Be Delicious...

Be always a poem ...

even a prose...

pleasure

&

Poésies

From the aesthetics of pain and other silences

¨…All life is in essence pain. The more elevated the being, the more he suffers…The life of man is no more than a fight for existence, with the certainty of ending up defeated.¨
Parerga y paralipomena, 1851.
A. Schopenhauer

Pain seen from the metaphysical perspective is the reference to negativity and the sensory expression that produces a repression of the positive qualities-innate-that has been bestowed upon human beings. Never the less, existential lucidity and the luminescent thoughts emerge, most frequently, in a disconsolate state of mind. Sharpness of thought is exalted before sadness and the silence of the soul, as well as us recalling death with a moment of silence –because pain is not felt with shouting or loud laughter-we also celebrate inner reflection- the inner vision. Pain is delighted with the surrender of existences to nothingness, to the void. The tormented image of knowledge covers us in black-the loneliness of the spirit and absence-they turn us into an interrupted body. Even pleasures become painful ruins. Human essence is pain, there’s something pleasing in suffering, by it we consecutively test error. Through the silogism of suffering man is lyrically recreated ¨suffering opens the eyes; it helps us to look at things that in another manner we would not have perceived; it’s useful to knowledge¨. (From the obstacle of having been born, Ciorán). Pain awakens the consciousness and with it the being himself awakes, the abstract self. Suffering is the catharsis that gives passage to the revival of the spirit of knowledge in its purest state. Pain gives life to instinct, it grants strength in the fight for survival. And never the less, pain via unconsciousness, does not recognize suffering as the first fruits of knowledge but as a delicate caress of disgust and denial. Contradictory philosophy the finding of beauty in pain, the nourishing of thought through sorrow. Before the grayish vision of the aesthetic of pain, the being weakens because he is not able to withstand it. Thus he repeats the word of Ecclesiastics or the preacher: ¨And I devoted my heart to knowing wisdom, and also to understanding insanity and delirium; I recognized that this was still grief of the spirit. Because in much wisdom there is much nuisance; and he who adds learning adds pain¨. But as with all great things, pain is accompanied by silence, and silence many times is sheltered with a cloak of loneliness. Nietzsche used to say that ¨the magnificence of a man is measured by the amount of loneliness that he is able to support¨. It is necessary of the wise man to turn pain and silent loneliness into his destiny, overcoming in this manner the aphorism of Heraclitus- ¨disposition is the destiny of man¨. He will have to transform loneliness into his eagle and pain into his serpent; the aesthetic of pain transmutes ontológicamente into the I in its own Zarathustra. ¨You don’t speak: that’s how you announce your wisdom to me…We’re friends from the start: grief, terror and depth are common to us; even the sun is common to us…we don’t speak amongst ourselves, because we know too many things: we are silent together, we smile together at our knowing…¿You don’t have the twin soul of my knowledge?...This is how Zarathustra spoke before the rising of the sun, and later thereafter this is how the aesthetic of pain has been spoken of.

In the Corner of your eyes

Don't think about a Demon,
Nor the Hell beneath his feet,
just think about those eyes...

In the corner of your eyes relays a secret, as profound its colour: the deepest kind of absense. Don't drop those tears in the floor, we would drown forever in a desert of water. Two blindnesses moving in the darkest of their souls, so bold both, so drunk.
A window, lighter than crystal, with an inlaid shriek in its entrails.

Focused in a later blood, descending from the same hell.


Voces prohibidas, que escritas en la ventana, la luna ahuyenta; en un fulgor
pero quedan atrapadas para siempre en su espíritu: un ojo: el ojo de su obscuridad!

}

Sin secretos para los ojos que han de ver todas las verdades: indomptés.
Tus huesos, большие пригорки желаний, no han de prederse detrás desa tela, ирис.



Ed il mondo dietro quegli occhi è perso
ao tentar evitar o glance por sempre,
δεν βρίσκει ένα άλλο πράγμα αυτός η ψυχή από φυλακή




Don't escapes du страх, vivete com αυτός.

(Don't scape fear, live with it.)

Leerte a obscuras... con los labios...

jouisseur sans bruit...

I amuse myself, imaging your lips in red

I confuse myself, knowing you are far away.

Mystique saloon bar...

She gulped her loneliness like it was dark red wine...

Overflow of Consciousness...

Your absence is the origin of silence
the traces in my mind, just ashes
silhouettes of loneliness walking
from your heaven to my hell;
Nothing else to say, just forget.

PLAYING COLOURS

And what if we could just be the darkness in the sky…
and what if our wings were as white as the clouds…
what if our hearts could touch all possible colours…
what if you were the water in the ocean…
what if i were the air at the sky…
and if water touches air…
and if sky and ocean turns the same blue?

what then?


HernánS.