Shares: There is more than just 'i carry your heart with me'

I have, for a long time now, loved e.e.cummings. I think I could claim him as my favorite poet, easily. I have read 2 or three full novel sized works of his poems, and always find something new and just enthralling with his work.

I have decided to post a few of my favorite works by him, because I think the world should love him as I do.

suppose... (VIII)

by E. E. Cummings

suppose

Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.

young death sits in a cafe

smiling, a pierce of money held between

his thumb and first finger

(i say "will he buy flowers" to you

and "Death is young

life wears velour trousers

life totters, life has a beard" i

say to you who are silent.--"Do you see

Life? he is there and here,

or that, or this

or nothing or an old man 3 thirds

asleep, on his head

flowers, always crying

to nobody something about les

roses les bluets

yes,

will He buy?Les belles bottes--oh hear

, pas cheres")

and my love slowly answered I think so. But

I think I see someone else

there is a lady, whose name is Afterwards

she is sitting beside young death, is slender

likes flowers.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

by E. E. Cummings

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

any experience,your eyes have their silence:

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me

though i have closed myself as fingers,

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and

my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals

the power of your intense fragility:whose texture

compels me with the color of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens;only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

Funnies: WHAT HEATHENS

"I get so hungry sometimes. Especially after hours and hours of unprotected sex."

...I love The Onion.

Funnies: Because it is free on Hulu....

And everyone should watch every episode. Also you all should buy me the DVD set to own. Really, it's about time.

Funnies: This Quote

...more specifically the bolded part. But you needed some context, I assumed.

"I consider myself to be a Feminist in the sense that I've always thought, "Yeah, ladies are just as good as dudes, right? I mean, why not?" I never was one to shout about it, though, mostly because I've never been a very politically correct person. It's pretty hard to be politically correct and hilarious. I'd much rather be funny than someone who pretends to respect everyone."

and

"Bonnaroo actually did a very good job of keeping the two things separate. There was a tiny bit of spillover from the music, but they had a great big air-conditioned tent for the comedians which worked well. If they invite us back, I’d love to go, although next time I’m hoping we can stay for more than a few hours. The reason we had to come and go so quickly is that we’re still in production on our TV show and there just wasn’t time to hang out and enjoy the amazing bands they had: Bruce Springsteen, Public Enemy, Beastie Boys, Band of Horses. They also had Phish! You will note I separated Phish from the list of amazing acts. Actually, I’ve been making fun of Phish a lot but the truth is, I honestly don’t even know their music. My mockery is coming entirely from a place of ignorance based on their genre: jam band. I’ve never been fan of free form musical experimentation because I am not a fan of being bored. " -Michael Ian Black

Shares: K is for Kate who was struck with an axe

I have always enjoyed the art of Edward Gorey, with the above, The Gashlycrumb Tinies being my favorite. It is a book, that goes through each letter of the alphabet, and how each child with a name starting with the corresponding name of the alphabet comes to their death. Every once in a while I stumble upon something that reminds me of Gorey, and a few years back actually got my friend The Gashlycrumb Tinies as a present.

Below is a website that goes through the entire stories, with links to each picture associated with a letter.

Enjoy!

The Gashlycrumb Tinies

Shares: Excited!

Ramblings: Tattoos

FAILED

FOR THE WIN!

I suppose that it really only matters to the person receiving the tattoo, and what it means to them...but I am still going to judge them no matter what.

Personally, I am too fickle to ever REALLY get a tattoo, but have recently been playing around with the idea. Here is as much as I have decided:

It will feature a portion of the poem 'Birches' by Robert Frost. Some part of the bolded section below:

When I see birches bend to left and right

Across the lines of straighter darker trees,

I like to think some boy's been swinging them.

But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.

Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen the

Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning

After a rain. They click upon themselves

As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored

As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.

Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells

Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust--

Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away

You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.

They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,

And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed

So low for long, they never right themselves:

You may see their trunks arching in the woods

Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground

Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair

Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.

But I was going to say when Truth broke in

With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm

(Now am I free to be poetical?)

I should prefer to have some boy bend them

As he went out and in to fetch the cows--

Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,

Whose only play was what he found himself,

Summer or winter, and could play alone.

One by one he subdued his father's trees

By riding them down over and over again

Until he took the stiffness out of them,

And not one but hung limp, not one was left

For him to conquer. He learned all there was

To learn about not launching out too soon

And so not carrying the tree away

Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise

To the top branches, climbing carefully

With the same pains you use to fill a cup

Up to the brim, and even above the brim.

Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,

Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.

So was I once myself a swinger of birches.

And so I dream of going back to be.

It's when I'm weary of considerations,

And life is too much like a pathless wood

Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs

Broken across it, and one eye is weeping

From a twig's having lashed across it open.

I'd like to get away from earth awhile

And then come back to it and begin over.

May no fate willfully misunderstand me

And half grant what I wish and snatch me away

Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:

I don't know where it's likely to go better.

I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,

And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk

Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,

But dipped its top and set me down again.

That would be good both going and coming back.

One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

And it would most likely have a portion of this with it, somehow...(details elude me at the moment):

This is a picture by Gustav Klimt, one of my favorite artists. The snag with this is, these are not Birches...the are Beeches. *shrug*

Ramblings: Why I am doing this...

I spend the majority of my work day online. Between the emails, recruitment, and other work-related stuff I process, I am constantly jumping around from site to site, random moment to moment, and come across a lot of things that I just want to share. Some you will find intriguing, some you may not. All will be trivial.

So here is my mind, and what I find engrossing, and why I get sidetracked so easily.