Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for August, 2010

Twelve

Out from the ashes of gray desire
Out from the dream and into the fire
I said a lot, it won’t mean a thing
’cause after she’s gone these words will sting
No gods could be that cruel to me
No gods could be that cruel to me

Six minutes gone, still I’m alive
And I never thought that I could survive
With pieces of eight and odd bits of string
All I remember when I hear her sing
No gods could be that cruel to me
No gods could be that cruel to me

And I blame the sun
And I blame the moon
I blame myself
And I blame you

Twelve minutes gone still I’m alive
And who would have thought that we could survive
With all lines repeating and nothing rehearsed
I feel so stupid; I feel I’m cursed
I don’t want to think anymore
I don’t want to think anymore
No gods could be that cruel to me
No gods could be that cruel to me

– Kirk McLeod

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

Ride the wild wind

Ride the wild wind
Push the envelope don’t sit on the fence
Ride the wind
Live life on the razor’s edge
Gonna ride the whirlwind
It ain’t dangerous – enough for me

Get your head down baby we’re gonna ride tonight
Your angel eyes are shining bright
I wanna take your hand – lead you from this place
Gonna leave it all behind
Check out of this rat race

Ride the wild wind
Ride the wild wind
Gonna ride the wild wind
It ain’t dangerous – enough for me

Tie your hair back baby
We’re gonna ride tonight
We got freaks to the left
We got jerks to the right
Sometimes I get so low – I just have to ride
Let me take your hand
Let me be your guide

Ride the wild wind
Ride the wild wind
Gonna ride the wild wind
It ain’t dangerous – enough for me

Read Full Post »

When angels sing

There are no sounds
As pure as rain
Or soothing as wind
Except when angels sing
As powder plumes
Their falling cavalcades
Of crystal brooms
Sweep needles green
As morning reveals
Other bone white limbs
Of those gone before
And starry tiaras above
Are glittering tears
Cried for those we loved
And autumn’s amber seas
Of scarlet crimson scenes
Are flowers of the rainbow
Reflecting the love of God
In pastel effusions
Of rose emerald blue

— Wesley A. Storer

Read Full Post »

With purest soul of mine
I beg thee come to me
Emerald eyes like deepest sky
Enveloped in the darkness of your skin
With every breath, every thought I make
Just one touch would fill my empty days
They say things come to those who wait
If wait I must theb wait I will
And if lied well then I die
And then came silence
A fading memory falls apart
Feel like I’ve stopped before I start
Darkness rains down all over me
The lifes blood tastes so bitter sweet
With purest soul of mine
I beg thee come to me
Emerald eyes like deepest sky
Enveloped in the darkness of your skin
With every breath, every thought I make
And then came silence

Read Full Post »

Count your demons…


When I counted up my demons
Saw there was one for every day
With the good ones on my shoulders
I drove the other ones away

So if you ever feel neglected
And if you think that all is lost
I’ll be counting up my demons, yeah
Hoping everything’s not lost

When you thought that it was over
You could feel it all around
And everybody’s out to get you
Don’t you let it drag you down

– Everything’s not Lost, Coldplay

Read Full Post »

Beautiful flowers…


En automne, je récoltai toutes mes peines et les enterrai dans mon jardin.
Lorsque avril refleurit et que la terre et le printemps célébrèrentleurs noces,
mon jardin fut jonché de fleurs splendides et exceptionnelles.

In the autumn I gathered all my sorrows and buried them in my garden.
And when April returned and spring came to wed the earth,
there grew in my garden beautiful flowers unlike all other flowers.

–Khalil Gibran

Read Full Post »


There was a cherry-tree. Its bloomy snows
Cool even now the fevered sight that knows
No more its airy visions of pure joy —
As when you were a boy.

There was a cherry-tree. The Bluejay sat
His blue against its white — O blue as jet
He seemed there then!– But now — Whoever knew
He was so pale a blue!

There was a cherry-tree — our child-eyes saw
The miracle:– Its pure white snows did thaw
Into a crimson fruitage, far too sweet
But for a boy to eat.

There was a cherry-tree, give thanks and joy!–
There was a bloom of snow — There was a boy —
There was a bluejay of the realest blue —
And fruit for both of you.

— James Whitcomb Riley

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »