=ThelemaJ
the water sings of nothing
Prelude For Time Feelers
Death is a Disease
Literature
StemListen: the song of a river unweaving.Stem
i.
A fog-tongue flutters by the windowsill; hushed still by dawn, the moon spells lovers' dreams in the morning light.
ii.
Fireflies swarm by the window to dip their wings upon my breath and fly away: my shadow swims along the windowpanes.
iii.
Chalk-white waves of moonlight shimmer down the vales with the eloquence of thunder;
in some soot-swept alley where mother prayed for a stillborn, a stream
by =ThelemaJ
I felt like singingThe trees in the pitch black night seemed cut out of the dark with precision, so majestic; lullabied by the wind, they rocked back and forth steadily as if threatning to walk or fly away.I felt like singing
I couldn't sleep. At least, not in this endless limbo of falling asleep or not falling asleep at all, that feeling of standing on that one string that's always out of tune. I was tired.
I felt like swinging by to march along with the trees, their roots drooling mud and wet stones on my bare feet to keep me awake but not too much. Reality was always a bore to me, a needle on my eardrum. I hated it.
I remember complaining
by =ThelemaJ
MadrigalAlas, we are but two blind birds chirping the garden's hush away.Madrigal
*
The sea will always thicken with what we never meant to say, gasping and choking on the splinters we've blown down each other's throats with veins turning to roots turning to different perspectives.
Surely we must have learned how to sleepwalk at some point, barefoot on the sponge-wet grass, the crackle-snap of twigs showing us we're quite alive no matter how much we try to look otherwise;
surely we must have learned how to purr in the black wind &
by =ThelemaJ
Newest
Setting SailWhen they moved her upstairs from the ICU, she was still frailSetting Sail
and couldn't move half of her body,
a handful of birds that had flown from her limbs to chase Spring in a younger place.
She was tired.
We wrestled for seats in the waiting room, unsure of what to expect.
Most of us were afraid.
She always smiled, ashamed of the attention she was getting, ashamed that the disease she hadn't planned on was closing little doors for everyone around her.
Grandpa has since then grown bitter, a frustrated man &
by =ThelemaJ
The Sky Remains The Same1.The Sky Remains The Same
Their voices were blurry and faint, smudged by the wind.
One of the women stood out, picking lullabies into a basket with arms spread around the sun to cup the face of God.
2.
Half a moon of light lets itself in.
Newspaper says she fell in the river and kept on walking, her teeth clenched, afraid of looking over her shoulder.
3.
The sunflower shrugs into blossom like a window opening.
I breathe in and let a few hours pass before breathing out;
by =ThelemaJ
PowerlessnessBeneath the blue oblivious sky, the water sings of nothing, not your name, not mine. - Don PatersonPowerlessness
Grandmother has become ill with age and fear, a tapestry of memories grown brittle with every passing season.
And it is only as she waves goodbye, withering while I close the gate behind her, that I cannot help but feel like the soldier who is an explosion away from his battalion, deaf and dumb, reaching out.
And it saddens me every time, her dark gown and heavy brow knit into dreams of black she wears rel
by =ThelemaJ
At the bus stationThe men slept on benches and the younglings took their place at the battlefront,At the bus station
waiting for a stranger or two to make their day with a few smiles worth of change.
Please sir, we are hungry and have nowhere to go, that familiar song that was almost catchy to the ear.
Their mothers salted their wombs in the ocean and cradled the sky in prayer.
We gave them some food and stood still, shivering at the thought of being miserable, waded through our own hearts and decided on driving back home inst
by =ThelemaJ
Random Favourites
Wishlist
by ~oprisco
by *nurtanriovenVisitors
- Jul 4, 2009 @ 4:40 pm~CoisaQualquer
- Jul 4, 2009 @ 7:28 am^fllnthblnk
- Jul 2, 2009 @ 5:16 pm~ordie
- Jun 30, 2009 @ 8:19 am~psicogirl7
- Jun 26, 2009 @ 1:40 pm~shoegazer215
Grace 
HelpfuldeviantID
Devious Info
- Current Residence: Évora.
- Interests: Nature, Biking, Music, Movies, Photography, Poetry, Exploring, the Summer Sun.
- Favourite movie: The Shawshank Redemption, Dead Poets Society, Fight Club, The Dark Knight, among others.
- Favourite band or musician: Ask me tomorrow.
- Favourite genre of music: Everything and nothing.
- Favourite poet or writer: Eliot, Pedreira, Al Berto, Wright, Levine, Kunitz, Kooser, Collins, Mueller, my Khaty.
- Favourite photographer: The sky.
- MP3 player of choice: Creative Zen Stone Plus 4GB.
- Shell of choice: Seashells.
- Wallpaper of choice: Landscapes.
- Skin of choice: The sun's.
- Favourite cartoon character: Stewie.
- Personal Quote: All I want to be is a thousand blackbirds bursting from a tree, seeding the sky. - Ted Kooser
- Tools of the Trade: Words and sounds and color.
- Website: http://www.myspace.com/thelemajc http://www.lastfm.com.br/user/thelemaj
- Email: djstormjc@gmail.com
- AIM: thelemajc
- MSN: Ask me.
- Skype: ThelemaJ
What season do you enjoy the most (and why)?
| 36%
27%
15%
12%
9%
|
Journal History
- Jun 16, 2009 Grace
- May 14, 2009 Sleeping in the forest
- May 8, 2009 Ghosts in the water
- Mar 18, 2009 Why dolphins are awesome
- Mar 14, 2009 Orange Sky
- Jan 25, 2009 And the sky was on fire
- Jan 23, 2009 the death of a loved one
- Dec 19, 2008 Christmas 2008 and the year 2009
- Dec 14, 2008 Orange Sky
- Nov 3, 2008 The Art of Dawn
- Nov 2, 2008 Trains
- Jul 10, 2008 E
- Jul 9, 2008 Nenhum nome depois
- Apr 25, 2008 Summer is late, my heart
- Mar 17, 2008 San Antonio
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Una canzone può anche non parlar d'amore...
"A song can also not talk about love..."
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the expected's just the beginning. the unexpected is what changes our lives.
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Thank you.
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ouve: há uma chuva só nossa
no quarto-crescente dos lábios
e tantas canções a adiar
a linguagem do mar.
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ouve: há uma chuva só nossa
no quarto-crescente dos lábios
e tantas canções a adiar
a linguagem do mar.
Watching back
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[link]
--
ouve: há uma chuva só nossa
no quarto-crescente dos lábios
e tantas canções a adiar
a linguagem do mar.
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