lies,
When the sunlit scenes were fair,
And the white clouds high in the autumn skies,
And I answered the message there.
But the haunting words of the dead to me
Shall go wherever I go.
She lives in the Marriage that Might Have Been
Do you think that I do not know?

They sneer or scoff, and they pray or groan,
And the false friend plays his part.
Do you think that the blackguard who drinks alone
Knows aught of a pure girl's heart?
Knows aught of the first pure love of a boy
With his warm young blood aglow,
Knows aught of the thrill of the world-old joy
Do you think that I do not know?

They say that I never have written of love,
They say that my heart is such
That finer feelings are far above;
But a writer may know too much.
There are darkest depths in the brightest nights,
When the clustering stars hang low;
There are things it would break his strong heart to write
Do you think that I do not know?

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Ben Kingsley

I think that most actors, and they're a very strange lot actors, very strange people, but I think that they attempt to keep in touch with the child.

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Ben Kingsley

I think that all of us either lose touch with the child inside us or try and hold onto it because it so precious to us and it's such an extraordinary part of our lives.

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And I believe that public broadcasting has an important trust with the American people, it's an intimate medium of television, and that we can do reading and language development for young children without getting into human sexuality.

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The Tent

actually, i do not
go for your tent
as a definition of
what marriage is
not,

i still think that
my marriage is a big house
with the convenience
of five chambermaids
a butler
and a driver.

with a last note,
we have fire inside the
chimney
we have smoke
for the atmosphere
and we have warmth
even in summer.

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Testament

And now to the Abyss I pass
Of that Unfathomable Grass...

1.
Dear relatives and friends, when my last breath
Grows large and free in air, don't call it death --
A word to enrich the undertaker and inspire
His surly art of imitating life; conspire
Against him. Say that my body cannot now
Be improved upon; it has no fault to show
To the sly cosmetician. Say that my flesh
Has a perfect compliance with the grass
Truer than any it could have striven for.
You will recognize the earth in me, as before
I wished to know it in myself: my earth
That has been my care and faithful charge from birth,
And toward which all my sorrows were surely bound,
And all my hopes. Say that I have found
A good solution, and am on my way
To the roots. And say I have left my native clay
At last, to be a traveler; that too will be so.
Traveler to where? Say you don't know.

2.
But do not let your ignorance
Of my spirit's whereabouts dismay
You, or overwhelm your thoughts.
Be careful not to say
Anything too final. Whatever
Is unsure is possible, and life is bigger
Than flesh. Beyond reach of thought
Let imagination figure

Your hope. That will be generous
To me and to yourselves. Why settle
For some know-it-all's despair
When the dead may dance to the fiddle

Hereafter, for all anybody knows?
And remember that the Heavenly soil
Need not be too rich to please
One who was happy in Port Royal.

I may be already heading back,
A new and better man, toward
That town. The thought's unreasonable,
But so is life, thank the Lord!

3.
So treat me, even dead,
As a man who has a place
To go, and something to do.
Don't muck up my face
With wax and powder and rouge
As one would prettify
An unalterable fact
To give bitterness the lie.

Admit the native earth
My body is and will be,
Admit its freedom and
Its changeability.

Dress me in the clothes
I wore in the day's round.
Lay me in a wooden box.
Put the box in the ground.

4.
Beneath this stone a Berry is planted
In his home land, as he wanted.
He has come to the gathering of his kin,
Among whom some were worthy men,

Farmers mostly, who lived by hand,
But one was a cobbler from Ireland,

Another played the eternal fool
By riding on a circus mule

To be remembered in grateful laughter
Longer than the rest. After

Doing that they had to do
They are at ease here. Let all of you

Who yet for pain find force and voice
Look on their peace, and rejoice.

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I Think That Im In Love With You

