Thursday, 15 March 2012

Epic Bleakness

LONG TIME since signing in.

Just as I was coming to terms with the whole 'ill/burnt out/not being able to get it up for life' I got side swiped. LIFE decided it wasn't going to take my lack of attentiveness and ran me over with a clown car. A clown car with spikes on its' wheels, loaded with rubble, towing a semi trailer. What a fucker. October 31st and November as a month can best be described in anothers words....I can't sum it up alone. Thank fuck for the epic bleakness of that great Peruvian poet Cesar Vallejo

The Black Heralds

There are in life such hard blows . . . I don't know!
Blows seemingly from God's wrath; as if before them
the undertow of all our sufferings
is embedded in our souls . . . I don't know!

There are few; but are . . . opening dark furrows
in the fiercest of faces and the strongest of loins,
They are perhaps the colts of barbaric Attilas
or the dark heralds Death sends us.

They are the deep falls of the Christ of the soul,
of some adorable one that Destiny Blasphemes.
Those bloody blows are the crepitation
of some bread getting burned on us by the oven's door

And the man . . . poor . . . poor!
He turns his eyes around, like
when patting calls us upon our shoulder;
he turns his crazed maddened eyes,
and all of life's experiences become stagnant, like a puddle of guilt, in a daze.

There are such hard blows in life. I don't know!

- Cesar Vallejo

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