Parque en mayo

Parque en mayo
Espalda al sol
Perrito rasca suelo
Dos idiotas en una cita lo ignoran
Esperando a una amiga
Que tiene novio
Sin el carro
Sin teléfono
Tengo un cierto sentido de libertad
Aunque hay menos movilidad
¿Qué puedo decir?
La vida sigue
Y sigo mi camino
El seguido vive

Yeah, you get the idea.

Yeah, you get the idea.

(Source: builtfrombeauty, via c-isnenegro)

Would also do this after.

Would also do this after.

(via c-isnenegro)

You know I would.

You know I would.

(Source: lettres-a-paris, via c-isnenegro)

Late Night After Work

Let’s hope Tumblr works this time instead of losing my post.

There’s nothing to do. No one to call; they’re all asleep. I’ve had a drink and I’m browsing Facebook and all I really want to do is talk to you.

You turned me down, running off to the one who breaks your heart. The one who treats you like shit. You lie, and say you like guys like that, when really the truth is that it’s convenient. I asked you to cancel, you said no.

So once again, I’m here alone and you might as well be on the other side of the universe. I really liked your idea about listening to records at your apartment. I want to listen to records with you and give you a massage for all those hours that you work tirelessly. I want to show you my appreciation for who you are.

Some people cannot accept good things in their lives. You seem to be one of those people. I hope you change that one thing. Other than that, you are simply amazing.

xo

Shadows in the Fall


Your tears flow freely, through a ruptured wall;
Without warm embrace, nor comfort at all;
No mother, no father, no lover, no fling;
Nobody to say that it’s no big thing;
Your persistent screams pierce the very night;
As you awaken to the sound of your own cries.

You must wrench yourself away, it seems,
From these departed actors in illusory scenes;
Yet, in the cold emptiness of desolate space,
You’re now adrift, and out of place;
For the objects of your whimpering lie
In the opposite direction on the timeline of life.

You arise indignant, fighting back sleep
Lest you somehow should repeat the scene;
You cross the cold and hardwood floors,
And open up the cupboard doors
To find solace for an empty heart,
Not so lucid as to know where to start.

With a brew to quench the thirst inside,
Your thoughts are free to roam the night;
You wonder about the then, wonder about the now,
Wonder about the whos and whys and hows;
Neither here, nor there, neither near nor far,
You let it all go, and fade into the dark.

© November, 2012 by Chaim Eliyah. All rights reserved.

The Invitation • by Oriah

image

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing. 

image
It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.
image

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon…
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.
 image
I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.
image
I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

image

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
image 
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.
image 
I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”
 
It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live 
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
image
It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
image
It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

—Oriah Mountain Dreamer, Elder

An open statement to Conservation Northwest: Thank you for ruining our hopes and dreams.

You did not ask for my opinion, but you did issue a public statement, which is why I am sending you this email.

Your statement reminded me of everything I hate about conservationism: “given the pack’s pattern of livestock depredation, the decision of lethal removal was necessary.”

You say you desire to return wolves to the Northwest. Let me remind you that the wolves did not evict themselves from Cascadia. Rather, it was the arrival of Westernized humans—not just any humans—that led to their extinction in the region. The mentality of these Westerners was to delimit and fence everything, and to shoot and kill anything and anyone that desired the free food they had shared for millions of years. It is that mentality that we must fight if we wish for the wolves to return to the Northwest.

Your statement is an indication that you do not want wolves in the Northwest. You want private property. You seem to want ranchers who refuse to live with Native species. You want these people to live safely within their delusions and without fear. In my limited thinking, I can only infer from your statement that, for you, people and their backwards notions of property are more important than “wildlife,” (viz., all non-human and non-domestic species).

You have failed to issue a statement in support of our fallen canine brothers and sisters. Instead, you have reiterated that conservationism desires a wilderness without humans and humans without a wilderness. Colonialism and indigeneity cannot coexist. It is good to know that you’ve chosen your team.

Please Leave Quickly

I have finally figured out what I dislike about 7-11s, gas stations, and mini-marts (aside from the unhealthy food): They are set up to get people in and out as quickly as possible. There’s no reading aisle, no chairs to sit and have a cup of coffee, no camaraderie of any sort. They are intended to be politically sterile (they aren’t) and impersonal (they are). Yet, for communities like Delridge, this is often the only type of business we have for a couple of miles in any direction. A new model might encourage communal growth.

The Invisible Hand (viz., the Death Squad)
If only it were really that simple! True free market economics would use state power to strip both cave persons of their livelihoods and everything they hitherto used to stake out their existence, would employ “scientists” working for Frankenstein Foods, Inc. to genetically modify trees to grow at 20x their normal rate and ship them to be planted and harvested by the first cave person at wages too low to buy either rocks or land, while Pacific Rim Mining Company would bomb rocks out of the mountainside of some undeserving third party’s former cave home and ship them by the metric ton to be carried and sold by the second cave person just to pay for the cost of some social service that they would die without.

The Invisible Hand (viz., the Death Squad)

If only it were really that simple! True free market economics would use state power to strip both cave persons of their livelihoods and everything they hitherto used to stake out their existence, would employ “scientists” working for Frankenstein Foods, Inc. to genetically modify trees to grow at 20x their normal rate and ship them to be planted and harvested by the first cave person at wages too low to buy either rocks or land, while Pacific Rim Mining Company would bomb rocks out of the mountainside of some undeserving third party’s former cave home and ship them by the metric ton to be carried and sold by the second cave person just to pay for the cost of some social service that they would die without.