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(no subject) [Aug. 18th, 2012|04:04 pm]
And as the early sign of dawn of thunder I see you stir the fog around
And when you find the boys and gears of sunset we'll hear that high and lonesome sound, oh
And I will question every wind if they gone through the glow of your eyes
Oh, you're just a riddle in the sky
Oh, where do my bluebird fly?
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Sternit fortem [Aug. 13th, 2012|09:15 pm]
[mood |indescribable]

My heart hurts, like I'm in love with a ghost, like I'm the one long-lost, dearly departed. In this troubled time of being caught underwater, chipping away at the ice. Guess that coma wore off and now I've gotta hold my breath. I miss you, chance encounters, on the open road, across the impossible span of the internet, the ones so hard to find now. I was catatonic for so many years, now I'm here, wide open and terrified, but hopeful. Sending signals through the static, my telescopes trained to the endless night sky. Messages of love and sorrow rolled into one, hard pills to swallow, but I'm looking for someone. How long before I shatter the ceiling and thrust myself into a new life? I want to be kissed. I want to be found. I want to be understood. I want to be beautiful. I want the little things, but my mind's still full of scenes from dreams, my heart is still wrapped up in visions of the grass against the wood fence, the old piano, the cold black sorrow that tries to devour, the love that bursts out of the solar plexus and gives us flight above it, the wild sea, the shaking trees. I am in love with illusions. I am tortured by thieving spirits. I want to love, to love, to love. I want to find shelter at the end of the world. I want to know it's okay. I want to feel breath on my skin, I want nothing ordinary. I work to survive, but I'm biding my time. I can't wait much longer. Haunted by recurring dreams but they can't fool me. I can barely breathe in moments like these. I want so much to give this love away. This love from outer space. I need to feel you, I need you to see. I will wash up on the shore and wait, naked and wild-eyed, for some sign of your grace.
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Yearning [Aug. 13th, 2012|10:09 am]
[mood |contemplativecontemplative]

Where does the wind come from?
Flows from pressure, high to low
Why is the undulating sea so blue?
Blue light scattered and reflected
Waves come with the wind
Crashing against my chest
Beyond the shimmering horizon
Endless cycles up and down
Never pushing, never pulling
Magnificent swells peak and fall
Why does the heart ache?
It is fixed by pressure, high to low
For what does the soul yearn?
Deepest longing, soaring bliss
The heart a buoy rising and falling
But never pushed or pulled
The soul a billowing sail asking
Where does the wind go?
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To a place I can't return [Aug. 13th, 2012|01:20 am]
[mood |nostalgicnostalgic]

The little wind that blew
Fresh white, green as sea
Dizzy blue sky spinning
Handwritten letters away
Like little flower petals
To a place I can't return

I scanned for you a while
On the other end of the sky
I found you in a summer dress
In a perfect summer breeze
That would swallow my voice
And steal your name from me

A memory is a photograph
One kept close to the breast
Taken out for a glimpse
Pressed against weathered lips
Whipsering laments
To a place I can't return
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In Silence [Aug. 10th, 2012|11:47 pm]
At one point in my life, my identity and that of a character of my own creation were inseparable. My mind took journeys that I'll never forget in a land built by imagination. I look back to that time infrequently, and always with a somber smile. My creation, at the peak of his life, was the illustriously titled Adept of the Shield, Zohar, Resplendent Lodestar. He was a highly ranked and respected member of a guild called the Wardancers in a desert city known as Antioch in the land of Aetherius. In all, I poured over 700 hours into building of this man, one whom I still hold great affection for, and sorely miss when my mind wanders back to those days which, while fondly remembered, weren't free from trouble.

Zohar was a handsome desert warrior with a zest for life and a strict code of honor. He was in love with a fellow Wardancer who he later married. She eventually left the Wardancers and sought to establish diplomatic relations with a bitter foe. Zohar was wary of this decision and debated the highest ranking members of the city who approved of her plan. Being driven mad with worry over the safety of his wife and of his city, he worked with the nearby Taekyon warrior-monks of the south to watch over her. Using their powers of telepathy, he eavesdropped on the negotiations. His ploy being discovered, he was attacked by one of the rival city's leading warriors and fled. The monks attempted to teleport him away from the area, but he was eventually killed.

