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Life stops for noone and the world changes at a constant rate. Whether we are evolving or devolving. Regardless of if we hold on or not our motions move us forward toward some sort of resolution.
If you decide to email me, please be polite and respectful I will be cruel to anyone who demands my submission. :)
So, having said that -- I am here to meet like minded people for conversation and possible friendship.
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Hope. Faith. Loyalty. Simple.
Dreaming of Tomorrow.
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Enjoy the lyrics. One of my favorite songs.
TK-420
Kilgore
I can't understand why my life
Would warrant discussion or gossip
My conquests and accomplishments are minimal
It's like some new false language
I can't understand
Maybe I wasn't really listening
You see I don't speak for the sake of speaking
I speak from the heart, my words reveal me
That's why I have nothing to say to you
It's amusing that you consider yourself
Some great reward...Oh,
so beautiful...So precious.....astounding
And if I caused you distress in your life
It's because I've deemed yours worthless
I think nothing of chewing you up
And spitting you out
Because I consider you nothing.
Alive
I'm alive
I'm a lie
I am awake
I've awoken
I denounce you
I forgive you
I am reborn
You always said you'd be there
To pick me up when I fell down
Your out-stretched hand, enclosed in mine
And I took you right down
You knew some day I wouldn't be there
I knew I'd kick you in the ass
I just couldn't stand to see you disrespect yourself,
To destroy yourself,
and to destroy me with you.
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MISS SHANGHAI
Shanghai Restoration Project
Music and Lyrics by D. Liang & D. de Rooij
Up close
This is how I see it with you
Real close
This is how I dance it with you
Close, so close
Is how I feel with you
La-la-la, la-la-la
This is how I sense it with you
La-la-la, la-la-la
This is how I sense it with you
Sounds sweet
This is how I hear it with you
Real sweet
This is how I taste it with you
Sweet, so sweet
Is how I dream of you
La-la-la, la-la-la
This is how I sense it with you
La-la-la, la-la-la
This is how I sense it with you
You’ve got this feel of
Bringing to life
All of my senses
Completely revealed
Dropping my arms
Leaving me naked and light
La-la-la, la-la-la
This is how I sense it with you
La-la-la, la-la-la
This is how I sense it with you
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Aedhl Tells of the Rose in His Heart
William Butler Yeats
All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old, |
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| The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, |
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| The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould, |
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| Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart. |
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| The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told; |
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| I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart, |
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| With the earth and the sky and the water, remade, like a casket of gold |
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| For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart. | |
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Sometimes I lose track of where I am or even where I am going. I don't see myself so very clearly most of the time that it can become disruptive to everyone around me despite my effort to control the abyss of my mind. I try to be malleable to the ideas of who I want and long to be.
I have come though, to this point in my life, to understand that I have a strong attraction to the whimsy of romance. I perceive very clearly the danger of certain fantasies, the creation of perfection within the mind and its potential down falls. But you see, it is here, in this small space of my mind, that I find simple and true happiness. It is okay for me to have this perfection. I am not so consumed with the illusion to realize that there is a beautiful fragility to this perfection, for it has not fully materialized into a physical experience.
But you must realize, you must see, that this perfection is building a foundation for the physical experience. Do we not build fantasy when we are able to touch? Does it not enhance the experience?
I have tremendous hope for the physical experience. As much as the physical is important and needed it is purely empty without this perfection, without the fantasy of the mind. Therefore, leading a random girl on a leash, being spanked by a new friend to satiate a temporary need becomes problematic and misconstrues what is truly wanted or even needed. Hollow acts that will never match what is forseen and built in the mind and eventually for a 'perfect' physical future experience. |
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Life isn't about keeping score.
It's not about how many friends you have Or how accepted you are.
Not about if you have plans this weekend or if you're alone. It isn't about who you're dating, Who you used to date, How many people you've dated, Or if you haven't been with anyone at all.
It isn't about who you have kissed, It's not about sex.
It isn't about who your family is Or how much money they have Or what kind of car you drive. Or where you went to school.
It's not about how beautiful or ugly you are. Or what clothes you wear, What shoes you have on, Or what kind of music you listen to.
It's not about if your hair is blonde, red, black, or brown Or if your skin is too light or too dark. Not about what grades you get, how smart you are, How smart everybody else thinks you are, Or how smart standardized tests say you are.
