The Dead

Digging deep down the rich quarry of human soul, and playing with words as if they are musical notes makes Joyce a true legend. I finished his short story The Dead, a few minutes ago and I just can’t sleep tonight. When you read the story, eventually, you find some facet of yourself in Gabriel.

I look at my sweet angel. My eyes are begging her cuddle, her caress, her impassioned kiss… But what is she pondering about? O’ babe why don’t you come closer?

...

The bitterest deterministic evil power that dooms us all is “culture”. What are you looking for? Some fake ‘Will’ thing? Keep up…

yummy yummy

We ain’t no cannibals. It’s just that we like a little bit of grilled child.

Irony of Innocence

Have you ever seen a child playing with a toy-gun so gaily? Have you even seen the little ones playing with wooden-swords so merrily?

If you ever get the chance to stay with some of them you can see their pride in not accepting strangers, their greed for toys ,their envy of their little rivals ,their gluttony for snacks and potato chips, their sloth while sleeping half of their day, their lust and anger when scattering the breakfast table for more peanut butter. They do long for the today-innocent deadly-morrow sins from the very day they open their eyes in our peaceful universe.

Eventually they got to learn these arts someday. Why not now?! The best time for acquiring the necessary skills and artistries of man’s life is indeed the lovely innocent sheep-like childhood.

eLPoiep

Black Crows

Three black crows were sitting on a fence
Watching the world pass them by.
Laughing at humanity and its pretense,
Wondering where next to fly...

And they cackled in joy and dove through the air
Like the winds of a hurricane.
And they spread their wings as if to declare
"Onward, let freedom ring!"

Three black crows are sitting in a tree
Looking down on mankind
Loving how it feels to be so free,
Leaving us far behind…

I am nothing ... I see all

"Standing on the bare ground, my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space, all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball. I am nothing. I see all. The currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part of parcel of God.” Ralph Waldo Emerson