[x]

The Power of Wordsa gentle whisper on the wind,
carries across nations,
through homes and across cultures,
a simple play on speech pulling heart strings,
a gentle rhythmic lull in your ear,
even the sweet sound of silence calls to you,
"a pictures worth a thousand words",
yet a single word can tell infinite stories,
end wars,
bridge cultures,
and unite families,
a single word may change the world,
as can the neglect to say it,
a single word but once uttered,
can span the vast flow of time,
and carry on into eternity,
words speak to the soul,
and connect people in remarkable ways

Witch's BrewBubble bubble
toil and trouble
eye of newt
its the witching hour.

Its the witching hour
where the witches
are in a gitty mood
making new potions.

A dash of frog's lips
scale of dragon
wings of a gremlin
stir them all into a cauldron.

Witches just love making potions
they got so many viels on their shelves
you can find all that you seek
at the witch's cottage.

Make your true love fall for you
there's a love potion that'll do the trick
want to be a few inches taller
there's a growth potion to help with that
just be careful not to drink it all
that is if you want to be a giant.

Witches love the time of hour
making their potions with wick

Death's True KissYou fall in love with a ghost
And dream yourself an island
You take me for a home
But cast and torn apart

Fill me up with a whisper
Take me for a friend
Dead or alive
It all comes to end

Those visions I've seen
Oh, so many times
See me in dream
That only comes to life

You've known me before
So know me again
Like the diamond you once been
Light and inflamed

Slice me with silence
Shed tears of mud
Fill me my requiem
Take me for none

Outcast and dethroned
I will still hold my ground
Forbidden and alone
I too will brake down

No matter my saviour
Hold with dead lips
Those words that I whisper
Death's true kiss

With love there you fight m

Living :Conest Entry:To say man is sinful, doesn't seem to quite say it.
Because all that brings to mind is blasphemers, fornicators, God-haters--all of us.
But to say man is dead, is all the more accurate
Because a corpse can't feel sympathy, it can't hear cries for help.
It tastes not, hears not, handles not, it becomes as lifeless as the very idol it worshipped.
No, to say man is sinful doesn't seem to quite say
Because he who identifies as a cadaver can't hope to know who he really is.
That's why my endeavors are heavenly, and my ID is "Living Among the Dead" Because I know Christ gave me life so I could feel your pain even though find it pleasurable,
To se

Who I amWho I Am

&

Who I Want To Be,

are so far away from each other it hurts.

Twerping Birdies

I. not a morning person

Twerping birdies, chorping away at the day
As if I were supposed to be awake
At the crack of noon.

Cheerful construction workers obliterate
The restful silence, encouraged, perhaps,
By the bad example of the twerping birds.

There's plenty of rest for the wicked,
But none at all for me; let the early bird
Gorge itself on wormy guts for all I care.

II. insomnia blues

like unto the gentle, polyphonic susurration of the wind
through the leaves of the sibylline vuvuzela tree,
the evocative, resonant, goldurned whiny two-stroke
of the kargyraa engine of progress that powers
the early morning hunting call
of the ove

vengeance for injusticea mother she cries
cries at the war
now she waits
waits for the call
of the soldiers orders to kick down her door
vengeance she took filled with hate
for her husband and child who couldn't be saved
now she's locked in a cell
she buried her son
they put her through hell
but it's okay the rich man won

cirque de nuitanfangs ein rauschen am nachthimmel
so geschehen vom flattern der wimpel im

halbdunkel und dem klagenden streichton einer
singenden säge.

genommen und versteckt
verloren und gefallen

und ein riss der das zurückkommen
nicht möglich macht.

ein bild unter glas
getrübt - verhangen wie weisses Metall.

( hast du das licht vergessen- hast du?)

die leine baumelt mechanisch
am hilflosen arm.

ein atmen - stockend und menschlich fast
(etwas pocht herzähnlich)

ein raunen geht durch unsichtbare reihen
enttäuschend wie ein sprung ohne boden.

verlierst du dich verlierst du mich auch
und haben wir schon uns beide verlo

The Ugly TruthI'm not a miracle worker,
I'm not superwoman,
I'm a broken, 17 year old girl, who has no idea where shes going in life.

And I'm scared.

