буэээ(((

какой же йамудаг хДД

не писала тут как при запоре)))))))

как поживаете?))))

Конечно же...никто не знал автора этого дневника до этого момента. Ну вот и я...

Those who are blind have no gift of seeing a wondrous heart; those who are careless will break it. But those who are gentle and wise will find & never lose it

To Dream

Today, I dream of dying silent,
Where words of plea will never reach;
Where death could steal my love and violence,
Where it could kiss and cherish me.

Today, I dream of no more living,
A road of no return for me;
No place to walk among the living-
Today- I will go silent here.

Tonight will be the last to see,
Tonight I gladly thank the stars;
Tonight I walk away forever-
To marry Terror and live free...

The sky is falling...whatever shall we do? We are but sorcerers of the ocean blue...the lands and mountains up above, but never with the sky we seek. The day the Terror King arrived...we never knew what to expect. What are we, masterminds of life? We are but talents as we speak.

Up on the autumn hill she stands- a statue, if you please to look...Created at the hands and eyes..of Seth, the one who last awoke. The son of Death, who came as well- he saw her too, and said it was a lie; that never will a statue move, or breath...be brought to life or die.

But here on end, the broken lies await. So does the Terror King- the saint. Is he who mourns the death of all- the one to finish off our fall? Upon no notice, he believed, that talent lies in lifeless looks. He caught the star and cried and kneeled- when all was broken into truth...when all the memories came back- of love and empathy, and ruth. But those were stolen in a flash...as once the star had promised Seth...to bring them to the lifeless girl- the statue, where the saint had kneeled.

...К чему снятся фашисты?

A lie I should have told

Never will these faces see me,
As I close my eyes tonight,
As I leave them in deceiving,
Counting steps into the night...

Now, I look up in the morning,
Where imagination soars-
But my eyes can sense no movement
In the head where thoughts were born...

Every drawing stopped its dancing,
All the writings cannot speak.
Still- the shadows keep on asking,
Why I left them, what I seek...

When you see the moon in falling,
There will be a terror found;
There, the Terror King is coming,
Bringing all the horrors bound!~

I feel awkward recently. Not just because...of the awareness of the world I see around. Because of failure within people? The horrors of terror brought? Prophecies?...or perhaps, the fact that I haven't even finished watching Esoteric Agenda for a second time...now that is the true, most frightening movie in life, ever created. Whether it is true or false, that does not matter, really. Ah. Something heavy dropped behind me. I have a headache. But how terrified was I to know, for a second time, that very clearly, soon enough, the world will be restricted to humanity. How, might you ask, is that possible? Well, friends, it's obvious that terrorism is not terrorism in truth. Neither is fact over the media. But that does not matter. Imagine yourself, upon the date of December 31st, 2009...having become that much of a person that has just as enough rights...as a rock in nature. Yes, screw that, thank you very much. Hah-HAH. Being an intelligent person, I cannot help but to say...no thanks. I'd rather go off on my own, like 13% of the world's society that actually thinks on its own, instead of taking ideas from others, like 87% of the world. But unlike such, I will not protest in the name of justice. Or rather...I would say...fuck you, Dear Federal Reserve in alliance with The Illuminati and Freemasons. You people, in spite of all the money you "need", are really full of shit. Because money is all you care about. The things you destroy to create it...you are disgusting. Kill me if I know too much. Go ahead, let that be a task for you, but guess what, the world already knows what you're doing. So just do it, but you won't be noble nor fantastic anymore. What a laughing stock...I'm sorry, dear readers. I have a headache. I'm afraid I'll have to rest for now.

Engel


I swear my song to you, my Engel;
For no apparent reason, I am meek.
My night and day are yours forever,
Until the sky will fall to sleep.
For this is my worn life, my Engel.
This is the secret I have kept...

My soul is locked inside this world,
My words are intricately sealed-
For I am damned without you, Engel,
And in your hands my heart is safe.

You never told me why you came so late,
When glory saved for you was lost,
When all my hopes of heart were broken,
When all my dreams were turned to hate!

You watched me weep at night, my Engel,
You did so and you took my tears...
You dared to steal my heart, oh Engel-
With that, you stole away my fears...

I keep a secret within

I am a human in your world.
My sleep and wake accords to time,
My heartbeat follows that of yours;
No difference- what is yours is mine.

But nonetheless, I am not weak.
I have a hunger for the night,
I own a soul that never sleeps;
I run...until the day I die.

I am a poet made of dreams;
My shadow is an artist's wing.
I am unspoken and unseen,
Miraculous- but not divine.

You cannot catch me in my world,
Where time accords to what I do,
Where written words begin to move;
Where trickery is common too...

There is no understanding there,
No need to chase what is unknown.
For there are holy things I bear...
So holy- they are not to own!

Ah. I apologize for being absent off "my mind" for so long. But that's not really my fault. Reason has it that I have moved to my new house and the internet did so only yesterday. So...as a compensation, I will write. As always.

Together...

Together- what a word for two!
It is the bond of white and black.
Together- meaning me and you-
We sign in blood a timeless pact...

My friend or foe, what shall I say?
You are an ally to us all,
A monstrous soul concealed by frail
And shameless eyes behind a wall.

What are you, creature of desire,
A grant of wishes we all want,
A heartless master of white fire,
A thousand years of horror wrought!

Together- what a pain for two...
It is the difference over time.
Together- meaning me and you-
A deadly blend of black and white...

The Artist...

Once upon a time, there was an artist so gifted...a truly remarkable man. He never knew what it was to dream. Yet he was the only one to create masterpieces so deep and real- paintings from nothing! It was as though his working space, his table, would become a bottomless trench where his thoughts flooded, his wings spread themselves...and when everything ended by nightfall, the quill would stop darting, the brush would cease to paint, and the wings would shed into feathers that vanished far away...

