Let them know that you are capable
to do what they want you do.
Let your boss know that you are capable
to manage that silly project.
Let your woman know that you are capable
to love her but no one else.
Let your friends know that you are capable
to stand by their side as no other do.
Let yourself know that you are capable
to do anything to achieve your goals.
Be sure of let them know that
and then they’ll be happy
as you are not capable
Such poetry within algebra
naming Real numbers reals,
Imaginary ones imaginary
and both together Complex
facing the dichotomy of
reality and imaginations
and the complexity of
to mix both into a single field.
The short poem Eternity by William Blake has been written in my skin. The poem reads:
He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sun rise.
And reads in my skin:
The poem is a claim for the reconsideration of ownership. What I love is that I’ve bounded that joy of poem to myself with ink in my skin.
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!
And reads in my skin:
The splits are:
And the Raven, ne
On the pallid bus
And his eyes have
And the lamp-light
And my soul from o
Shall be lifted —
ver flitting, still
t of Pallas just
all the seeming
o’er him streaming
ut that shadow
is sitting, st
above my chamber do
of a demon’s that is
throws his shadow
that lies floating on th
ill is sitting
on the floor;
This strophe concludes the poem with the final and eternal surrender of the subject to its shadows. The iconography is extremely clear: the Raven is sitting over Pallas -representation of knowledge- above the chamber door -representation of the will of to escape- and in front of lamp-light -representation of light-. The Raven is over all three elements. Also The Raven is not just an “evil bird” is more than that as the third verse tells: “his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming”. The dreams -a recurrent element of Poe’s poetry-, as the icon of unfulfilled subject’s desires, of a demon where demon is none but the subject itself, its darkest side. Then we have that the Raven is the effigy of the darkest unsatisfied desires. Finally reads that the soul nevermore shall be lifted from out of raven’s shadow. The subject shall stay forever under the shadow of its darkest dreams. Ieus est the surrender of oneself to its shadows.
As extra related content Vincent an animated short by Tim Burton that plays with the interpretation of that poem.
The chosen poem of J. R. R. Tolkien to be written in my skin was the first strophe of “All That is Gold Does Not Glitter” that was tailored for his fantasy novel The Lord of the Rings. The fragment reads:
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
And reads as follows in my skin:
The complete poem can be read here. But what tell these verses? The first one I fell in love with was the second one “Not all those who wander are lost“. You can find a lot of tattoos with this verse in internet some in plain English and others in Elvish. The verse is written in a negative form but is much clearer its meaning if we translate it to its positive form: “Exists those who wander and are not lost”. The meaning of to wander does not imply to be lost for sure therefore the verse itself does not reveal nothing new. The verse pretends to remark that fact. There are, in my opinion, two interpretations of this verse that relies in the concrete meaning of concepts to wander and to be lost. When you are lost, you do not know where you are, but the wanderer does not care about where he is. Then the verse tells that those who do not care about where they are may know or not where they actually are. Focusing in those who wander and are not lost we can thought that the wanderer does not have a destination, his objective is the place itself and since he is not lost he knows well where he is. Therefore, joining these two visions -the current place and the destination- the verse remarks the existence of these without destination and that knows well where they are. This is the extreme case of the consideration of the importance of journey over the destination where you do not have destination (because you are a wanderer) but you learn from the journey, you know where you are (because you are not lost).
The first verse expresses the distinction of the actual value -the gold- and the apparent value -to glitter-. The third one remarks the difference of to grow old and to wither, again the fact of to grow strong relates to the importance of the journey over the destination itself, the journey makes you grow, not the destination. The forth one is the most conservative but it has a deep meaning. The roots that is what nurture the tree what keeps it alive may dig deep into the ground or not but the ones that guarantees the survival of the tree are the deep ones that regardless of frost, wind or water lash down the tree on ground. The conclusion of the verse is that we should let grow what nurture us to get over the adversities.
The background is composed by fragments of poems written by William Blake, Edgar Allan Poe, J. R. R. Tolkien and Rudyard Kipling. On foreground you can read “Poetry” written as Tayri’s dirty freehand style full of expressiveness. There is the list of the posts about each written poem:
A ship in sea of tranquility
There is no escape nor storm
Right here, in sea of predictability.
When wandering weather woman wanders
Weather whips widely wherever she walks.
Whistles of wind, whistles of water
Whereas weak winter waves waltz.
We wish. We wait. We wake.
We wrestle. We wither. We wail.
The only thing that awakes the dying ember
Is her childish laugh, myself poet’s pleasance,
That sweet childish laugh born on cold November,
The most joyful thing that close to her presence
She still ignores and should ignore forever.
That poem is paired with the first published here In her absence where I write about the impossibility of to forget her laugh. Recently I felt the need to write about the impossibility of to let her know that fact. But I also know that her presence shall dwell these poetry words and her lips shall bend on each rhyme and I shall hope a final laugh, her laugh, that regardless of the distance, regardless of the time myself poet knows.
My dear and usual lack of sleep
Led me to look for a hot coffee.
Then raided up to my mind thoughts
For what I should ask for sorry.
Was her darling presence indeed
Maybe because of her naked back,
Maybe because of her sweet laugh,
That I can not resist to track.
So not the first neither the last
I fell to her reckless looks
That I had never before seen
Neither read on any poetry books.
And then she sits just beside me
Exposing her lewd back undressed.
Then raided back to my mind thoughts…
I pondered that I’m quite obsessed
That’s how I got an evening headache.