Without speaking, I know that glance. Stepped on your toes last time we danced. Paris meeting: a tour de France. Together, avoir de la chance. Heart still beating, we take our stance. The steps we take so we advance. Feelings fleeting, no second chance. This time there will be no romance.
At Ease with Clouds by HarmonyofDischord, literature
Literature
At Ease with Clouds
Drifting down, down to the ground: drifting gently down; Drifting softly through mellow clouds without making a sound. Free at last, free from the past: from my earthly past. Freely floating through vanilla skies without wondering why. Finally, I'm at ease with clouds: no gravity, the earth sucks you down. Will you catch me when I fall when I hit the ground? Finally, I'm at ease with clouds: no certainty I will be around. Will you hear me when I sleep when I'm in the ground? Drifting down, down to the ground: drifting gently down; Drifting softly through mellow clouds without making a sound. Free at last, free from the past: from my earthly past. Freely floating through vanilla skies without wondering why. Finally, I'm at ease with clouds: nobody can let me down. Will you catch me when I fall when I hit the ground? Finally, I'm at ease with clouds: no tragedy can make me frown. Will you see my face in the clouds when I'm not around? There's no gravity: the earth just sucks you
There was a bird who sang out of tune, Flew too few and flew too soon, He nested far away. He had a short wing that couldn't fly, He could glide but not touch the sky, Gave up flying that day. Songbird, oh songbird, Why don't you sing? The breeze carries melodies, Songs of a broken wing. Songbird, oh songbird, Why don't you sing? Because flying's not worth falling, From the place you came.
Sometimes we forget the simplest things, Take a raft instead of an oar. Life goes in a single heartbeat, And you forgot like the time before. To remember whomever you greet, Will leave you, evermore. But they loved you more, Rest ashore.
The Adventure Begins by HarmonyofDischord, literature
Literature
The Adventure Begins
Waiting in your home town, Just waiting around, With your best friends. (Waiting around with your friends.) Boring day as usual, Boring day as usual, Then it begins, you are Waiting to slay the dragon, still, Waiting for your hero's quest, you are Waiting for your magic kiss, still, Waiting for your very best, you are Waiting, sick of waiting, You're so sick of waiting, For a new day. Waiting for adventure, Waiting for adventure, To come your way, still are Waiting to slay the dragon, still, Waiting for your hero's quest, you are Waiting for your magic kiss, still, Waiting for your very best, you are Waiting in your home town, Just waiting around, Then it begins. (The adventure begins.)
Bright-eyed with love to give, let's look for a home to live: A parasol with a patio, a two-car garage, and a family. The house for sale is an open jail where the floor is stained. Cigarette ash and years of neglect manifest into pain. Tree swings swinging in the draught wind; how fun. Bee stings from the flowers, a daft friend; now gone. The house for sale: tears precipitate on the windows to our souls. Broken bottle glass and plates smashed take their tolls. A minivan and a rover, and a basketball hoop; how quaint. Fix the fence, get the mower, a new look, new paint. The house for sale is where our parents taught us how to scream. The house for sale was a living hell in a nuclear dream.
Men Staring at the Sun by HarmonyofDischord, literature
Literature
Men Staring at the Sun
Forlorn traveler, along with ye sail with Nothing to offer you lest flowers for sale. She gathers primroses for the sea, Flowers for sale, but flowers grow free. Besieged in ruin as the Vikings come, Blind the men who stare at the sun. She saw ships and sails upon torrent waves, She urged the men to change their ways. Without a voice for her to empower, They sell death, and she sells flowers. Besieged in ruin as the Russians come, Blind the men who stare at the sun. She asks them why, but they shake their heads: Are our brothers in arms grateful to be dead? Is our fault in the stars? Or does it lie with man's eye? But it's not her place to ask why. Besieged in ruin as the Germans come, Blind the men who stare at the sun. She asks them why, but they shake their heads: Why is it an honor to bear an armored breast? And to the hand that kills, not to the hand that heals, But not to wear a hand-woven dress? Besieged in ruin as the invaders come, Blind the men who stare at the sun.
Green hills are a flowing, No chance of ever slowing, Forever, they are scrolling, Blue Ball keeps on rolling. Green hills are a flowing, Quickly get all the gold rings, Don't stop, continue going, Blue Ball keeps on rolling.
Drowning in the sea or falling in the sky
Wondering where I, wondering why
Wondering when, I'll sit for my dream
But it never comes, it never comes
It never comes or goes my way
For Those Who Don't by HarmonyofDischord, literature
Literature
For Those Who Don't
Like a crumpled piece of paper
Your thoughts are thrown askew
Abandoning the great love caper
Turn the blossomed leaves anew
Words and thoughts begin to taper
As what we shared is now through
It's too bad what we have had
Became so withered and dry
You were glad and I was sad
I could not even cry
I look back and see black
I wonder if love's a lie
I care for those who don't
their persistence has shown
to make me a better man
so one day I'll understand
We once shared numinosity
Now we glare animosity
All things comes to an end
the past is gone we pretend
Gone like the tides receeding
done, my heart is bleeding
Don't speak, I know you don't
Without speaking, I know that glance. Stepped on your toes last time we danced. Paris meeting: a tour de France. Together, avoir de la chance. Heart still beating, we take our stance. The steps we take so we advance. Feelings fleeting, no second chance. This time there will be no romance.
At Ease with Clouds by HarmonyofDischord, literature
Literature
At Ease with Clouds
Drifting down, down to the ground: drifting gently down; Drifting softly through mellow clouds without making a sound. Free at last, free from the past: from my earthly past. Freely floating through vanilla skies without wondering why. Finally, I'm at ease with clouds: no gravity, the earth sucks you down. Will you catch me when I fall when I hit the ground? Finally, I'm at ease with clouds: no certainty I will be around. Will you hear me when I sleep when I'm in the ground? Drifting down, down to the ground: drifting gently down; Drifting softly through mellow clouds without making a sound. Free at last, free from the past: from my earthly past. Freely floating through vanilla skies without wondering why. Finally, I'm at ease with clouds: nobody can let me down. Will you catch me when I fall when I hit the ground? Finally, I'm at ease with clouds: no tragedy can make me frown. Will you see my face in the clouds when I'm not around? There's no gravity: the earth just sucks you
There was a bird who sang out of tune, Flew too few and flew too soon, He nested far away. He had a short wing that couldn't fly, He could glide but not touch the sky, Gave up flying that day. Songbird, oh songbird, Why don't you sing? The breeze carries melodies, Songs of a broken wing. Songbird, oh songbird, Why don't you sing? Because flying's not worth falling, From the place you came.
Sometimes we forget the simplest things, Take a raft instead of an oar. Life goes in a single heartbeat, And you forgot like the time before. To remember whomever you greet, Will leave you, evermore. But they loved you more, Rest ashore.
The Adventure Begins by HarmonyofDischord, literature
Literature
The Adventure Begins
Waiting in your home town, Just waiting around, With your best friends. (Waiting around with your friends.) Boring day as usual, Boring day as usual, Then it begins, you are Waiting to slay the dragon, still, Waiting for your hero's quest, you are Waiting for your magic kiss, still, Waiting for your very best, you are Waiting, sick of waiting, You're so sick of waiting, For a new day. Waiting for adventure, Waiting for adventure, To come your way, still are Waiting to slay the dragon, still, Waiting for your hero's quest, you are Waiting for your magic kiss, still, Waiting for your very best, you are Waiting in your home town, Just waiting around, Then it begins. (The adventure begins.)
Bright-eyed with love to give, let's look for a home to live: A parasol with a patio, a two-car garage, and a family. The house for sale is an open jail where the floor is stained. Cigarette ash and years of neglect manifest into pain. Tree swings swinging in the draught wind; how fun. Bee stings from the flowers, a daft friend; now gone. The house for sale: tears precipitate on the windows to our souls. Broken bottle glass and plates smashed take their tolls. A minivan and a rover, and a basketball hoop; how quaint. Fix the fence, get the mower, a new look, new paint. The house for sale is where our parents taught us how to scream. The house for sale was a living hell in a nuclear dream.
Men Staring at the Sun by HarmonyofDischord, literature
Literature
Men Staring at the Sun
Forlorn traveler, along with ye sail with Nothing to offer you lest flowers for sale. She gathers primroses for the sea, Flowers for sale, but flowers grow free. Besieged in ruin as the Vikings come, Blind the men who stare at the sun. She saw ships and sails upon torrent waves, She urged the men to change their ways. Without a voice for her to empower, They sell death, and she sells flowers. Besieged in ruin as the Russians come, Blind the men who stare at the sun. She asks them why, but they shake their heads: Are our brothers in arms grateful to be dead? Is our fault in the stars? Or does it lie with man's eye? But it's not her place to ask why. Besieged in ruin as the Germans come, Blind the men who stare at the sun. She asks them why, but they shake their heads: Why is it an honor to bear an armored breast? And to the hand that kills, not to the hand that heals, But not to wear a hand-woven dress? Besieged in ruin as the invaders come, Blind the men who stare at the sun.
Green hills are a flowing, No chance of ever slowing, Forever, they are scrolling, Blue Ball keeps on rolling. Green hills are a flowing, Quickly get all the gold rings, Don't stop, continue going, Blue Ball keeps on rolling.
Drowning in the sea or falling in the sky
Wondering where I, wondering why
Wondering when, I'll sit for my dream
But it never comes, it never comes
It never comes or goes my way
Star gazing, the sky's our view
Time will never stall
Our thoughts run past us
Like a waterfall
The shadows of the moon
Celebrate that night in June
Consecrate a vow
Show me how
To ease the pain
Then and now I think of how
Mirrors of our own deeds
Reflect in the seeds
In the forest they shall grow
Birth akin, love or woe
Star gazing, the sky's our view
Time will never stall
Our thoughts run past us
Like a waterfall
Thoughts of new life inside
Keep me up at night
Toss and turn, I'll never learn
From my hindsight
When will it be right?
Then and now I take a ride
To reflect on the stages of life
Pondering questions of th
I have completed an outline for a short story due in about a month. The work in progress is so far called "The Ancient of Days" and it revolves around eight centeral characters.
It is to the highest degree of certainty that February the 14th is a day of love; the love for money that is. At school today, I felt as if coexisted. Then again I am typically never "socially engaged", nevertheless I conjecture myself as a average student amongst the masses, (which means I only have actual conversations to people of my choice). But so seemingly my eight grade peers were a bit too raunchy on the nerve-wrenching. Bouquets, stuffed animals, flowers, chocolate, cards, and those little goddamn candy hearts all were designed to be gifts of love and emotion; but to me, they served as beacons of absurdity and annoyance.
signed 2-14
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Thanks again, and have a wonderful day! - Michael & Linnea