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Look the pinkness expanding, the thick dense flowers taking over the fences,

The pedals abundantly colouring the branches, and streets.

You could easily get lost in the velvety fallacy.

If only we could allow our consciousness to expand like this

It would only take one rosey blanket of blissed unawareness

To transmit our transient experience into the longed for oneness.

“Yes but it is a fallacy”

suggests the shameless mistletoe still in full view.

“When the wind takes away all the pedals what remains?

Either ripe or unprepared fruit?”

“ Ha. I don’t think I have tasted a sweet enough fruit in all my life

and yet I would be willing to make my mind a blanket for the possibility of the fruit underneath having the sweetness i long for”

she said.

Love, there are flowers hanging in the vine

Young man,

You have reached by abode as the companion of immortal charioteers

So high you cannot see

And of the mares which carry you. You are welcome

Now my mind must go on holiday

It was no ill fate that prompted you to travel this way,

Torn from its hook, a broken valentine

Which is indeed far from mortal men, beyond their beaten paths;

I see the smoke from a revolver

No, it was Right and Justice. You must learn everything-

Will I get hit? I hardly care

Both the steady heart of well-rounded truth,

And the beliefs of mortals, in which there is no true trust.

When I am bombed, I stretch like bubblegum

Still, you shall learn them too, and come to see how beliefs

Must exist in an acceptable form, all-pervasive as they altogether are

And look too long straight at the morning sun

The point from which I start

Is common; for there shall I return again

Love, there are flowers along the avenue

Come then, I will tell you -and do you for your part listen to my tale

And pass it on -of those ways of seeking which alone can be thought of.

All things perfectly in place

There is the way that it is and it cannot not be:

I build a shrine, I set a monument

This is the path of Trust, for Truth attends it.

Because you’re fire

Then there is the way that it is not and that it must not be:

This, as I show you, is an altogether misguided route.

For you may not know what-is-not -there is no end to it-

Nor may you tell of it.

Because you are a fire escape

(Mixing lyrics of song “Bombed” by Mark Lanegan, 2004 and p. 57-58 of The first Philosophers, The Presocratics and the Sophists by Robin Waterfield, from the chapter on Parmenides)

In Greek we say

“Sun with teeth“

In poetry we say

“Sun with teeth“

( You see, the emphasis is not on the warmth of the sun on a cold day

But on the warning: even if it looks sunny

the teeth of the day is going to bite your fingers

The warning is : Stay warm while you enjoy

The fallacy of the Sun

“Sun with teeth“

Is Greek telling you all that you never hear

But unknowingly speak.

Like poetry )

Δύσκολα η φωτιά που ανέβαινε

Ενώ κουρασμένα φώτα ανοιγοκλειναν τα μάτια τους συντονισμένα με τις απεργίες

Αλλά το πιο δύσκολο ήταν να αφήσει τη στάχτη της να την περιγράψει

Πήρα και σήμερα τη λάθος εφημερίδα

Που λέει για τις λάθος εκλογές

Θα ριχτεί και αυτή στη

Δύσκολη φωτιά που ανεβαινε

Ενώ κερασμενα χάπια κατάπιναν τις επιλογές

Το θέμα είναι πόσα θα πρέπει να κάψει η φωτιά για δεις αυτά που κατάπιε και αυτά που άφησε για να τα εξαφανίσει η επόμενη

Πλημμυρα