Naturi Naughton - Remember my Name

Not new by any means, but full of energy. ^_^

Contemplating

They laid me down, naked and unshriven, in the freshly hollowed earth - fragrant and cold, on fallow land. Above me, the sky pressed down - close enough to touch. If my body were still my own, I would have wiped the dust streaks off my skin, I would have crushed the grass to have it scent my hands. I would have laughed, I would have roared of freedom. I would have cried. I would have closed my eyes. I would have mourned. 

 I died today.

Saranghamyeon An Doeni - Kim Nam Gil

Justice of the Mighty

  


   The victors - tattered heroes of this play, stand among the fallen, shivering and sweaty, scanning the mangled ruins of their stage. The fight is over and they're suddenly lost. There is no contender, there is no more conflict. They no longer serve a purpose. In the aftermath, the fields seem drowned in silence, and its thrumming loudness makes them wary. The air is murky and still, and they all seem reluctant to move, frozen in this grim picture of bloodied statues. Their cause had been the right one, made just by the stark proof of the outcome. This thought alone, and only the belief in its truth, could grant them peace in the face of all this devastation.

   As they watch the writhing mass of bodies slain, the sun gleams hotly on dented armors, scorching the battered flesh beneath as it splinters on discarded weapons in soiled glitter. Above the arid plain, carrion birds circle in ominous clouds, awaiting their share of the spoils, as the hounds of war tear at each other, snarling over the decaying remains of the battle.

   Sons of Ares, behold! Where is the honor in this waste? Glory - that tarnished fool's gold, once born on banners high and sung in raucous revelry, lies now in tangled shreds, foul and faded, among the crumbling trophies of this war.

There is no triumph in winning.

Inger de tina

Sarut mereu, prin tine, crud mototol de tina

Oglinda vesniciei, farama de lumina,

Luceafar al iluziei, al celor care pier,

Al vorbelor desarte si-al crucilor de fier.

Gandind in visuri sterpe, fiinta muritoare

Pierduta-n framantari - tacute si amare,

Tind spre necunoscut si caut ne-ntelesul,

Eternul chip cioplit si cel ce mi-e alesul.

Mormanul de pamant, faramicios si rece, 

Sapat din glia sacra a numelui primit-

Emblema anonima, profet al vietii sece,

Asteapt-o form', un nume, si-altar de preamarit.

Copil al nemuririi, nu-ti cer sa-mi dai crezare,

Nici sa-mi indrumi tu pasii, sa-mi spui c-ai inteles.

Vreau doar sa-mi intinzi mana, sa-ngadui ce-am ales

Si, sufletului meu, sa-i permiti alinare.

Whataya Want from Me?

 Adam Lambert

Tam Doan

I unfailingly come back to this song, every time.

Sursa

Si melodia momentului, pe care o ascult de cateva zile...


Korzeniowski -  And Just Like That

What if...

   No one looks anymore - she wants to scream, the roars ripping through her, from the deepest part of her soul, clamoring to be voiced. She's afraid she'll come apart. Her legs feel unsubstantial. What would happen if she fell? Again, another silenced shout wrenches her insides - and she viciously thinks she'd love to bare it out in someone's face, to let them see. They couldn't know what it felt like, or they'd all be crawling. Beyond anyone's hearing, she rages - the pain is making her angry and they won't even let her cry. She could try to tell them.

    Someone takes a closer look, eyes mildly inquiring - and she smiles back, because that's what they expect. Alone, in a sea of strangers milling about their lives, and she can't even fucking cry! If they can't see it now, they don't deserve to know.

    She takes a deep breath, concentrating on the air filling her lungs and closes her eyes as her chest expands - the beast snarling and tearing inside. Not yet.

A laugh...

Talk about being original, or at least attempting to...I've got myself a blog, of all things cliche.