You know I will always associate you with Bush's face now, right?
It's stupid of him not to look past the religious aspect of music to enjoy it (I assume you listen to Christian rock like Skillet and RED?), but when it comes to going to church he's absolutely right. He doesn't have to waste his time in a religious building and listening to a priest; that's pointless to him. Apparently you both disrespect eachother's beliefs. He by silencing you when you want to speak of your beliefs, and you by dragging him along in what's all just a farce to him. You can't expect to come very far with that. If you want things to work out you'll need to talk it over and make clear indisputable arrangements at the very least, but my instinct says to advise against it altogether. Nevertheless, friendship and even romance is still possible if you both agree not to cross swords over religion again. As far as the blame game goes, I say you're worth eachother. Like I said; mutual disrespect. I wouldn't dislike someone as a whole because (s)he dislikes one aspect of my personality, albeit an important one. To each their own though, I guess.
Comment: Long-ass poem is long. But hey, it's about the end of the world and shit like that so yeah. Hedonism Nothing ever really changes Because nothing ever really begins Allow me to introduce myself I'm an alien to every day that's yet to come Have you ever had to stop and take a breather? "Draw close to light and you'll turn blind With nowhere else to turn to but your mind Is that why they call it bright?" It's what a man once wrote in a poem He closed the petals in his head and contemplated Thought his way into enlightenment Our minds are still ours; all is in its rightful place The revived blinders slash the morning-black And it retreats to lick its wounds until the morrow If every victory and defeat were equally set in time Then the shockwaves we send would never connect And lurk forever trapped in the tideland Society will only sleep with both eyes closed When violence is cattle, and pain is contracted Humans, domesticate what ails you You know you stopped being a child When the stairs are a way down and not a slope Everyone's their own killer with a calling card So many personalities lie discarded in the midden So many murders, but we only lament those we can't replace Man is pragmatic even it cries, even when it rages Even when it thinks it's changed Notice how I speak of sin and of transgression Without naming them as such at all Good and evil are spirits and mist to me Everyone else shares a psychotic imagination Of altruists, those who I call dark saints I ask: Is kindness really a purpose, or merely a means? Is it not satisfaction that governs your every move? I discovered many good deeds as being the smugglers of pride Pied pipers of kindness who whistle innocent harm As they lull their brothers into forgetting their self-indulgence Productivity, or so they believe Rationality, or so they think Goodwill, or so they claim Humanity, which I won't deny Evil is he who is also selfish but in a different manner He who is too obvious in revealing that he understands it all The devil is a slave we keep alive for reasons all our own He builds our laws at the crack of our whips He listens to us whenever we ask him to scare us shitless We need him We love him Our only enemy is Chaos I am one such egotist I can travel to where no one has set foot to find what others lost I desecrate our heroes and dive into their catacombs To tell every skeleton just how wrong they were Every messiah who did what they thought was right Dead and buried, having squandered their time Has anyone ever asked the planet how it wants to live or die? Has anyone ever asked himself? See if I care if I am pulverized by bombs with smiley faces I once met a witch with raven hair and raven dress Who wished for her manor to be bleached into white Change and Revolution were her names She fell for me, I fell behind She aimed to please and ended up possessing Monogamy's hypocrisy She claimed my mouth, forsook my heart And inhaled its scent at the first embrace Until were were both evenly illuded With a chime for change but no alternative "I am all he needs, I am all he needs" It slithered through her cortex with every lamented funeral And thus obsession