http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/en-UKMokoFeed10http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/http://data5.blog.de/design/preview/84/a39877cfdf507fbce175d9ed0479c1_160x200.jpghttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/11/05/unbidden-reflections-personifying-procrastination-7314367/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-11-05:/2009/11/05/unbidden-reflections-personifying-procrastination-7314367/Thu, 05 Nov 2009 19:42:58 +0100 <p>Personifying procrastination is now being used by Unholy Sermon as lyrics for their song with the self same title...<img src="/img/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif" alt=":D" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p>Why does it seem as if I wait for your light to ascend<br> And cast its rosy hue hither, banishing the lengthening shadows<br> Wreathing my doorway?<br> It seems as if I wait for the moon<br> Even though she is long past her cycle of cadence,<br> Knowing in my heart hope is a fallacy,<br> An illusion conjured by the sick, and yet hoping<br> That the sun would stay and cast away the ghostly pallor from my face,<br> Bring new life to this shipwrecked soul,<br> An escape from a reality contorted beyond control:<br> But therein lies the trap for the light lies within<br> Waiting to be cradled and to bloom,<br> For the answer lies within but the question rhetorically bounding off these walls<br> Gives way for distortion, static amounting, screaming,<br> Pounding, howling, ripping the skin off that face, that mannequin<br> Still standing, still waiting, waiting<br> Still standing, waiting, waiting,<br> But for what?</p> <p>I digress and let this languor grow, creep upon the stone statue<br> Like damp moss gathering where moisture lingers and echoes, echoes,<br> What do they mean, as I stand here oh so still?<br> Where is that feel of life surging through my finger tips?<br> Where is the will to move, or the will to command the will?<br> I regress, what was the question so I may choose my answer?<br> Like a beggar, desperate for a coin even though it won’t save<br> Him from an inevitable death? Like that pauper collecting money<br> For something worthwhile and then starting again<br> Again, again, yet again?<br> Why bother if I can end it all? Another question rhetorically bounding off these walls,<br> And I know the answer; I know, I know<br> But I simply can’t move at all…<a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/631863_moon_dark_night_countryside_camping_horror_scary_620/4079725" title="631863_Moon-dark-night-countryside-camping-horror-scary_620"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/725/4079725_f32bbd4879_m.jpeg" alt="631863_Moon-dark-night-countryside-camping-horror-scary_620"></a> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/11/05/unbidden-reflections-personifying-procrastination-7314367/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>poetrylyricshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/11/05/unbidden-reflections-personifying-procrastination-7314367/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/11/05/clad-in-your-blood-red-hue-7314335/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-11-05:/2009/11/05/clad-in-your-blood-red-hue-7314335/Thu, 05 Nov 2009 19:38:06 +0100 <p>Brightness dimmed, you stood before my eyes unveiled<br> Resplendent orb, splashing hues transient they wane<br> Melting against the infinite backdrop.<br> And my eyes found you, confounded by all the sound<br> The disharmony and resting at the golden red beauty<br> Where life made sense in the sheer enormity of your gaze<br> Softened so that I may chance at you unhindered,<br> Take in the steadily bloodied hue, growing deeper<br> As if my conviction you drew with you and with that thought<br> Painted yourself divine!<br> Aaah what would you know of circles and convictions<br> When you stand there god-like, your golden red head<br> Bowed down to none? What would you know of the chaos<br> That muted itself as I watch your profile sink lower<br> Casting the dreary sprawled life of concrete with a new rigor,<br> A will to live, a subjugation and a juxtaposition equal to that<br> Of calling you god- what could you say if you knew I<br> Drink in those eyes listlessly, soundlessly because my only<br> Universe centers around you?</p> <p>The sky is set it seems, set against a bejeweled splendor<br> Of clouds encrusted with the deepest rubies hiding in their<br> Midst emeralds sparkling, sapphires most excellent<br> And the color of peaches, like the petals of a flower blushing,<br> Where every blush would sparkle deeper into a ruby and you<br> Stood there sinking, my desperate eyes calling, wanting to extend<br> My hand and silently lift you up, oh golden one!<br> But helpless against the greater forces of life I let you slip past,<br> Like a bright robed priest holding the light of my life in his hands,<br> And quietly extinguishing the fire of those heathen lamps,<br> Oh you slipped away, hidden behind the gathering swirling thick mists,<br> Drowned, just simply gone!<br> And I…I stared, documenting with silent sighs and resignation<br> Of the moment where you were dimmed but shone brighter,<br> More dark and beautiful clad in your blood red hue…<a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/x18226310/4079721" title="x18226310"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/721/4079721_c7bdcf0a8f_m.jpeg" alt="x18226310"></a> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/11/05/clad-in-your-blood-red-hue-7314335/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>poetryhttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/11/05/clad-in-your-blood-red-hue-7314335/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/11/04/self-imposed-exile-abandoned-for-a-wee-itty-bitty-bit-7307105/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-11-04:/2009/11/04/self-imposed-exile-abandoned-for-a-wee-itty-bitty-bit-7307105/Wed, 04 Nov 2009 18:04:05 +0100 <p>Of liquid grace and silken skin </p> <p>Soft, like skirts of silk,<br> Your silken voice like honey pressed against bare skin,<br> The rustle; that whisper told with every move,<br> Of grace unfolds…<br> Slipping down, with liquid grace that deep earthly kiss,<br> That sigh unlaced,<br> That phantom touch, that glistening voice, the deep seated echo<br> In my mind lay still…<br> A drop of manna, a roof of cloud woven and sealed, of liquid grace<br> I must confess I sing of every night, when the cold wraps around,<br> Clammy arms my carriage, but within lay that warmth,<br> That bubble, brazen until bronze, filling every empty space<br> With seas bereft, forlorn, until the voices call:<br> ‘Hey, ho! Sing along the prayer for the rain!”</p> <p>She dances, my sprightly elf, my skin a slave to her every breath,<br> Scented like the musky dew, drifting with a song anew,<br> Thunderous voices, the herald rings my heart with gladdened speech<br> Hey, ho! Sing along, the prayer for the rain,<br> Hey ho, voices echo, gathering strength with the mingling songs of old,<br> Blazing altars, dews gathered to form that shape which flits in my mind,<br> Faery like, with skirts of silk<br> That rustle deep, the emptiness sucked within, brimming with the<br> Peace that sings of liquid grace and silken skin…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/11/04/self-imposed-exile-abandoned-for-a-wee-itty-bitty-bit-7307105/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/11/04/self-imposed-exile-abandoned-for-a-wee-itty-bitty-bit-7307105/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/09/23/musical-heaven-7023012/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-09-23:/2009/09/23/musical-heaven-7023012/Wed, 23 Sep 2009 09:14:19 +0200 <p>yes, i havent posted any good music in a long time, come to think of it, until a few minutes ago i hadnt posted anything in a long time! <img src="/img/smilies/graybigrazz.gif" alt=":P" class="middle" border="0"><br> well im making up for it by introducing you to a band that sent me to heaven: thriloka, a local fusion band which incorporates a rather interesting combination of instruments to give you one hell of a musical orgasm. watching them perform last sunday, i must say that has to be one of my most profound moments ever, where i lost myself in pure musical rapture. <img src="/img/smilies/icon_smile.gif" alt=":)" class="middle" border="0"> enough talk. heres thriloka with RANA MAYURA/CHIMERA for ye...<img src="/img/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif" alt=":D" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7azhNJSHaM">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7azhNJSHaM</a></p> <p>enjoy! <img src="/img/smilies/icon_wink.gif" alt=";)" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/09/23/musical-heaven-7023012/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>thrilokamusichttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/09/23/musical-heaven-7023012/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/09/23/update-scrooge-d-7022931/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-09-23:/2009/09/23/update-scrooge-d-7022931/Wed, 23 Sep 2009 09:01:20 +0200 <p>raaaaaaaaaaaight so i havent updated my blog in like AGES and for want of something to do...errrr...i overcame my couch/computer potato-ness and decided to do the honours...<img src="/img/smilies/icon_smile.gif" alt=":)" class="middle" border="0"><br> dont ask me where ive been all these days, and the answer to that is nowhere but here. dont ask. shitty state of mind i am in...you know...those times when you dont even have the strength to make up your mind about something? argh yes. 