We Call This "Passion"

No matter how bright the fire burns,

It will only ever conclude in ashes.

Believe

She bites her lip in hasteful confusion.
There quivers a twisted smile of hard plaster
Concealing the soft paranoia beneath.

Miles of her beauty reign
Like a sun devout to its own horizon
Elegantly rising to new and unseen worlds.

Oh but its perfection is not smug;
Modestly, it rises,
Sheepishly waking the world with its lucent perfection.

Her tiny existence, incomparable to the massive universe.
But watch her combat its every trial,
Every length of journey.

Like the bubbling of a new child's laugh
Her smile colours the lives of those surrounding,
Engulfed by their grayscale days.

My dear, you refute the irrefragable
Denying the painfully obvious.
Misapprehension so wildly rampant.

The weight of the universe on your shoulders
Will not cause a flinch in your brilliance
Let not one star's supernova disrupt your divine galaxy.


For NF <3

My Drug

Dormant for many months.

Finally the antiparallel statures of me and you

Accelarate rapidly that which we desire.

A rush of epinephrine,

I call it a fool's heroin.

Wait Till Tomorrow

All procrastination aside,

I have failed to vouch for yesterday's endeavors

Blushing with blatant disregard for knowledge.

I'd tell you the reasons for my truculent honesty

But the honesty proved drunk wherein I bathed myself,

Pitiful promises of tomorrow's ventures.

But that secret's better told

On another day perhaps...

Remind me once more.

I Did Not Resurface

And so the colourless waves broke through my careful barrier and reached over me, licking and writhing to willingly seize me of all oxygen of life. Inflicting my chest with heaves of continuous needles, they were catalyzing - but not causing - the waves of nauseous pain to finally lap over me; only to freeze, and wash no more.

December, Twenty Ten.

We think we know the truth of the uttermost beauty, or perfection; we see ourselves being able to define it in such a way that we mock those who (rather audaciously) question our understanding of it. It is so blatantly obvious, it seems, that we must not even need to define it - what is there is there, this is what we know, and questioning it seems absolutely absurd. But one thing we've always known, be it significant or not, is that when an object is put too close to our vision, in too near a proximity, its details become distorted, its edges become blurred. The difficult part is adressing that this is true, understanding it, and doing what we know is right: taking a step back. This is truly the difficult part because we know in our uttermost hidden conscience, that what we think we know - that which appears to be the most beautiful concept, creation or mere idea - can, indeed, end up being among the blackest of imperfections.

Shadows of Glory

Today.

Queen

Maybe she couldn't bear hearing it emanating from her own deceitful lips. Maybe she had nothing to say.

Supernatural

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ve-dBOiZhMs

Beauty.

If you're going to listen to any of the things I post on here, it must be this one. Without a doubt my favourite modern classical pieces come from Aston. Gorgeous, classy, Australian, and unfathomably talented! P.s. completely unrelated - right hand side, her shoes. Enough said.

We See Things They'll Never See

Oh maybe I will never be all the things that I wanna be. But now is not the time to cry. Now's the time to find out why. I think you're the same as me. We see things they'll never see. You and I are gonna live forever. Live forever: Oasis.

It's interesting to wonder who will read this, who won't, those who understand this, those who don't. It's interesting to me knowing you may know, or you may not, or you may fear, or you may embody courage as a personified beast. It's interesting to me that every cell in my body duplicates itself with the information that I do not want you to see my heart turned inside out. But it's interesting to me that there are mutated cells in my body, fighting against exactly that which my brain has ordered, praying, hoping, just praying.

It Will Rain

I'm having a total Bruno Mars moment.
I can't get enough of this song. Everytime I hear it I get chills, which usually doesn't happen with mainstream sort of music, so I hope you feel the same way.

But they're just afraid of something they can't understand. Oh well darling watch me change their minds.

F&A.U&I

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gF3HQmKhP3c

If She Took Her Own Advice

To echo my previous thoughts.

There is no such thing as black; only an absence of colour. There is no such thing as cold; simply an absence of heat. There is no such thing as misery; simply an absence of happiness. So be patient.

Predator

Tomorrow's uncertainty breaches today's horrors
As the screams embedded in the folds of yesterday
Once again resurface


To strangle us with their ravenous desires
Weigh us down with doubt, in ourselves.
Weight of a thousand luminescent moons


Discolates us from life as we know it,
Into the blackness and the deep.
Pulling us along, cringing, they scream


"Stars, hide your fires!
Let not light see my black and deep desires..."
Muted mouths forever speak.


But they are the dead
Empty air puffed into their breasts;
Rise again, as lifeless as you once were.


Let not the rotting corpse of fear
Hinder you from
That which you rightfully own.


Dismember the damned, and curse them
As they retract their lifeless arms,
Waiting patiently to once again prey on oblivion.