Yeah, oh
Im in love
Every time youre near baby
I get kinda crazy in my head for you
And I dont know what to do
And oh baby
I get kinda shaky when they mention you
I just lose my cool
My friends tell me
Somethin has come over me
And I think I know what it is
I think Im in love
Chorus:
Boy I think that Im in love with you
Got me doin silly things when it comes to you (in love)
Boy I think that Im in love with you
(boy I think Im in love)
Ive been telling all of my friends what I feel for you
Just the other night baby
I saw you hangin
You were with your crew
I was with mine too
You took me by surprise
When you turned and looked me in my eyes
Boy you really blew my mind
I dont know whats gotten into me
But I kinda think I know what it is
I think Im in love
Chorus
Boy I think that Im in love with you
Ive been tellin all of my friends what I feel for you
Something strange has come over me
Got me goin out of my mind
Never met a guy like you before
You make me feel special inside
I think Im in love c boy yeah
Chorus
(see i, oh Im in love with you)
Boy I think that Im in love with you
Got me doin silly things when it comes to you (goin outta my mind boy)
Boy I think that Im in love with you (I think Im in love)
Ive been tellin all of my friends what I feel for you
Baby thats why you call my name
Youre drivin me insane
Doin silly things for you
I dont know what to do

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Simple Observation #19 - That person who has........

That person who has consummate skill doesn't really need any instruction
but someone who is blinded by ignorance or pride can be a real obstruction.

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You Think That I Am Hurt?

the years solidify pain
they turn into stone they become more silent
unmoved untouched think of them are strong
and self-sufficient,
unaffected, they watch everything pass
time and turbulence
of the seasons
the overflowing of the rivers
they live and survived
stones as they are
they do breathe they do not speak

so you think that i am really hurt?
i am stone. And it is not my new name.

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I Don't Think That I'll Ever Be Famous

I don't think that I'll ever be famous
Like those delicious cookies by Amos
Nor do I think that I will ever cry
At least I'll know that I really did try

My poems are filled with simplicity
And some of them contain some empathy
Many were composed with a simple write
For most of them were written late at night

In a way I am glad that I am free
With no worries about trying to be
I hope some people like my simple verse
And in most of them I tried not to curse

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Just What Do You Really Think Of Love?

Just what do you really think of Love?
Not the heartache nor the sleepless nights,
Nor the dreamy songs and stars above,
Nor a moment's bliss of enchanting sights.

For Love is more than fleeting romance
Lasting through the passing of seasons,
Enduring the storms and the tests of Chance,
Sown on Caring and deep Affection.

True Love like gold will never tarnish.
A rare gem, it's value is priceless.
Life is meaningless with none to cherish
And to find true Love... that's Happiness!

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Never Did I Think That I Shall Miss You

never, never, never did i think that for once i shall miss you
but i really do, i have walked miles to see another world
beyond yours, i have preoccupied myself with leaves
and their falling, shifting from those that bloom
to meet the morning sun
i am hearing the songs of newly born birds
in the virginal mountains,
i pick some flowers and kiss them
and savor their scents
inside my nostrils
deep down in my heart
but
here i am back to the trails to the paths of my house
and here i am resting back to the embrace of my lonely nights
watching the stars silently lighting the skies

missing you.

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I Really Don't Think So

You know that I don't back
You doing what you want without you
Letting me know that you do
So I can do it too

We been so together
And if there were ever
Reason to change it
I'm sure we could arrange it baby

Something's wrong
If you really think that
You're the one to get away with it
I know what you're thinking
It's starting to sink in

Why does everything
have to be a love thing
think of all the sorrow that love brings
Is it where you really wanna go no
I really don't think so
Why does everything
Gotta be a love thing
Why can't we dig each other and just hang
Is it where you really wanna go no
I really don't think so

I'm not one to go on
your pre-conceptions of
correct behaviour
It's really not my flava

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What Do You Really Think

Do you love me? tell me if its true,
Does that look of love reflect the real you?
Why does passion disappear when were apart,
Are you secretly breaking my heart?
*what do you really think,
What do you really think of me --
What do you really think,
What do you really think about me,
About me, I gotta know*
We were dreamers, rebels in our youth,
Did our fantasies obscure the bitter truth,
Why do you turn your head when those boys walk by --
Try looking me straight in the eye
(* repeat)
Ooh, can I reach you, is it worth the climb,
Let me teach you, whats the bottom line,
Shall we try again some other place and time, in time,
Must every passing day be so tough girl,
Are you secretly breaking us up girl,
I wanna know, and gotta know for sure, I wanna know
Do you love me? tell me if its true,
Does that look of love reflect your point of view?
Why does passion disappear when were apart,
Are you secretly breaking my heart?
(* repeat)

