Category Archives: SLIP, SLIDING AWAY

She tries to remain still, to focus, / but it won’t stop rocking, / the carriage, this world.” Lachlan Brown.

Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.”

– Langston Hughes –

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Queensland Times (Ipswich) (Qld. : 1909 – 1954), Monday 23 February 1948,

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Hope is the last thing to leave a human being.

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 tango, the relationship between lead and follower, man and woman, is so intense and all consuming, that there is simply no time for small talk. The last man I danced with, I know more intricately in many ways than his lover: I know that he perspires in a tiny spot above his brow; that when the dance slows and our connection is tight, his breathing almost stops; that when my leg sweeps his, he arches his neck imperceptibly upwards; that when another couple got too close he subconsciously enclosed me in a protective embrace; and that his hand rested so delicately on the flesh of my back. Yet all I know about him are his name and his country of origin. Small talk is a luxury not afforded to us tango addicts.

Anastasia Demaggio

http://www.verytangostore.com/quotes.html

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LOST IN THE BUSH

I’d left the camp, and lost my way,

‘Mid tangled vines and ferns;

And puzzled was which way to take

From out the many turns;

 

When presently I saw some smoke

Through swamp oaks wreathing up,

And close beside me soon I heard

The yelping of a pup.

 

A forked stick, two sheets of bark,

A low, small fire in front,

And on the ground there sat a black, –

He’d just returned from hunt.

 

And on the coals a sumptuous meal –

A ‘possum roasting whole –

Among the ashes two corn cobs,

Which he that morning stole.

 

I told him I had lost my way,

Was weary, and footsore.

He pointed to a log, and then

Was silent as before.

 

I questioned him – Why all alone?

Where piccaninny, gin?

He sullen looked, and then replied:

“White fellow bin take him.

 

And he bin promise gib it me,

Clothes, blanket, and white bread,

Bacca, and rum, and budgery things;

Baal gib it though,” he said.

 

“And many moons I’ve trabbled bin

With white man long a dray;

But now me going back to tribe;

Baal me now with him stay.

 

“Almost all gone, blackfellow, now;

Baal plenty kangaroo;

Whitefellow sit down everywhere,

Him take it all land, too.”

He led me on, I’d wandered far,

For now ‘twas almost night,

Then pointing to my camp, he turned,

And soon was lost to sight.

 

I thought ‘tis late now to begin,

At this the eleventh hour,

Yet still a something might be done

By those who have the power,

 

For those once owners of the soil,

Neglected thus so long;

I would I had the poet’s gift,

I’d plead their cause in song.

(Kiama Independent, March 28, 1884)

MELINDA KENDALL.

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“Please, sir, I want some more.” Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist

 

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“There is a kind of sleep that steals upon us sometimes, which, while it holds the body prisoner, does not free the mind from a sense of things about it, and enable it to ramble at its pleasure. So far as an overpowering heaviness, a prostration of strength, and an utter inability to control our thoughts or power of motion, can be called sleep, this is it; and yet we have a consciousness of all that is going on about us; and if we dream at such a time, words which are really spoken, or sounds which really exist at the moment, accommodate themselves with surprising readiness to our visions, until reality and imagination become so strangely blended that it is afterwards almost a matter of impossibility to separate the two. Nor is this, the most striking phenomenon, incidental to such a state. It is an undoubted fact, that although our senses of touch and sight be for the time dead, yet our sleeping thoughts, and the visionary scenes that pass before us, will be influenced, and materially influenced, by the mere silent presence of some external object: which may not have been near us when we closed our eyes: and of whose vicinity we have had no waking consciousness. ” 

― Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist

To be as small as a vinegar fly and want to shit like an elephant

Too big for your boots

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THAT POSSSUM’S WEARING GUMBOOTS

He’s running up and down my roof
I hear him stomping by
How can that possum be so loud? –
I think that I know why –

That possum’s wearing gumboots!
On his furry little feet
He’s there when I climb in bed
And I’m pulling up my sheet

Leslie Shane Stanford, Australia

“the frog in the well knows not of the great ocean”

 

 

 いのなかのかわずたいかいをしらず

(i no naka no kawazu, taikai o shirazu)

Explanation: This proverb is a metaphor for being mentally trapped by a narrow understanding of things.