'orrible i tell you, but nevertheless, i have managed to cough up a few pieces of writing while my brain is in hiatus and here goes:</p> <p><strong>Beyond the pale</strong></p> <p>Everybody needs some darkness in their lives; I wouldn’t call you my light even though you have delivered me from a different kind of darkness, an all consuming one: to me you are the solace I find in the darkness, you are the peace I find in the blindness. To me, you are the dark for there are, after all varying degrees of darkness in every night. You are the lofty chill that spreads over me, you are what hides my presence from the all seeing Eye. With you I am part of the wind, sailing with you like light to exorcise the dreary grey. You are the silencing of the chaotic world, a blanket over the austere jagged pinions of steel scraping against the sky. You are the gently suffocation welcomed after too many nights spent in the oppressive, naked, biting, nipping cold.<br> You are not my warmth, for I can make myself believe it doesn’t exist.<br> You are not my perception, you are not my anchor: I can will them away as I lie down to sleep. You are not my everything, nor are you my nothing, for I can twist it, bend it, sear it, paint the butterflies black and blue.<br> You are not my reality either, for reality can be broken and mended into another reality.<br> You are not my light, for I have shuttered myself away from the rays of light.<br> You are neither a spectrum of self-delusion, nor a fickle flicker of my eyes.</p> <p>You are neither the bird song that I drink in so eagerly, nor are you the bard shaping the barren landscape with the melody of lustrous words.<br> You are neither my gift, nor my curse; you are not my deliverance for even within your addictive darkness I am still lost. You are neither my destiny nor the tumble down the cliff. You are my dark in the light, the dry enclosure I fled into during the storm that I will leave when the skies are dried of the grey: but is the storm here to stay? How is that you will not let me go nor lead me astray?</p> <p><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/moonlight/3927034" title="moonlight"><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/034/3927034_32842b79ba_m.jpeg" alt="moonlight"></a></p> <p>Where the Sky and Earth unite</p> <p>The night time sky, the bejeweled celestials blinking back at me was mirrored in my eyes. I stared starry-eyed at the spectacle, at the grandeur of the sight and felt a deep echo of contentment run through me. I shared a strange affinity with this scene; it ran so deep that at times if I was denied the Beauty, I felt my world crumple miserably.<br> This night, the sky shared her domain with clouds closer to home, clustered around like an ethereal archipelago: it was like having an aerial view of grouped islands, except they were moving languidly across the sky.</p> <p>I felt the familiar presence again, that familiar touch as the wind wrapped herself around me with a flight of a thousand brown bereft leaves. I closed my eyes and indulged myself in the serenity of the moment and felt the familiar but powerful sedative they called love, narcotize me.<br> But it was a strange love that we shared, transcending all physical contact: for he was closer to me than my heart was, he was always with me, within me, a part of my soul…<br> I opened my eyes once more to behold the haven above me, and spotted those eyes that gazed back at me serenely, trapped in a distance.<br> My lips moved, silently wording my thoughts which with the sweep of the wind were carried along with the winding leaves and my trapped scent.</p> <p>I looked away as a silent throbbing pain welled inside me. I let the sensation of life flow through my being, the soft grass pillowed under my head, the light but moist air clinging onto my skin, the gentle rustle that accompanied the dance of a thousand leaves, the soft music of the night charming my skin into a deep blush, my pale hands placed beside my head at an angle feeling the gentle caress of the Earth below. </p> <p>This is my domain, I thought as I took in all the sights and the smells and the sensations that accompanied the darkening Earth gently lit up the half moon that hung like a great, silver eye. The world I knew was painted in rich shadows, the details erased with only the blurry outlines standing out.</p> <p>An eerie silence accompanied the return of the wind and as I watched the sky, I felt my eyelids grow heavy. Succumbing to the peculiar sensation I closed my eyes, the wind twirling about me like a long forgotten melody, carrying the essence of a soft flute piping in and out of the words of the fiddle.<br> I felt a gentle smile touch my lips as I was drowned in a thousand emotions, a thousand sweet words spoken in my ear.</p> <p>“This is your world,” I heard him say, his musical voice tilted by a light rhythmic accent. “And the sky above is mine.”</p> <p>Reality washed by me like an unseen tide, pulling me along with the watery voices of the Sea.</p> <p>“But where you and I meet, is where the Sky and Earth unite, and where you and I lie, the portals of heaven are open and the world is as one.”</p> <p>His musical voice gushed through me, a gentle pressure pressing against my hand. I twined my fingers with his and whispered:</p> <p>“We are where the Sky and Earth dwell…”<a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/aurora/3927037" title="aurora"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/037/3927037_a098c2eb1a_m.jpeg" alt="aurora"></a><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/aurora1/3927038" title="aurora1"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/038/3927038_418f1345d1_m.jpeg" alt="aurora1"></a><a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/aurora2/3927039" title="aurora2"><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/039/3927039_231fa7e917_m.jpeg" alt="aurora2"></a></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/09/23/update-scrooge-d-7022931/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>beyond-the-paleprosehttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/09/23/update-scrooge-d-7022931/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/08/27/not-6834530/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-08-27:/2009/08/27/not-6834530/Thu, 27 Aug 2009 15:51:53 +0200 <p>NOT<br> I. You. We. Could. Be. Not.<br> We could perchance exist as separate entities,<br> Separate consciousnesses, riddled by illusion,<br> Drilled by sorrow, decapitated by tomorrow,<br> We could dwell here, shapeless, endlessly regenerating<br> Transgressing, defiling, plaguing the pestilence with a parasitic mob<br> Of thoughts unruly: or You. I. We. Could. Be. Connected.<br> Somewhere. Deep. Down. Dark. Inside<br> Below our subconscious. Beneath. Above.<br> Immaterial: you and I could co-exist:<br> Flush those bombs and poke flowers into those guns.<br> Lies. Hate. Deceit. Rape. Shame. Cowardice. Malice.<br> And live together as one. Unified.<br> We. Could. EXIST. (TOGETHER)<br> Or. NOT.<br> (EXIST).<br> AT.<br> ALL.<br> <a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/media/photo/n721520303_2280179_3940/3831039" title="n721520303_2280179_3940"><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/039/3831039_b1268ee8fc_m.jpeg" alt="n721520303_2280179_3940"></a> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/08/27/not-6834530/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>peaceviolenceflowersgunspoetryhttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/08/27/not-6834530/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/08/04/contemplations-on-love-6646814/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-08-04:/2009/08/04/contemplations-on-love-6646814/Tue, 04 Aug 2009 05:14:38 +0200 <p><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4Dthz3a6aE">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4Dthz3a6aE</a></p> <p>something to set the mood...<img src="/img/smilies/icon_wink.gif" alt=";)" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>What is love?<br> One can only phantom, and as these bloodshot eyes scan this land, watching the rare bloom of a flower, now torn apart by a guillotine of rising thorns, slicing off the petals- I stop. It is humanly impossible to break down such a complex idea, but I see the natural world as clinging together with the power of love: there is wonder and love even in the green of a leaf. Imagine this in a million fold. That is simply how much love nourishes a tree; we have an entire planet shrouded with Beauty, with the beauty of love…<br> But I look around at the human species, the lust, the infatuation, the blinding bond “love” as we know it creates, and I wonder, why is it that we think it is important to “love,” to be “loved,” to feel that special sort of fullness, that overwhelming joy that radiates through us?