As if I just forgot for a minute.

I believe life ends with death, and that is all.
You haven’t gone shopping;but just the same,
in my new black leather phone book there’s your name
and the disconnected number I still call.

@темы: Полковнику никто не пишет(с), Встречный ветер, Архив тайной полиции

---

About Jess.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jessica_Care_Moore
I thought it was nothing,but no:this name is a reference too.

@темы: Что это,Отто?!

---

We are,ain`t we?Hey,Ann?

I am like a war novel,
entirely lacking female characters,
except for an occasional letter
that makes one of the men cry.

You are like a table
that eats its own legs off
because it’s fallen in love with the floor.

@темы: Полковнику никто не пишет(с), жизнь - это процесс, а не результат(с), Архив тайной полиции

---

Arkaye Keirulf “Spaces”

Your sadness is immaterial.
You did not come into the world to be happy.
You came to suffer/survive.

@темы: от солидола у них лапки распухают (с), в жизни всегда есть место подвигу, О том,немногом...

---

Hold onto your voice. Hold onto your breath. Don’t make a noise,

It`s for the best
You`ll never know but it`s for the best
I`m the one that can sacrifice
You`ve had enough
Just let me do this now instead of you
It`s kind of in out blood,isn`t it?
Est melius
Sed vos optime non cognosco
Ego sum qui sacrificare
Te satis
Nunc pro te mihi justum hoc
Est in nostra sanguine, nonne?
Is better
But you do not know best
I have to sacrifice
you had
Now this is just for you from me
That is the road of our blood, is it not?
Hey,Mom,isn`t it?
Isn`t it?

@темы: жизнь - это процесс, а не результат(с), Встречный ветер, Архив тайной полиции, Среда обитания

---

there are so many truths i want to say, why did you ask for the lie?

I want death death death for my birthday
I want death death death in the worst way
Don`t get me wrong I love life
But life means family and friends
Oh bless my soul I`m out to destroy them
Oh I use my heart as a weapon
Choose best places to aim not knowing then

My version of hell
is someone ripping open his shirt
and saying, Look what I did for you.

@темы: ich bin der brennande Komet, жизнь - это процесс, а не результат(с), Встречный ветер, Архив тайной полиции

---

Закрытая запись, не предназначенная для публичного просмотра

---

They've got hearts for me to break and burn

So Carry Me,
I'm just a dead man
Lying on the carpet
Can't find a heartbeat
Make me breathe,
I want to be a new man
Tired of the old one
Out with the old plan

@музыка: Jars Of Clay

@темы: в жизни всегда есть место подвигу, жизнь - это процесс, а не результат(с), О том,немногом...

---

Pedicabo tuam matrem!

Блядские экзамены for the rest of the night.

Be funny with блядские экзамены.

Think. Feel. Блядские экзамены.

Блядские экзамены is under control.

Have fun, have блядские экзамены.

запись создана: 24.10.2011 в 17:08

@музыка: Danny Elfman - Success Montage

@темы: от солидола у них лапки распухают (с), в жизни всегда есть место подвигу, Суровые серые будни с привкусом железа, Встречный ветер

---

Okay,I might be crazy but still.

Well,a shot of confidence changes it all.Let`s keep it going.Up an` at `em.

Still,still it goes up and down
forever bound to the sun
and the world beneath
round and round
keeps moving not letting go
having faith
as an important part of it`s soul
jumps in wrong directions
but still finds it`s righteous way
it`s way home
where the glorious light fills it and fulls it
until it`s ready again
to sacrifice to pain to loose to be lost to be weak
to hide to feel to break to stumble to fall
all so to rise again
And the circle begins.

@темы: Великий Я, в жизни всегда есть место подвигу, Эпично, О том,немногом...

---

It hurts like a bitch.

@темы: Великий Я, в жизни всегда есть место подвигу, Встречный ветер, Архив тайной полиции

---

Закрытая запись, не предназначенная для публичного просмотра

---

The hell?

@темы: ich bin der brennande Komet, О том,немногом..., Что это,Отто?!

---

Jesus fucking Christ almighty

No way they could have done that!
It was okay when they renamed episode 22 from God to the stupid There Will Be Blood, but jesusdamnmotheroffuck, how on earth they came to naming ep. 23 Get Dick?! Freaking Get Dick!
Get Dick! Really?! Are you serious?! Holy motherfucking shit, Get Dick!

To tell the truth, it also works perfectly for all other eps if you really have the guts to try and replace all the words in the titles.

And also I`m now waiting for all the dick jokes in the last ep, like for real.

@темы: отдел линейного счастья, Тапочки-мухоморы, О том,немногом..., Что это,Отто?!

---

Non timebo mala.

@темы: Полковнику никто не пишет(с), жизнь - это процесс, а не результат(с), Встречный ветер, Среда обитания

---

@темы: ich bin der brennande Komet, Яволь!!!, О том,немногом..., Небо будет за нас!

---

Закрытая запись, не предназначенная для публичного просмотра

---

Holymotherofgod

I am SOOO going to do it!

@темы: ich bin der brennande Komet, отдел линейного счастья, Тапочки-мухоморы, Среда обитания

---

Sooo

you are darkgreen #006400

Your dominant hue is green. You're logical and steadfast, focused on figuring life out and doing what makes sense. You value being trusted because you know you're taking the time to figure things out and everyone should just follow you. Your saturation level is very high - you are all about getting things done. The world may think you work too hard but you have a lot to show for it, and it keeps you going. You shouldn't be afraid to lead people, because if you're doing it, it'll be done right. Your outlook on life is slightly darker than most people's. You try to see things for what they are and face situations honestly. You'd rather get to the point than look for what's good.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

@темы: Великий Я, Тапочки-мухоморы

---

children will listen.

Last Words by Michael Symmons Roberts




(i)

You have a new message:

Kiss the kids goodbye from me

Keep well, keep strong, you know
I’m sure, but here’s to say I love you.
I lay these voice-prints

like a set of tracks, to stop

you getting lost among the tall trees
beneath the break-less canopy,
on the long slow walk you take
from here without me.



(ii)

You have a new message:

I do not want to leave you this
magnetic print, this digit trace,
my coded and decoded voice.

I do not want to leave you.

If I had a choice, my last words
would be carried to your window
on three slips of sugar paper in
the beaks of birds of paradise.
The words would say,

I’m sure you know,

I love you.



(iii)

You have a new message:

I throw my voice across the city,

but it meets such a cacophony

we overload the network.

Countless last words divert

on to backup spools and hard drives.
Systems analyst turns archaeologist:

his fingertips, as delicate as brushes,
sift through sediment of conferences,
helpline hints, arguments and cold calls,
searching for the ones that say

You know, I’m sure, I love you.



(iv)

You have a new message:

This is the voice you hear in dreams,
this is the tape you cannot

bear to play. This is the voice-mail
you keep in a sealed silk bag

in a tin box in the attic.

But the message is out - in

the sick-beds and the darkened rooms;
in the billowing curtains

and the hush so heavy

you can hear the pulse in your wrists.
The message is out, in the ether,

in the network of digits and wires.

I know, you’re sure, I love you.



(v)

You have a new message:

Don’t remember this, don’t save

this message. Keep instead
the pictures of last Sunday

in the park when summer

leaves were turning, Rollerbladers

hand-in-hand, our boys

throwing fists of cut grass at each other.
Think of the extravagance of green,
and think especially of the sky,

its blinding cloudlessness.

You know, I’m sure, but here’s

to say I love you.



(vi)

You have a new message:

This is the still, small voice

you longed to hear among the ruins.
This is the voice you fished

with microphones on long lines,
lowered into cracks between

the rocks of this new mountain.

And your ears ache with the effort,
the sheer will to listen, to conjure
my words, your name on my lips,
out of nowhere. Here’s to say.



(vii)

You have a new message:

When a city is wounded,

before it moans, before it kneels,

it draws a breath, and keeps it,

as though all phones are on hold,
all radios de-tuned, cathedrals locked
and all parks vacant.

It becomes a windless forest.

But remember, silence is not absence.
Learn to weigh them,

one against the other.

Each room of our house contains

a different emptiness. Listen.

Then break it. Say

you know, I’m sure, I love you.



(viii)

You have a new message:

Do not forget the beauty of aeroplanes,
those long, slow pulses from the sun
which passed above our garden as

we lay out in the heat. Do not forget
their gentle night-time growl,

and how we used to picture people in them
- sleeping, talking, just as we were,
how we used to guess the destinations.

Do not forget the grace of aeroplanes,
the majesty of skyscrapers.

You know, I’m sure.



(ix)

You have a new message:

Still, a year on, you rifle through
black boxes, mail-boxes, voice-boxes,
in search of my final words.

You hunt them in the white noise
between stations on the radio, the blank
face of a TV with the aerial pulled out.
You walk in crowds, wondering

if my words were passed to him,

or her, as messenger. If I’d had time

to leave you words, you know, I’m sure,
they would have been I love you.

(x)

You have a new message:

Now, my voice stored on your mobile,

I can tell you fifty times a day

how much I love you. “Tell the kids,”

I say. I don’t know if you still do.
Sometimes, when you’re out of town,

on trains, or in the shadow of tall buildings
You lose the signal. The network breaks.
You hear vowels splinter in my throat,

as if struck by a sudden despair.



(xi)

You have a new message:

Where did my last words go?

Out and out on radio waves

into the all-engulfing emptiness,
fading to a whisper as they cross

from sky, to space, to nothing.

Or in, and in, as litany repeated

in your heart until all tape is obsolete.

Each cadence, every tongue-tick,
every breath is perfect, as you say
my words: You know, I’m sure.



(xii)

You have a new message:

There is nothing new in this.

My voice has printed like a bruise,

like a kiss, like a kiss so strong

it leaves a bruise. I love you.

You know it, I’m sure.

Beyond the smoking ruins,

smoking planes, and empty rooms,
above and beyond is a network.

A matrix of souls,

as fragile as lace,

but endless and unbreakable.

To save the message, press.


And,well,the blog itself: asleepypuppy.tumblr.com/tagged/poetry

@темы: жизнь - это процесс, а не результат(с), О том,немногом...