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"Bury"

A/N: Dedicated to awesome Carole
Enjoy, hunny

"Bury"

Bury everything in my skin;
give me your sins
your desolation
Banish your smile
and forgive me for mine


Someone will believe in you- break your hope against
falling cliffs
The air is drowning in your veins
Plead to underground angels to release control-
you need to let it go,
if you’re alone you won’t smile
won’t cherish every light
won’t hear anyone out


Try to be a Saint-
welcome, lover
And hate rightly
for what was done to you and for what you did


Bury your feverish fingers in the stones
and listen to your raging shame
steer your eyes away from the falling suns
And ask the Devil in yourself if
you’re still as young as you look
Ingrain all the answers in the walls
of glass we built around you
Go, sleep and fade away


Join my mist in the air, and bring back
with yourself our judgement day


Punish the love and be the Saint
run away, banished from your skin
Isn’t your heart too dark to crave?
Your spirit- spat out and left on the
freezing patterns and ashy bridges-
forestalls the dream we watched in the mirrors
paints your shame in black and white


Can you stay aware enough to care?
Wake up in the silence, and stand the judgement day


Pity only resembles rage; lie to me, and run away
before the air turns into icy cage in your
veins
Press your soul to lips, then slowly let it go


Bury everything and hurt your hope
Hide it among your stones
then you may go
Again


Run away
I don’t want to know
I stand against our angels and rip it all apart
Can anyone hate enough?
I wish I could go back to the day before the
Judgement day
and listen to the porcelain glass on your walls break against
your stones


There are lights in you that can savour it
Relinquish your control- you cannot lie
to revive its boundaries
So play the silence
and bury all your sins in innocence


A/N: Pisane pewnie tak koło pierwszej w nocy- jak zacznę narzekać na brak snu, możecie więc mi śmiało wytknąć, że marnuję noce na własne życzenie.

Z dedykacją dla wspaniałej, niepowtarzalnej, jedynej, cudownej, złotej Monisi ;) (zresztą, większość rzeczy pisałam dla mojej ulubionej czytelniczki :* )

Barom mlecznym mówimy stanowcze: eeetam!Collapse )

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Ever read warnings from medicine's leaflet?
No?
I wish I hadn't- it seems you can die on everything from just taking a panadol!
The list of possible complications is twice as long as to what the pills work against- and, most worryingly, it contains some very strangely sounding words.

On a more brighter side: Your guide to everything evil!
So, you want to be a Death Eater...
'Paradise'

You hear moans from the room,
light and unoppresive in
their ignorance of your presence,
a stranger contamplating a variety of
white shades.

There is pain and recognition and then
there is denial of what you resigned from.
You. Modern woman, aware of her
status and worth.
You. Beautiful and dangerous, desired
by the Devil himself, enchanted by
glistering heat of your eyes.

Devil, on his knees in front of your
Pride, offering heavy admiration,
with the world enclosed in his smooth
skin.

The world and the touches made of velvet
isn't enough. Not for you, intended for
somebody different.
In the flawed plan of fate-
you don't kneel to God-
you were made for somebody different.
Somebody who is as proud,
as eager to fight and unable to submit
to anyone.
You were made for somebody like you.

You are Lilith. Believed to be vampire,
blood- thirsty fate of men don't wise
enough to keep you at distance.
You are a fable being kept told to young men
To make them choose an eligible woman.
You are so much more than that.
But it's not your moans coming
From behind those doors. You are a
spectacle full of witches, powerful,
magical and untouchable, disappearing
before the morning mist.
Escaping from paradise.
You are Lilith, after all.

No more moans heard outside the
door. The white room is kept in silence
now, exhausted and stagy,
as if isolated for blissful moment
for people inside to remember.
Adam has a son now.

Lilith walks away, followed by
appreciative looks and half- whistles, half- smiles,
batting her eyelashes, wrapped in indifference.
She has a date to attend to, anyway.


Background, to those who don't know Collapse )

Wall? What wall? Ouch!

Random irony: You wish for something for years. Then it happens. And then you're just trying to get yourself out of it and all the mess that was created :/
I need to practise assertiveness. And I need to do it fast!

On another note, I'm dealing with a huge writing block- my muse for my both prison break stories turned out to be quite not so appealing as I'd originally thought.
On the other hand, I'm in full Star Wars kick lately- my other muse is here all the time. And what am I doing? Reading tons of fics, instead of getting off my lazy a** and doing something creative. Typical.
The fics, though, are all good ;) Yummy!

And I just realised how a naughty slash fan I can be! Oh dear... I need some restraint. And don't anyone dare to suggest handcuffs... ;)
(oh, my dirty, dirty mind... What I have here with you *sighs*)

"Eldorado"- Edgar Allan Poe

One of the masters of creating an atmosphere- and author of the first poem I ever read in English (couple of years ago, and I didn't understand half of the words he had used)

I like sometimes to just look at this one- it just has the right rhytm...

“Eldorado”

Gaily bedight,
A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
Had journeyed long,
Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado.

But he grew old,
This knight so bold,
And o'er his heart a shadow,
Fell as he found,
No spot of ground,
That looked like Eldorado.

And, as his strength,
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow;
"Shadow," said he,
"Where can it be,
This land of Eldorado?"

"Over the mountains of the moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,"
The shade replied,
"If you seek for Eldorado!"

By: Edgar Allan Poe

"Every man." Dedicated to Franz Kafka

“Every man”
Dedicated to
Franz Kafka
 
Joseph K. dies like every man.
He dies alive, watching rising sun
And disappearing face behind the
Dusty window.
 
His killer is alive too.
He kills and stays alive, cause it’s
Not true that you rip yourself into
pieces with the swift movement of a knife.
Stays whole, watching droplets of
Blood on a cold perfection
Showed on a finite dance of
Body and steel, skin and hardness,
Stopping movements and stillness.
 
Every man dies like K.
Facing fears and regrets
And hundreds and thousands of faces.
Or none at all.
 
Dies, exciting the labyrinths of clouded
streets and steep stairs covered
with dusty remains of words, like
try, manage, all right.
The streets you wander looking for the doors destined for you to cross,
the stairs you crawl up, reaching all
but the last.
 
And then, you listen to the guard standing in front of the doors.
‘I won’t let you pass.’
And you don’t.
You bribe, ask, and plead.
Not enter. Even though the doors are for you
And the guard is as well.
 
It comes to every man.
Or every man comes to it.
Through actions or inactions, everyone tastes
the blade and blood and denial.

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"The pet from Pompei"

This is my very first poem written in English- I reckon it's a few months old at the moment. I hope someone (except for me, that is ;)  ) will like it. Whatever your opinion, however, please comment- I've checked, it takes no more than 2-4 minutes if you're feeling creative and want to write a lot.
No more than a minute if you're in secretive mood.
Catch me either on my jabber, here or send me a pm- form is really irrelevant.

A/N: Obvious references to Kaczmarski- I wonder if someone will tell me where? (all Polish peeps- silence! hehe)


What do I think of Western civilization? I think it would be a very good idea.Collapse )

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