is still the acid of life Nothing has changed Why should I believe that it ever will or has to? I quit These machinations don't entangle me The conventions will not salvage me I'm the one who underwelt it all and still can't tell you how it felt But one who always asks for Change loves nothing The establishment enemy; the alteration addict Transformation in succession leaves no time to cherish Everything is fleeting, chasing its immediate offspring Madness over happiness Nothing over everything I tend to keep my thoughts all in one place Because there's only one to choose from The cobweb of thoughts is scribbled all over me Sleeping snakes intertwine with sensitive tissue Perhaps that is why only I understand My fuses are spun together with the earth I wrap myself in flames of gleeful strangulation It is time, time to stop ticking and start exploding The child who will never walk these lands won't blame me May the Wave Of Hedonism crash upon your ideals May the honey of pleasure muffle the future I steal life, therefore I shall be and therefore I shall die And the Wave will freeze into the shroud that marks the end I want to breathe a haze so thick that no one can see each other White noise will glue their hearts shut Start a fire to find one another and find pyromania instead We're not meant to last, I can't help but wonder why we try Why we refuse to euthanise ourselves and one another While we know it could feel so much better Cables protruding from my spine Hooked to the ecstasy of six billion pulses And yet, I am not feeling it Here lies the lonely martyr Rotting, melting, boiling in his furnace Being singled out is a dangerous feeling Nothing ever really changes Because nothing ever really begins It doesn't matter Like nothing ever matters This fabled calamity radiates through me Whilst I exist in a plane where I do not belong: I am not sacred You are not my saviors Stop worshipping me into detachment I am the world Hang me back into space ~
So is Alice Cooper. It's really not that uncommon. Anyway, Cloud3514's list is pretty well-rounded. To add but one name to it; look for Subway to Sally. They make German folk metal, and are also associated with the Neue Deutsche Härte movement in some media.
Interesting setting: contemporary with magical or paranormal elements. Final Fantasy VIII and to a lesser extent Witch Hunter Robin came to mind. I like the way you write; your paragraphs don't overflow with details but we do get a good idea of when and where the story is taking place.
Guys, this isn't the Spam Zone. I had to delete quite a few posts just now and I don't want to have to do it again. Like Hayabusa and Radiowave said, breasts are sensitive and require more protection and support than a man's chest. Maybe it wasn't until after breast support was invented that men actually started to be aroused by them? That's just a thought I'm having now though.
The only advice I can give you is to get your priorities straight. Read "Diary, a novel" by Palahniuk to know exactly what I mean: an outburst of creativity doesn't make the sacrifices worthwhile. Your sadness has effect on other people; you said yourself that you don't reply to others as often anymore. Now think of the flipside: the better poetry portfolio. Why is it necessary to write better or more poetry? To put it bluntly: who gives a flying **** about poets? I am a poet myself but I can think of compliments I'd rather get than "minstrel of the word". Think about it. There are deeds aplenty that'll put you on the map, and many don't require you to put yourself through pain.
Guys, let's drop this now. We've all had our say in the matter and I'm sorry for going off track. Listen to the final evolution of the second generation's Fire starter Pokémon and get back on topic. What I like in a girl is intelligence and a strong will. Ideally I'd want her to "complement" me. As far as looks go I'm a tricky one, since I find my "type" very hard to describe. Therefore I won't give it a try. I'm turned off by anyone "cutesy". And more importantly even; I won't stick long with women who clip my wings more than they should. And last but not least, I hate it when people are overly concerned and feel they should hold my hand through anything I do. In other words, Mother Hen need not apply.