<br> And then I realize, love is quintessential, love is our way of connecting with Nature, to piece together ourselves and join Nature as ‘one,’ and becoming part of Beauty. But love is only as real as the form itself, what shape it assumes, cannot and will not stand the testament of time, whereas the “idea” of it lives on essentially; so here I am, opening my heart oh bountiful Mother, joining you with all my love to become part of you…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/08/04/contemplations-on-love-6646814/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>proselovehttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/08/04/contemplations-on-love-6646814/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/08/04/they-listen-6646807/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-08-04:/2009/08/04/they-listen-6646807/Tue, 04 Aug 2009 05:11:42 +0200 <p>She whispers to the dark, the citadel of blackness building up before her like an altar to her loneliness. No one hears her, her voice echoes in the Ether. But “they” listen; she feels it, the stirring pitch black night growing darker with every whisper. But they listen, the moon and the stars, distant and cold, but they listen even now, even now the darkness knocks at her door, her constant companion, and listens in comforting silence…<br> She is his fair companion, his pale priestess, the only one who turns to him and feels his presence, his existence. Her tears sparkle like pearls when he shrouds her, painting the fantasy with the attraction of polarities. He is the cold and he surrounds her, feeling her warmth and gently touching that glimmering pale skin, caressing those scars he cannot feel and the colors he cannot give or have.</p> <p>And I? I am the caged captor, the silence that accompanies the dark in his morbid reign. I am the hush, the ominous stillness, the quiet, the eerie aura, the trickster, the inducer of nighttime maladies. I am everything that keeps the dawn away, while he listens and she sings and the fire at the altar of loneliness is extinguished as the darkness and his pale companion unite…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/08/04/they-listen-6646807/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>darknessprosehttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/08/04/they-listen-6646807/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/26/of-the-sky-6591936/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-07-26:/2009/07/26/of-the-sky-6591936/Sun, 26 Jul 2009 16:06:52 +0200 <p>There is a world up there, changed, transitory.<br> On Earth, down below, I watch Her, but not as I watch the people that roam this expanse, not with the insight I often gain when I watch a person talk, the way their emotions move them, their eyes, their reactions which sometimes betray their true self; the sky…I watch her everyday, I lie on my back and note the changes: but I cannot read her, for even when a mountain of clouds gather, I cannot tell when or if we will indeed be blessed by the rainfall that the firmament bestows.<br> I wonder how the birds feel today! The clouds have reassumed a different shape and the sky today is changed- what was yesterday is past. How then do the birds feel, up there, in their haven where the transitory clouds can determine their life’s course?<br> What makes that firmament? My archway, my eyes, restrict my vision but I should be thankful! For with my eyes I see Her, but not as she truly is for she dares not betray her emotions…and as yet, I do not understand why and how She is so elusive and capricious. I am exalted by her beauty, enthralled, I am in envy of the birds that sail over land and sea, the birds that get to rub their wings against such infinite beauty! But while these lamps glow, dim and flicker oft times but peer at her in absolute awe, it’s a world of wonder I see as my eyes gently drink in her beauty…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/26/of-the-sky-6591936/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>proseskyhttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/26/of-the-sky-6591936/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/15/the-darkness-tonight-6517444/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-07-15:/2009/07/15/the-darkness-tonight-6517444/Wed, 15 Jul 2009 09:43:25 +0200 <p><u>this btw is a very grammatically confused piece...:S i dont know what went wrong and whats gone wrong but i feel as if ive lost my usual flow...hmmmm...:S </u></p> <p>Darkness tonight was borne on strange wings: the clouds were laden, heavy and oblique, and though this night the wolves are to sing to the Mother Moon, tonight there is silence. The moon did not grace us, even though it was said to be the brightest of all nights. Instead it was a dull evening, swiftly darkening as the celestials lay hidden under those heavy wings.<br> I have seen, many an evening before twilight sets in, how the ravens and their breed seem to flee in a certain direction, opposite to which the mighty hunters (blind but mighty) take wing. With the approaching darkness, these heralds seem to dominate the sky. Where once a little thrush flew, where a little red breast with a puffed up little song winded in its little chest, perched momentarily: now the indomitable figures of the night ruled. </p> <p>But as was said before, darkness tonight was borne on strange wings: the bats fled, all content to flee in one direction. but with every passing navigator of the night, as my eyes followed their journey, the degree of darkness seemed to deepen as if in their claws they carried, not their prey but the ashes of darkness which they scatter across the skies. They perch on the wind, and then dye the clouds to suit their needs; as if all the black faery dust from the illusive puppeteer above is given to the heralds of the dark to scatter! Aye, strange night indeed…a lonely night spent watching the dark spread, and even though in my heart I knew I couldn’t sing to my mother moon, I did have hope that the sky would clear. But the masters above seem to have another plan, and as it unfolds my eyes are closed by the gathering darkness and the moon’s lament dies in my throat…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/15/the-darkness-tonight-6517444/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>moonprosebatsthe-darkness-tonighthttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/15/the-darkness-tonight-6517444/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/15/shot-by-the-camera-6517090/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-07-15:/2009/07/15/shot-by-the-camera-6517090/Wed, 15 Jul 2009 08:38:42 +0200 <p><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/hiranyamm/3720380021/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/hiranyamm/3720380021/</a></p> <p><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/hiranyamm/3721193374/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/hiranyamm/3721193374/</a></p> <p><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/hiranyamm/3712876479/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/hiranyamm/3712876479/</a></p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/15/shot-by-the-camera-6517090/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/15/shot-by-the-camera-6517090/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/14/reflections-sublime-6512045/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-07-14:/2009/07/14/reflections-sublime-6512045/Tue, 14 Jul 2009 11:48:44 +0200 <p>Reflections sublime, the heavens have cast their mercy hither,<br> Divine, the water casts a verdant hue, yonder, I approach the pool<br> Glimmering, a mirror image swayed by the wind of the beauty abroad,<br> Watch how the green gathers in the dew, sublime and fair<br> The colored clouds upon my parchment shade a pale yellow and peach,<br> Aaah! The palate of the heavens, distorted and yet wondrous:<br> All vanish when I approach! The broken reflections in its stead gather<br> Piecing together my being, of exorcisms and crescents, demons and the stars,<br> Faery dust and choking ash, my breath is caught and I flee<br> With my shadows, into the recesses of my mind;<br> Catharsis reaped, studied and sown, oh blessed wind<br> Carry my scent like ashes clinging on the yon drifting dew…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/14/reflections-sublime-6512045/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>poetryhttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/14/reflections-sublime-6512045/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/08/faces-in-the-clouds-6473052/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-07-08:/2009/07/08/faces-in-the-clouds-6473052/Wed, 08 Jul 2009 17:08:39 +0200 <p>oh and yes, i am pretty much aware that there is no word called "oceanous" <img src="/img/smilies/graybigrazz.gif" alt=":P" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>Faces in the clouds: surmounted fantasies<br> They glaze past me like a ghostly wave:<br> But tonight I am a lover in your arms<br> Caressing white, a pantheon of lofty clouds<br> Gazing back, fondly whispering to me the lore of a forgotten world,<br> Where the citadel, hidden by the black aura beneath<br> Haunting the heats of men, glows by night<br> Crowning the pregnant moon, until the wolves sing to her<br> Calling her below: oh radiant giest of the skies,<br> Oh phantom faces, dilapidated oceanous eyes,<br> Oh crowning jewel, feathery secrets brushed away<br> Drawing the face that haunts the soul,<br> Carry these bottled hopes, dreams to walk those paths<br> With echoing resonance and rustling songs of old,<br> Lift thy ardent lover, lyre in hand<br> Billowing white clouds by her side, and Heavens’ jewel upon her brow:<br> The face you paint, the soul you blessed<br> Must never know the thoughts that follow<br> The Ode sung to the none I wish to utter…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/08/faces-in-the-clouds-6473052/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>skyfaces-in-the-cloudsmoonpoetryhttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/08/faces-in-the-clouds-6473052/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/08/omni-6473040/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-07-08:/2009/07/08/omni-6473040/Wed, 08 Jul 2009 17:06:38 +0200 <p>been rather lazy and sick to update but here goes. OMNI...