July 30, 2014

Caetano Veloso - Livros

Such a beautiful song and an amazing video <3

Tropeçavas nos astros desastrada
Quase não tínhamos livros em casa
E a cidade não tinha livraria
Mas os livros que em nossa vida entraram
São como a radiação de um corpo negro
Apontando pra expansão do Universo
Porque a frase, o conceito, o enredo, o verso
(E, sem dúvida, sobretudo o verso)
É o que pode lançar mundos no mundo

Tropeçavas nos astros desastrada
Sem saber que a ventura e a desventura
Dessa estrada que vai do nada ao nada
São livros e o luar contra a cultura

Os livros são objetos transcendentes
Mas podemos amá-los do amor táctil
Que votamos aos maços de cigarro
Domá-los, cultivá-los em aquários
Em estantes, gaiolas, em fogueiras
Ou lançá-los pra fora das janelas
(Talvez isso nos livre de lançarmo-nos)
Ou – o que é muito pior – por odiarmo-los
Podemos simplesmente escrever um:
Encher de vãs palavras muitas páginas
E de mais confusão as prateleiras

Tropeçavas nos astros desastrada
Mas pra mim foste a estrela entre as estrelas

Very rough translation:

You tumbled in clumsy stars 
Had almost no books at home 
And the city had no bookstore 
But the books that came into our lives 
They are like the radiation of a black body 
Pointing to the expansion of the Universe 
Because the phrase, the concept, the plot, the verse 
(And, no doubt, especially the back) 
It’s what the world can throw worlds.
You stumbled in clumsy stars 
Not knowing that the fortune and misfortune 
That road that goes from nothing to nothing 
Are books and the moonlight against the culture.
The books are transcendent objects 
But we love them love the tactile 
We vote on cigarette packs 
Tame them, grow them in aquariums, 
On shelves, cages, at campfires 
Or throw them out of windows to 
(Maybe that forbid us to embark) 
Or what is far worse for them odiarmo 
We can simply write:
Fill many pages of empty words 
And more confusion shelves. 
You stumbled in clumsy stars 
But to me you were the star among stars.

July 12, 2014
"I read poetry to save time."

— Marilyn Monroe

May 18, 2014
"I often carry things to read
so that I will not have to look at
the people."

— Charles Bukowski, The Last Night on the Earth Poems.

March 18, 2014

Poetry by Justyna

Poetry by Justyna

March 7, 2014

Girls Who Read

Written and performed by Mark Grist http://markgrist.com/
Directed by Guy Larsen http://guylarsen.com/
Produced by Or Something Similar http://orsomethingsimilar.com

Submitted by elrolfo

February 3, 2014
"

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

"

— W. B. Yeats - When You Are Old

January 28, 2014

BAT EYES: The power of poetry explored in this ode to first love (and W. B. Yeats). ‘Take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look’. 

Starring: Mia Morrissey as Bat Eyes, Ben James as Adam.

Director: Damien Power

Adapted by Jessica Bellamy and Damien Power 

via thelanguageoflovefilm

January 25, 2014
"Why do I read?
I just can’t help myself.
I read to learn and to grow, to laugh
and to be motivated.
I read to understand things I’ve never
been exposed to.
I read when I’m crabby, when I’ve just
said monumentally dumb things to the
people I love.
I read for strength to help me when I
feel broken, discouraged, and afraid.
I read when I’m angry at the whole
world.
I read when everything is going right.
I read to find hope.
I read because I’m made up not just of
skin and bones, of sights, feelings,
and a deep need for chocolate, but I’m
also made up of words.
Words describe my thoughts and what’s
hidden in my heart.
Words are alive—when I’ve found a
story that I love, I read it again and
again, like playing a favorite song
over and over.
Reading isn’t passive—I enter the
story with the characters, breathe
their air, feel their frustrations,
scream at them to stop when they’re
about to do something stupid, cry with
them, laugh with them.
Reading for me, is spending time with a
friend.
A book is a friend.
You can never have too many."

— Gary Paulsen - Shelf Life: Stories by the Book

January 14, 2014
"

where it says “he escaped from himself as
from a prison cell” (page such and such
verse whatever)
it could say “the tiny tree grew and grew”
or some other error
as long as it has rhythm
is certain or true

and so sidney west wrote these lines that
will never love him
in the freshness of a dry dark well
on top of a world blinded by sun
or alone alone alone

where it says “if we were or we were/as
human faces”
(page such and such verse whatever) it is
as the ox that ploughed there
not rotted by pain or fury
disguising much of the time in solitude

ah sidney west! here ends (hopefully)
your wretched aspimos leanings
what tiny bit round this man
and what animal within

all those birds that knew how to invent ate
sidney west
ponina and nino especially
greedy from their state and passion
open sweet as useless

where it says “one day the following happened”
(page such and such verse whatever)
sadness had happened by before
and that is fatal for the poet
or it was fatal for west’s pain

hey tiny bugs horseflies brilliances greeting
in the Oak’s cemetery!
there they put sidney west let him sleep
where it says “let him sleep sleep sleep” (page
such and such verse whatever)
it should say let him sleep and nothing more

and so when west with his first love
headed for sidney sailor
sidney the last in history
spun with west as a water wheel’s donkey

let him sleep and nothing more should be said
(page such and such verse whatever)
and nothing more let him sleep and nothing
more
let him sleep sleep sleep
let sidney west sleep sleep sleep

until his feets grow wings please
let sidney west sleep
until we love one another well
let him sleep sleep sleep

the father breathes it if he really wants to
breath it
here they lie as before
but let him sleep sleep sleep
let sidney west sleep

where it says “curtains with birds so morning
enters singing” (page such and such verse
whatever)
sidney west should turn himself off in the
morning
let him sleep sleep sleep

"

Juan Gelman - Final Poem [errata]

Gelman wrote The Poems of Sidney West who was supposed to be an american poet who’s work Gelman was translating.

Source, more poems and translators notes here.

January 14, 2014

CACTI magazine is now accepting submissions for issue two: aka the postcard issue!
What does this mean? What do we want?  It’s simple:
EXPLANATION: all accepted work will be published in the form of a bundle of postcards.  Included will be a chapbook as well as a virtual code for other content.WHO: you, the artists, the banshees among us, and the upstream salmonWHAT: your visual art, your poetry, your flash fiction, anything that we can fit on the back of a postcard. Hell, even if we can’t, even if it’s an audio file of you humming to your goldfish or a video of you dancing with a garden gnome, we want it. We want your stories for the chapbook that will be coupled with the postcards. Please shock us, please turn our eyeballs inside out so that all we can see after reading your stuff is the inside of our own head.WHEN: between today and May 6th 2014
 click here for submission guidelines
(photograph copyright Anna Marcell&#160;; issue two visual art contributor)

CACTI magazine is now accepting submissions for issue two: aka the postcard issue!

What does this mean? What do we want?  It’s simple:


EXPLANATION: all accepted work will be published in the form of a bundle of postcards.  Included will be a chapbook as well as a virtual code for other content.
WHO: you, the artists, the banshees among us, and the upstream salmon
WHAT: your visual art, your poetry, your flash fiction, anything that we can fit on the back of a postcard. Hell, even if we can’t, even if it’s an audio file of you humming to your goldfish or a video of you dancing with a garden gnome, we want it. We want your stories for the chapbook that will be coupled with the postcards. Please shock us, please turn our eyeballs inside out so that all we can see after reading your stuff is the inside of our own head.
WHEN: between today and May 6th 2014

 click here for submission guidelines

(photograph copyright Anna Marcell ; issue two visual art contributor)