Bubbly

Little joys of life

If you were asked to about the little joys in your life
Where would you start?
What would you understand?

If you were to tell of the little blessings in your life
Where would you last?
What would you find?

I will not reach too far, to find a little joy in my life
Where time is never too fast
Where I can breath and unwind

I will write about the ocean, a little joy in my life
Where the sun never depart
Where I can walk on the silver sand

Lytchee

A poem written long ago <3

The message : create

A saying dating from the early 19th century seems to travel through time, adapting itself to these modern days. If I was to type it on a thing called "a computer" it would translate as Ctrl C then Ctrl V in other words copy-paste. Losing that lingo, this proverbial expression brings to shame those who copied but had compassion. Those without remorse of such act, their hearts and minds hardens out of ego. The saying shouts: "imitation is the sincerest form of flattery".

When duplicated; instead of a blush, my facial expressions are caught in a melange of shock and unbelief, a glimpse of my state of mind and inside is a rather complicated feeling stirring. Emotions, difficult to decipher and challenging to construe in a simple explanation.

We can never "get it right", it is part of what makes us humans. Accept your flaws, work in strange ways and even on another ground if you may BUT speak in words, in creations and with ideas of your own. So when your hands will hold the blueprints of your masterpiece, you will find assurance in a work that is one of a kind, your pride.

When imitated, in the midst of my confusion, I am left with two predilections: to lock myself in acknowledgement or burst out in disagreement. At times, I find comfort in knowing that I was the sole and initial author, that happens only once in a while.

I have spoken my thoughts

Lytchee

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Photo: by Lytchee

René Aubry Le Vent

Si, par hasard

Sur l'Pont des Arts

Tu croises le vent, le vent fripon

Prudenc', prends garde à ton jupon

Si, par hasard

Sur l'Pont des Arts

Tu croises le vent, le vent maraud

Prudent, prends garde à ton chapeau

Les jean-foutre et les gens probes

Médis'nt du vent furibond

Qui rebrouss' les bois, détrouss' les toits, retrouss' les robes

Des jean-foutre et des gens probes

Le vent, je vous en réponds

S'en soucie, et c'est justic', comm' de colin-tampon

Bien sûr, si l'on ne se fonde

Que sur ce qui saute aux yeux

Le vent semble une brut' raffolant de nuire à tout l'monde

Mais une attention profonde

Prouv' que c'est chez les fâcheux

Qu'il préfèr' choisir les victimes de ses petits jeux

Words ...

Words like seeds

Planted on lips

Bloom into roses

Its thorns hurt

Its flowers comfort

Words like seeds

Planted on hearts

Bloom into feelings

Its wrath pains

Its love purifies

Lytchee

xoxo

Quand les mots me font rêver ... Celles de Camus bien sur....

Maintenant, les arbres s'étaient peuplés d'oiseaux. La terre soupirait lentement avant d'entrer dans l'ombre. Tout à l'heure, avec la première étoile, la nuit tombera sur la scène du monde. Les dieux éclatants du jour retourneront à leur mort quotidienne. Mais d'autres dieux viendront. Et pour être plus sombres, leurs faces ravagées seront nées cependant dans le coeur de la terre. À présent du moins, l'incessante éclosion des vagues sur le sable me parvenait à travers tout un espace où dansait un pollen doré. Mer, campagne, silence, parfums de cette terre, je m'emplissais d'une vie odorante et je mordais dans le fruit déjà doré du monde, bouleversé de sentir son jus sucré et fort couler le long de mes lèvres. Non, ce n'était pas moi qui comptais, ni le monde, mais seulement l'accord et le silence qui de lui à moi faisait naître l'amour. Amour que je n'avais pas la faiblesse de revendiquer pour moi seul, conscient et orgueilleux de le partager avec toute une race, née du soleil et de la mer, vivante et savoureuse, qui puise sa grandeur dans sa simplicité et debout sur les plages, adresse son sourire complice au sourire éclatant de ses ciels.

Noces suivi de l'été,

Albert Camus

Eclipsée par la Chute ou l'Etranger, cette oeuvre de Camus est loin d'être minime.

Lytchee

xoxo

A night of confession

Island breeze plays a sweet melody, blowing bitterness away. There's no one but the sea to confide in, listening in an understanding silence as the waves wipe worries aside, picking up the pieces of a wandering soul. Full moon glows in a warm night while whispering words of comfort her way.

Lytchee

x

Painting by Fabienne Arietti

Where Do You Stand on Knowledge ?!?

Lately, Lytchee has been thinking about the turn life is taking. In hindsight it seems there are no regrets. In assurance, Lytchee is convinced of the constant presence of imperfections in everything. Those imperfections spice the otherwise monotonous waves of our existence. Having accepted these complexities, Lytchee kept true to a promise, that of navigating the waves with knowledge. So as to learn and never stop learning, filtering the benefits and abandonning the detriments.

Sincerely, Lytchee wishes time would pause and allow her to discover whether, driven by her belief, Knowledge is indeed a Virtue. Yet, contentions must always be weighed. The goal is not to reach a clear answer, but to catch a glimpse of whether knowledge should be pursued, in which case to which destination it will lead.

