That silent whisper...'s Journal

Subject:	Привет!
Posted by:	kjk_123.
Time:	11:36 pm.

Привет всем!

Я тут совсем не долго, давайте знакомиться!

Вот, если что, мой адрес: [email protected]

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Subject:	Hello I'm blined and love Scottish music etc.
Posted by:	crazytania.
Time:	2:55 am.
Mood:	optimistic.

You will be wondering a little about me. First of all a friend Amanda added me to this by giving me the name. I love music and one of my things is Scottish music, bagpipes haggis etc. Maybe you will find out more about me during the course of my time with you. I have been blind since birth. I know how awesome things can sound. Dad played the bagpipes when he was alive. It was awesome.

Now enough of that stuff for now. I live in New Zealand. I am 33 years old and can't think of sleeping just now. Hence this post. I am looking forward to getting better aquainted with you. Please excuse spelling mistakes. I am singl and live in a flat by myself. I do have help. Anyway I don't want to make this entry too long. You can read my journal any time and even check my profile. I have the messenger thing and Skype. I'd love to chat. I can play instruments. I play theclarinet, guitar a bit, sing, and even the accordian a little. I have also got a keyboard. My fingering isn't good now but I can rattle out a tune reasonably ok. I am on a benefit and have not had a job. Well that is enough for now. I'll tell you more another time perhaps. I hope you'll let me share in this community. Thanks. As I said before please feel free to get in touch with me and also join my journal if you feel like it. I'm going to bed in a minute. I look forward to hearing from you. Bye for now.

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Subject:	Honestly
Posted by:	rachazhure.
Time:	10:41 pm.

How do I love thee?

It’s a hard question

Let’s forget the jewels,

ignore the flattery.

Because hiding behind that fancy car are lies

reflecting off the new paint job.

And with each “It meant nothing.

I’ve changed”

I could still feel that draw:

Undeniable Magnetic Attraction.

I blame the iron heart

and that gold necklace.

No, not quite. Almost.

You’re so good on paper.

But of course you are,

always erasing what needs to change

before the simple truth is read.

Red mark. Blue and black stain.

The darkness spreading –

I can’t seem to find my way out anymore.

But do I really want to?

To crawl from the lies and open the door

only to see the closet with its broom

and leather jacket

covering the broken bones of a hidden skeleton.

I don’t care

We both know you don’t

So ask me again

Just how do I love thee?

I don’t.

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Subject:	I drink alone.
Posted by:	cruxcharisma.
Time:	9:19 pm.

I Drink Alone
© Crux Charisma

i want to run naked
through the city
screaming
this is bullshit
and leave nothing
but burning rubble
in my wake
i want firecrackers
to sear wrinkles
in your
botox smile
because the media
(and testosterone)
tell me
i must inseminate
the woman with the
largest breasts
and smallest hips
so another
complacent ingrate
can spill
from her cunt
and rape the planet
more

( Read more...Collapse )

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Subject:	ninemillion
Posted by:	jennioply.
Time:	9:28 pm.

http://www.ninemillion.org/

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Posted by:	roni_42.
Time:	6:56 pm.

This is something I wrote a while ago and discovered on my computer after having forgotten about its existence. Mostly I just want some comments. I don't want to show it to anyone who may know the people it's based off of so I figured the internet was the best place to go. thanks.

I really had to go to a lot of effort not to edit it. Aside from changing the names.

oh um ps. I have a learning disorder in written expression and spelling. so yes I know my grammar (mostly punctuation I'm sure) and spelling are terrible and please do correct it just be nice please.

Thanks again.

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Posted by:	yasue.
Time:	12:06 am.

vocaball

If this is not allowed, please forgive me and feel free to delete this post. Thank you. =D

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Posted by:	ex_quagmire1.
Time:	2:48 am.

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Subject:	This piece is purely comical
Posted by:	rucrazy2001xy.
Time:	1:56 pm.

"The Chubby Chaser"

The chubby chaser is a highly selective creature
Whose eye is drawn to each part of a woman's feature
In search of something big and bold to hold
He must be cautious of each fold and roll
So he can grab onto as much as he can get
For every hundreth pound the sound of his decision is set
And its no surprise to my eyes
To see the size of your thighs
So I ask, oh wanton horse
Whose beauty is boxom and ass is coarse
Shall I penetrate the ham and pastrami lips
Just south and in between your hips
Your tits hang so low from off your chest
That I should call them burlap sacks instead of breasts
And the rest is a matter of taste
For I shall not waste a moment of time
To your folds and your fat, I dedicate this rhyme
So all four hundred pounds of you will be mine

***********************
Offensive some? Very...as a postmodernist I strive to destroy all boundaries...even those of my own liberally oriented morals...