It's not about what clubs you're in or how good you are at "your" sport. It's not about representing your whole being on a piece of paper and seeing who will "accept the written you."
LIFE JUST ISN'T.
Life is about whom you love and whom you hurt. It's about who you make happy or unhappy purposefully. It's about keeping or betraying trust. It's about friendship, used as a sanctity or a weapon. It's about what you say and mean, maybe hurtful, maybe heartening. About starting rumors and contributing to petty gossip. It's about what judgments you pass and why. And to whom your judgments are spread. It's about who you've ignored with full control and intention. It's about jealousy, fear, ignorance, and revenge. It's about carrying inner hate or love, and which you choose to let grow, and spreading it. But most of all, it's about using your life to inspire or poison other people's hearts in such a way that could have never occurred otherwise. Only WE choose the way those hearts are affected, and those choices are what life's all about. |
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Enjoy the lyrics to this song. . .
Broken
LifeHouse
The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time
I am here still waiting though i still have my doubts
I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out
I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain, there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on
I'm barely holdin' on to you
The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead
I still see your reflection inside of my eyes
That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life
I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
with a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain (in the pain), is there healing
In your name (in your name) I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin')
I'm barely holdin' on to you
I'm hangin' on another day
Just to see what you throw my way
And I'm hanging on to the words you say
You said that I will be OK
The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone
I may have lost my way now, haven't forgotten my way home
I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
with a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain(In the pain) there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'),
I'm barely holdin' on to you
I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'), I'm holdin' on (I'm still holdin'),
I'm barely holdin' on to you
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On Pleasure
Kahill Gibran
Speak to us of Pleasure.
Pleasure is a freedom-song,
But it is not freedom.
It is blossoming of your desires,
But it is not their fruit.
It is a depth calling unto a height,
But it is not the deep nor the high.
It is the caged taking wing,
But it is not space encompassed.
Ay, in very truth, pleasure is a freedom-song.
And I fain would have you sing it with fullness of heart; yet I would not have you lose your hearts in the singing.
Some of your youth seek pleasure as if it were all, and they are judged and rebuked.
I would not judge nor rebuke them. I would have them seek.
For they shall find pleasure, but not her alone; Seven are her sisters, and the least of them is more beautiful than pleasure.
Have you not heard of the man who was digging in the earth for roots and found a treasure?
And some of your elders remember pleasures with regret like wrongs committed in drunkenness.
But regret is the beclouding of the mind and not its chastisement.
They should remember their pleasures with gratitude, as they would the harvest of summer. Yet if it comforts them to regret, let them be comforted.
And there are among you those who are neither young to seek nor old to remember; And in their fear of seeking and remembering they shun all pleasures, lest they neglect the spirit or offend against it.
But even in their foregoing is their pleasure. And thus they too find a treasure though they dig for roots with quivering hands.
But tell me, who is he that can offend the spirit?
Shall the nightingale offend the stillness of the night, or the firefly the stars?
And shall your flame or your smoke burden the wind?
Think you the spirit is a still pool which you can trouble with a staff?
Often times in denying yourself pleasure you do but store the desire in the recesses of your being.
Who knows but that which seems omitted today, waits for tomorrow?
Even your body knows its heritage and its rightful need and will not be deceived.
And your body is the harp of your soul,
And it is yours to bring forth sweet music from it or confused sounds.
And now you ask in your heart, "How shall we distinguish that which is good in pleasure from that which is not good?"
Go to your fields and your gardens, and you shall learn that it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower,
But it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee.
For to the bee a flower is a fountain of life,
And to the flower the bee is a messenger of love,
And to both, bee and flower, the giving and the receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstacy.
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The Golden Age of Love
Nichita Stanescu
My hands are in love,
alas, my mouth loves -
and see, I am suddenly aware
that things are so close to me
I can hardly walk among them
without suffering.
It is a sweet feeling
of waking, of dreaming,
and I am here now, without sleep -
I clearly see the ivory gods,
I take them in my hands and
thrust them, laughing, in the moon
up to their sculpted hilts -
the wheel of an ancient ship, adorned
and spun by sailors.
Jupiter is yellow, Hera
the magnificent shades to silver.
I strike the wheel with my left hand and it moves.
It is a dance of sentiments, my love,
many a goddess of the air, between the two of us.
