johannes lewinsky
johannes lewinsky Poems
How can you reason with this
Without appearing to argue
that being human
Is learning to be most
...
It is alone i am
And when alone i am can
Explore be what am not
Permitted by all that would be
...
If i have to this
That i am not be
Will be will do
What it is
...
How many poker faced evenings have i stared at
Wondering feeling what it is i am supposed
To wonder feel how many leaves falling
How many autumns winters gone and been
...
I wish i could
I would if i could
Draw this from out of you
This distemper plagues you
...
How many do i pass each day
Huddled against the wind the rain and themselves
By their boots transfixed
Morose, and embittered
...
All who fell for her knew
They were entering upon
an inferno from which
There was no escape until
...
It is in the contemplation
Of end of life and incapacity
And being tied to the servicing
Of end of life and incapacity
...
And how it is you teach me
From all that you haven't
Known or seen yet in you is
More than i have ever in spite
...
He was touring the world with his violin
When he came to a stop before a sign
on the Usher Hall in Edinburgh
And was moved to read
...
1
I have been what i am and can
And have and will and how i have
Found what it is to know and will
...
She read to me Dylan Thomas
A Child's Christmas in Wales
With such ease and relish i realised
...
I released a fly that had taken refuge
In the cd compartment of my ghetto blaster
And wondered how it got in there
Was it drawn by the music - Schnittke's cello concerto
...
This ‘modality of being' is curiously called a ‘dance' by essayist Martha Heyneman, in her book The Breathing Cathedral (1993) . She describes her experience as a zoology student at the University of California, when one day she was looking through a microscope at a section of a kidney, and she suddenly thought "I will never understand this thing by this method"....."When I tried to make clear to myself what I meant by "understand", the best I could come up with was that I would have to be able to dance the development of this remarkable organ from its origin in the fertilized egg to its maturity, and moreover to dance the development of the whole of which it was a part - and of the whole of which that whole was a part, and so on".. See Ritual in the Dark blog
And i realise how it is that all that i must and have
...
"... now, at this moment, or any moment, we're only cross-sections of our real selves. What we really are is a whole stretch of ourselves, all our time, and when we come to the end of this life, all those selves, all our time, will be us - the real you, the real me. And then perhaps we'll find ourselves in another time, which is only another kind of dream" JB Priestley 1937 Time and the Conways
It's in the stretch between
The sinews bones
...
‘I don't know if I had a dream or if the dream had me ‘ Tan Dun re his opera The First Emperor
And it comes to me
It's not in the doing
...
It is in the breach that i have
Between the will that i have
And the need that i have
And the vision that i have
...
Cold it is cold is where it stops
Blood stops life stops breath stops
Will to breathe stops to be stops
...
Cannot am and will
This news that through me leaks
Of his and all that in him breathes
not more than 24 months more
...
‘Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not: nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not: the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent'. Calvin Coolidge
...
The Best Poem Of johannes lewinsky
Thoughts On Watching Helplessly As His Ten Year Old Daughter Screams Hysterically At Her I-Pad As The Mansion She's Just Spent Hours Building On Minecraft Bursts Into Flame
How can you reason with this
Without appearing to argue
that being human
Is learning to be most
that which we are not
It's the silence scares me
In the times i have off
When not committed to
Anything committed but
The day's necessities it's
The silence scares me
And the lack of anybody
To listen scares me
That i've come to this
(or always been this) that still
I need somebody to listen
Somebody to perform to
Even though they've always been
So very few and far between
And i know too well
Her rage her impotence
As the house she's built
Like Steiner's Goetheanum burns
And there's nothing to be done
But listen to the crackling of flames
And howl at the injustice of it
And i understand this
Better than anything
The rage the impotence
It's the abyss that opens
Of meaninglessness
Wider is than Fafner's maws
The absence of sense
Just sheer non sense
Where but minutes previously
All was logic sense
The collapse of all you've worked for
The collapse of identity
This is who i am and this is what i do
Whistling down the wind
And maybe he was right
It doesn't matter what we do
It might as well be one thing as another
But try telling that to the athlete
Who's trained 6 years and finds himself
bed bound by a break or sprain
or the singer who's honed her voice
to lyrical perfection
only to wake one day
and find it gone
it matters because it matters
and maybe we can train ourselves
to accept that nothing matters
train ourselves to forgo attachment
but then we lose
not just the despair
but the anticipation
exhilaration that precedes it
and all that makes us human
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5/28/2024 3:44:11 PM # 1.0.0.1119