His wife was taken captive and the failed diplomatic mission was seen as a foolish disaster by him. Though she was freed, an uproarious debate ensued throughout the city in which he was alone in his outrage over the incident. Shortly thereafter, driven mad by the situation, he took his own life.

But it was my own madness and jealousy that caused me to, in a fit of rage, permanently delete that character, an 
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Ordinary World [Aug. 8th, 2012|11:50 pm]
[mood |gloomygloomy]
[music |Duran Duran]

Papers in the roadside
Tell of suffering and greed
Here today, forgot tomorrow
Ooh, here besides the news
Of holy war and holy need
Ours is just a little sorrowed talk

And I don't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find
And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive

Every one
Is my world, I will learn to survive
Any one
Is my world, I will learn to survive
Any one
Is my world
Every one
Is my world
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I'm still dreaming... [Aug. 8th, 2012|11:46 pm]
[mood |depresseddepressed]

The storm makes my bones ache a familiar ache, ache of dim visions
across aeons, dim like murky water, glimpses of shadowplays
Where this shadow is you, and this me, or so I imagine it now to be
Searching the sea floor for old chests, combing the blue desert
Inspecting green glass, hoping to find a clue to lead me to
Shipwrecks, our beautiful disasters once whole, scattered since
Every time that storm blows through it takes pieces of you and
I ask it to take me, but it cannot hear over its own moaning
Do any of the rivers lead back, or have their sources all dried up?
Through my spyglass I see a pale blue sky, a small garden
Swore I saw you sitting, wind dancing through your golden hair
But where are you now, sweet ghost, sad lover, my tiny America?
You'll never hear the rattle of my bones where they lay
But I pray they haunt you, whispering low in the white wind
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(no subject) [Jan. 3rd, 2006|11:48 am]
"I hear the calling carry across the landscape. I hear it echo from every city to every village upon the earth. From every rooftop to every mountain. Calling the faithful to find themselves. A fire burning like precious water, the fire that drives me on and on. Through hell I shall reach heaven. I shall not resist the changes before me. View the madness with perspective. The clock is ticking but time means nothing. So I ascend to the blinding light, then plummet to the thickest darkness. And I always tell myself how splendid is the adventure! I can no longer see good or evil But worship polarity. So do not trust the beggars that expose their poverty of spirit, bleating "I will follow." I heed the calling. Follow yourselves as leaders. Arise, arise! Stand upright and take pride in who and what you are. Great changes are coming and you will be asked to identify yourself. So run like a lion with inexhaustible strength from world to world. Let your work shine unto the ends of time."

[Jaz Coleman]
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Sunday's words... [Dec. 18th, 2005|08:35 pm]
[mood |blankblank]

[I'm ever the hypocrite, ever my own...
And if I could be comfortable enough in my skin to shed it
I would let it fall for you- I'm just tied to these walls
They've got years on us, they've seen my best and worst
What pain I've beaten into them I've only whispered aloud
What fears that bled into them aren't something of which I'm proud...
Not aloud. Not to your face.
If I could sell this struggle
and just live in a state
of perpetual bliss, charm and grace
I would, even if against my better judgment
You see I've never known glory, and if it came to my door
I'd lock the dead bolt and pretend I wasn't home
Whether or not I was happy there, questioning not the root of the fear
For ages I've stood like this, a still secluded pond, ignorant of myself
Storing my heart's fire in a jar on the shelf
Blown to brightness just to be stifled
Blown to brightness and stifled once more
Repeating this process for life
Forever, never, stifled once more]
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The Dream... [Dec. 16th, 2005|10:39 pm]
[mood |lovedloved]

When the white eagle of the North is flying overhead
The browns, reds and golds of autumn lie in the gutter, dead.
Remember then, that summer birds with wings of fire flaying
Came to witness spring's new hope, born of leaves decaying.
Just as new life will come from death, love will come at leisure.
Love of love, love of life and giving without measure
Gives in return a wondrous yearn of a promise almost seen.
Live hand-in-hand and together we'll stand on the threshold of a dream.

[Graeme Edge]
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