Every mind is a room packed with archaic furniture.

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The problem is never how to get new, innovative thoughts into your mind, but how to get old ones out. Every mind is a building filled with archaic furniture. Clean out a corner of your mind and creativity will instantly fill it.

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I don't have any furniture of mine in my room.

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Norway

I packed up my bags,
My shoes, my clothes,
My toiletries.
Packed everything
I needed
For my holiday
To Norway.

My mind was set
So was my mood
To have a great time.

But when I boarded
The plane, something
Wasn’t right, as if
Something was missing.

I had taken all caution
And a lot of care to see
That nothing goes wrong
And yet, somehow I knew,
Something didn’t feel right.

I checked all over again
Did a memory drill of my mind
To see what was missing.
But it didn’t have a clue
Despite being so pragmatic,
And ‘right’ in all its social codes.

Politically correct, that’s what they say,
When the mind “knows it all”
Yet I knew it didn’t know,
What was missing, what was so wrong
About not having it with me.

I delved deep inside my feelings….
Then did I fathom what was missing,
Without which I felt so empty and inept.

Yes, I packed all what I could take with me
Yet, my heart remained to be with thee….

And so I left my heart, that wouldn’t budge
No matter where I went, it always had to
Holiday with thee, never wanting to come with me.

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Wallace Stevens

How full of trifles everything is! It is only one's thoughts that fill a room with something more than furniture.

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Affection

in an unfriendly snowy city
dear affection is
sorely missed

a room with furniture
varnished
accentuated with fresh
white magnolia on
a vase

apples and peaches
in a basket
on an island of light
in the kitchen

still there is no
affection
a vacant room speaks
and looks

there is something missing still

poem by Ric S. BastasaReport problemRelated quotes
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Fran Lebowitz

No animal should ever jump up on the dining-room furniture unless absolutely certain that he can hold his own in the conversation.

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A man should keep his little brain attic stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to need, and the rest he can put away in the lumber room of his library, where he can get it if he wants it.

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Now, Who's To Blame?

from the very start
you started it with a wrong notion
you were looking at the roof
you were attracted by the stars on the ceiling
you gaze at the furniture and the
figurines on the living room
huge, human like'

then you gave them the wrong impression
you were mumbling a lot of reasons
you made them believe you

time is not your ally
it reveals what is hidden

time proves you wrong
there are no stars left for they have all been taken
by the moon and sky

the furniture is after all the property of the termites
and the figurines all fake
those huge human like creatures turn out to be
stuffed apes

now you want to cry a sea of tears
but you cannot
your heart wants to erupt into a volcanic sob
you cannot
you force out a smile to prove time wrong
you exude laughter
sounding like a can with pebbles inside its belly

you are a wise man
all of them shall believe you again
now, cry baby, inside the secret room of your heart
freeze the tears

wise man, blame yourself.

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Arthur Conan Doyle

A man should keep his little brain attic stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the rest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library, where he can get it if he wants it.

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At a Boston signing, someone from the audience asked why I was so obsessed with furniture in my books. The question rattled around in my head. I had no idea that I was obsessed with furniture.

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A Doorway

When you gave your love to me, I never gave you chains.
If you need to prove youre free.
My love for you remains (you know my love stays)
Love is not a prison cell.
True love can never die
Theres nothing that you shouldnt tell
You never have to lie (to me you shouldnt)
But if you have to keep something inside you.
You know Ill never want to steal it away
I respect your territory.
Hope theres room in world for me.
Is there room in your mind to see.
A doorway ? if you say
Blood is pumping through my heart.
And flowing through my veins.
All it keeps me living for.
The love that is sustains (you now I never).
Time stopped when I saw your face.
And if it start Ill cry
The universe is in your smile.
Is heaven in your eye ?
But if you have to keep something inside you.
You know Ill never want to steal it away
I respect your territory.
Hope theres room in your world for me.
Is there room in your mind to see.
A doorway ? if you say
I respect your territory (you need your territory.)
Hope theres room in your world for me (find a place in your world for me).
Is there room in your mind to see (I want a doorway).
A doorway ? if you say.
I respect your territory (you need your territory.)
Hope theres room in your world for me (keep a place in your mind for me ? ).
Is there room in your mind to see (I want a doorway).
A doorway ? if you say.
I know you need your territory (you need your territory.)
Is there room in your world for me (cant you see what it means to me ? ).
Hope theres room in your mind to see (I need a doorway).
A doorway ? one fine day (I want a).
I respect your territory (you need your territory.)
Hope theres room in your world for me (cant you find a place for me ? ).
Is there room in your mind to see.
A doorway ? if you say (I want a doorway).
I respect your territory (I need a territory.)
Hope theres room in your world for me (cant you find a place for me ? ).
Is there room in your mind to see (I want a doorway).
A doorway ? (I want a, I want a, I want a doorway).
If you say.

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The attitude and capacity of the factory, the old metal table and the new ideas of the wooden furniture quickly and naturally suggested the possibility of metal furniture.