Note: kawazu is the old way to say “frog”, in modern Japanese they are called kaeru

http://nihonshock.com/2010/03/japanese-proverbs-february-2010/

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foto: frogs on window of music room in raleigh nsw aust 2013

Night calls, frogs, not sleeping

MIRANDA AITKEN

It was spring and full moon and I thought

I heard voices in the night but

It was only the frogs singing about

the river and the spring and the moon

So I listened to their watery voices and felt gladdened

they had something to say

http://www.australianpoetry.org/2013/03/26/night-calls-frogs-not-sleeping-2/

Crabs dig holes according to the size of their shells.

Japanese

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The Poet Of Ignorance

Perhaps the earth is floating,
I do not know.
Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups
made by some giant scissors,
I do not know.
Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear,
I do not know.
Perhaps God is only a deep voice
heard by the deaf,
I do not know.

Perhaps I am no one.
True, I have a body
and I cannot escape from it.
I would like to fly out of my head,
but that is out of the question.
It is written on the tablet of destiny
that I am stuck here in this human form.
That being the case
I would like to call attention to my problem.

There is an animal inside me,
clutiching fast to my heart,
a huge carb.
The doctors of Boston
have thrown up their hands.
They have tried scalpels,
needles, poison gasses and the like.
The crab remains.
It is a great weight.
I try to forget it, go about my business,
cook the broccoli, open the shut books,
brush my teeth and tie my shoes.
I have tried prayer
but as I pray the crab grips harder
and the pain enlarges.

I had a dream once,
perhaps it was a dream,
that the crab was my ignorance of God.
But who am I to believe in dreams?

Anne Sexton

At the end of life, our questions are very simple. Did I live fully? Did I love well?

Jack Kornfield 1945

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“Student: I don’t feel like living anymore. Teacher: If you don’t feel like doing something then don’t do. This means that in finding many ways how not to live your life, you have the possibility to discover how to live your life.”

― Santosh Kalwar, Quote Me Everyday

When I was little, I used to fall asleep on the sofa and wake up in bed. Now, I pass out on the sofa and wake up on the floor.

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“People say, ‘I’m going to sleep now,’ as if it were nothing. But it’s really a bizarre activity. ‘For the next several hours, while the sun is gone, I’m going to become unconscious, temporarily losing command over everything I know and understand. When the sun returns, I will resume my life.’

If you didn’t know what sleep was, and you had only seen it in a science fiction movie, you would think it was weird and tell all your friends about the movie you’d seen.

They had these people, you know? And they would walk around all day and be OK? And then, once a day, usually after dark, they would lie down on these special platforms and become unconscious. They would stop functioning almost completely, except deep in their minds they would have adventures and experiences that were completely impossible in real life. As they lay there, completely vulnerable to their enemies, their only movements were to occasionally shift from one position to another; or, if one of the ‘mind adventures’ got too real, they would sit up and scream and be glad they weren’t unconscious anymore. Then they would drink a lot of coffee.’

So, next time you see someone sleeping, make believe you’re in a science fiction movie. And whisper, ‘The creature is regenerating itself.”

― George Carlin, Brain Droppings

The Soul, unmov’d by Love’s inspiring breath. Like lazy Waters, stagnates and corrupts.

"Moral Emblems, with Aphorisms, Adages, and Proverbs, of All Ages and Nations"

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Ang Owang nga matulog Paga dad-on sa solog.
A sleeping shrimp is carried away by the current.

http://www.bohol.ph/article.php?id=39

foto – fixing the rigging at sail urunga