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The Lord's Quiet Childi.The Lord's Quiet Child
There is grass that grows here In my Mother's Kingdom; Tall weed that coils itself Vinelike As a parasite to the trees; The Camphor that lines The way to
My Mother's Kingdom; the
Place made of Gold Where the nightingales sing Sweet platitudes to Lords and Ladies who
Asphyxiate on
The grass that grows here In my Mother's Kingdom.
ii. Sound rings hollow in my ears, and I am wont to scurry like a rodent across the kitchen floor, to the place where the body lies broken. There are so many voices, so much talking, and the moti
by ~RadioShockTherapy
Four Quartets.i – a marked bush filled with arrowsFour Quartets.
Under fluorescent lights and broken bridges A great number assembled, grey and haggard, Bent with years of labour, toiling under the Harsh sun and singing Negro spirituals With all their voices; all of them mute, But with a great voice unified in a chorus, A choral arrangement to those long gone And long dead, long silenced by the Long arm of the law, the unblinking Eyelids of the unceasing Dictators who Sit in palaces made of bone and give their Daughters lessons in French vocabulary – Hours of infinitive verbs
by ~RadioShockTherapy
Sleepless Dreams.I. The Calais HoundSleepless Dreams.
At Calais, in the Winter, we ran like dogs, Carrying our filth between yellowed teeth, Diseased by the teat of that wizened woman Who comes enshrined in dead roses, and who
Knows Death; He, who at her ardent Bequest, Watched us in the fitful semblance of sleep.
To suckle the Milk of the asp, Clutching hands To life’s last rasp:
A swift cry – nothing But a broken bottle Lying in the broken Street.
Barking “retreat!”
At Calais, in the Winter, we prayed like monks, For t
by ~RadioShockTherapy
Favourites
by ~grimmosquito
a poem for sleepA glass of warm white lily nectar triple distilled.a poem for sleep
A feather cool room where subtle shadows from a single red lamp surround the glow.
You'll find me slumping in a chair there, ladybug bodhisattvas licking
the dew from the corner of my lips.
A little ocean music swaying, maybe motzart or chopin something, a nocturne so my mind might find a constant star, and drift
over calm sound waves and dissolve like the wind into the clear light of sleep.
by ~Khrishna
aftermath 3FC: Over, is this Atlantic Flight 033? We’ve lost your position. Atlantic Flight 033, do you copy? AF033: We’ve crashed on a snowcapped mountain. FC: How many casualties? Do you have a headcount? AF033: Sixty-four FC: Sixty four? Are there no deaths? AF033: The dead have been recovered while the injured are in the process of being healed? [Static, mumbling in the background] FC: I’m not sure what to make of your previous statement. AF033: There are no deaths. FC: Are you saying that you are reviving the dead? AF033: Trust me. We are safe here. I know what I am doing. &aftermath 3
by ~hermsss
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: The Plain of Forms
- Interests: Nothing that involves thinking,
- Favourite movie: Fight Club/Dark Knight
- Favourite band or musician: Radiohead. Interpol and Coldplay are pretty amazing also.
- Favourite genre of music: Romantic Period. Art Music. Bebop.
- Favourite artist: Picasso.
- Favourite poet or writer: T.S Eliot. Haruki Murakami.
- Favourite style of art: Impressionist.
- Operating System: XP biatch!
- MP3 player of choice: iPod, coz of the wheel...
- Shell of choice: Tortoise. Much warmer in the winter months.
- Wallpaper of choice: One with balloons. Fantastical hot air balloons that will take us to the moon!
- Skin of choice: My own. Or that lady from down the streets. She's puuuurty...
- Favourite game: Pin the Tail on the Drunky
- Favourite gaming platform: Xbox 360.
- Favourite cartoon character: Happy Noodle Boy
- Personal Quote: I does wot I likes, an I likes wot I do.
- Tools of the Trade: Pressing the enter button at random intervals.
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--
Jesus said to John "Come Fourth and i'll give you eternal life!" John came Fifth and got a toaster.
--
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
- From "The Hollowmen" by T.S Eliot
--
Jesus said to John "Come Fourth and i'll give you eternal life!" John came Fifth and got a toaster.
--
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
- From "The Hollowmen" by T.S Eliot
--
Jesus said to John "Come Fourth and i'll give you eternal life!" John came Fifth and got a toaster.
--
"All art is quite useless."
-Oscar Wilde
--
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
- From "The Hollowmen" by T.S Eliot
Vita Nuova
I STOOD by the unvintageable sea
Till the wet waves drenched face and hair with spray,
The long red fires of the dying day
Burned in the west; the wind piped drearily;
And to the land the clamorous gulls did flee:
"Alas! " I cried, "my life is full of pain,
And who can garner fruit or golden grain,
From these waste fields which travail ceaselessly!"
My nets gaped wide with many a break and flaw
Nathless I threw them as my final cast
Into the sea, and waited for the end.
When lo! a sudden glory! and I saw
The argent splendor of white limbs ascend,
And in that joy forgot my tortured past.
Oscar Wilde
--
Jesus said to John "Come Fourth and i'll give you eternal life!" John came Fifth and got a toaster.
--
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
- From "The Hollowmen" by T.S Eliot
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