Sunday 10 March 2013

A pilgrim heart

Happy 2013!

They say a new year brings forth new ways of expressing ourselves and viewing the World.
This is a little experiment in the spanish language. As you know, I´m an Argentine writing in english, however at the behest of certain friends I have tried to write a poem in the language of my homeland.

For my usual english speaking readers, it might be a nuisance to translate, so I´ll try to upload a translation shortly.

For those of you who can read in spanish... Hope you like it!

Love, tea and cakes
Lady Astor

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Corazón Peregrino


Siento en mis alas
Una leve brisa,
Y en mi interior la llama
Que advierte la cercanía
De una nueva aventura.

La necesidad de recorrer,
De conocer, de observar
Nuevas tierras, parajes,
Estados de la mente.

Siento mi cuerpo vibrar
Ante la necesidad imperiosa
De levantar vuelo.
De cortar con la incesante rutina
Y volver a mis raíces.

Mi esencia nómade y curiosa
Que desde mis primeros pasos
Me llevó a buscar más,
A querer mirar más allá.

Hay quien se conforma
Con un cómodo nido,
Y el alpiste suficiente para sobrevivir,
Aunque rodeado de barrotes
Y espejos que impiden mirar hacia fuera.

Yo en cambio prefiero el vuelo,
Mi ser se ennoblece en el viaje,
En la caricia del viento sobre la carretera,
En la predicción del kilometraje.

No vivo feliz en confortable domesticidad.
Me asfixia cualquier lugar
En el que me vea obligada a permanecer.
No entiende de lealtades,
Mi alma peregrina.

Siempre buscando el cofre de oro
Al otro lado del arco iris.
Inconformista pero nunca ingrata,
Llevo conmigo los recuerdos de cada lugar.

Pero mi corazón viajero
No soporta el terrible destino
De encontrarse varado en un puerto,
Para ver la nave echar anclas,
Y dormirse para no zarpar nunca más.


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Wednesday 7 November 2012

The Original Tea Party

Dear Friends,

The year was 1997 and I was working as a secretary and translator for a Sports Association in Buenos Aires. At the same time I was studying Philosophy at the University of Buenos Aires. I didn´t own a computer with Internet access back then, so I would get to work an hour early just to log into the World Wide Web. Everyone takes it for granted today, but back then it was like a huge door opening in our imaginations and our minds.
I had recently read Tom Wolfe´s "The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test" and had become infatuated with Ken Kesey and his Merry Pranksters. So one morning I logged into the Internet and through Altavista web searcher I was able to find the official Pranksters website http://www.intrepidtrips.com I was ecstatic!
Soon I decided to write a poem for Kesey, which I did and send and... Alas! Much to my surprise, on the next day I received an answer from the man himself, saying he had liked it so much he posted it on his outhouse (with hammer and nails) so he could read it every morning.
Over the years I continued corresponding through e-mails with him, Babbs and his son Zane, until he passed... I haven´t written often in the past few years, but I will always remember Kesey´s gesture.

So, grab a pitcher of ice cool lemon tea and see if you like it yourselves! This poem was the first step in what would become to Lady Astor´s Tea Party (which has NOTHING to do with other tea parties across the World) and I wrote it when I was only 19 years old!

Love,
Lady Astor

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Bossanova beat
Is out on the street
Les gents s´en vont dans le ciel
Et tout le monde est três jolie.

A girl kitten is out in the alley
And the wide-eyed children stare at her
She is the light,
She is so bright!

The sun comes down
And the alley becomes grey
A high Lama emerges from the mist
And touches the kitten girl.
Everything turns into pink and golden rays

The Lama is old,
But his skin is not cold;
Blue animals transform the path
Of dusk into stone.

The icy face of the night
Gives place to a cheerful reunion,
The children set up a tea party,
And everyone is invited!

Blue tails of the animals laugh
At the smiley eyes of the Lama,
The kitten girl pours twenty teacups
Of boiling frenzy...
Her hair is golden and lights up the alley.

Young girlish boys paint kaftans
With the Lama’s face in them
A very young queen
Offers jewels to the children.

They get hungry at some point
And so the young boys cater
A feast of muffins and pudding
For all those who want them.

A graceful silver pony
Eats pudding from an emerald plate
While the wide eyed children
Comb his hair and caress his body,
The Queen sings hymns in ancient Persian...

And then everybody dances
And the alley is so lovely
That flowers start to rain
And perfume the dancers.

At the rosy hour
The Lama decides to part,
Not without kissing the kitten girl
And leaving a purple mandala on her cheek.

The dawn has arrived
And the feast vanishes into a shawl of stars.
The children arrange the place and leave,
The Queen rides the pony towards the north,
And the girlish boys set a velvet cart.

Meanwhile, a giant wild orchid blooms from the ground,
The kitten girl sits inside
And emerges as any girl
That walks the Earth

She gets up and puts on a little dress,
And as she strolls down the angry streets,
Little pink stars pour
Every time she waves her hair.


.............................................................


Tuesday 6 November 2012

A Journey

Dear Friends,

I recently received a gift, a marvelous gift, from a friend. He was able to extract many of my old poems, short stories and even the skeleton of a novel I started writing when I was 19, from an old derelict hard drive I had been keeping beside me since 2006.

The aim of this discovery is to finally publish a collection of my favourite works, in order to "publish or perish" as they say.