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Subject:	"Freedom in the Basement"
Posted by:	rucrazy2001xy.
Time:	5:08 am.

How free can you be
Under the oppresion of the GOP, GWB,
And the rest of this tight ass right wing society?
We've been sent to flee down into the basement
Only to ferment in the indulgences
That you have tried to deny us
But that doesn't imply much loss
Because you can restrict us
Without our rights constricted
When we know you're not watching
We take ten steps forward
Jump overboard
And lo and behold
Without your control
We fly through the sky so high
Under absbestos pipes and dimmed lights
It might be a little damp down here
But you sure as hell can see real clear
With no fear of your observation
No confiscation
When you're not looking
We'll damn this nation
As we move forward in our
Progress as people
Not being held at bay by Fox News and the
Mighty Christian Coalition church steeple
It's pretty damn sad
But I'm still almost glad because
In Amsterdam, the man is watching
In all of his machiavellian driving
Manipulations
Here, where I set flight
This nation's ostrich eyes
Won't be in sight
Find that frightening?
We're regrouping for a wake up call
And when it happens this pathetic
Manufactured society will surely fall
Under the weight of its own hype
And I'll have my pipe in hand
It'll be fucking grand, man
Because here we stand
One nation, underground
And invisible
Maybe you should think twice
About taking our rights
Because we've found freedom in the basement
Away from your manufactured Fox News
And God fearing consent
And we still resent you for it
So you're in store for a war
That is being performed
When you're not around
And just listen to the sound
That the repressed innate will create
It's great
You should have kept us
Where you could see
Because in that freedom
We wouldn't be free
That's your point, isn't it?

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Subject:	Here's another. It's ok.
Posted by:	rucrazy2001xy.
Time:	2:46 pm.
Mood:	crushed.

"The Journey of Eternity"
They say love is an endless journey
But the search for it to me is eternity
And I wonder why and I cry about how
I haven't even crossed that bridge
If I haven't crossed it yet
Will I ever find it?
And I have loved before
So I know I know how but...
The more I wait
The more I anticipate
I find my mind warning
That it will never find me
So I can never be free
Without the constant of love
In eternity
When will it be?
When will I be free of this
Endless and restless journey?
For me it seems a forever unanswered question
Founded on continuous rejections
All this reflection has got me going nowhere
In an endless cycle of pain and despair
With no repair it's just not fair
To know how to love and to never
Have it looking back at you
To never have it true
I cry in all this confusion
With fears of repeated delusion
Where is that fusion...
That connection
That protection
In the state of unending perfection
I know its in union
But my confusion in delusion persists
And I just can't resist the idea of love
In its state of contentment
Now only a resentment of
Unpromised proposals
Without love my life is going nowhere
And I'm trying not to care but I can't
I can only rant in this chant to find something
Worth holding onto
Something seeming to perfect to be true
Is it you?
Maybe its not the right time
So I can only hold onto the idea of this rhyme
If you can't be mine that's fine
My head will say that
But my heart is still breaking
And my soul is still shaking
While this search is still taking
Its toll on my being
I'll never know what you're seeing
Or know what you're feeling
If you aren't revealing to me
That feeling you're feeling
So I'm fleeing in fear
With a tear, I'll put that freedom aside
And that unfound love will still hide
In my soul's deterioration
From anticipation
I have the whole world in front of me
With my whole life ahead of me
And without love it doesn't seem like
Any of it is worth anything
As if none of it could stand without that constant
That foundation I'm anticipating
And I've been waiting all my life
Approaching the asymptote of infinity
I keep getting closer to giving up
While the laws of mathematics state
That the point will never turn up
But as I approach it
I can only feel it weighing heavier upon me
When will you see the possibility of infinity
In its perfection and protection
Without rejection and no objection
Just limitless...its love
And I've been staring at it in the face my whole life
Waiting---just waiting for it to look back at me
So I can be free

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Subject:	Back in poetic action
Posted by:	rucrazy2001xy.
Time:	9:01 pm.
Mood:	creative.