Sadly, it was on one of these nights that his end would come. His end...his end would relive through the spring, the other seasons; his end would make him think once more, and maybe even dream...but that was never to happen.

He died a horrible death. And never learned to dream...

His end would remember this. For it was the wonderful musician that was his end...the one who brought him his death.

Music from the room

From there, they hear a violin,
A silent noise up in that room.
From there they sense what lies within
The wonderful musician's room...
It makes their hearts beat soft and slow;
A moment's peace that warms their blood-
But then, they feel a pain unknown,
As treachery and horror flood!
This violence being struck by hand
Feels curdling deadly in their veins,
They tremble, hearing Death's demand,
They feel the music fade away...
What was this horror they have felt,
This urge to kill themselves inside?
The wonderful musician's hell
Was what invited them to try...


* a little odd poem...

Шум. Шум в ушах. Не могу...

The noise is too much. Voices, footsteps, music...a vibrant collection of irritations! Stop it...stop! Stop...

Само собой не остановится...никогда...бежать...

the sounds of instruments collide with the voices that speak against them...it is too much.

Не могу.

[ An army of noisemakers advances into my house...it must be the Noise Division coming to kill my peace. XD ]

Sincerity


I want to be sincere to the one who will listen. My music...it is not a key of notes or a singing song of vitality for the one to hear it. It is not just one's emotion. My music...it is a tool within my reach, my power, my wrath- over those who have done wrong to the world. For those who will listen...it is a hypnotizer, a weapon to hit, to destroy!...I, the wonderful musician, recall things unimaginable. I...was the one to bring them back. The memories of others- the ones I called friends. I have used my weapon against them, the people. It was not until I realized...that I stopped myself from harming. To think twice...-Are my closest friends the ones to play foul, or are they my closest enemy to have done this with a purpose...?

I do recall a good deed. The day I came to life to love the one who took my hand...

But is the one I love...the one I am to destroy?

I must be sincere with myself. Or else...I will be the worst liar of those that I dispose of...I will be at the Sin Collector's hands, the then there will be nothing I can do. Nothing I can help!~

Desire

He desires the moon in the night, the wind in the woods and the clouds in the sky. He gets all of what he wants. The moon is shadowed out by him, and the wind carries him wherever he wishes. The clouds caress his body wherever he goes.

He desires fate to be good to him, for a life that will spoil him and pay for all his needs. He gets all of what he wants. Fate will forever rain treasures on him, and his life will be that of a soaring dandy dressed in gold.

He desires to see the lives of others. He desires to see all of them. Pain, lies, happiness, betrayals...secrets he should not see. He gets all of what he wants. He watches the people suffer in their struggles to live; he watches the tears of happiness on an old man's face when he receives a kiss from his son after a war that made him lose everything. He watches a man die at the hand of his best friend, who stole his loved one and accused him of treason against the law. And...he sees the most sacred secret before his eyes. This is what he desired- this is what he got. It unravels before him like a beautiful blooming rose; but in a moment's worth he runs from it, having seen the secrets he should never have known!

Now he is blind. He got all of what he wanted.

He desires to befriend the one who took away his eyes. The wonderful musician with the deadly secret comes...He gets all of what he wants.

He desires once more, to receive a quill and parchment to write upon. He is seated at a window with daylight he cannot see, the parchment laid before him and the quill put in his hand. He writes with such beauty...because he gets all of what he wants.

He desires to be forgiven before the one who took his eyes. He is forgiven- because his desire is only pure!

Those who live upon talent are not among the ordinary living.

a.k.a. Death

Footsteps unheard passed among the dead leaves. He was coming. In this place called Eves, no one could go unnoticed. Yet...the snake did, having made a long way in search of souls. "Walk no further, for this is a holy land." Before him stood a shadow. A towering shadow of the sculptor, the wonderful sculptor. "Am I considered to be such filth in your garden of angels? Or are your souls not worthy of being taken?..." He smirked. In reply came a rustling wind, "Among us we have no sinners. This is not the place to spill blood!~" The sculptor seemed annoyed by this wicked look on the sin collector's face. But the wind stopped. So did the noise around them. One step forward made the sculptor step back. Slower...and slower. He turned out of the way...to reveal behind him a staircase of stone. He did not understand how this was happening. Through gritted teeth he whispered, "You won't dare touch my creations-..." but in reply he saw the same old smirk. "Oh? But what have you to fear, mage of talent, you who has no daughter to watch over nor a wife to protect...you sorcerers have no treasures of such for me to take, just as I have done to ordinary men for thousands of years...yet your hesitation is simple! Up there stands the heartless marble statue, innocent like marble, and white like marble. Yet about her is a presence that makes you tremble. What's this I see...among the lifeless stone you carve, there is a figure with a soul trapped inside...and as far as time goes, you think its deadly secret will stay with you? Ah, dear sorcerer, you are already made a liar with your own words...and to think that you would keep inside her the most sacred of sacred demons that have raged across the world..." With this he passed the awestruck sculptor and stepped onto the cold steps...only to encounter a wall he could not see, but a wall he could not pass. He smiled even more, this time with a warning, "Those who hide their secrets from me do not know that they hide them from none other than Death itself..!" His words were powerful like thunder...but even thunder fades in a moment...just like his courage did...when he saw the face of the magic actor.

[Today] I was told that there will be someone coming soon enough. Ah. A boy who fences- a world champion. Interesting...how will he be like? They say he needs a Russian love. Посмотрим...)

P.s. A great thanks to my ПЧ and friend for the thumbs-up ; )