Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476913" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Grey Rain Riffs On The Windows</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The grey rain riffs on the windows <br>as if it's been listening to too much rap. <br>Fragrance of gasoline blooming in the gutters.<br>People all look like daffodils in baseball caps.<br>Wish I wanted something enough to buy it again, <br>and it's been a while since I've been with a woman <br>who wanted anything for me. I'm inside here <br>dethorning the intensity of the black rose<br>imploding under its own mass as its core <br>condenses in a withered star like a heart <br>whose light's run out. The fire in my blood <br>took it all one nightshift further than red<br>and now I can see in the dark like a black hole.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nightvisions in broad daylight. I can see the stars <br>shining through the smudged pearl of the sun <br>trying to glow its way through the clouds. <br>I can see the skulls of insurrectionist dreams <br>deep underground in the cults of my cells <br>trying to assess the direction of the bomb blast <br>to insure the maximum damage. Not all roads <br>are trying to make friends with people <br>who walk them like cowpaths littered with road kill. <br>It's better to be lost as the lesser of two evils <br>when clarity scorches the heart radioactively. <br>Dissociation, Deconstruction, Disintegration, <br>I've evolved like a language into a grammar <br>of oxymorons just to keep my thoughts and feelings <br>together in a syntactical world of unpunctuated scalpels. <br>Alloys of a stronger metal are not estranged <br>like copper and tin from the cutting edge of the sword <br>by the colour of their skin or religion in the Bronze Age. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love comes at me in the darkness of these depths<br>like a crossroads of light from all directions at once<br>by which I know the radiance that's found me <br>is not just another flashlight that's still looking. <br>And there are Sufis whirling like weathervanes <br>in blue woollen robes, and enlightened Zen masters <br>gently picking the fleas out of their chest hairs <br>and thanking the thieves for leaving the moon in the window, <br>and demonic demons with the insight of black diamonds <br>all telling me you lose control if you hesitate in the moment, <br>or stand up, sit down, walk, or run, but whatever you do <br>don't wobble. And I plunge into the galaxy with both feet <br>hoping to make a big splash in the red tide of the stars<br>and I either drown in the light, or I end up <br>blowing hyperbolic bubbles into a bulky multiverse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I haven't turned my senses into lenses, <br>starmaps, and spectrographs, but I'm not blind <br>to what's living under my eyelids in a chaos <br>of crazy-wisdom playing picture-music <br>in a band of clowns, just to get a good laugh <br>out the oracles that are prone to never <br>take their own advice so seriously<br>they couldn't change their minds. <br>You can't refit a round suggestion <br>into a square meaning, and it' cruel to try.<br>I have long wavelengths of thought <br>that burn like iodine and salt in sea kelp <br>but I don't whip the eyes of the tide <br>just to get things flowing like tears my way. <br>I don't throw acid in the faces<br>of tomorrow's beauty queens learning to read<br>the writing on the wall as just the wall's way <br>of threatening you into letting it protect you.<br>I don't boil kids in their mother's milk <br>and I don't practise the kind of spiritual judo <br>that uses a person's best ideals against them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Especially as I get older, I would rather be <br>obliterated by wonder and gratitude <br>that I got to be all this without any effort of my own<br>than have my awe underwhelmed <br>by petty renditions of the black farce <br>that welds some people's eyes shut like <br>an eclipse stronger than the original bond. <br>But there again, if you're happy being a scar, mend.<br>What could it mean to the stars<br>if you can't see them during the day? <br>And I've said it before, and I'll say it again <br>to those of you who have taken a more radiant path, <br>blazing is a kind of blindness too<br>that keeps you from seeing the diamond in the coal. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yesterday oxygen was alien ore as toxic <br>as the love apples of superstitious tomatoes <br>two hundred years ago it was death to eat. <br>And it's poignant to remember that any ground <br>you plant your flag in like a flower without a root, <br>like a placard without a rally, is <br>a charged particle field that reverses spin <br>synchronistically like a revolution <br>in an hourglass relationship with what it overthrew. <br>Consciousness is necessarily bifurcated by its blossoms <br>into two points of view, but deeper down <br>in the bloodstream of its darkest roots <br>it doesn't make a distinction between an I and a You.<br>Subject and object aren't separated <br>by a skin of water empty as the mirage <br>of a bubble within and lustrous as the stone <br>that broke the window without. This world <br>isn't happening to you from the outside <br>and you're not making it up within like a lie <br>you can tell your children about being alive. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">No one's wholly wise who still possesses a mind. <br>No one's totally ignorant if they give <br>a red cane to a blind traffic light to see it coming.<br>I don't trim the wicks of my comets<br>as if they were candles at a black mass.<br>I can breathe fire like Draco at the North Pole, <br>but when I'm not axially aligned with the earth <br>I can look into the eyes of my fiercest dragons <br>and see at the bottom of a telescopic well <br>millions of fireflies lost in a labyrinth of mirrors <br>looking for an insight into the nature of life <br>that would true all the others like crystal eyes <br>caught in the eleven dimensional net<br>of enlightened lies where time and the timeless intersect<br>and synderetic sparks ricochet like spiritual eagles <br>off the slopes of mountainous eras of grace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476913" data-title="The Grey Rain Riffs On The Windows de Patrick White" data-description="The grey rain riffs on the windows 
as if it's been listening to too much rap. 
Fragrance of gasoline blooming in the gutters.
People all look like daffodils in baseball caps.
Wish I wanted something enough to buy it again, 
and it's been a while ..."></div>
</div>
</div>