<img src="/img/smilies/icon_smile.gif" alt=":)" class="middle" border="0"> have fun with it...oh and heres a soundtrack to feed your head with...this is how my head currently feels, the soundtrack to my sickness...<img src="/img/smilies/graybigrazz.gif" alt=":P" class="middle" border="0"><br> heres pain of salvation giving you: diffidentia: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C8rnt01hyJY">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C8rnt01hyJY</a></p> <p>Omni</p> <p>My fingers race down, closing those lambent eyes,<br> In wintry silence and fiery gloom: omnipresent,<br> Around you is the whisper, sailing on the roaming wind<br> Winding down your face like a silent Ode<br> Sung to the none that I wish to utter;<br> Around you is hushed radiance, dimming lights<br> Dancing as the little drops in a thousand fold<br> Weave past those heavy lies, the burthen,<br> The unnatural aura and loosens itself<br> Scattered reflection like those rose petals washed away<br> Past the reach of my outstretched hand:<br> The little colors dance, orange like fire onto rain<br> And I cry out, my voice drowned by the serenity hidden in your omnipresence…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/08/omni-6473040/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>omnipain-of-salvationpoetryhttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/07/08/omni-6473040/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/27/archway-of-the-stars-6407737/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-06-27:/2009/06/27/archway-of-the-stars-6407737/Sat, 27 Jun 2009 18:52:14 +0200 <p>Whence the ridge in the sky o’ped,<br> Parted heaven ways like the drifting tide,<br> Whence they face; fair, beauteous with jewels in thy eyes,<br> Came before me and spake<br> Ambrosia for my ears, thy orchestral song:<br> Whence thy presence threw a relief upon my features<br> Yearning, grappling for thy touch<br> Whence hand extended, you lifted my being<br> Wings heavy with gathering dew:<br> And before ye I build an altar, oh sky<br> Where the heavens play and Valhalla sways<br> Upon the diurnal pinnace to where I fly!<br> Thy colors, light, heathen, scatter about me<br> And shroud my soul in thy wondrous enchantment!<br> Oh to be a dweller of the sky, land and sea<br> Whence beauty can be admired as Truth weaves in<br> Roping me to thy solitude, serenity<br> Building the domes in the sky high, my resting place<br> Painting the arches, my intricate repast<br> Dictating my being to thy worship, earthly incense<br> Is lighted and drifting to you upon the yon verdant breeze<br> The palate refined: it parts leaving behind<br> Echoes of the deepest hues woven in with light airy fantasies:<br> The sky commands, I am thy eremite!<br> The sky commands; my worship and admiration<br> And it is to thee, divine being that my escape escapes to<br> And seals my fleeing breath to roam above the layers of clouds<br> And beneath the dancing archway of the stars…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/27/archway-of-the-stars-6407737/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>poetrynatureskystarshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/27/archway-of-the-stars-6407737/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/26/harlequinade-play-script-6399135/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-06-26:/2009/06/26/harlequinade-play-script-6399135/Fri, 26 Jun 2009 18:24:17 +0200 <p>Harlequinade<br> [It was unusually bright- the lurid colors of the car paint and buildings stare back at me. Somehow the shadow was gone- I know not where it went, but everything was bright, bright, and bright. Only the sky which even in the shadow looked bright and acceptable didn’t mock me with its corn blue canvas and soft while feathery dreams forming the arch-way I couldn’t reach]<br> [The shadow, the darkness was replaced and everything seemed to be painted in decadent shocking yellows and horrible pinks- it was much too bright for my eyes]</p> <p>-------------------------------------Harlequinade; my mask melts in the<br> exorcising light-----------------------------------------------</p> <p>(I heard my voice say: )</p> <p>I tried to hide. I couldn’t bear those lights, so very bright; I could see the thick layer of plaster on Her face MELT. But it wasn’t like my mask. My mask was colored with dull reds, dark blues and pitch blacks. They grey slits were for my eyes and the dull brown my lips. HER face was melting with a fake yellow, pink, red, crimson painted, dolled up lips…they were like candy, sickeningly sweet and yet so addictive.</p> <p>(I hears a dim agreement echo in the background: )<br> SHE was melting like a rainbow, bright colors dripping down her face. When she turned to look at me, smile and try to hold up a conversation, it was like watching a melting rubber mask, with features printed awry—DRIP DRIP!!—moving her lips and averting her eyes. As if she’s afraid to look at me! Afraid to see that I too could see her masque melting, her fake sugary coat giving me a toothache.</p> <p>(He puts down his cigarette and surveys me intensely, eyes sparkling up like coals)<br> (I continue: )</p> <p>It was nauseating. I could see the coats and cloaks of superficiality cover THEM up, in a splendid rainbow, sparkling bright, white white light! White for purity, for flawlessness. But in my life, white doesn’t exist.<br> (I remove my mask. The lights are dimmed)</p> <p>The lights had to be dimmed, for I am so afraid that you will look at me, and like a book drink up my every word. I don’t want to lay bare my chest of wonders for you to gape at. But here’s my mask. I give it to you for I feel I can trust you. I can, cant it? Of course I can…</p> <p>(Echoes: of course I can!)</p> <p>Don’t look at me that way- yes even I have something I want to conceal but look at my mask, the devils fangs are what made this. Wonderful material is it not? So sturdy. But now I give it to you…how different am I from her? Yes, I too am melting but it depends on the colors you paint your world with. Pastels don’t exist, not necessarily unless you want them to. But I dare not, no I don’t give a jot for reality either. But then…what am I? )<br> (Introspective)<br> What am I?<br> (My voice grows faint)<br> SHE is painted differently, but this light…does she fear light as much as I do? Is that why she hides and makes herself so agreeable just so that she is liked and accepted?<br> But even I wear a mask, my dull mask but I don’t want those ugly pseudo faces. I want to keep myself hidden…but why am I telling you this?</p> <p>(I grab my mask. The lights flicker and I catch a look of horror as you look at my face, my REAL face)<br> Go away! Who are you?</p> <p>(Echoes: who are you?)<br> (I look closer at the person seated in front of me, shock mirrored on his face…but he escapes like an illusion…he melts into the air leaving behind a trail of faery dust…just melts!)<br> Are you even there? Were you listening to my harlequinade?</p> <p>[The stage is empty and the lights slowly dim into that decaying ardor she viewed the world in previously. It was faint light and dim shadows that cloaked her once more...she cries:]</p> <p>To my harlequinade!</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/26/harlequinade-play-script-6399135/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>playscriptharlequinadehttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/26/harlequinade-play-script-6399135/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/24/wanderlust-part-6381800/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-06-24:/2009/06/24/wanderlust-part-6381800/Wed, 24 Jun 2009 18:16:08 +0200 <p>What happened to me was simply exhilarating- I saw my pores widen (or perhaps it was the lack of hair?) and then the lights wrapped themselves around like a glove, like my very skin and then like the moon revealing herself while the clouds combine to dramatize her radiance, I saw a small dull gold spot expanding and then faster than racing light engulf me entirely. I raised my hand, now bronze and touched my face and then in apprehension my hair. My hand ran down my hair which was twice its length and falling past my shoulders like a black cascade.<br> I closed my eyes. This was too surreal. What am I? Is this a strange necrologue? I couldn’t come to a conclusion. I didn’t have one- is there ever one?<br> Possibilities- once more they strike me down.<br> I closed my fists and opened them again, my dark eyes lighting up like a liquid jewel. I felt--- elevated! A strange whirring at the back of my head made me look around alert- but silence: for there is nothing here.<br> Except me, and the only sound I heard was in my head- growing louder, louder, deafening!!<br> I was oblivious to everything as a series of images flashed in my mind. With every passing image I grew, my mind brushing away past ignorance in an enlightened cadence. I felt the loosening of chains, I felt as if my head grew heavier but at the same time I felt lighter- I felt enlightened.<br> I look down- everything made sense and at that moment...the voice spoke to me and I knew- I was the lightening and he is my companion. It was love of which he spoke- and I cried, his words ringing so sweet in my ears.