| *sigh* |
[Dec. 1st, 2009|12:56 am] |
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| | tired | ] |
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| | Dragon Age: Origins (from next door) | ] | So tonight I didn't get any homework done but somehow I end up writing a 2,500 word one-shot, in addition to the fic I'm already working on. I guess we all know where my priorities lie. Now if only essays were this easy to write. |
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| Omegle Adventures |
[Nov. 24th, 2009|12:54 pm] |
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| | chipper | ] | Dear Random Stranger: You made my day by allowing me to do this
You: Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three ere the other side he see What is your name? What is your quest? What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow? Stranger: african or european? You: I don't know thaaa You have disconnected. |
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| Blackbird |
[Nov. 22nd, 2009|12:58 am] |
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| | tired | ] | What would it take To feel the music As much as she does?
Sitting in the dark, A cool glass The only anchor Holding me back
I close my eyes Let the song roll over me, Through me It's not enough.
She sings Like there's nothing else left In the world Just her voice And the melody
An angel with broken dreams Broken wings Broken heart Just a song to let her soar. |
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| In Flanders Fields, by John McCrae |
[Nov. 11th, 2009|09:11 am] |
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| | Remembering | ] | In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved, and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders Fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders Fields.
- John McCrae |
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| Lest We Forget |
[Nov. 10th, 2009|01:09 pm] |
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| | solemn | ] |
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| | A Pittance of Time | ] |
Tomorrow, the 11th of November, please take two minutes and observe the silence to honour our veterans. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 3rd, 2009|11:56 pm] |
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| | cold | ] | There is a crack, a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in -Leonard Cohen, "Anthem"
At first it breaks The sting running unevenly From end to jagged end The crack that appears pulling everything down
At first it scars The pristine surface ruined Becoming more perfect in imperfection A welcome sign that nothing Is ever forever
At first glance It is blackness A dense entity of absolutes But then
In the moments of breaking, stinging, perfect imperfection
a light like the first birth of stars when man reached up his hand to name his world a light
There is and always will be a crack, a crack in everything but understand, though it is so hard that this is how the light gets in |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 2nd, 2009|09:26 pm] |
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| | listless | ] | Lewis Carrol At the first sign of difficulty, roadblock I
Withdraw
Falling into myself
Through the looking glass of my own soul So distorted by carnival mirrors, Stained glass, concave and convex: I grow dizzy By simply opening My eyes
My world spins and yours holds steady I can see your hand, Reach for it, Ready to fall
What is reality? She asked me Who am I to answer? I became the White Rabbit And my clock is winding down
Alice, I think. . . I think I'm falling Can't you guide my way? I seek the mock turtle
The walrus shares his wisdom And the playing cards look on But I have already played my hand No metamorphoses for this caterpillar Butterfly winds turn to gossamer shreds In the lightest breeze
At the first sign of trouble
I
Retreat
Into my looking glass world "We are all mad here"
I can't reach your hand |
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| Il Pleut |
[Oct. 21st, 2009|12:45 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | tired | ] | It's raining. Again.
Il pleut et je pense à toi
la dernière fois que je t'ai vue tes larmes comme la pluie brillaient sur tes joues
J'ai vue la réflection de la lune dans tes yeux
Maintenant les gouttes sont froids ils me parlent d'automne, d'octobre de possibilités qui existaient, mais n'éxistent plus
Il est tard et je m'endorme à mon bureau
Mais je pense à toi et je cherche encore la réflection de la lune dans une flac d'eau
Je pense à tes yeux j'entends la pluie
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| The blahs |
[Oct. 13th, 2009|10:52 pm] |
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| | apathetic | ] |
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| | the buzzing in my brain | ] | I have been feeling incredibly unmotivated lately. And I mean absolutely unmotivated. I can barely get myself to go to class, and I never skip. I feel like I should post, but I can't get myself to write anything. It's really bad since I have an essay due that I have barely looked at. So, to try and get myself going, I thought I would post something older. This is a poem/story thing that I wrote about two years ago. Unedited.
Sunday Morning
She made me breakfast eggs, lacy whites, soft and the yolks staring up at me like twin yellow moons the kind you only see mid-October when the air is so crisp it has a taste a taste like her kiss at the corner of my mouth She made me breakfast even though she hates mornings isn't awake until after the second cup of coffee, strong and dark one cream, no sugar She's not yet said those three words, the ones tossed away lightly or given far too much weight dropping to the bottom of the stomach but she made me breakfast and that's enough.
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 3rd, 2009|03:53 pm] |
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| | amused | ] | There's nothing like the smell of clean laundry to bring back childhood memories. I just wish I didn't have to fold it all. ;) |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 24th, 2009|12:21 am] |
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| | melancholy | ] | Have you ever missed someone so much that it physically aches, and then hurts more when you know that you really shouldn't feel that way because you know you'll only be burned again? |
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| Quoting inspiration |
[Sep. 20th, 2009|12:29 am] |
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| | tired | ] |
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| | TV noises | ] | "It's the saddest thing in the world, loving someone who used to love you." That's a quote I read from a fanfic author on one of the communities I frequent. I cannot for the life of me remember who wrote though, but I am more than happy to give credit where credit is due. I've just been thinking about that line over and over again recently. For some reason it resonates with me, maybe for the same reason I've been obsessing over "the Girl and the Ghost." Who knows? Let's see what comes out of this, shall we? All free written. I only went over it to bold the lines from the quote. I think I'll leave it and edit it later, if at all.