The Debate ...

Socrates: I wonder then, if we can make it clear to ourselves like this. If a man were trying to judge, by external appearance, of another's health or some particular physical function, he might look at his face and hands and then say: "Let me see your chest and back too, so that I may make a more satisfactory examination." Something like this is what I want for our present inquiry. Observing that your attitude to the good and pleasant is what you say, I want to go on something like this: Now uncover another part of your mind, Protagoras. What is your attitude to knowledge? Do you share the common view about that also? Most people think, in general terms, that it is nothing strong, no leading or ruling element. They don't see it like that. They hold that it is not the knowledge that a man possess that governs him, but something else --now passion, now pleasure, now pain, sometimes love, and frequently fear. They think of knowledge as a slave, pushed around by all the other affections. Is this your view too, or would you rather say that knowledge is a fine thing quite capable of ruling a man, and that if he can distinguish good from evil, nothing will force him to act otherwise than as knowledge dictates, since wisdom is all the reinforcement he needs.

Protagoras ; Not only is this my view, but I above all men should think it a shame to speak of wisdom and knowledge as anything but the most powerful elements in human life.

Socrates ; Well and truly answered. But I expect you know most men don't believe us. They maintain that there are many who recognize the best but are unwilling to act on it. It may be open to them but they do otherwise. Whenever I ask what can be the reason for this, they answer that those who act this way are overcome by pleasure or pain or some other of the things I mentioned just now.

Protagoras: Well, Socrates, it's by no means uncommon for people to say what is not correct.

Socrates: Then come with me and try to convince them, and show what really happens when they speak of being overcome by pleasure and therefore, though recognizing what is best, failing to do it. If we simply declare: "You are wrong and what you say is false", they will ask us: "If it is not being overcome by pleasure then what can it be? What do you two say it is? Tell us.

Protagoras: But why must we look into the opinions of the common man, who says whatever comes into his head?

Socrates: I believe that it will help us to find out how courage is related to other parts of virtue. So if you are content to keep to our decision, that I should lead the way in whatever direction I think we shall best see the light, then follow me. Otherwise, if you wish, I shall give it up.

'Where Did The Night Go'

Long ago the clock washed midnight away

Bringing the dawn

Oh god, I must be dreaming

Time to get up again

And time to start up again

Pulling on my socks again

Should have been asleep

When I was sitting there drinking beer

And trying to start another letter to you

Don't know how many times I dreamed to write again last night

Should've been asleep when I turned the stack of records over and over

So I wouldn't be up by myself

Where did the night go?

Should go to sleep now

And say fuck a job and money

Because I spent it all on unlined paper and can't get past

"Dear baby, how are you?"

Brush my teeth and shave

Look outside, sky is dark

Think it may rain

Where did

Where did

Where did

GIL SCOTT HERON, R.I.P, Poet, musician, powerful spoken words...

Ny Antsa

New to our world,

As priceless as a pearl,

Her voice poison minds,

Her laugh ever so kind.

When she dance she swirls,

With every beat she twirls,

Picture innocence,

An empty conscience.

***

Like a blank canvas,

She paints the planes,

Of her imagination,

With her own creation.

New to our world,

As priceless as pearl,

In her eyes is happiness,

She smiles just like a princess.

***

Lytchee

x

Aching land..... Madagascar

Beyond the mountains, across the seas,

O distant soil, O distant shore,

Burdened, unknown land.

Endless pleas , I hear,

Unfortunate misery, I see,

Fragile, broken land.

Hidden in its core are treasures,

Marvels underneath, beauty on its surface,

Selfish hearts, corrupted intentions destroy it.

Sins of its leaders, and its people,

Some only see an island of opportunity,

Stealing riches behind others backs.

When will the ache cease,

So it can rise up, from the pain, the shame,

It as been too long.

Is the wait worth it all,

Will the people be better off soon,

Will only time tell.

....

unfinished

Blown with the season

Like a candle burning in a pitch black cave,

Fighting to brighten its glow... reality says it can’t.

Heart hurting ... dying little by little, puzzled, lost in a bottomless abyss of emotions.

Searching for strength, for reasons, that won’t disregard, won’t trap, or suffocate.

Knowing life is worth more.

When watching daffodils bloom in early spring,

Wishing it could be so simple so pure,

Like a flower: bloom, embellish then leave with the new season's breeze.

Mind filled with thoughts, sinking bit by bit, bitter images lingering.

While wondering, praying for painful memories to leave.

She waits impatiently, watching sorrows float away

As each second passes, Blown with the new season.

Opening her eyes, she stares, seeing blessings,

Catching her breath, she belongs,

Like those daffodils in spring time, dancing with the breeze,

She glows brighter each day.

Lychee,

X

Hope is what your heart is made of

Life lessons are the pieces of you,

Challenges strengthened you,

Fears, they were never too few.

Blazing with hope,

Never descending that slope,

Too impatient for rescue, you climbed.

Fallen too often

Instead you awaken,

Day by day you grew, you soared.

Triumphs were never untrue,

Victories were moulded by you,

Faith, in your heart brew.

Lychee

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