what does DU mean to you?
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Shifting: A Parable
The Fates of Shakespeare
Dipped into their cauldron,
And the Kings and Queens
Rode out into the night,
No light upon their path.
For whosoever the poison wind touched,
Misted and blown,
From the hands of the Harpies,
Received both a curse and a blessing,
Despite its ugly disguise.
The kingdom was rent
And the subjects scattered
Like lost minion from a battle
Where no one knew who won,
Or even who had their swords drawn.
The Fates cackled their evil laughter.
“They shall be exiles!”
And the Kings and Queens rode on,
Shrouded in the unknowing,
And the bitterness of change.
The bubbling, rolling cauldron soup
Worked its lava-like searing
And the land was left scorched,
Cursed within its own walls,
With tomorrow uncertain.
But those who have tilled the ground,
Know there is a reason why
The Earth is burned at intervals,
For out of the ashes of what once grew,
Arises the spring green shoots of hope.
All things are made anew,
And the Devil has only so long a time,
With which to prowl the land,
And the hand of God, though seemingly cruel,
Comes to bless and anoit, with each thorn that is plucked away.
As the Kings and Queens travelled further from their castles,
Their paths became lighter,
Lit with the intensity of their spirits and wills to live on,
And the thorn bushes that walled them in and sought to destroy,
Were burned away, unknowingly, by the Fates’ scalding brew.
For what was meant for evil,
Had come back around and cleared the way
For the blessing of each new journey
The Kings and Queens would traverse upon
Along the dusted road.
As they continued to set forth,
Each noticed what they had not seen before:
The road leading from the kingdom was not one, complete path, as they thought,
But a series of paths, branching out, interconnecting
And some circling back.
Each secret road, would bring with it,
Its own journey and riches along the way.
“But how are we to choose?” cried one of the Kings,
And at that moment, a light appeared from the heavens.
“Do you see it?!” exclaimed another
And while each King and Queen could not see
Exactly the light, and its color, that each other saw,
The prism-effect had divided it into a series of rainbows,
Each pointing down a different path,
That only was meant for each ruler to observe.
At that moment they realized
That although each had a separate light,
It was all derived from the same, white, source,
And though the paths on which they were directed, went hitherto,
They all could still see each other, despite what road they were on.
Those left behind in the kingdom
Would come to realize that they were duty-bound
To repair and restore what the Fates had demolished,
But that it would not be the former;
All things new would be fashioned out of the hand of the Next Ones.
And as the Next Ones began sweeping the overturned stones,
They bid “adieu” and called to the Kings and Queens
“Go forth and receive your blessing, for it lies in the light on your path!
And we shall step in until the time when we too, must pass through the thorns.”
The Fates of Shakespeare
Dipped into their cauldron,
And the Kings and Queens
Rode out into the night,
No light upon their path.
For whosoever the poison wind touched,
Misted and blown,
From the hands of the Harpies,
Received both a curse and a blessing,
Despite its ugly disguise.
The kingdom was rent
And the subjects scattered
Like lost minion from a battle
Where no one knew who won,
Or even who had their swords drawn.
The Fates cackled their evil laughter.
“They shall be exiles!”
And the Kings and Queens rode on,
Shrouded in the unknowing,
And the bitterness of change.
The bubbling, rolling cauldron soup
Worked its lava-like searing
And the land was left scorched,
Cursed within its own walls,
With tomorrow uncertain.
But those who have tilled the ground,
Know there is a reason why
The Earth is burned at intervals,
For out of the ashes of what once grew,
Arises the spring green shoots of hope.
All things are made anew,
And the Devil has only so long a time,
With which to prowl the land,
And the hand of God, though seemingly cruel,
Comes to bless and anoit, with each thorn that is plucked away.
As the Kings and Queens travelled further from their castles,
Their paths became lighter,
Lit with the intensity of their spirits and wills to live on,
And the thorn bushes that walled them in and sought to destroy,
Were burned away, unknowingly, by the Fates’ scalding brew.
For what was meant for evil,
Had come back around and cleared the way
For the blessing of each new journey
The Kings and Queens would traverse upon
Along the dusted road.
As they continued to set forth,
Each noticed what they had not seen before:
The road leading from the kingdom was not one, complete path, as they thought,
But a series of paths, branching out, interconnecting
And some circling back.