</p> <p>It rained gently at first and then my joy swept over and I cried more as the Earth welcomed me.</p> <p>Love- is everywhere, it’s the elements, it’s their song, it’s the Earth whether she be rocky, smooth or barren. Love is eternal, love is omnipresent and I have found my abode…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/24/wanderlust-part-6381800/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>wanderlusthttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/24/wanderlust-part-6381800/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/24/wanderlust-part-6381428/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-06-24:/2009/06/24/wanderlust-part-6381428/Wed, 24 Jun 2009 17:58:14 +0200 <p>Those times where you wish you had a concrete reality, a set of rules that you would mindlessly follow, almost like school where they trained you to be lead and conform-I almost wish this was one of those times; I almost wish I had a definite reality to follow.<br> Uncertainty, the unease you felt as a child is perhaps why I am now so…afraid? It’s a subconscious reaction- being forced to follow a bunch of petty rules was how I grew up. I was made to abandon my childhood haunts of stealing mangoes, climbing the roofs and trees and forced to grow up; outside this paradigm there was nothing for me, nothing certain and that is what I feared.<br> What if, what if, what if…possibilities! I have never been one to be satisfied with one possibility and even though everything doesn’t always make sense, it doesn’t mean they are not worth considering right?<br> Right, but that doesn’t comfort me when I review my current situation. Here I was being “staticed” off into/onto the sky. There was however a feeling of intense mental elevation as I rose up into the home of thunder and lightening- the sky determines everything does it not? From very minute operations such as going to visit your friends to…to the entire fabric of your life being altered. It gave me a strange sense of euphoria, the feeling of rising up above the ground-I almost didn’t notice how the static was now engulfing me entirely. Like a cocoon it wrapped me, electric tentacles spinning and weaving all around. There was a constant buzz but strangely, it felt so harmonious; like the song of the sea, it was ever present and perfectly synchronized with the sweet moan of the wind and the rustle of the countless trees I was leaving behind me. I looked down and gaped in a claustrophobic frenzy, at the ground below, the ugly spiraling buildings, the avalanche of traffic and lights blinking constantly like some sinister monster- I saw a few green oasis’s being engulfed by the ugly structures of man and I looked away, my heart beating murderously hard and the buzzing cage around me carrying me higher.<br> I was afraid, I was insanely afraid of suddenly falling- my imagination went wild as I imagined myself plummeting down and on one of the tall spires that rose like claws being impaled to death. I was afraid of this revolving cage that lit up in a thousand hues, of the static that was encased in every fiber of my cage. I was afraid of this sudden phenomenon- what was happening to me? What was going on but my thoughts were like a hypnotic wave whispering at the back of my mind- there was little space for anything other than the constant buzz of the static and then it came: the feeling of travelling through space and time halted and here I was, faced with the true ferocity of the lightening.<br> My eyes went black. It was so bright that I couldn’t see anything other than spinning darkness; I couldn’t for a moment even breathe. And then gradually while my sight repaired itself, I felt everything around me vibrate- it was is if every particle of air bowed down to this great voice. The voice was louder now that I was suspended sky high and steadily climbing. What was to happen to me?<br> The thunder was growing softer but my ears felt as if they had been submerged down a waterfall; the thunder still thundered to me even after he had ceased his monologue.<br> I closed my eyes, hysteria amounting. The shimmering cage around me looked like an inviting medium for death to conquer- and coupled with lightening? Oh dear…I was in a tight spot wouldn’t you say?<br> But the moment I thought tight-the cage around grew closer, closer and…closer until it touched my skin. I could feel the billions of lambent orbs vibrating and sinking in- I watched as how the hair on my hands melted away as the electricity slowly seeped in. At that moment I knew I would die. I knew I was going to be burned to death- but I was wrong. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/24/wanderlust-part-6381428/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>wanderlustshort-storyhttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/24/wanderlust-part-6381428/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/23/wanderlust-part-6373077/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-06-23:/2009/06/23/wanderlust-part-6373077/Tue, 23 Jun 2009 19:50:04 +0200 <p>Wanderlust- part 1</p> <p>A strange display of light emanated from above…<br> It was blinding white, so bright that it scared away the shadows but yet it lasted for only a few seconds- those few seconds were an eternity when the whole world was illuminated in a sparkle of dazzling white, blinding white light.<br> And while the shock registered another visitation revealed itself- a voice chaotic, distant and yet all around you…these four walls may crumble if they tried to contain the ferocity with which they were spoken. And yet to my ears it was a musical symphony, a cadence, a crescendo of intense emotion warping ones mine- it’s a natural abreaction mans psychology creates that makes us fear this phenomenon. Its something we don’t understand, it’s a power we can’t tame or predict and so we fear it.<br> What’s strange to see is that the natural life around me, the birdbath, the little swing attached to the trees for the multitude of parrots and the grain stone where with the remaining fruit, a few grains and nuts; all of these “landmarks” (as I would call them) are over brimming with the usual tenants, and even as the sky is ferociously assaulted, these little beings don’t show their fear; its hardly there. The squirrel doesn’t flinch, the birds don’t scream and make a racket- its like this phenomenon is completely normal to them, its like they simply accept this power and yet to me…I sense a friction with mans ego and the natural forces- is it thought that hinders acceptance? The thought or even subconscious realization of how transitory life is and how lives may be affected, altered forever is perhaps what makes us afraid? Or have we simply forgotten how to live with the elements? I have seen many people clamp their ears, shut their eyes and even scream when the voice speaks to them. Is it the voice of god? But what if there is no god? What if you don’t believe in god? Then he naturally doesn’t exist, so then what is it? Forces above colliding? A more complicated explanation is offered by the scientists but lets not get there- this story (like all others) is a different account and much of what is said could be metaphoric or maybe more than that: it could be a fact for those who see the beauty of nature rather than those who see the bare, naked factual explanations- there is a difference you see, maybe if you prod around a bit you might find the answer…</p> <p>Its mango season and I, occupant in the four walls of plaster and nothing but mankind’s mechanism, watch the natural world outside longingly. It is sparse however, the trees are scattered few but somehow the little orchestra would reach my ears and I like a misty eyed lover would turn my gaze to my love and drink deep the beauty, the music and the tranquility of the moment. They all assembled at a Jak tree of whose neighbor is a mango tree, a few bulging mangoes obvious even at this distance. But above its pell-mell, holy cacophony! The sky streaks with lightening and the static sinewy veins of the firmament are for a moment exposed and there is a blare of noise. The whole human world is at that minute silenced; its quiet for they are all afraid.<br> But I reckless, curious and self-aware (of the fact that this sight scares me too) glance upstairs and notice how the world is lit up- and then it darkens once more. I couldn’t resist it, the rain had not yet fallen and it was the rock n roll of the gods above epitomized and amplified – who could miss such a chance?<br> And so I gently, meekly made my way to the rooftop and look up at my bare, cloudy archway; the music struck again and this time, while the thunder was echoing, I noticed how the birds took entered their own chime. I was spellbound, for listening to it made me think of how much there is in beauty alone that we cannot comprehend and are blind to. Deaf to, too would be appropriate. Beauty perhaps depends on a personal definition as does almost everything that is transmitted though feelings.