And I, the sail of my soul
billowed with longing,
look for you everywhere, and things come
ever closer,
crowding my chest, hurting me.
From the book “Bas-Relief with Heroes”
english translation by Thomas Carlson and Vasile Poenaru. |
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Behavior of Fish in an Egyptian Tea Garden
As a white stone draws down the fish
she on the seafloor of the afternoon
draws down men's glances and their cruel wish for love. Her red lip on the spoon
slips a morsel of ice-cream. Her hands white as a shell, are submarine fronds sinking with spread fingers, lean along the table, carmined at the ends.
A cotton magnate, an important fish
with great eyepouches and a golden mouth
through the frail reefs of furniture swims out
and idling, suspended, stays to watch
A crustacean old man, clamped to his chair
sits near her and might coldly see
her charms through fissures where the eyes should be; or else his teeth are parted in a stare
Captian on leave, a lean dark mackerel
lies in the offing, turns himself and looks through currents of sound. The flat-eyed flatfish sucks on a straw, staring from its repose, laxly.
And gallants in shoals swim up and lag
circling and passing near the white attraction;
sometimes pausing, opening a conversation: fish pause so to nibble or tug.
But now the ice-cream is finished, is paid for. The fish swim off on business and she sits alone at the table, a white stone useless except to a collector, a rich man.
-- Keith Douglas |
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. . . Learning to Breathe and Let Go . . . |
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. . . And I Want to Believe . . . |
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. . . Silence is Loud . . . |
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Love and Sleep
Lying asleep between the strokes of night
I saw my love lean over my sad bed,
Pale as the duskiest lily's leaf or head,
Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite,
Too wan for blushing and too warm for white,
But perfect-coloured without white or red.
And her lips opened amorously, and said--
I wist not what, saving one word--Delight.
And all her face was honey to my mouth,
And all her body pasture to mine eyes;
The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire,
The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,
The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs
And glittering eyelids of my soul's desire.
-- Algernon Charles Swinburne |
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"Every one of us, unconsciously, works out a personal philosophy of life, by which we are guided, inspired, and corrected, as time goes on. It is this philosophy by which we measure out our days, and by which we advertise to all about us the man, or woman, that we are. . . . It takes but a brief time to scent the life philosophy of anyone. It is defined in the conversation, in the look of the eye, and in the general mien of the person. It has no hiding place. It's like the perfume of the flower — unseen, but known almost instantly. It is the possession of the successful, and the happy. And it can be greatly embellished by the absorption of ideas and experiences of the useful of this earth."
-- George Matthew Adams
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Infinitely Me
KDavis ã 2009
I am me. A lapse in time. The essence of the future. A product of my generation. Raging pessimism and desperate for balance. Connected to the earth. Gold, rust and crimson velvet spilled over the world. Vibrating. Beating and pulsating through time. A companion in life. Swaying like the willow tree. I am me. Loving, loved, lovely. I am a glimpse of tomorrow but stuck in today. Curious to a fault. I am me. A moment of hope sprinkled with cynicism. Contagious. Eclectic in thought and extreme in motion. Beautiful me. Mindful lyric. A sonnet of the planets. Mercury, liquid sex. Epic. I am the breath, the words that you speak. The deepest secret and the shameful truth. I am written across fields of poppies. Searching for knowledge. A vile poet. Wisdom wrapped in a box. I am me. Proud. Sensual. I am expression. Euphoric in metal. The taste of submission cinched in leather. The echo of pleasure. Forgiveness. Seeded. Integrated. Crucified beautifully. I am me. I am faith, prayer and repentance. I am me. Honest. A child of adventure. |
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I Carry Your Heart With Me
E.E. Cummings
I carry your heart with me
(I carry it in my heart)
I am never without it
(anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)
I fear no fate
(for you are my fate, my sweet)
I want no world
(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
And it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
Here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
I carry your heart
(I carry it in my heart) |
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Sonnet XVII
I do not love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and soul.
I love you as the plant that does not bloom and carries hidden within itself the light of those flowers, and thanks to your love, darkly in my body lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how, or when or from where, I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.
(100 Love Sonnets, 1960 - Pablo Neruda) |
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Here is another of my favorite poems by Pablo Neruda.
I Crave Your Mouth
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
(100 Love Sonnets, 1960 - Pablo Neruda) |
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