Each secret road, would bring with it,
Its own journey and riches along the way.
“But how are we to choose?” cried one of the Kings,
And at that moment, a light appeared from the heavens.
“Do you see it?!” exclaimed another
And while each King and Queen could not see
Exactly the light, and its color, that each other saw,
The prism-effect had divided it into a series of rainbows,
Each pointing down a different path,
That only was meant for each ruler to observe.
At that moment they realized
That although each had a separate light,
It was all derived from the same, white, source,
And though the paths on which they were directed, went hitherto,
They all could still see each other, despite what road they were on.
Those left behind in the kingdom
Would come to realize that they were duty-bound
To repair and restore what the Fates had demolished,
But that it would not be the former;
All things new would be fashioned out of the hand of the Next Ones.
And as the Next Ones began sweeping the overturned stones,
They bid “adieu” and called to the Kings and Queens
“Go forth and receive your blessing, for it lies in the light on your path!
And we shall step in until the time when we too, must pass through the thorns.”
i dont have the articulation skills to express myself properly on this so
every day i love you less and less
youre turning into something i detest
every day i love you less and less i know
i feel it in my bones
im sick, im tired
mumumble forgot the words
every day i love you less and less and less and LESS
every day i love you less and less
youre turning into something i detest
every day i love you less and less i know
i feel it in my bones
im sick, im tired
mumumble forgot the words
every day i love you less and less and less and LESS
anna_grin said:i dont have the articulation skills to express myself properly on this so
every day i love you less and less
youre turning into something i detest
every day i love you less and less i know
i feel it in my bones
im sick, im tired
mumumble forgot the words
every day i love you less and less and less and LESS
Kaiser Chiefs...
every day i love you less and less
youre turning into something i detest
every day i love you less and less i know
i feel it in my bones
im sick, im tired
mumumble forgot the words
every day i love you less and less and less and LESS
Kaiser Chiefs...
Deep Underground
is where we stumbled down the rabbit hole.
Where dark blooms flourished, petals of ink
plucked and flung into the brew. Stirred by
minds and passions, it bubbled over
and over.
The flames die down, dwindle to sparks.
It is time to chop some deadwood,
sparks will blaze
again.
is where we stumbled down the rabbit hole.
Where dark blooms flourished, petals of ink
plucked and flung into the brew. Stirred by
minds and passions, it bubbled over
and over.
The flames die down, dwindle to sparks.
It is time to chop some deadwood,
sparks will blaze
again.
Jazz? (It's the words, man.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aS9gSEHhxkA&feature=youtube_gdata_player
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aS9gSEHhxkA&feature=youtube_gdata_player
well I'm deleting this poem, so might as well post it here for its parting read 
Sour Tongue
Lets talk,
like words don't mean a thing
and all your knowledge counts for nothing.
Pep, rap or whatever you want to call it.
Lets make tangles in sentences
with vines of punctuation.
Lets break apart the conjunctions of life,
the interjections of others,
the prepositions of us
and the implications of them.
If that makes any sense.
And when we find that we've been conquered,
let us complicate that which we cannot understand
into gibberish for the masses.
Communicate with randomness to the willing and able.
Maybe a jest, maybe a remark.
So that they're occupied,
and we don't lose our interests.
Because the most valuable thing in the world
isn't the money, the gold or life.
They are the words that initiate man.
They fill the seams of his consciousness
and propel him toward his goal.
That is absolute control.
So lets talk about that.
Sour Tongue
Lets talk,
like words don't mean a thing
and all your knowledge counts for nothing.
Pep, rap or whatever you want to call it.
Lets make tangles in sentences
with vines of punctuation.
Lets break apart the conjunctions of life,
the interjections of others,
the prepositions of us
and the implications of them.
If that makes any sense.
And when we find that we've been conquered,
let us complicate that which we cannot understand
into gibberish for the masses.
Communicate with randomness to the willing and able.
Maybe a jest, maybe a remark.
So that they're occupied,
and we don't lose our interests.
Because the most valuable thing in the world
isn't the money, the gold or life.
They are the words that initiate man.
They fill the seams of his consciousness
and propel him toward his goal.
That is absolute control.
So lets talk about that.
