This poem speaks my truth. I have tried many times to express this sentiment, but always end up failing. Wuji Seshat nails it eloquently.
We A r e What we R e a d
To some of us, failed writers
Poetry is the human heart beat of language
Something that vaguely “saved us”
At some point in our destiny
When we maybe had nowhere to turn
No one to see us through our ordeals
Poetry began the telling of all tales
It lived and breathed our history
It immortalized our most grandiose love-affairs
And insulated us from our tragedy
To some of us, word lovers
Poetry is the human heart
On a tree of life where each voice
Is a sacred leaf, each a note
In the immortal prayer of poetry
Back to the nature of language
Odes to evolution, mirrors of our neural states
There is a discourse in the wane of beauty
And when art dies, we lose a bit of our human spirit
And the memory of renaissance
And the reincarnation…
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I was looking for some other Ikea ideas for my living room and office make-overs when I came across this little gem. Fight Club is by far, one of my favorite films, and I have included it in several of my critical analyses of literature using the Marxist Theory method. You would not know it by my my posts that I was at one point was of the anti-consumerism philosophy, but am now quite the busy consumerist. Now that my shopping list is complete and printed out for my venture into Ikea tomorrow, I will probably need to cross out a few items. Take a minute and visit the blog, Do you really wanna live in a world without Coca Cola?
Do you really wanna live in a world without Coca Cola?
“Like so many others, I had become a slave to the IKEA nesting instinct.
Narrator: Uh, yes. I’d like to order the Erica Pekkary dust ruffles.
Operator: Please hold.
If I saw something clever like a little coffee table in the shape of a yin-yang, I had to have it. The Klipske personal office unit, the Hovetrekke home exer-bike, or the Johannshamn sofa with the Strinne green stripe pattern. Even the Rizlampa wire lamps of environmentally friendly unbleached paper. I’d flip through catalogs and wonder: What kind of dining set defines me as a person? I had it all. Even the glass dishes with tiny bubbles and imperfections. Proof that they were crafted by the honest, simple, hard-working indigenous peoples of…
Operator: Please hold.
Narrator: Wherever. I was holding.
We used to read pornography. Now it was the Horchow collection.”
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Living a Wonderful Life Through Creativity