<br> And the song continued, the thunder like some lonesome pianist playing the chords at the far left, drunk in how own melancholy while the birds filled in the harmonies. At that point I also noticed how thunder had different pitches- he often sang on key notes and began his song at different but almost synchronized pitches. Perhaps his song is subject to his different emotions as ours are? Or perhaps thunder is the song of the Sky and the Sky sings his song called Thunder? Or perhaps thunder is a phase the Sky goes through, like His other face which he wears, like the azure skies. Azure associated with brightness and white clouds- but it has no song of its own does it? The little birds are instruments of this particular phase…hmm…just a few thoughts. I for one have always preferred fantasy over the grounded stories science tell us; my feet have always been dangling above my head and in my imaginative analysis of the situation, the imagine of it reminds me of one of those Shakespearean jesters with their garb (save Yorick, for he wore nothing but the garment of Death) and while the image is ridiculous enough, something along those lines did unseat my sanity (again: sanity is subject to personal definition).<br> All of a sudden I looked up and I thought I saw a few distant shadows moving…it couldn’t be could it? In this kind of tropical storm who in their right minds would be…err…so high up on the sky or outside as a matter of fact? (Save slightly delusional characters like me who swallow their inherent fear and allow the static to them off their feet…)<br> Static take you off your feet? What the hell…I just uttered the statement and at that exact moment there was a buzz hovering around my ankles, and the sight took away all the color from my face; I felt a drain as my heart beat as loud as war drums and the shock was impossible to contain, but I have to for my voice entirely betrayed me. I just couldn’t even scream or exclaim!<br> It was a rather intense moment- here I was, subject to one of my primal fears facing me in a physical shape. It was deathening (there isn’t such a word in English, but I take the privilege of inventing it- there is no other way of expressing it). The whole experience was delusional, and yet while it felt like something I, an atypical escapist would dream of, the abreaction is rather intense, you cant really control yourself, try to keep calm and not flap your arms around like a bat whose wings have grown in the wrong place. You can’t help but echo the screaming thoughts in your head, those OH MY GOODNESS, SHIT, and FUCK WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME? And all the internal chaos unknown situations reap. It’s like your whole inner being is sown and unconsciously reaped. And reviewing such reactions always puts me to shame, but nevertheless, her I was, being lifted off by static, acting like some kind of cloud and…into the sky? Can you go into the sky? Humor me…I was just about to find out…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/23/wanderlust-part-6373077/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>wanderlustshort-storywritinghttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/23/wanderlust-part-6373077/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/18/i-have-not-been-faithful-p-6334228/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-06-18:/2009/06/18/i-have-not-been-faithful-p-6334228/Thu, 18 Jun 2009 15:34:22 +0200 <p>well to my blog that is...<img src="/img/smilies/graybigrazz.gif" alt=":P" class="middle" border="0"> haha..<img src="/img/smilies/icon_wink.gif" alt=";)" class="middle" border="0"><br> so its been an age and i have officially finished, wrapped up one part of my life....yesh...all my exams are over and pretty soon ill be graduating...:S which means having to socialize with teachers...urrrggghhhh...what a nauseating bitch! <img src="/img/smilies/graybigrazz.gif" alt=":P" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>but look at the bright side... NO MORE FUCKETHING ECON AND BUSINESS STUDIES! hahah and hopefully that will be FOREVER! <img src="/img/smilies/graybigrazz.gif" alt=":P" class="middle" border="0"> bahahhahaha! <img src="/img/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif" alt=":D" class="middle" border="0"> <img src="/img/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif" alt=":D" class="middle" border="0"> <img src="/img/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif" alt=":D" class="middle" border="0"></p> <p>so in celebration i shall post a poem i think ive not posted...<img src="/img/smilies/icon_biggrin.gif" alt=":D" class="middle" border="0"> </p> <p>My shadows dance</p> <p>Where the wolves roam, silent feet padding against the moist ground,<br> Where the little shoots out of broken rock grew, miraculously<br> Drinking the water from the crags and growing into the gnarled tree<br> With bark extending past the width of my outstretched hands,<br> Almost touching the skies with His other grim companions,<br> A foothold, a place to rest my feet, keep them above the ground<br> And amid the woodland activity pick out the squirrel<br> Bounding with tail upright, ever in a hurry to fill the granary<br> With stolen nuts and little prizes Earth bestows<br> In hushed majesty, how the wind blows mocking our liberty!<br> A pantheon built in this panorama<br> Winding and weaving the verdant intricacies up the barks of the great trees<br> Growing, trying to reach Sol…<br> Beneath is the whisper of my muffled footsteps; a twig snaps: a reminder of my invasion<br> My shadow flees outnumbered by the greater umbrageous expanse above;<br> I watch as I see my shadows move in a daze,<br> Like a creature of old in some ritualistic dance,<br> It spins as I turn, the shade from above fringing the bare space<br> And in circles I twirl, the wind uplifting my being<br> Visited by the spirits that roam Borenas…<br> Earth, my dear mother, as a seed I grew, torn from your womb,<br> And as your child I want to return to you…</p> <p>AND AND AND AND</p> <p>heres ETERNITY for you...<img src="/img/smilies/icon_smile.gif" alt=":)" class="middle" border="0"> <a href="javascript:window.open(" title="eternity angle1"><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/482/3608482_510719535c_m.jpeg" alt="eternity angle1"></a><a href="javascript:window.open(" title="eternity angle2"><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/483/3608483_6864f3ca4c_m.jpeg" alt="eternity angle2"></a> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/18/i-have-not-been-faithful-p-6334228/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/06/18/i-have-not-been-faithful-p-6334228/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/15/war-in-sri-lanka-till-what-end-6119586/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-05-15:/2009/05/15/war-in-sri-lanka-till-what-end-6119586/Fri, 15 May 2009 11:40:03 +0200 <p>Well I certainly would like to know. It’s disturbing and even though the heavy artillery is miles away it’s as if its echoes are found everywhere. So they say it’s nearly come to an end. 26 or so years of waging war; a war that’s lost its cause now. What once was fought for the freedom of oppressed people has turned into a massacre of the very people they wished to protect- human shields, that’s what they are now.<br> Reports are distorted, it would be human err to embrace the news flying around- just for some peace of mind I don’t see why I should deceive myself. Just a few thoughts though, its strange how most of us came to despise the president who in just two years has ended this meaningless fighting- all enmity is forgotten and for once Sri Lanka is united…while it is a great feat, while we will finally have some peace, (and by we I don’t mean those who live in the shade of Colombo, almost free from any worrying- I mean everyone, all the Sri Lankan’s alike, no matter what their race. But will this peace be peaceful? This war has scarred the current and the coming generation alike…where will this lead us? What peace of mind, what semblance of a normal life can those people expect after all of this?), and perhaps what I am to say here will mark me as unpatriotic but I still think we should not readily forget the presidents loony mannerism. Frankly, the victory scares me as much as loosing…so much the power he will have over us, something which can easily be manipulate…perhaps its my overactive imagination but I cant seem to hang these suspicions…hmmm…</p> <p>The international community calls for ceasefire. Its annoying actually- do look at it from our view point, this war will finally end, but admittedly at what cost? Ironically victory is for he who has the highest pile of bodies…what kind of victory is that? Perhaps morality shouldn’t be mixed with war, but we wage war with humans so I don’t see why we should leave it out. Numbers, numbers, numbers. It’s all mere numbers to some people. A statistic for to elevate the height of the throne…<br> So the international community wishes to intervene and even “punish” Sri Lanka for war crimes- but pray tell me who committed these crimes? After that question is answered you can of course take the necessary action but bumping your pot bellies against walls in your blindness won’t help here. Also ironically what of the war crimes Israel commits? The crimes America commits? All of this goes unchecked! Look closer to home boys and do get your facts right!<br> It’s almost over however, civilians are pouring into the safety zones and my fingers are crossed and my heart is with them…May the spirits watch over you and let’s hope the casualties cease their doleful cry to reach higher.<br> This chapter is almost closed, but what will happen after this? Would it be too much to ask for those who have been calling for ceasefire to help the country restore its peace- for the war may end but an internal war will wage within everyone, especially those who have just escaped the clutches of the devil. A ceasefire will help us little, but instead if you would focus your attention on restoring the livelihoods of these people, giving assistance with medical care and psychological treatment? Help us build our nation once more instead of prolonging the suffering?