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You Been On My Mind

(rodney crowell)
Guess its time for me to say just how it is that I feel today
Today is just like any other day cause youve been on my mind
It really hasnt been that long but its funny where the time has flown
Old memories just keep holding on and you been on my mind
You been on my mind sometimes
I think I must be going blind
Ive seen a world baby without you
But I dont see myself there too
Hardly does a day go by when I dont see your clear blue eyes
Many night I just wonder why and you been on my mind
Youve been on my mind so long
Ive been thinking that something was wrong
Ive told myself I should forget
But I dont seem to have it yet
I dont dream that you might change I dont think that Im acting strange
I tell myself its all in vain and you been on my mind
Youve been on my mind Ive said
Till its all thats in my head
Yes I know what I must do
But I dont think youll be there too
Guess its time for me to go but as it is Ill never know
Just what it is that I long for so and you been on my mind
You been on my mind

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Why Do You Think That This World Is Not Interesting?

everything has a reason, that is the tenet, nothing happens by random
that is a restatement, perhaps an accent, and emphatic stress for those who still doubt.

every reason explains itself, whether you know it or not, they have mouths and minds.
though they do not speak to you, or think of you, they think, they speak. A premise.

the fire tree blooms today, and there is fire all around the wildlife part. Warmth is intentional.
Fire for summer. Warmth on a hot day. There is a reason. The petals speak for themselves.

an old pedicab under the mahogany trees, the driver pedals its way on a dusty path.
a child wearing an orange shirt sits restlessly wanting to jump screaming. Noise in stillness.

the trees are shedding off yellow leaves and the ground accepts a good cover. There is no sound.
the grasses are starting to wilt and the moss on the pebbles are dark brown. Time to die.

the joggers are here feeding an activity to this oval the silence of which is finally broken.
Summer. This is rest for most. The holy week and time to reflect. Meanwhile the sun shines

on top of the world, the clouds are cottony and so white. The wind blows on my face.
There is a reason for everything. That is tenet and i know nothing happens by random.

I scribble some notes on my mind. Stating what is not spoken by the sun, the trees, the mountains, the joggers, the dusty path, the child in orange shirt. The pedals squeak and

I am watching and listening. There are too many reasons wanting to be written. Anger, and
pain and bliss and company and solitude. Why do you think that this world is not interesting?

Are you not amazed with what we still do not know? Did i not tell you the color
of the daffodils? Or that the man pedaling its way under the mahogany trees
is an old man feeling so useless and that the child in orange is his grandson?

Life need not be what we think we do not have.

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Poetry, Not Prose

Tom Friedman says that we need poetry, not prose,
to get this country into better shape.
Although we surely know a rose would be a rose
if called by any other name, a grape
becomes much more when sublimated into wine,
and politics don’t matter till its message
becomes poetic. Prose won’t help to make it shine,
and all predications politicians presage
won’t come to pass unless they’re elevated with
poetic language that shifts paradigms,
and brings into reality what seemed mere myth,
promoting the prosaic with its rhymes.
We need a narrative that we can memorize,
not complicated data on a chart,
and yearn for tuneful songs that we can harmonize,
and poems we love learning off by heart.


Inspired by an Op-Ed article by Thomas Friedman in the NYT, November 1,2009, exhorting President Obama to be more poetic (“More Poetry Please”) :
More and more lately, I find people asking me: What do you think President Obama really believes about this or that issue? I find that odd. How is it that a president who has taken on so many big issues, with very specific policies — and has even been awarded a Nobel Prize for all the hopes he has kindled — still has so many people asking what he really believes? I don’t think that President Obama has a communications problem, per se. He has given many speeches and interviews broadly explaining his policies and justifying their necessity. Rather, he has a “narrative” problem….
“Obama’s election marked a shift — from a politics that celebrated privatized concerns to a politics that recognized the need for effective government and larger public purposes. Across the political spectrum, people understood that national renewal requires big ambition, and a better kind of politics, ” said the Harvard political theorist Michael Sandel, author of the new best seller — “Justice: What’s the Right Thing to Do? ” — that calls for elevating our public discourse. But to deliver on that promise, Sandel added, Obama needs to carry the civic idealism of his campaign into his presidency. He needs a narrative that will get the same voters who elected him to push through his ambitious agenda — against all the forces of inertia and private greed. “You can’t get nation-building without shared sacrifice, ” said Sandel, “and you cannot inspire shared sacrifice without a narrative that appeals to the common good — a narrative that challenges us to be citizens engaged in a common endeavor, not just consumers seeking the best deal for ourselves. Obama needs to energize the prose of his presidency by recapturing the poetry of his campaign.”

11/1/09

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