Just a second too late, or too soon. It's
A glance not returned until Maybe weeks, months, a year? . . .Later It's the
Feeling of a door slammed shut. One you pushed yourself The breeze of Mercury's winged feet Closing the gap It's the saddest
Music. Hearing it echo and die the band has disbanded Instruments lie piled in the corner. So many unused husks, notes unplayed dimming into dust On tarnished brass. It's the saddest thing
To witness it. it is to feel helpless. The undertow is relentless. And is it some sort of karma, redemption. Whose dogma, whose religion does it ascribe to? Or to none at all. Gods can be this cruel It's the saddest thing in
Hope that dies out when cinders are all that's left. Embers will not reawaken. Look into the mirror of the mind See the scar tissue has healed and will not risk reinjury No new additions to an already impressive collection Collecting second chances holds no interest gathers nothing for the future. It's the saddest thing in the
Way of blinking, tilt of the head Betrays What if it is so brutally honest Obvious to even the oblivious A continuous carousel and the melody is nauseating It never changes Only trades places Again. It's the saddest thing in the world
The sight of a happy smile Not brought by you but someone new the scuffed and well worn shoes filled by another and another and another you had your chance, it seems Wasted, maybe, gone. It's the saddest thing in the world, loving
It's the most painful, too. Cliche though it sounds Though it is Sometimes cliches exist for a reason When you hurt too much to make up your own expression Self-expression of doubt, anger, betrayal All of your own doing. No use being used It's the saddest thing in the world, loving someone
Whose face reflects an unreal joy unreal to you, perhaps She's glowing. Artemis in full regalia bow curved against the night sky Apollo has no comparison Stars have always held more fascination It's the saddest thing in the world, loving someone who
Shadows every step, every breath Sharp and catching in your chest No doctor's medication will stem The pain from the trainwreck the screeching metal Heavy Unresponsive Won't crack under the pressure Or maybe already has It's the saddest thing in the world, loving someone who used
You like you were nothing. At least it felt so at the time. You couldn't see grey from shade of grey Blinded by the flashing lights Razzle dazzle disco It's always shone brightest in your eyes The audience taking the final bow Instead of the chorus line It's the saddest thing in the world loving someone who used to
Hold hands with you in the playground Whisper secrets Bury treasure in the back yard Kiss away the pain from skinned knees Palms raw From falling too hard and too fast But never in the right direction Forwards It's the saddest thing in the world, loving someone who used to love
Sharing her music Her thoughts, dreams Even fears. Greatest one: losing Control, feeling. . .you What happened did What didn't did not Nothing changes now The serpent swallowed his tail And the mouse has run up the clock. Tick tock tick tock tick tock Too late. It's the saddest thing in the world, loving someone who used to love you
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| Acoustic Extravaganza |
[Sep. 12th, 2009|11:57 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | accomplished | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | The song in my head | ] | I've been listening to a lot of KT Tunstall lately, and I absolutely love her song "The Girl and the Ghost". There's just something about it that I can't describe that pulls me in every time. So, I figured I might as well use it as a springboard into a short free write.
Am I the Ghost Or am I the Girl Sitting in the corner Waiting
In the moment our fingers touch Join, and pass through What can be read in the press of palm to palm Before ethereality disconnects the fibres of our souls
Being flesh I feel I am more ghostly Than a being of spirit I look to you, through you My own future, and I see
What? What is there to see? A ghost, a girl, a corridor Lengthening into forever
We know each other, like other people do
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| I has a radio |
[Aug. 28th, 2009|03:51 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | calm | ] |
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| | Espace musique | ] | Why is "Radio Canada" so awesome? English CBC, you gotta catch up, man. That is all. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 23rd, 2009|11:46 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | blank | ] |
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| | Traffic | ] | I haven't posted in forever! Wow. Not that I really have much to say. I haven't written in a long while either. That's something I really need to work on, I think.
Circle line Ghosts on the Metro Ghosts on the Underground Ghosts in my head
The plexiglass distorts as it reflects Pixellated spirits of people I have never met Empty shadows cast against cold underground mazes Empty shells, until a backwards glance reveals
This solid object Origin of reflection Lives a life I'll never know Never feel, laugh, run, cry As these Underground ghosts do Breaching the surface Drawing in a human breath once again
A flash of recognition of another wandering soul My mirror image in the scratched and faded pane I am a ghost to them
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 1st, 2008|09:52 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | anxious | ] | Leave for last it won't take long each drawn out breath an instant eternity leave for last here and gone the knowledge solid and weighing you down leave for last just leave |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 17th, 2008|07:00 am] |
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Brick Wall I've hit brick wall solid no space to turn arou nd too high to climb u p to thick to fight throu g no gate no lock to pi ck brick wall solid imp enatrable brick wall of frustration regret no to morrow needs done n ow brick wall stands a nd laughs mortar ston es at human desperat ion and silly old failure
well, it was supposed to be a full block of text but I am full of fail and can't figure out how to align it properly |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 12th, 2008|09:34 pm] |
Language tongue teeth lips sound syllable\echoes in dark spaces filling filing falling fleeing vibration vocal chords making sense non sense nonsense language lost |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 27th, 2007|11:42 pm] |
Rien n'a changé Illusions toujours L'amour se cache encore Je n'ai plus de force pour chasser L'invisible, L'impossible Mes rêves Et je ne t'aime plus qui suis-je maintenant Sans toi? |
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| Dream Quilt |
[Apr. 20th, 2007|11:13 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | artistic | ] |
The world sleeps And I sleep too Piecing a dreamscape From fat-quarter memories Darks of a thunderstorm Lights of golden hair Sandwich the clouds and bind With lullabies Needle of moonlight Threaded with night breeze Piecing a dreamscape Those fat-quarter memories Blanket the night And the world sleeps I sleep too Under my dream quilted skies |
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