Time, t (s) as a Function of Reality, r (inspiration)

Her laughter contains the sounds of rain
Gentle, simple, wonderous

Her sadness contains a thunderous truth
Concealed within billows of uncharted grey

Her fear is simply a shallow ocean
Prehensible pains washed ashore

Her curiosity rains over millions of miles
Misguided points of desire

She mourns under the canopy of the stars
Heavenly blanket, why dissipate her warmth?

A smile merely plays on the corners of her mouth
Gently unweaving the rainbow of tomorrow's plight

A tiny uprising, behind which lies the force of
A mighty, un capsizable ship

Which would roar through the mists of time
And simply sail blindly upon the spectrum of humanity.

A Certain Dystopia

When we become conditioned into believing what is correct, poison is shakily injected into our veins, synthesized thoughts and artificial feelings are wedged into our hopes, plugged quickly with misinformed judgement and false ideas and wrong accusations until we are deaf and blind and all five senses shut down simultaneously. Before we can take a breath to nurture ourselves with much-needed oxygen we are unable to inhale reality; how difficult it is to swallow the truth when choking on copious amounts of tangled lies! And before we know it we are attempting to look back on how it once was, positive that it was better than today's reality; but a cold iron grasp keeps us from the ability to turn our necks and see our progression into that which we never aspired to be.

"How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, that has such people in't!"

Aldous Huxley is genius.
"Brave New World" [1932]

Pretense

She walks with grace
A manner known not to those around her

Envy is sown into their minds
O disastrous weed, when will you reap?

Her angelic past greets her with a warm smile
Devilish ideas beaten into silence

She's perfect.
She's perfect.
She's perfect.

While you'd bet it all comes with painful ease
I bet she's wondering when the pain will cease

Because perfection is the mask we can all afford to buy
As long as we've created income from a large enough lie

Space Bound

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JByDbPn6A1o

"If I get burnt, Ima show you what it's like to hurt
Love is evol. Spell it backwards, I'll show you."

Buried

Well it's a little thing called
En oh ess tee ay elle gee eye ay







So you let reckless overrule;
Posessive as a midnight ghost

Writing is my Oxygen

Honey it's regressive progression.

Forever

Weightless memories flutter away
A record of life, gone with the day

As the glistening sun sets once more
Tales from my heart seep under my floor

Shimmering light, saturated with your essence
Beautiful glow of worldly renaissance

For when I shut my eyes in restful peace
I succumb to that which is never to cease

The divine promise of tomorrow's sunrise
Evidence that spirited life never dies

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow

Vengeful, wretched, tormenting, traitor
Ripped it out, no remorse
Filthy.

Hatred, anger, fear, confusion
Brutal aftermath,
Are you proud?

The stick is gone
But the glass, it continues to stir
Sick with your vile aftertaste.

Distort my emotions
Disfigure my heart into something hideous
Maddeningly murmuring your name

Revolting, nauseating,
Perfectly contradictory,
Sickeningly wonderful, oh Thane

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

Electrify Him

'09

What's between his heartbeat

Electrify Me

Photography from '08, last time my camera worked.

They Once Asked Me

I told them it was not about ignoring the shadows cast upon ones life. I told them it was the ability to see the light which creates these shadows.

Lovely

You once asked me what I thought of you.


When a song is played, the notes flow melodiously, beautifully, rhythmically.

But the piece is only as good as its very last note.

For that is the note which clings to the air, in suspense, holds its breath as it

awaits the audience's applause...

Your song was brilliant. Your song was graceful.

The end note was bitter, brutal, contradictory...

Repeats in my mind, engraved as a scorching memory.

The only note I seem to recall.

Breathe

And the sole nurturer of my sanity is the catalyst of my insanity

A Friend of Mine

There's only two ways out of here.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDb425Rux6I

Beautiful Lasers: Lupe Fiasco.

If you're too late, you'll be trapped here forever.

Scripted

They say fiction is better than reality. They say their makeshift love lives are full of fantasies. Passion comes not in the way we love, it comes in the form of those emotions strongest to us. Be it hatred, sadness, love, or anger. And one must always keep this in mind. Because love to me is not the script, or even the verbal exchange. It's that unidentifiable force in between. The force that travels between eyes, that travels between hearts. It's the force that you can't see, or hear, or taste; however it's the most prominent of them all.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IoBoeg-oyBA
[I'd like to tell you this is NOT twilight, but unfortunately, it is. However, once you minimize it and take the town of Forks out of your mind, it is unmistakably beautiful.]

This song I listen to is graceful. It has no lyrics...perhaps that's why I love it so much. The sound of the notes flowing and ebbing is that of liquid beauty. Audible perfection. The power lies in the fact that nothing needs to be said. The power lies in the idea of interpretation and individual admiration. Because nobody hears this song exactly the way anybody else does.

