…ge where she walks.

Face of Sorrow
Toc the Younger, Steven Erikson
I have seen the face of sorrow
She looks away in the distance
Across all these bridges
From whence I came

And those spans, trussed and ached
Hold up our lives as we go back again
To how we thought then
To how we through we thought then

I have seen sorrow’s face,
But she is ever turned away
And her words leave me blind
Her eyes make me mute

I do not understand what she says to me
I do not know if to obey
Or attempt a flood of tears
I have seen her face

She does not speak
She does not weep
She does not know me
For I am but a stone fitted in place
On the bridge where she walks

great poem, great book :p

…de out again

Radiohead
Street Spirits (Fade Out)

Rows of houses, all bearing down on me
I can feel their blue hands touching me
All these things into position
All these things we’ll one day swallow whole
And fade out again and fade out

This machine will, will not communicate
These thoughts and the strain I am under
Be a world child, form a circle
Before we all go under
And fade out again and fade out again

Cracked eggs, dead birds
Scream as they fight for life
I can feel death, can see its beady eyes
All these things into position
All these things we’ll one day swallow whole
And fade out again and fade out again

Immerse your soul in love (2x)

and faaade out again…

…ersion? Accident? Or just stupidity? In any case, my condolences for all of the people negatively affected by this incident.

~damnShame
~bestCountryInTheWorldLah

…st. Movie. Ever.

Gahahaha. I wasn’t planning on getting seeing this movie, but I gotta say… this clip is so silly, it’s hard not to be intrigued xD

~wakaka

…’nt know what to write…

hmm hmm…

what to do what to do :p

~xD

…wayman

The Highwayman
Alfred Noyes

One

I
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding-
Riding-riding-
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

II
He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

III
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

IV
And dark in the old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say-

V
“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”

VI
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i’ the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.

Two

I
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o’ the tawny sunset, before the rise o’ the moon,
When the road was a gipsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching-
Marching-marching-
King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

II
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride.

III
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
“Now keep good watch!” and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say-
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

IV
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till here fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like
years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

V
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love’s refrain.

VI
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up strait and still!

VII
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him-with her death.

VIII
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

IX
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i’ the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.

X
And still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding-
Riding-riding-
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

XI
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

creepy :p

~hehehe

…it the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart,
And take thy form from off my door!

–The Raven, Edgar Allen Poe

…ept our way of thinking.

The release of atom power has changed everything
except our way of thinking. The solution to this problem lies
in the heart of mankind. If only I had known, I should have
become a watchmaker.
–Albert Einstein

Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster,
and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you.
– Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

…saws… puzzles…

Radiohead
Jigsaw Falling Into Place

Just as you take my hand,
Just as you write my number down,
Just as the drinks arrive,
Just as they play our favorite song
As your blather dissapears,
No longer wound up like a spring,
Before you’be had too much,
Come back and focus again

The walls abandon shape,
You’ve got a cheshire cat grin
All blurring into one,
This place is on a mission,
Before the night owl,
Before the animal noises,
Close circuit cameras,
Before you’re comatose

Before you run away from me,
Before you’re lost between the notes,
The beat goes round and round,
The beat goes round and round,
I never really got there,
I just pretended that I had,
What’s the point of instruments?
Words are a sawed-off shotgun

Come on and let it out (4x)

Before you run away from me,
Before you’re lost between the notes,
Just as you take the mic,
Just as you dance… dance… dance…
(dance… dance… dance…)

Jigsaw falling into place,
There is nothing to explain,
Regard each other as you pass,
She looks back, you look back,
Not just once… Not just twice…
Wish away the nightmare,
Wish away the nightmare,
You got a light, you can feel it on your back,
A light, you can feel it on your back,
Jigsaw falling, into place

falling falling xD

…kie cutter systems, have you built one? xD More like hundreds probably xD Usually identified by the generic naming system of *insert function here* information system Then again, it’s (mostly) easy because it’s familiar and routine, but… oh how I wish xD

~lalalala
~lalalala