Songs by the River

 

An acoustic feeling surrounded by a choir of craft’s people…touting their wares.

An accompaniment of black as, ice, scenic byways.

All the seasons we should have sung about…but never did.

All the winters that fell about…but no longer live.

These songs of yesterday…independent and playing by the river.

These songs of yesterday…are taken day by day.

 

Hauling by Ethan Murrow

Great art comes from pain and suffering.  Thus, the near starvation, struggling artist.  Writers, painters, poets…Our art reflects those with who we live and love.  Both kindness and vice. 

The need of continuum?  Art shall never be beaten by affliction.  There will always be another Artist to carry on.

For “Hauling” The Currier Museum commissioned over 100 feet of wall drawings. The exhibition also includes two large-scale works on paper and a 52-foot-long scroll drawing animated by a kinetic sculpture. Curated by Samantha Cataldo, this show is a collaboration with other artists, craftspeople, historians, and New Hampshire citizens. Hauling is inspired by the history of the Manchester region and its people, emphasizing labor and collaboration.

https://bigpaperairplane.com

 

 

Poets and Schizophrenics Band-Aid

“If we took all the poets and banded them together.  Could problems arise or self-solve?”

Lyricists to our own plights…Could prose set a tilted world right?

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“What of my yet undocumented pain?  Would my own words make me sane?”

‘It is always something’…I heard a philosophical schizophrenic say.

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“Living well and beautifully and justly are all one thing.” ― Socrates

“What if we all banded together today?”

Prelude to the Words

They say, the word takes discipline.

Loose fabric erratically woven between my life and yours.

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Could it also be a death sentence?

Litter for the mind…for which there is no cure.

I have haggled with scholars…

and, pillars of a park bench.

I have thrown sticks and stones with menacing dogs…

To find where it is…

my words belong.

The chirping crickets are fading fast in my bedraggled head.

Releasing chaotic composure.

My composition?

Words I had hope to have.

Words I had hope to have said.

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More Than a ‘Brave New World’

The thinker…

‘Well, this is it!’  In a mirror, in a selfie, in some form of congealed apathy?  This is it!  Unless, we write about it.  Ponder it.  Mistake it for being something it isn’t.  This is it!  And, it is soulfully, up to the artist to render it…make it better.’

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  • I wanted to change the world. But I have found that the only thing one can be sure of changing is oneself.

 

  • Maybe this world is another planet’s hell.
  • It’s dark because you are trying too hard.
    Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly.
    Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply.
    Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.

  • I was so preposterously serious in those days, such a humorless little prig.
    Lightly, lightly – it’s the best advice ever given me.
    When it comes to dying even. Nothing ponderous, or portentous, or emphatic.
    No rhetoric, no tremolos,
    no self conscious persona putting on its celebrated imitation of Christ or Little Nell.
    And of course, no theology, no metaphysics.
    Just the fact of dying and the fact of the clear light.

So throw away your baggage and go forward.
There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet,
trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair.
That’s why you must walk so lightly.
Lightly my darling,
on tiptoes and no luggage,
not even a sponge bag, unplugged 3
completely unencumbered.

 

  • It is natural to believe in God when you’re alone– quite alone, in the night, thinking about death.

 

  • It’s a little embarrassing that after 45 years of research & study, the best advice I can give people is to be a little kinder to each other.
jethro
Jethro: Claims to be a career criminal. Claims he’d rather freeze outside than to be back behind the wall. He is currently homeless.
  • Did you eat something that didn’t agree with you?” asked Bernard. The Savage nodded. “I ate civilization.”

 

 

-There is only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that’s your own self.

 

“Then you think there is no God?”

“No, I think there quite probably is one.”

“Then why? …”

Mustapha Mond checked him. “But he manifests himself in different ways to different men. In premodern times he manifested himself as the being that’s described in these books. Now …”

“How does he manifest himself now?” asked the Savage.

“Well, he manifests himself as an absence; as though he weren’t there at all.” 

aldous huxley quotes

 

 

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