Maybe that's why I love piano, that's why I love music. Because some emotions are so complex, so vast, that it seems almost outlandish to put them into mere manmade words.

Carter Burwell

If only there was a way to tell you
Everything I'd put my mind and body through
No matter the word, life always went on
For you, I knew I'd have to stay strong.
My life without you is like an answer to no question
Tells me things, definitely teaches me a lesson

But at what cost?

My writing contains no sense or rhythm
My life without your colour feels dull and distant

But you want the truth?

Oh I can only tell you in lies.
Every word on this page was once alive
But you killed it, with your memory, and I can't complain
For who do I have other than myself to blame?
Goodnight, good riddance, and goodbye.
As we part I leave you with one final lie
I am no longer in need of you.

Renaissance

It's that moment when all the scattered puzzle pieces of the world rise up and fall down and converge together to become one solid picture. It's that moment when all of the scattered thoughts that you have had join as one to become one big picture, the one you have been waiting your whole life to see.

It's that moment when you pray alongside the girl who you had some trouble with in the past. It's that moment where you see the boys put their egos away to physically bow down to One greater than themselves. It's the time you realize that all the worries of your past that had seemed to hold so much significance simply evaporate into the insignificant.

It's when you realize

"Never a believer is put through a hardship, or even the pricking of a thorn, without Allah (SWT) expiating his sins on account of his patience."


It's when you realize all the blessings that you have are in your own favour.
But moreso,
It's that moment that you realize very tear, every wince, every hurt, be it physical, mental, or wholly emotional, is in your own favour.

It's why they call it "heartwrenching"

Because everytime I think about it, I feel a squeeze to the one organ that keeps blood pounding through my veins. The one organ that symbolizes the emotional happenings of every moment of the past - speaking of which,

"Moments of the past, come back to find us, not to relive them - just to remind us."

I'm sorry if this is frazzled, if this doesn't make any sense, if the grammar and syntax and punctuation and organization is painfully incorrect, because it makes no difference to me. All that matters is to keep you in my memory.

If you think that everything is gone, that I have retrogressed into a malicious being who has forgotten all that she had ever learned, you are incorrect.

Disillusionment is a funny thing, in a cynical kind of way. You would think that after I had studied disillusionment as the backbone of my english career in the past year, I would learn about the ways to avoid coming across whatever may lie within its depths. An example?


"Come, you spirits

That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,

And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full

Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood.

Stop up the access and passage to remorse..."
Lady Macbeth (I, v)


What exactly is she talking about? Turn me into the most vile of men. I do not want to be a woman carrying the burden of emotion; guilt must act as a mere aftertaste in comparison to the thirst that bewitches me...

She wants what she wants. She'll get what she wants. And she is not afraid to hurt others in the process of doing so. Selfish, perhaps it was. The point of this excerpt is Lady Macbeth trying to make herself seem tougher than she is. It seems as though she succeeds, after carrying out the murderous plot that nobody knew she was even capable of pursuing.

The point is, in Act V, scene v, a scream is heard from within the castle. She's killed herself.

Disillusionment is a funny thing, in a cynical kind of way...
It hit me hard. But the old me is here to stay.

Truth Dies; Denial Lives

In truth, in physicality, she sees
Clearly the familiarity
Of her escape from reality...

Dripping in denial's grotesque truth
Converging in on her soul.
And why she goes towards, rather than away from it-

Well that,
Even she,
Is not capable of explaining.

---

But darling, don't fear-
For nature has a plan near

Your loves, your loss
Envelop life's every cost...

Don't worry, though!
For a fool gives into his hearts woes.

Close your eyes, remember then,
He will be with you till the end.

Your Telltale Heart

Your heart is simply telltale to me.
Its rhythmic, disjointed beating
Never ceases
To pound behind my ears.

Because upon every exhale
I taste the bitter scorching of what once was.
And upon every inhale
I taste the fragrance of

"What if"
"Perhaps"
And
"What could have been"...

Your heart pulses and pounds
As if it wants to escape
Beat to the rhythm of its own drum.
But alas

It unwillingly beats to mine
As it holds its breath
Too afraid to smell the aroma
Of what it cannot have.

Because of me it will never taste the fragrance
of "What if"
"Perhaps" and
"What could have been"...

The Firsts.

I love to write.

Problem is, I barely ever do it anymore. I decided it would be a good idea to make a blog to post all of the lyrics I like, rants I can't rant, and miscellaneous poetry that comes to my mind at 4:00 in the morning.

I also like to look at various forms of art, so I might post pictures and things that I enjoy as well. =)

Besides the fact that I probably won't get any viewers besides Vicky, if you see something you like, or have any advice, feel free to comment.

*Also, unless otherwise specified, I do not own any of these photos.*