venerdì 7 agosto 2009

La gabbia

...È rassicurante sapere che c’è qualcuno che mi conosce così bene da aver già capito tutto. È rassicurante sapere che anche per me è già pronta una voce nel dizionario dei disturbi psichici. È rassicurante sapere che ora mi verrà spiegato come sto, quale è il mio problema (perché si-cu-ra-men-te ho un problema), come posso risolverlo, chi era mia madre, chi era mio padre, chi sarà mia figlio, quale è il mio rapporto con gli uomini, che probabilmente sono una lesbica repressa (repressa!??), che dovrei incominciare a mangiare più frutta e verdura perché è testato che se non voglio crepare di cancro la dieta mediterranea è la miglior prevenzione, che drogarsi è un modo per sfuggire alle responsabilità – ahahahaha... mi viene da ridere, poco fa pensavo proprio a questo: io non voglio più fuggire, ma la droga, il sesso, la frutta non c’entrano un cazzo. La gabbia non esiste se non ci credo…

giovedì 6 agosto 2009


His father died and left him a little farm in New England.
All the long black funeral cars left the scene
And the boy was just standing there alone
Looking at the shiny red tractor
Him and his daddy used to sit inside
And circle the blue fields and grease the night.
It was if someone had spread butter on all the fine points of the stars
'Cause when he looked up they started to slip.
Then he put his head in the crux of his arm
And he started to drift, drift to the belly of a ship,
Let the ship slide open, and he went inside of it
And saw his daddy 'hind the control board streamin' beads of light, He saw his daddy 'hind the control board, And he was very different tonight
'Cause he was not human, he was not human.
And then the little boy's face lit up with such naked joy

That the sun burned around his lids and his eyes were like two suns,
White lids, white opals, seeing everything just a little bit too clearly
And he looked around and there was no black ship in sight,
No black funeral cars, nothing except for him the raven
And fell on his knees and looked up and cried out,
“No, daddy, don't leave me here alone,
Take me up, daddy, to the belly of your ship,
Let the ship slide open and I'll go inside of it
Where you're not human, you are not human.”
But nobody heard the boy's cry of alarm.

Nobody there 'cept for the birds around the New England farm
And they gathered in all directions, like roses they scattered
And they were like compass grass coming together into the head of a shaman bouquet
Slit in his nose and all the others went shooting
And he saw the lights of traffic beckoning like the hands of
Blake Grabbing at his cheeks, taking out his neck,
All his limbs, everything was twisted and he said,
“I won't give up, won't give up, don't let me give up, I won't give up, come here, let me go up fast, Take me up quick, take me up, up to the belly of a ship
And the ship slides open and I go inside of it where I am not human.”
I am helium raven and this movie is mine,

So he cried out as he stretched the sky,
Pushing it all out like latex cartoon, am I all alone in this generation ?
We'll just be dreaming of animation night and day
And won't let up, won't let up and I see them coming in,
Oh, I couldn't hear them before, but I hear 'em now, It's a radar scope in all silver and all platinum lights
Moving in like black ships, they were moving in, streams of them,
And he put up his hands and he said,
“It's me, it's me, I'll give you my eyes, take me up, oh now please take me up, I'm helium raven waitin' for you, please take me up,
Don't let me here,” the son, the sign, the cross,
Like the shape of a tortured woman, the true shape of a tortured woman,
The mother standing in the doorway letting her sons
No longer presidents but prophets
They're all dreaming they're gonna bear the prophet,
He's gonna run through the fields dreaming in animation It's all gonna split his skull It's gonna come out like a black bouquet shining
Like a fist that's gonna shoot them up Like light, like Mohammed Boxer
Take them up up up up up up Oh, let's go up, up, take me up, I'll go up, I'm going up, I'm going up
Take me up, I'm going up, I'll go up there
Go up go up go up go up up up up up up up
Up, up to the belly of a ship.
Let the ship slide open and we'll go inside of it
Where we are not human, we're not human.
Well, there was sand, there were tiles,

The sun had melted the sand and it coagulated
Like a river of glass
When it hardened he looked at the surface
He saw his face
And where there were eyes were just two white opals, two white opals,
Where there were eyes there were just two white opals
And he looked up and the rays shot
And he saw raven comin' in
And he crawled on his back and he went up
Up up up up up up
Sha da do wop, da shaman do way, sha da do wop, da shaman do way,
Sha da do wop, da shaman do way, sha da do wop, da shaman do way,
Sha da do wop, da shaman do way, We like birdland.

Patti Smith, Horses, 1975

mercoledì 5 agosto 2009

Dancing barefoot

she is benediction
she is addicted to thee
she is the root connection
she is connecting with he
here I go and I don't know why

I fell so ceaselessly
could it be he's taking over me...
I'm dancing barefoot

heading for a spin
some strange music draws me in
makes me come on like some heroin/e
she is sublimation

she is the essence of thee
she is concentrating on he,
who is chosen by she
here I go and I don't know why

I spin so ceaselessly,
could it be he's taking over me...
she is re-creation she, intoxicated by thee

she has the slow sensation that he is levitating with she ...
here I go and I don't know why,

I spin so ceaselessly,
'til I lose my sense of gravity...
(oh god I fell for you ...)
the plot of our life sweats in the dark like a face

the mystery of childbirth, of childhood itself
grave visitations
what is it that calls to us?
why must we pray screaming?
why must not death be redefined?
we shut our eyes we stretch out our arms
and whirl on a pane of glass
an afixiation a fix on anything the line of life the limb of a tree
the hands of he and the promise that s/he is blessed among women.
(oh god I fell for you ...)

Patti Smith, Wave, 1979