<br> As for Prabakaran, may the deuce take him! Hope you’re suffering in your hell hole down there and your air conditioner breaks down. With Sol shining the way it does in these parts it won’t be any surprise if we find you cooked in your little hidey-hole-spidey-hole! May you suffer evermore. </p> <p>----EXUENT----</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/15/war-in-sri-lanka-till-what-end-6119586/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>war-in-sri-lankahttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/15/war-in-sri-lanka-till-what-end-6119586/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/14/the-swing-6112110/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-05-14:/2009/05/14/the-swing-6112110/Thu, 14 May 2009 06:24:46 +0200 <p>The whispering hush of the trees above,<br> Leafy gaps through which the sky watches-<br> Suspension of steady ground,<br> Motion, pure motion of leaving the world behind<br> In a sweep of wind, and scent left lingering,<br> The dark cascade of my hair trailing behind<br> In dizzying patterns: echoes of sanctity obscured to the mundane eye<br> The wind a symphony, I tear across the air;<br> I glimpse a stationary world; it is only motion and I,<br> Closer to the branches then swinging down below<br> A sacred communion with some lost spirit of old,<br> Behold how we merge! My laughter bubbling forth<br> As the sun rises on the horizon and the shade above deepens its hue,<br> A metallic chaffing as I am led off into the air<br> But it matters not how, what matters<br> Is leaving it all behind…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/14/the-swing-6112110/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/14/the-swing-6112110/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/04/yours-truly-interviewed-and-a-few-more-updates-6057240/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-05-04:/2009/05/04/yours-truly-interviewed-and-a-few-more-updates-6057240/Mon, 04 May 2009 15:52:08 +0200 <p>to begin with (my blog seems to be the last to be updated!) i got interviewed! check it out on:<br> <a href="http://www.rock.lk/forum/index.php?topic=310.945">http://www.rock.lk/forum/index.php?topic=310.945</a></p> <p>yepp and apart from that we have my blasted exams...for which i am SOOOOO looking forwards to! !@#!$%#$%^!$!@#$@#!@$#@!$@!$!@# *BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!* haha...damn..shame on me! well anyways...my mood swings have been completely out of control, i range from a sweet faced alien to an absolute monster in just a matter of minutes...tsk..but heres what i managed today in two periods of my extreme lows:</p> <p>Ghosts in a circle</p> <p>All our ghosts stand in the circle<br> Just around the corner, where I once stood<br> To wave at you one last time-<br> I walk another road and this time I see them again,<br> Invisible eddies of energy brushing past even though here<br> There is no breeze to light up my features-<br> Where is that laughter? Its half fulfilled<br> Hollow, harsh and ugly to my ears;<br> Left to resonate in the ghosts of the past<br> Laughing in a cacophony in that very corner<br> Where I once stood to wave at you one last time…</p> <p>its a pretty simple piece but it hurt a lot while i wrote it...hmmm...*looks in the opposite direction* and this:</p> <p>The city on clouds</p> <p>The city on clouds I built:<br> Spires tall embracing the ugly smog within;<br> I play God and build the chains,<br> Punish- I am God so why cannot I<br> Make you feel the pain of your mistake<br> Make you slaver beneath the sun, the very chains of imagination<br> My whips- delirium!<br> Delirium ring the church bells<br> Resonating a cacophony loud and maddening-<br> Do you hear those hymns? They are the songs I sing<br> To ease the pain of those burdened days<br> When alone and broken I lay, with none to lull me to sleep<br> But my tainted hymns- hark! Do you see these winding alleys?<br> Deserted! Here thou shall not hear the patter of small feet,<br> Sweet laughter and the winds’ song-<br> Here is my citadel, strong and tall<br> Spires? Those be my hands stabbing my lonesome sky…<br> I play god- I am god and punish thee I shall<br> Pain, pleasure, pain- those eyes bleed scabbed lies,<br> I bleed to god and god am I,<br> Coloring the walls of the city on clouds<br> With the blood I spit in my slavering penance…</p> <p>which tugged at a few unpleasant memories and emotions...aaah well...so before i decided to update my blog i was actually studying economics but then again my blog is much more important than my exams right! right??!!!! anyways right now im unwinding from my "hard" day of studying with some fallen grace and anathema...oh dear, i better take a break from all this studying before i have a nervous breakdown...*sigh* <img src="/img/smilies/graybigrazz.gif" alt=":P" class="middle" border="0"> <img src="/img/smilies/graybigrazz.gif" alt=":P" class="middle" border="0"> I WISH!!!!!!!!! hahahahahahahahahha....! </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/04/yours-truly-interviewed-and-a-few-more-updates-6057240/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/04/yours-truly-interviewed-and-a-few-more-updates-6057240/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/02/artwork-decapitated-and-more-6046200/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-05-02:/2009/05/02/artwork-decapitated-and-more-6046200/Sat, 02 May 2009 15:54:46 +0200 <p><a href="http://s116.photobucket.com/albums/o29/dontcallmeprincessgrr/?action=view&current=P5010096.jpg"><img src="http://i116.photobucket.com/albums/o29/dontcallmeprincessgrr/P5010096.jpg" border="0" alt="decapitated"></a></p> <p><a href="http://s116.photobucket.com/albums/o29/dontcallmeprincessgrr/?action=view&current=P5010093.jpg"><img src="http://i116.photobucket.com/albums/o29/dontcallmeprincessgrr/P5010093.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a></p> <p><a href="http://s116.photobucket.com/albums/o29/dontcallmeprincessgrr/?action=view&current=P5010098.jpg"><img src="http://i116.photobucket.com/albums/o29/dontcallmeprincessgrr/P5010098.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a></p> <p><a href="http://s116.photobucket.com/albums/o29/dontcallmeprincessgrr/?action=view&current=P5010089.jpg"><img src="http://i116.photobucket.com/albums/o29/dontcallmeprincessgrr/P5010089.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a></p> <p><a href="http://s116.photobucket.com/albums/o29/dontcallmeprincessgrr/?action=view&current=P5010087.jpg"><img src="http://i116.photobucket.com/albums/o29/dontcallmeprincessgrr/P5010087.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br> the last image, thats what i drew for one of the local bands. =) album art...=) </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/02/artwork-decapitated-and-more-6046200/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>arthttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/02/artwork-decapitated-and-more-6046200/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/02/in-our-wayward-hands-6046166/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-05-02:/2009/05/02/in-our-wayward-hands-6046166/Sat, 02 May 2009 15:43:25 +0200 <p>Perhaps the Gods took care to shape these vales,<br> The mountains growing in their mirror image-<br> Perhaps the Gods took care to set the looking glass and rivers<br> To reflect the heavens in which they dwell;<br> For my eyes are yet to find earth so rich and rare,<br> Verdurous are the legends- as is the divinity the gods place here.</p> <p>Introspect- oh what have we done?<br> I seat myself by the river bank.<br> The soil caking my aching feet,<br> Oh what have we done in our wayward love for this land?</p> <p>With vanity and dissolution the sun hangs loose up in the sky.<br> Unnatural, tremors quaking ‘cross the earth<br> As it descends- blinding white, blinding light<br> Oh what have we done to the grace the Gods bestowed<br> In our perverse hands? Introspect- what do you see?<br> I see a bloodied chalice feeding the earth with crimson red seas…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/02/in-our-wayward-hands-6046166/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/02/in-our-wayward-hands-6046166/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/02/the-river-6046139/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-05-02:/2009/05/02/the-river-6046139/Sat, 02 May 2009 15:36:54 +0200 <p>The silence is ominous as the sun finds its way to light the darkened lands,<br> The cloak of darkness is gathering its folds and the pleated laments<br> Ripple in the rivers song, washing over the stones<br> Which a child perchance threw, wondering where the unnatural lights<br> Began and ended and the sound of his screaming mother and sisters<br> Muffled in his ear by the Nix who soothes his worries with her lyre-<br> He remembered faintly the face of his father, cobwebbed as the<br> Flow of the river, he hears the echoes of a thousand lives shattered,<br> But he doesn’t understand; his own face is distorted as are the skies,<br> The scattered grass around him drying, a citadel of a dying world-</p> <p>He stands now in distant times, memory a sharp thorn in his eye,<br> He watches the river once more- life has a cycle he realized,<br> But the power to let peace overcome you lay in your hands,<br> The hand that now held a gun as he looked over his back<br> At the thousands of eyes watching him with fear, respect-<br> But war has scarred his mind but he drowns it in the voice,<br> The voice of the river, more beautiful now than he could remember,<br> He watches as the pebbles are brushed aside lightly and seats himself;<br> The sun is setting, darkness once more unfolding its wings-<br> And he lay on the ground warm from the unrelenting sun,<br> This is his land, he muses looking over at the children playing<br> And throwing stones into the river, disturbing its surface…<br> This is our land, but will we be able to stand up for it, as we stand up on it?