Writings: Dearest to whom it concerns, a Happy Easter to you!
Dearest to whom it concerns, a Happy Easter to you!
And remember in Sanandaworld anything goes, as long as I go first!
All pain is Grace unfolding, be patient and loving and all will be well in time,
always the time you need.
The price of upward mobility is to assume more guilt, which then trades as social currency, bartered for more acceptance.
The point is to accept that a rhinocerus is what it is and that the horn (no matter how inconvenient to you) will not come off. Take the horn off and you would forfeit a rhino
And have instead a very wet and confused cow.
We are as our perceptions follow and by allowing and willing ourselves to perceive more,
We make of ourselves more to fit the new shapes our imagination leads us into.
Take the time, make the effort to find 'TALK TALK's SPIRIT OF EDEN',
A postmodern masterpiece as haunting as birds on bare winter trees,
As soothing as milk to a biscuit . Also check out 'MAHAVISHNU ORCHESTRA's
THE INNER MOUNTING FLAME'. What category of music?
MUSIC TO FREE YOUR MIND UP!
Poetry is another form of the blues.
Here is some verse to slip in your purse…
Learn to carve out the time
You need to be daft and dithering
It disinfects your slithering!
I took the acorns from her hand
Because they had trees inside
I left the diamonds on the tip of her tongue
Where the surface of her saliva
Is surfed by suffocating sharks
Which drown another diver
FOR JIMI (AND OTHER RAINBOW BLUESMEN)
My guitar is collecting kisses
Though its shoulders ride high
For only one Mrs .
Who sleeps beneath my strings
I bend her belly when my siren sings
Who fireproofs the smoke
Which rise from my abysses
And fryers my layers
Like onion rings
I was looking for a one eyed girl
Who would only see my side of the world
Instead I got a one eyed Jack
And now I'm looking for my money back!
if I could contain the wind
then I could contain your heart
but if I could contain your heart
then the pieces would fall apart
if the pieces then fell apart
it would scatter all the birds
that forms the shape
that makes your heart
when I'm speaking words
ODE TO MY 41ST SPRING:
These are days of sweet cakes
And apple cinnamon brandy
Then come the nights of love bites
Which Vampires steal like candy
slowly do the dandelions roar in fading tones
they are wilting from their wanting
and detaching from their moans
they are carving out new landscapes
in the core of what's left of their mind
a picture of a flower fades
but a portrait of a beast behind
ODE (OWED) TO SONY:
The pool drained what
Was left of my blood
So I swam
In a cardboard sea
then I got boxed up
And put in a closet
And after I got bottled up
They'd stolen my deposit!
COPYRIGHT SANANDA MAITREYA, MILANO 15TH APRIL 2003
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED