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    poetry


    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Misc

    ...Created 2011-06-06 09:59:58

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    No emotion was pure, because everything was mixed up with fear and hatred. Their embrace had been a battle, the climax a victory. It was a blow struck against the Party. It was a political act.

    George Orwell, 1984; Ch. 2 Pt. 2

    ...Created 2010-07-21 20:14:30

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    ...Created 2010-01-20 09:31:31

    dotsJournal: IIdots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    The twilight turns from amethyst
    To deep and deeper blue,
    The lamp fills with a pale green glow
    The trees of the avenue.

    The old piano plays an air,
    Sedate and slow and gay;
    She bends upon the yellow keys,
    Her head inclines this way.

    Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands
    That wander as they list -- -
    The twilight turns to darker blue
    With lights of amethyst.

    James Joyce

    ...Created 2010-01-19 18:37:11

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    ...Created 2009-05-27 17:52:09

    dotsJournal: Moon Horrorsdots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    When he dined, the man-eating tiger laeves certain signs.
    But nothing betrays the moon's hideous number nines.
    Nobody knows where they sleep off their immense meals.
    They strike so fatally nobody knows how one feels.
    One-eyed, one legged, they start out of the ground with such a shout
    The chosen vidctim's eyes instantly fall out.
    They do not leave so much as a hair but smack their chops
    And go off thinner than ever with grotesque hops.

    ...

    But the thing that specialises in hunting down the great hero
    Is the flying strangler, the silent zero.
    It is luckily quite rare, perhaps there is only one.
    According to legend it lives sleepily coiled around the sun.
    But when a moon-hero appears it descends and hovers just over his head.
    His enemies call it a halo, but his friends see it and tremble with dread.
    And sure enough, in the very best of his days,
    That zero drops around his neck, tightens, and whirls away with with him into the sun's blaze.

    - Ted Hughes

    ...Created 2009-05-15 11:47:16

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Misc

    ...Created 2009-04-30 10:54:01

    dotsJournal: Musicdots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood:

    by Baudelaire

    trans. by John McGowan (no relation ha)

    Music will often take me like the sea!
    When clouds are low
    Or in clear ether, I, towards my pale star,
    Set sail and go;

    With my chest thrust forard and with lungs puffed out
    My sails are tight;
    I climb the backs of all the heaped-up waves
    As day turns night;

    Throbbing within me are the passions of
    A suffering ship;
    The mild breeze, or the tempest and its throes

    On the abyss
    Rock me. At other times, dead calm, the glass
    Of hopelessness

    ...Created 2009-04-29 19:28:47

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood:

    How do you know ev'ry Bird that cuts the airy way,
    Is an immense World of Delight, clos'd by your senses five?

    from A Memorable Fancy, W. Blake.

    ...Created 2009-04-28 20:48:06

    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.

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    January 10 07
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