THE WEIGHT OF LIVING
By Shant Norashkharian
"Sinks whoever raises the great stones;
I've raised these stones as long as I was able
I've loved these stones as long as I was able
these stones, my fate.
Wounded by my own soil
tortured by my own shirt
condemned by my own gods,
these stones."
The weight of living we carry my friend
Who is to say it will not rise above us
Like the afternoon fog kissing the hillsides
And vanishing in the long awaiting night?
Who is to say it will not ride on the seagulls
As they search for signs of life in the sand and sea
And fly to homes they built on the winds and waves
Where they live on empty bubbles like us?
Who is to say it will not sail on the infinite blue
And float peacefully like the patient whales?
Who is to say it will not give us direction
To reach where our journey must end?
The weight of living we carry my friend
Who is to say it will not give us more songs
To refresh the souls of the thirsty ones
Who will follow the deaf and the mute?
Who is to say it will not raise us higher
After it sinks us with the great stones
As we learn to unload what is not part of us
And was piled on us when we did not know?
Who is to say after this winter of thousand days
There will not be a spring of awakening?
The weight of living we carry my friend
Is everything we believed and should not have believed
Crescent City, California June, 2003
Light Plays
By Shant Norashkharian
Light plays and plays tirelessly
On a surface untouched by human hands
Its reflections fly away like clouds
For which gravity is only a formula of letters
Light plays to warm us like a laughing child
Whose joy rises as if it rules the world
It must see angels as it has no fear
When it falls asleep where it becomes tired
The price of yearning rises even higher
As the years laugh at our demise
And we turn to warriors with swords
Made with recycled plastic and paper
We pay the price for the right to hope
And to preserve what is real in us
Because we must hope without illusions
Which are made for fools who wait for heaven
Our past has left us with dreams of a canvas
From a world which should have given birth to us
So we must still learn how to to say goodbyes
While the ones we loved have already gone
Day by day we sink in degradation
Like dogs loyal to cruel masters
We become extinct like the rainforests
To make new pastures for the sheep and cows
Light plays as if it can shine without us
It plays because it does not carry our grief
Light plays like a yellow undressing girl
Whose charm is colder than a metal flute
Light plays because it wants to remind us
How it was to chase the yellow chickens
Light plays forever to banish the darkness
Of all days between sunrise and sunset
Crescent City, California July, 2003
"As you sip your brand of scotch,
crush a roach, or scratch your crotch,
as your hand adjusts your tie,
people die.
In the towns with funny names,
hit by bullets, caught in flames,
by and large not knowing why,
people die.
In small places you don't know
of, yet big for having no
chance to scream or say goodbye,
people die.
As you watch the athletes score
check your latest statement, or
sing your child a lullaby,
people die."
"The Emperor says, 'I guess you guess
what you are here for.'
The generals rise and bark, 'Oh yes,
Sire! To start a war.'
'Move your artillery! Move your warships!
Where is my gorgeous horse?
Forward! May God, whom our nation worships,
join our brave air force!'
'Yes!' cry the warriors. 'Our job is carnage,
ruin, destruction, void.
We promise, Sire: we'll find a Carthage
and we'll leave it destroyed.' "
Joseph Brodsky
"For some reason, people think that music must tell us only about the pinnacles of the human spirit, or at least about highly romantic villains. But there are very few heroes or villains. Most people are average, neither black nor white. They’re gray. A dirty shade of gray.
"Art destroys silence."
"When a man is in despair, it means that he still believes in something."
"I write music, it’s performed. After all, my music says it all. It doesn’t need historical and hysterical commentaries. In the long run, any words about music are less important than the music."
"What you have in your head, put it down on paper. The head is a fragile vessel."
"One must live life in all its aspects honestly, nobly, properly and in such a way as never to commit any shameless deeds."
