Saturday, January 30, 2010

Pain or love or danger makes you real again
And I will die, and you will die, and we all will die, and even the stars will fade out one after another in time
Someday I will find the right words, and they will be simple
Live, travel, adventure, bless, and don't be sorry
Accept loss forever
Our battered suitcases were were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life
Avoid the world, it's just a lot of dust and drag and means nothing in the end
But let the mind beware, that though the flesh be bugged, the circumstances of existence are pretty glorious
Life is life, and kind is kind
This is the story of America. Everybody's doing what they think they're supposed to do
Not enough ecstasy for me, not enough life, joy, kicks, darkness, music, not enough night
The fact was I had the vision... I think everyone has... what we lack is the method.
Holy flowers floating in the air, were all these tired faces in the dawn of Jazz America
My witness is the empty sky
All of life is a foreign country
All our best men are laughed at in this nightmare land
My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them
The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great that I thought I was in a dream
I don't know, I don't care, and it doesn't make any difference!
I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion
Great things are not accomplished by those who yield to trends and fads and popular opinion

All is well

All is well, practice kindness, heaven is nigh.

Burn Burn Burn...

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!