“Moths to a Flame”
The magnet draws me inward
Toward my inevitable destruction
I do this because I’m stupid
Being absorbed in postmodern concepts
Of infinity with no boundary
I remember the way you looked at me
And I still don’t understand exactly what you see
That interest sparks a sensation in my soul
Spinning a perpetual sexual wave
Of unreciprocated attraction
So what’s on the other side?
Where do your interests reside?
Because the more you pull me closer
The more I slide into the devastation
Of emotional unrealization
With no chance of emancipation
And once you have me under your spell
I spiral downward into the pits of a hell
That is overflowing with anxiety and uncertainty
Where worth on my side of the spectrum is
Untranslatable, incompatible
And the battle was over the moment you gave me time
I slipped and I slid into the spell of this rhyme
It was a state of poetic desperation
And unrealized in anticipation
Because in my eyes, gender is enough of a boundary
For me to have to worry about sexuality
But that duality is reality…and it sucks.
So I’m still left with this question
About personal acceptance and sexual rejection
With all this reflection, I’ll ask you this question
I’ll ask your suggestion
About the state I’m in
About the pain I’ve been
Left to deal with
In forsaken philosiphizations
And misunderstood emotional penetrations
Am I as much a mystery to you
As you are to me?
Are we moths to a flame
Of futility
Miserably blinded by actual reality
By contrasting duality
It’s a fallacy to which we all adhere
And in its context,
We both get burned

**************************************

“There is no Freedom here”
A call to confine the mind
In the context of this place
They say there is freedom here
In this box, there is no trace
Of any such abstraction
It’s just a distraction
From oppression’s infraction
And in this escape we create
Bohemia
Only to build silly walls
Of normative frames
And self-declarative fame
Hiding our pain of rejection
Turning our eyes from the reflection
Of society’s infection against difference
We seek diversity
Only to conform to nonconformity
Within its context reciprocally
Shooting an invective to rejection
And no one stares into that reflection
To see we’re what we were running from
We are still from where we’re coming from
So much for criticism
With out its reflexivity
Its only stupidity
No macro no micro
Adorno and Foucault
Are rolling over in their graves
Regretting what they gave to us
In their trust of crude intellect
We neglect the ideals to which we
Bind ourselves to find ourselves
Don’t confine us…
We can trap ourselves on our own
Just a shown here in Demarest Hall
Tall white tower and thick brick walls
They fall under what they attempt
To uphold so bold—ly
In that iron mold of nonconformity
The ideals are old and moldy
Cold as ice and I am pissed
Because you told me there
Was freedom here
You sold me on that idea
Capitalizing on my fear of
Confrontation against this nation
Against this state…of being
With all its lack of seeing
What are you freeing?
This being is seeing what fleeing does to freedom
Alienation and intellectual masturbation
With no self criticism
This prism is our prison
It’s a treason against our reason
Blinding us and binding us
What do we find in our minds
That we’re mimes mimicking
Just like the mainstream
And I am steaming without my freedom
I stare into my reflection
And I ponder my invection
My rejection
With all this reflecting
I look at what I’m accepting
And it isn’t much
So I limp like a gimp
And I walk on this crutch
It touched me for a while
But Demarest, your walls are just as vile
As Capitol Hill
So don’t spill your drink to Bohemia
Until you think about that idea
This Bohemia has an anemia
About acceptance with no repentance
The whole society is filled to the Brim
With helpless children and Tiny Tims
And I’m not talking about the physically disabled
We’re individually disabled with oppression still enabled
Confined in a thick context of criteria
It’s hysteria
So much for safe spaces
When they don’t solve the conflict
Of our races
They may level the battlefield
But we shouldn’t be regrouping for war
I might just throw in the towel
Because we haven’t solved anything
By running, have we?

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Posted by:	ex_quagmire1.
Time:	9:46 pm.

Merry Candlemas, everyone.

(It's the holiday where we observe the first 40 days of the lord's birth)

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Subject:	stale words
Posted by:	cici.
Time:	5:10 am.

...forgive my pseudo-art for one night. I'm wishing right now. These are all at least a month old...

(maybe I really can't go back)
I am back where I've always been
sitting cross-legged in stale ash trying to resurrect the girl I used to be
Stumbling over my words as always
falling flat on my face in the
breaking
of
my
meter

And crying inside, of course,
only so someone willtell me that it's all right.

...but a lie well told can be as good as truth
and I'll drink it in anyway
in spite of myself

(...Sometimes I want to close myself in a box,reshaping and molding a soul I can carry with me without shame.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I suppose every woman is a goddess...
She comes and goes
every once in a while
telling me quietly to look for my own simple answers behind the confusion

She somehow knows that I can manage with her help quite well,
that I have the possibility inside to be the one with kind eyes
and a strong heart

But when she leaves, it's over...and I just tangle myself up all over again, forgetting my lines all too quickly.

