Monkey Kings

Jul12

Watch them clamber, these swift monkeys! They clamber over one another and thus drag one another into the mud and the depth. They all want to get to the throne: that is their madness – as if happiness sat on the throne. Often mud sits on the throne – and often also the throne on mud. Mad they all appear to me, clambering monkeys and overardent.
Foul smells their idol, the cold monster: foul they smell to me altogether, these idolators.

My brothers, do you want to suffocate in the fumes of their snouts and appetites? Rather break the windows and leap to freedom. Escape from the bad smell! Escape from the idolatry of the superfluous!

Thus Spoke Zarathustra , Part II
Walter Kaufmann translation from evankozierachi.com

Thus, even Zarathustra…

Jul1

Turn the lights down / way down low
Turn up the music / hi as fi can go
All the gang’s here / everyone you know
It’s a crazy scene (hey there just look over your shoulder..)
Get the picture? No, no, no, no … (YEAH )
Walk a tightrope ( your life-sign-line)
Such a bright hope (right place, right time)
What’s your number? (never you mind)
Take a powder (but hang on a minute what’s coming round the corner?)
Have you a future? **No, no, no, no … (YES )**

**Well I’ve been up all night (again?) – party-time wasting is too much fun
Then I step back thinking of life’s inner meaning and my latest fling
It’s the same old story: all love and glory—It’s a pantomime
If you’re looking for love in a looking-glass world it’s pretty hard to find
Oh mother of pearl I wouldn’t trade you for another girl
Divine intervention—always my intention, so I take my time
I’ve been looking for something I’ve always wanted but was never mine
But now I’ve seen that something just out of reach—glowing very Holy Grail
Oh mother of pearl, lustrous lady of a sacred world
Thus even Zarathustra, another-time-loser, could believe in you
With every goddess a let down, every idol a bring down—it gets you down…
But the search for perfection, your own predilection
goes on and on and on and on…
Canadian Club love: a place in the country – everyone’s ideal**
But you are my favorita, and a place in your heart, dear
makes me feel more real.
Oh mother of pearl, I wouldn’t change you for the whole world
You’re highbrow, holy with lots of soul melancholy shimmering…
Serpentine sleekness was always my weakness; like a simple tune
But no dilettante, filigree fancy, beats the plastic you
Career girl cover, exposed and another slips right into-view
Oh looking for love in a looking glass world is pretty hard for you
Few throwaway kisses, the boomerang misses, spin round and round
Fall on featherbed quilted, faced with silk softly-stuffed eider down
Take refuge in pleasure, just give me your future, we’ll forget your past…
Oh mother of pearl, submarine lover in a shrinking world.
Oh lonely dreamer your choker provokes a picture cameo
Oh mother of pearl, so-so semi-precious in your detached world.
Oh mother of pearl – I wouldn’t trade you for another girl

It Tolls for Thee

Jun30

One!
O man, take care!
Two!
What does the deep midnight declare?
Three!
“I was asleep
Four!
“From a deep dream I woke and swear:
Five!
“The world is deep,
Six!
“Deeper than day had been aware.
Seven!
“Deep is its woe;
Eight!
“Joy–deeper yet than agony:
Nine!
“Woe implores: Go!
Ten!
“But all joy wants eternity-
Eleven!
“Wants deep, wants deep eternity.”
Twelve!

Thus Spoke Zarathustra , Part III
Walter Kaufmann translation from evankozierachi.com

To Life

Jun26

The Other Dancing Song (Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Pt III)

Into your eyes I looked recently, 0 life: I saw gold blinking in your night-eye; my heart stopped in delight: a golden boat I saw blinking on nocturnal waters, a golden rocking-boat, sinking, drinking, and winking again.
At my foot, frantic to dance, you cast a glance, a laughing, questioning, melting rocking-glance: twice only you stirred your rattle with your small hands, and my foot was already rocking with dancing frenzy. My heels twitched, then my toes hearkened to understand you, and rose: for the dancer has his ear in his toes. I leaped toward you, but you fled back from my leap, and the tongue of your fleeing, flying hair licked me in its sweep. Away from you I leaped, and from your serpents’ ire; and already you stood there, half turned, your eyes full of desire. With crooked glances you teach me—crooked ways; on crooked ways my foot learns treachery. I fear you near, I love you far; your flight lures me, your seeking cures me: I suffer, but what would I not gladly suffer for you? You, whose coldness fires, whose hatred seduces, whose flight binds, whose scorn inspires: Who would not hate you, you great binder, entwiner, temptress, seeker, and finder? Who would not love you, you innocent, impatient, wind-swift, child-eyed sinner? Whereto are you luring me now, you never-tame extreme? And now you are fleeing from me again, you sweet wildcat and ingrate! I dance after you, I follow wherever your traces linger. Where are you? Give me your hand! Or only one finger! Here are caves and thickets; we shall get lost. Stop! Stand still! Don’t you see owls and bats whirring past? You owl! You bat! Intent to confound! Where are we? Such howling and yelping you have learned from a hound. Your lovely little white teeth are gnashing at me; out of a curly little mane your evil eyes are flashing at me. That is a dance up high and down low: I am the hunter; would you be my dog or my doe? Alongside me now! And swift, you malicious leaping belle! Now up and over there! Alas, as I leaped I fell. Oh, see me lying there, you prankster, suing for grace. I should like to walk with you in a lovelier place. Love’s paths through silent bushes, past many-hued plants. Or there along that lake: there goldflsh swim and dance. You are weary now? Over there are sunsets and sheep: when shepherds play on their flutes—is it not lovely to sleep? You are so terribly weary? I’ll carry you there; just let your arms sink. And if you are thirsty-! I have got something, but your mouth does not want it to drink. Oh, this damned nimble, supple snake and slippery witch! Where are you? In my face two red blotches from your hand itch. I am verily weary of always being your sheepish shepherd. You witch, if I have so far sung to you, now you shall cry. Keeping time with my whip, you shall dance and cry! Or have I forgotten the whip? Not I!