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The urge to miniaturize electronics did not exist before the space program. I mean our grandparents had radios that was furniture in the living room.

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In the Scottish Orkneys, the little stone houses with their single large room and central hearth had an extraordinary range of built-in furniture.

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0068 The Connoisseur (2)

Is there a god
sleeping in this room?

even the doorhandle, gently turned,
seems to speak a message
before the room entered, the first breath taken
of the room’s own air

and on the table, the grey-green vase seems
to be the host; the silent messenger: the furniture
somehow eternal in its order; every line and curve
within the room speaking of some
divine geometry; the shaded sunlight seems
to fall on tiptoe, touch in silent praise;
the air, to be refined; and the silence –
what does the silence say unspoken

as if it holds some god-smiled word,
some solemn laughter, about what
is there and is not there, has made
of this room, this ordinary room,
a shrine where one can worship without form
oneself?

the vase too holds itself both
open and reserved; its perfect curves
the subtle decisions of a history
of centuries, of generations
of human hands; of things made
for oneself, for others, for all else
where all else is known;

silent the vase; the room full of its sound.
Is there a god
sleeping in this room?

you; moving forward with respectful quiet step
to touch this grey-green
Chinese vase

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Regrets

Ive got a delicate mind
Ive got a dangerous nature
And my fist collides
With your furniture
Ive got a delicate mind
Ive got a dangerous nature
And my fist collides
With your furniture
Im an electric wire
And Im stuck inside your head
Im a hungry mohican
Ive got a razor blade smile
So dont come near me
Ive got a singular style
Fifteen senses
Are on my plate
All the things
You love to hate
Im an electric wire
And Im stuck inside your head
Where I go to no one knows
Find me where the cold wind blows
Regrets
Black is red and red is white
In this country I do what I like
Regrets
(thats right thats right..)

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December Flower

Towards the rich archaic heavens
Towards the lack diorama
You are the artist and the texture
That plays with mantle of the earth
When the bleakest of powders
Lie rooted to the starched stones
And the roots that feed the peaking trees
embrace the sleeping stones
Archaic pearls of sleep and death
The voice of December losing its breath
As the floweryard of white and grey is haunted, is haunted
White as the down of flaking snow
The heroic emblems of life
Green is the colour of my death
As in winter-guise I swoop towards the ground
Green is the landscape of my sorrowfilled passing
Archaic pearls of sleep and death
The voice of December losing its breath
As the floweryard of white and grey is haunted, is haunted
White as the down of flaking snow
The heroic emblems of life
We Are In Flames
Towards the dead archaic heavens
We Are The Mantle and The Texture
The alters, the mantle of the earth
Archaic pearls of sleep and death
The voice of December losing its breath
As the floweryard of white and grey is haunted, is haunted
White as the down of flaking snow
The heroic emblems of life

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Certainty Of Change

Science/technology surge ahead
As mind and spirit gather speed
Archaic systems left for dead
Then Will of God doth intercede

ROTMS

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Memorial Beach

(pal waaktaar)
I pace the length of my unmade room
In times of change
My bags are packed, guess Im leaving the womb
Into the rain
We never found
A place to hide
Some peace of mind
God knows we tried
Toes in the sand, the seductive sway
Ooh...nothing better, babe
Across the bay--sarasota way
We held together
We never found
A place to hide
Some peace of mind
God knows we tried, yeah
So we walk down to memorial beach
Where things began
Honey days and nights without sleep
Lost in the sand
We never found a place to hide
Some peace of mind
God knows we tried, yeah.

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I'm Goin' Back

I never knew what smog was 'til I moved to LA
They say it's the City of Angels, but there ain't no Saints
If I spend one more day on this freeway I might snap
'Cause I can't take a breath and I can't see the crest of those mountains
That lie in my path
I've got to get back to the farm
Where the cars aren't alarmed
And the people are happy to see ya
Where the world's biggest stars hang above my backyard
And there's room to stretch out and relax
My truck is gassed up and I'm packed
I'm goin' back
Hey lady, what color is that you've got in your hair
Sorry dude, but that dress and high heels threw me for a second there
The fact that don't even phase me is freakin' me out
Am I gettin' used to these lunatics who can't discern between friction and fact
I've got to get back to the farm
Where the cars aren't alarmed
And the people are happy to see ya
Where the world's biggest stars hang above my backyard
And there's room to stretch out and relax
My truck is gassed up and I'm packed
I'm goin' back
Goin' on back
Windmills and dirt roads and bean fields, my kinfolk
It don't get much better than that
I've got to get back to the farm
Where the cars aren't alarmed
And the people are happy to see ya
Where the world's biggest stars hang above my backyard
And there's room to stretch out and relax
My truck is gassed up and I'm packed
I'm goin' back
Yeah, I'm goin' back
Can't wait to get back
Give me some more of that hee-haw

song performed by by Trace AdkinsReport problemRelated quotes
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