...and one more, since everyone needs to spill blood once in a while.

I remember when I used to let the blood run
until it formed circles of thick dark red around my wrists
and my hands turned cold

and I didn't know then and I don't know now
why ...

as drops joined drops joined
pools
and ran down my hands

and onto the floor

...Why only then

would the world come back into focus

(Sorry to make my comeback a downer...it's of no concern, the more morbid the poetry to better I am in daylight.)

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Subject:	I haven't written in a long time...
Posted by:	rucrazy2001xy.
Time:	6:45 pm.

What happened to my poetry
The flighting and fleeting emotions
Flying through the words
The words
She said that
'We people are just poems'
I was lost in a poem
And none of the words were
Coming out because they
Didn't need to be spoken
They were piercing through
My eyes and my soul
And I was completely lost
In the poetry of your life
But this isn't about you
It's about me
It's about my poetry
The captivation and penetration
Of everything poetic
What's poetic
The words--the life
We're surrounded by the
Poetry everyday
It's all around us
And I lost my poetic vision
In you
I fell into your shadow
And slid through it
Around in the sound
Of the words that didn't
Need to be spoken
Till I was broken, my poetry
Was lost in a labryinth
Of your wild and amazing creation
And I lost my words
The words that try to capture
What comes before them
The words that hid themselves
In your shadow
It became my requiem
And I rode around in the
Darkness of your dream
My dream, your poetry
And I spiralled into insanity
With no clarity to clear
My head of your fantasy
To make way for my words
But they're here now
And I fly back into them

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Posted by:	ex_quagmire1.
Time:	1:36 am.

I'm currently trying to write a show about September 11th and its affects on us- mainly us the "kids". I'm conducting many different interviews on many different issues with many different people. I plan on intertwining interviews with various monologues and possibly even dialogues (that are made outside of the context of a historical play). If any of you would like to help out, please comment.

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Subject:	Hi, I'm new. Here's a story, called 'Inducing an Apology'
Posted by:	supervillaingin.
Time:	11:02 pm.
Mood:	artistic.

I'm going to kill myself.

Right here, on the black-and-white tiled bathroom floor, between the toilet and the bathtub. Or maybe in the bathtub, nestled between the white sides; a porcelin coffin.

My mom'll come home and call for me. She'll knock on my bedroom door, be slightly alarmed when I'm not in there. Then she'll think to check the bathroom, knocking lightly, expecting to hear me answer with the usual hateful "What?"

My answer will be dead silence stemming from slashed wrists and bloody Daisy Razors.

I've thought it through. I don't have access to any building taller than three stories, and with three stories, I'd probably find myself lying in a hospital bed, recovering from broken limbs. Popping pills or drinking myself to death have their risks, as do drugs of a stronger nature. But it's easy to bleed to death, if given enough time. So I'm going to wait until the next time she leaves to go shopping. It always takes her at least two hours to get everything she needs. I figure that two hours is enough time to die in.

Then she'll be sorry. Sorry for every deprecating remark she ever made, sorry for all the times she watched me cry with that smug, bitter smile on her face. For the first time in her life, she'll be sorry for something she's done.

That's why I'm going to do this.

I just want her to be sorry.

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Subject:	NEW LJ NAME
Posted by:	wahineflower.
Time:	12:50 pm.

aloha all - i have changed my user name on LJ from wahineflower to deepblueheart ... make sure and update your friends list ... :)

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Subject:	need to vent!
Posted by:	wahineflower.
Time:	4:36 pm.
Mood:	irate.

some people insist
on living in the past
they tell me to deal with things as they happen
not look back & try to fix it

i'm not trying to fix anything
i just want to be happy
and explain my actions
people don't take time to listen
or even want to try
i was wrong
now i want to be right

i was in a good mood
but now my day is down
today was supposed to be good
be it all got turned around

being happy
is too much to ask for
i'm not sure how to get it
i'm not sure how i can help myself
i just want to be happy
and nothing else

i don't need money
i don't need a car
i don't need a house
i don't need anything

want to be happy
be close to my family
see my best friend often
and live my life
but all these techincalities
keep coming up
people bring up the past
and make me worry about the future
but i am told to live in the present
well, why don't you do it too!

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