</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/02/the-river-6046139/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/05/02/the-river-6046139/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/04/22/the-bitten-nail-monster-attacks-part-2-and-5988549/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-04-22:/2009/04/22/the-bitten-nail-monster-attacks-part-2-and-5988549/Wed, 22 Apr 2009 17:03:30 +0200 <p><u>Part 2<br> </u><br> Life is such! It’s filled with situations which make you nervous and people have, though out all ages, found some way to release the frustration. Some people take to alcohol, sex, drugs, music, art, writing, chopping off other peoples heads (King Henry the 8th is a prime example) and in some cases pacing up and down the room and biting your nails.<br> Our Clarissa falls under the last category- alcohol tasted bad, men were rather abusive when it came to sex (she was yet to find someone who would “embrace” her lovingly and not use her as a toy), drugs had their downs (it was against the law!…plus she had a career to maintain), she wasn’t a creative type and nor did she have the power or stomach to go around killing people. Remember, she was an average, respectable citizen and so she took it all out on her poor nails. But sadly for her she was under the spell, she was trapped in the hypnotic power of the nail monster and that just made her more nervous- who could she tell? Everyone would think she was crazy if she told them about the bitten nail monster. What could she do?!?!<br> She would be carted off to the shrink and there went her job, her apartment, her car, her whole life!<br> She never had the luck some people had- her parents were poor and her father was a drunkard (another reason why she despised alcohol) and her education had been a struggle because of finance. All her life all she wanted was security- and now she had it in the form of a high paid job, car, apartment, good clothes etc. she was living what one would call a dream- and she had it all. She fit in perfectly and all her life’s work was fulfilled.<br> Now…it wouldn’t be right to give all that away for some silly monster that ate your nails right?!? Of course not, so she waited in fear desperately hoping it was her imagination but sadly…while she was seated on her couch after a hard days work, the monster would lurk behind every shadow and…off with the nails Clarissa. She is powerless! </p> <p><strong>Part three</strong><br> When she was seventeen, preparing for her final exams, she was admitted to the hospital. Appendicitis. An extreme case. She was warned by the doctors to quit swallowing her nails (for she figured that if she didn’t keep them lying about, the monster couldn’t have them right? It worked for a while but then she landed in the hospital) and then she had no choice! She desperately wished she could draw or write but she couldn’t, she just couldn’t!<br> But then…the monster returned, stronger now than ever before for IT wanted to take revenge.<br> The truth was: it was how her nails tasted.</p> <p>She there are certain tastes where even nails are concerned. Some nails, the nails of those with a lot of willpower (namely, the nails of those who cut them off) taste bad. It tastes a lot like goo or boogies. Which the nails monster does not like and eats only if he has NO choice. But as it turns out he has a choice. Obviously.<br> And then we have the nails of the people who don’t keep them clean but at the end of the day cut them off. This tastes OK but cutting nails off has a very sterile effect and so the monster does not have this. Often.<br> And then we have a whole variety of types of nails- and among the variety of shapes and sizes we have the nails of those who bite them. Yum yum. For the nail monster loves it when his power over people results in a meal for him- the more nervous, fearful they are the better the nails taste. AND this also means a frequent supply. Plus, whether the people are aware of it or not, biting the nails means “saliva” and saliva flavors the nails. It tastes a lot like cheese and onion, and sometimes even BBQ chicken. Who can resist that??<br> <u><strong></strong></u> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/04/22/the-bitten-nail-monster-attacks-part-2-and-5988549/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>the-bitten-nail-monster-attackshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/04/22/the-bitten-nail-monster-attacks-part-2-and-5988549/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/04/22/to-srilanka-5988534/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-04-22:/2009/04/22/to-srilanka-5988534/Wed, 22 Apr 2009 17:01:05 +0200 <p>Visitations from earthly bowers,<br> What can we dwellers in the sun live by<br> When autumn, spring, summer and winter melt into one<br> And the tropics rain down gales and burn our necks,<br> Cause the earth to tremble one day<br> And in irregularity drink up every drop of water and dew<br> In a stricken thirst?<br> And yet there is the sky and the earth,<br> A haven made of transitory clouds and azure skies,<br> Birds exotic and forests lush,<br> A singing world where crickets chirp.<br> The night and the day, the winds and the trees sway,<br> Harmony among the great Jak trees that tower above,<br> and other leafy bowers murmuring in rest-<br> Here the trees be eternally dressed, no great white god<br> Rains down in ice, a cloak of mist and fog; the flowers ope’ their vaults evermore<br> And the butterflies dance to the hymn of the breeze laden<br> With scents and sounds, sweet and ripe, thick with life<br> As are the clammy homes the bees build in never ceasing activity—<br> Here the tempest opens up the skies and down rains rage,<br> A cycle of its own, bending and tearing away the trees,<br> Here Sol closes its heart and dries up the silver lakes—<br> Here is a haven, a haven of whispering thick trees, wide trails<br> In the scorching sand, slithering rivers painted silver, gold<br> White…the gods have now descended, beauty in the song<br> They weave with the elements…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/04/22/to-srilanka-5988534/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>srilankahttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/04/22/to-srilanka-5988534/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/04/22/a-ghost-like-feather-5988529/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-04-22:/2009/04/22/a-ghost-like-feather-5988529/Wed, 22 Apr 2009 17:00:09 +0200 <p>My breath escapes like feathers blowing freely in the wind,<br> Silence echoes the oneness, the rich tranquility that comes from escape;<br> No longer is the mundane my road,<br> No longer are these thoughts my plague,<br> Expelled out, inhaled is the ecstasy no mortal can deliver,<br> Left to explore every tale and whisper of the forgotten years,<br> A build up of absolute harmony- it’s not the turbulent peace we breathe,<br> The stalemate, the grey flag we give our gnarled brains,<br> It’s the uplifting of the spirit, the music of the stream and the seas as my words,<br> The movement of the leaves and the trees as my presence,<br> The washing away of the rocks and the sand, the millennia of loves erosion to for us to stand,<br> It’s the peace you receive when you accept<br> That the moon and the sun, the firmaments jewels,<br> The earth and the fire, the wind ever present<br> Is within you and you are everything that’s within them…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/04/22/a-ghost-like-feather-5988529/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>poetryhttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/04/22/a-ghost-like-feather-5988529/#commentshttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/04/22/that-voice-inside-5988513/tag:the-living-dead.blog.co.uk,2009-04-22:/2009/04/22/that-voice-inside-5988513/Wed, 22 Apr 2009 16:57:35 +0200 <p>As I lay, languid<br> Listening to the Earth drinking in the rain<br> I heard a voice-<br> Somewhere deep inside,<br> A heart beat that was…was it mine?<br> The constant thud against my mortal cage<br> Was not alone; I heard a voice,<br> That voice inside that was…was it mine?<br> It spoke in a foreign tongue<br> Told me lays of its little universe<br> But where did He come from…is it me?<br> That voice inside, the parallel beat of the heart<br> That swish of breath beside my own-<br> Are they mine or like my ever transmuting universe<br> Subject to the ploy of my mind?<br> A heart within a heart, another voice inside my being-<br> Are they mine or like my ever transmuting universe<br> Subject to the ploy of my mind?</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/04/22/that-voice-inside-5988513/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>poetryhttp://the-living-dead.blog.co.uk/2009/04/22/that-voice-inside-5988513/#comments