This is an example of the lost words I had been keeping in a digital box for such a long time, and it feels as relevant now as it was then. So I hope you enjoy it.

Love as always,
Lady Astor

..................................................................


Win or lose,
Fight or perish...
As this we count the hours
Which die and take us with them.

Where we are heading
We know not,
But wander in the semi-consciousness
Of our reality.

What you believed in
Has now changed
And so you built bridges
In your aim to understand.
But divine certainty
Cannot be understood by man.

So you thought you’d educate yourself
By the means of a journey,
Only you did not know
Which way you’d travel to.

You were guided by the stars,
The sun and moon,
And to a fortunate place you arrived
But to stay...
Oh, no, you were not allowed.

It was an old scattered picture,
A memory from your childhood,
When you didn’t care for time,
When the mirror you feared not,
When the world surrounding to your self belonged.

With sorrow you were due to part,
We need to evolve,
Not to rest in pleasant times.
You knew the journey was hard,
Incoherent faded figures
Came across in thunderlike speed,
It didn’t matter,
We have to overcome our fears.

Then to a sordid,
Deserted landscape you arrived,
Cool as the Arctic it was,
But wisdom and knowledge you were promised
And you got tempted by that.

Oh, it was very much lonesome,
Existence in such icy grounds,
Deprived of any companions
Was obsolete the understanding you’d found.

Your days were, we could say,
Cemetery like,
And you decided in that place
Your journey would not end.

Again you were not aware
Which way would be best to take.
This time the road wasn’t wide
And walking through it was hard,
And so were your heart and soul
The guides for your steps to come.

And finally, when you were beaten by tiredness
And your legs refused to hold you,
Yet you looked above and beheld eternity
With colours that blinded your senses.

Your soul jumped to the sky
And you landed on the ground,
Where you held the hand of love
Which felt like fire.

And though the journey wasn’t over yet,
Floating you found a new way.
You will walk from the first step,
A way that is every way,
A way that by souls is paved.


Barcelona, March 15th, 2006.

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Friday 3 August 2012

Everyone feels emptiness inside

A poem for a rainy day...

xx
Lady Astor

..............................................................


Everyone feels emptiness inside.
From the Mother to the Bride,
From the Father to the Child,
Everyone feels emptiness inside.

Through a week of pouring rain
Drumming ceaselessly in my head,
I walk restless through the house.
Watch some TV, lie in the couch,
Sip some tea while rain hits the grass.

Looking at each others face
Little to dream and nothing to say
Fed up with this Suburbia
We thought good enough to stay.

Everyone feels emptiness inside.
From the beggar to the rich man,
From the beauty to the old hag,
Everyone feels emptiness inside.

Ghostly smoke invades the room,
We exchange glances as we share a spliff.
The inane voices emanating from the television
Drone on and on and on.
You express dissatisfaction with the status quo.

What do you get the man who has everything?
A glimpse of the past,
A long lost forgotten dream, perhaps?
Or a spark to ignite a new start

Do not fret, because you’re not alone.
I’ve been here before and I’m certain
I’ll be here many times more.
Everyone feels emptiness inside.

..............................................................


Thursday 28 June 2012

Waiting for Summer


Hello Dear Ones,

Have you missed me?

Much has happened which has led me astray, but as you will see from the following ramblings, your Lady is due a well-deserved holiday.

Love and Earl Grey,
Lady Astor


.........................................

Swimming in my isle of Mars,
Floating in an ocean all my own.
Aimlessly drifting through days
Until at last I reach the shores of freedom days:
My holidays.

They always come on exact opposite dates
Than those enjoyed by the rest of my countrymen.
So to bask in the summer´s idleness
I must always head up North of the Equator.

A dream trip this time around.
The California highway,
Soaring near the surf for weeks
In a high speed American made machine,
Hoping to recapture the spirit of my adolescent desires.

Constructions from a misguided mind,
Who´s read far too many books
And inhabits the Land of Nevermore
From which she refuses to return.

.........................................


Thursday 1 March 2012

I loved you well

Dearest Friends,

In view of the gap forced on me by a quite hectic 2011 I plan to take on a more active stance in the current year of 2012. Will it mark the end of the World as we know it? I do not know. I wish for change however...

Still warm as Summer´s almost gone, I sip a glass of lemon ice tea, with a twist of ginger. And breathe.

With Love,
Lady Astor

....................................................................


You know I loved you well
And hid my face amid your thighs
When I was but a child
And there was only you.

And there were mysterious books
And Playboy magazines
Sitting on the upper shelves
Of your library.

I would climb like Mowgli
To retrieve a copy
And would hide it
Underneath my mattress.

I would worship your records
Believing they were very important
And would play them
When you were away.

Did you know I used to dance naked
While listening to
“Within You, Without You”?
Well I Did.

I liked to collect blades
Because you liked them.
And so we would throw knives
In the dirt covered roads of Mercedes.

Like the time you picked up
A hitchhiking gaucho
Who smelled of piss,
Yet gave him a ride.

I miss our outings
Trying to hunt deer at 5am
But ended up shooting a road sign
In the mist.

All this and more you were,
I am not sitting beside you
And I am not tending you as a nurse,
But you know I loved you well.

....................................................................

Wednesday 29 February 2012

Nothing Lasts

.................................

It is dark outside
And you want to dream.
You want to dream
And feel you are the same
As yesterday.

But as lightning breaks
Into a second long day
You suddenly realize
That you were a different person
Just a minute ago.

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