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I Am...
- Marcus Nikos
- May 21, 2025
- 2 min read
Dressed in gym clothes with a Bottega Veneta Men's Duffle Bag both a homage to a gift he bought is one True Love and to mock the superficial The bag itself held no meaning What inside did European bound Writing Books All this Man did is read nd write, Write write write
You have heard his words However you will not be given the name today.
He loved Paris Know body bothered him
Always be a poet, even in prose.”
“Genius is nothing more nor less than childhood recaptured at will.
“A book is a garden, an orchard, a storehouse, a party, a company by the way, a counselor, a multitude of counselors.”
“La plus belle des ruses du diable est de vous persuader qu'il n'existe pas."
Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.”
“I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still.”
“A thousand Dreams within me softly burn”
“By being too sensitive I have wasted my life.”
“Love...no such thing.
Whatever it is that binds families and married couples together, that's not love. That's stupidity or selfishness or fear. Love doesn't exist.
Self interest exists, attachment based on personal gain exists, complacency exists. But not love. Love has to be reinvented, that’s certain.”
“I understand, and not knowing how to express myself without pagan words, I’d rather remain silent”
True alchemy lies in this formula: ‘Your memory and your senses are but the nourishment of your creative impulse’.”
A poet makes himself a visionary through a long, boundless, and systematized disorganization of all the senses. All forms of love, of suffering, of madness; he searches himself, he exhausts within himself all poisons, and preserves their quintessences. Unspeakable torment, where he will need the greatest faith, a superhuman strength, where he becomes all men the great invalid, the great criminal, the great accursed--and the Supreme Scientist! For he attains the unknown! Because he has cultivated his soul, already rich, more than anyone! He attains the unknown, and if, demented, he finally loses the understanding of his visions, he will at least have seen them! So what if he is destroyed in his ecstatic flight through things unheard of, unnameable: other horrible workers will come; they will begin at the horizons where the first one has fallen!”
“In the morning I had a look so lost, a face so dead, that perhaps those whom I met did not see me.
“Life is the farce we are all forced to endure.”
*** LOST HIGHWAY
“But the problem is to make the soul into a monster”
