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Charles Baudelaire

Le Gout du Néant

Morne esprit, autrefois amoureux de la lutte,
L'Espoir, dont l'éperon attisait ton ardeur,
Ne veut plus t'enfourcher! Couche-toi sans pudeur,
Vieux cheval dont le pied à chaque obstacle bute.
Résigne-toi, mon coeur; dors ton sommeil de brute.

Esprit vaincu, fourbu! Pour toi, vieux maraudeur,
L'amour n'a plus de gout, non plus que la dispute;
Adieu donc, chants du cuivre et soupirs de la flûte!
Plaisirs, ne tentez plus un coeur sombre et boudeur!
Le Printemps adorable a perdu son odeur!

Et le Temps m'engloutit minute par minute,
Comme la neige immense un corps pris de roideur;
Je contemple d'en haut le globe en sa rondeur,
Et je n'y cherche plus l'abri d'une cahute.
Avalanche, veux-tu m'emporter dans ta chute?

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To Marley from Marie

Here is a story of an old guitar,
A gift made last century, early on.
This token of love was there given,
And received by her chosen one.

Inside these words were written,
By the hand of the girl he adored.
Saying 'To Marley from Marie',
That Christmas Day.....1934.

Now peacefully sleeping with angels,
Yet to live again through the strings.
In a granddaughter's gentle hands,
The instrument once more softly sings.

So grandfather Marley's old guitar,
Finds new voice as it's gently played.
Sharing the music of their timeless love,
Recalling the songs of those yesterdays.

[...] Read more

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His' Africa

Live your rooms and betake to this hour, Africa!
Forsake, if star-crossed tracks; thy ailling canker.
Bathe your visage and comport to your puissance.
Alas! You were those, past. So, bare thy luminescense.

Through that of whom you are, enfeeble thy languor.
Tow your chicks along, whom hatched to your
savour.
Not ever again, shake through foresaken nods;
that to, flowered your forebears upon their seconds.

Either blithe or woeful, betake your brow to flaw.
Take your bath, those are your toils and labour.
With ménage in chorus, throng through your prove
and stand your biles. Die not even, upon this move.

Neither your semi-sweats they aids, even alone mould
to your freshest breath withering sotto-voce untold.
Array through the shadows athwart their rumours
that you are, hither to not, could only your celestial toss.

[...] Read more

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I've never been a yes man.

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Falling, Without Restraint....

it is no longer about living or dying,
but merely falling like rain...
on the good and the evil,
the wanted and unwanted,
on both the poor and the rich.
on the man, the woman, and the child,
the stray dog, and the empty field.
on the broken, the wounded,
and the sorrowful...
falling, without restraint!

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Believing: it means believing in our own lies. And I can say that I am grateful that I got this lesson very early.

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Before And After Christ (BC/AD)

I was blind and I could not see
I was dead by the trespasses in me
I was insensitive and devoid of feeling
I was sick and in need of healing
I was deaf and could not hear
I was lost in a world of fear
I was dumb and unable to talk
I was lame and could not walk
I was dim and unable to perceive
I doubted and I could not believe

Lord, I was blind and unable to see
Your loving arms outstretched at Calvary.
Lord, I was dead in trespasses and sin
unaware You had died my love to win.

Lord, I was lame and unable to walk
to enter your presence and hear You talk.
Lord, I was deaf and could not even hear
Your Gospel message ringing out so clear.

[...] Read more

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My first really good guitar was a Gibson J-45.

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Sonnet 15 - Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear

XV

Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
For we two look two ways, and cannot shine
With the same sunlight on our brow and hair.
On me thou lookest with no doubting care,
As on a bee shut in a crystalline;
Since sorrow hath shut me safe in love's divine,
And to spread wing and fly in the outer air
Were most impossible failure, if I strove
To fail so. But I look on thee—on thee—
Beholding, besides love, the end of love,
Hearing oblivion beyond memory;
As one who sits and gazes from above,
Over the rivers to the bitter sea.

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Ramon Eder

The moral sense is acquired in the childhood when you share the snack with your brothers.

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