LEAVE ME ALOUNEI've said this once
I've said this twice
leave me alone or pay
the price. I've said this
three times I've said it four
NOW LEAVE ME ALUN BEFOR I SHUT
YOUR FINGERS IN THE DOOR

Grand Ball for FoolsI keep bashing my head against this same goddamn wall,
over and over again,
I let myself fall,
and I can't even fight,dear
I can't even crawl,
because your hands in my chest,
keep making my heart stall,
and i won't ever die, dear,
even though the reaper stands near and tall,
I'll always be your pretty little puppet,
although when you're bored of this my name you won't recall,
so i'll be cast away like a bag in the breeze,
And i'll perish finally of the hate you forced me to install,
with my last breath I'll still curse you
-no myself.
For I knew since the beginning that this waltz wasn't worth my pain at all.

GunshotOne bullet
The gun is loaded
Pointed at my head
Will you pull the trigger?

Hell is...I have been to hell
I HAVE been to hell
And I can tell you
that after death
there may be a heaven
but there isn't a hell.
Because hell
hell is here.
Hell is sitting in a cubicle
crying, during lunchbreak
when the devils
are your classmates
Hell is the back of a classroom
choosing someone for groupwork
when the devil
is in your partner's smirk
Hell is a hospital room
holding your grandfather tight
when the devil
is inside
Hell is your own room
mother, yelling at you
when the devil
is family life askew
Hell is your life
nobody loves you
when the devil
is everyone around you
But...
Hell is a moment
that will pass
all you have to do
is kick your own ass
Hell is a hideout
a protective place
when the devil
hates his own face
Hell is imaginary
created by fear
of people scared you will
be better than they are

A Friendpeople change at a rapid pace
but i know that until the end
despite the problems we may face
in you i'll always have a friend
there's never been another you
and never will be, on this earth
so i will miss, that much is true
i love you, friend, for all it's worth
when the day comes that we must part
and we reach the end of this life-long endeavor
you'll always remain in my heart
and we'll be intertwined forever
so keep in mind as you go out
to do great things, whatever they be
that i will be here, without a doubt
you'll always have a friend in me

The morrow has dawned, crisp aThe morrow has dawned, crisp and clear,

A new medium on which our lives shall appear

I slept and dreamed of dreams unrecalled

Like faded memories lost in fog

But those faded memories do abound

Yet in your arms my soul is re-found

Washed anew by love's hot touch

Bless my heart, I love you so much.

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i make like a tree and pine.I am and you are
and we all have
been this way.

Like a pumpkin,
I have been hollowed out
and given a jovial

face to wear. My mind
is buzzing with glorious
bees, and my heart, suddenly,

is riotous. You have
shaken my figurative
shoulders and stirred this long-

crystallized soul. You
have shown me a
new sort of beauty.

You are plagueing my
body and you have owl eyes
and I love you like a mad girl

loves her moleskin journals.
Darling, you are wonderful
and, like a lost boy for his home,

I pine for only you.

overwhelming amounts.bourbon on your breath
and sex on your mind; you are
so fucking mature.

untitled the third.he is a wicked
boy, bitter and crooked as
teeth, and i love him.

saturdays in rockford.adrenaline eyes, milky liquor skin-

ocean in my ears drowning out the

music. no sounds but the sea yet i still

feel the bass pumping- artificial heartbeat,

pulse races to the sound. arms on my waist

too warm and too new, yet i like it, like it,

i like this. an august boy, all indie and cigarettes,

addicted to the taste and not the nicotine, in love.

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[x]

killed by his requiem, mozart.

by ~tragicvista, Oct 26, 2009, 7:05:07 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Urban & Spoken Word

my lover is a virtuoso

slamming grand piano ribs;

mozart's requiem rings in my ear.

the fingers of a pianist,

crescendo over milk skin;

tapping louder against my xylo-bones.

i shatter in time

with the symphonies composed on my spine;

_{love me} ^staccato!

killed by his requiem, mozart.by ~tragicvista

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Urban & Spoken Word

_{full title [epic fail]: killed by his requiem, mozart lives still.}

~RoxiLore Oct 26, 2009 Student Interface Designer

Simple, yet elegantly worded, very beautiful!

~tragicvista Oct 26, 2009

_{thank you very much, and also for the favourite!}

~RoxiLore Oct 26, 2009 Student Interface Designer

You're very welcome!

~ChloroformBoy Oct 26, 2009

xylobones haha <3dis

~tragicvista Oct 26, 2009

_{i'm glad. thank you for the favourite!}

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killed by his requiem, mozart.

killed by his requiem, mozart.by ~tragicvista

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