What i could say , may be hello ?

[september_13]

i'm not good at commonication with author people . i feeling good to watch

what's happend and ... thing about something . with my headache every time when i read or type along message or article , it's make me feeling need to kick it away . so , it still be apart of my life and take a some of world mystories from me . then , after i look backward , i saw nothing inside the darkness ... nothing . :lol:

[LJP07]

Some introduction, almost poetry without the bad spelling.

 

Welcome to Hypography!

Any science ( not arts ) interests?

 

LJP07

[september_13]

some for physics ( it being what it was what it shouldn't be ) , some for mathematic ( i hate it , for all there teacher siad " don't ask me , y'all will found it by yourself ." . ) , some for logistics ( i hate poetry . what ever , it spends my lunch time alot , so i'm not good at english too . ) , some ...for all there ununderstandable things . so , what there "some" was . (thanks alot for read it , i don't really under stand what're there line ahead . or , what y'all nor i've type before . i waste my life-time alot to typing along message with a hundread of space bare and red line under all there paragarphs so my dictionary are looking hurt alot and i thought i should be rest , ... for along time . i still open it in every word i've trying to type , _amn it . )

[jungjedi]

You've asked me what the lobster is weaving there with

his golden feet?

I reply, the ocean knows this.

You say, what is the ascidia waiting for in its transparent

bell? What is it waiting for?

I tell you it is waiting for time, like you.

You ask me whom the Macrocystis alga hugs in its arms?

Study, study it, at a certain hour, in a certain sea I know.

You question me about the wicked tusk of the narwhal,

and I reply by describing

how the sea unicorn with the harpoon in it dies.

You enquire about the kingfisher's feathers,

which tremble in the pure springs of the southern tides?

Or you've found in the cards a new question touching on

the crystal architecture

of the sea anemone, and you'll deal that to me now?

You want to understand the electric nature of the ocean

spines?

The armored stalactite that breaks as it walks?

The hook of the angler fish, the music stretched out

in the deep places like a thread in the water?

 

I want to tell you the ocean knows this, that life in its

jewel boxes

is endless as the sand, impossible to count, pure,

and among the blood-colored grapes time has made the

petal

hard and shiny, made the jellyfish full of light

and untied its knot, letting its musical threads fall

from a horn of plenty made of infinite mother-of-pearl.

 

I am nothing but the empty net which has gone on ahead

of human eyes, dead in those darknesses,

of fingers accustomed to the triangle, longitudes

on the timid globe of an orange.

 

I walked around as you do, investigating

the endless star,

and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked,

the only thing caught, a fish trapped inside the wind.

 

pablo neruda