Judas is going to visit a friend today, although it can be debated upon whether he really exists. "Friend" just sounds too...permanent. Said person is much rather an intermediate to a product whose true shape is still clad in fog. And that which constantly changes cannot prove that it exists... "Stop...I can't take any more...Go away! Just go away!" All that running around and behaving normally. That getting up, going to work, coming home and going to sleep. "Nooooooo! Stoooooooop!" That wearing shirts and blouses. That marrying and having children. "STOP! I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE! GO AWAY!" Catherine wiggles around wildly. She tries to flail the hinges of her limbs around a fraction of that unreachable state. But her desire is too deep, too intense and too just. Anything she tries to embrace is only squeezed to death. He judgement days grow ever shorter. Her Ragnarok arrives ever earlier. Completely exhausted, she gives in to the cold floor. Her legs stretched and held together, her arms spread sideways. Creased shirts and the bodies of married couples, children and people who came home from work. People who behaved normally, ran around, and were being hated by the worst in her. "Listen to this..." "Shoot.", Mancuerda said. "Something that changes constantly cannot prove it exists, because before it gets the opportunity to do so, it transfigures into something else.", Judas explained. The both of them follow a much too conventional template, which demands they take a break and let the icebreaker sink in. They abide. Mancuerda accurately times the conversation's progress and eventually introduces his own view on the matter. "Suppose I carry a rucksack on my back, and its contents change every second, every nanosecond if you will. I still feel it on my back with everything in and on it. Whatever the nature or magnitude of its contents, I will feel it weighing on my shoulders.", Mancuerda argues. He ends one paragraph with a full stop and quickly starts another. "Like I weigh on yours.", he mentions, knowing that he has been the subject all along. The life of these two gentlemen leaves no room for right and wrong, only for Q&A. What to do though, if neither are very appealed by the answer? The continuously shifting, the eternally dynamic. According to Mancuerda, It has the ability to make Its presence known. It lives and evolves in an almost insectoid manner. During a certain stage in Its life It will derail, It will grow wings and escape every form of domestication. You become an object in a territory. Judas and Mancuerda ogle eachother anxiously. As if they murdered someone just now and promised eachother a foolproof omerta they take a few steps backwards. Then the final turn is turned and the two men go separate ways for now. No greetings, no expressing wishes to see eachother again soon. This is once again a failed attempt at normal conversation. Where others walk on pavements, she shuffles over little tombstones. Where others lead lives, she timidly follows the stature of her own. Where others fail succeed, she doesn't know the difference. "I'm not sick. I'm only sick of whatever is making me sick." All that is Catherine Wheel is black. The absence of any colour. The wardrobe of the unknown. Catherine allows it to protect her. Like a kid wiping cookie crumbs under the carpet, Catherine always uses the darkness in her soul to hide the rampages she leaves behind. But her black is an inviting one still, much like a door ajar. Everyone gets their chance. They only have to find the light switch, and dare behold what they find there. A door ajar. No lock; it was obviously forced. There she is sitting. Laid to bed but since a long time now awoken from a restless sleep. Praying to herself due to lack of another creature she knows of. She's the one: the continuously shifting, the eternally dynamic. And yet there is no question that she's free from every form of correlation. She hasn't escaped from anything yet. She hasn't derailed yet. She is someone who still matters. Judas turns the light on...
Thanks for being a good sport though.
Is what I was thinking.
I'm doing well. How are you?
Well, that's another story. I thought you were incorporating personality and appearance alike. I guess what I said isn't applicable to you then. Appearance can be changed to a certain extent I guess, but I don't think love should require you to do so. It's supposed to go beyond the physical aspect (although it can be just that what attracts you to your future lover in the beginning).
Sorry to hear that, man. These tales here make me think twice about getting one myself.
Happy birthday, you two! May your presents be whatever you wished for.
And that's as far as you'll go this time. Try again.
The Three Burials Of Melquiades Estrada Good movie overall, but what captivated me most was the breath-taking scenery. Texas has got some breath-taking landmarks for sure.
Does the simple fact that some things cannot be changed mean that my point is invalid? Of course it doesn't. But thanks for being someone who I can give this year's "no shit, Sherlock" award to anyway. Because the features you fall in love with aren't necessarily the ones you'll end up loving. Because your mommy didn't warn you about those painful surprises that may come after a year or so for the hell of it. Falling in love with someone doesn't mean that you know all the ins and outs of your crush. Often you end up with more than you bargained for, and your relationship may even require effort to keep alive. I think you know this to be true as well as I do. One can't help but wonder why you brought it up then, but I'm sure you have your reasons. Ah you see, your little "what gives you the right?" grumble would have made sense if I had been giving orders or had used any other form of coercion. However I did not. I merely gave advice and opinions, which as I recall is still legal in whatever state you live in. Anyone else up for questioning a generally accepted truth?
Safe for the pink shoes maybe. Should've been a different colour.
Read: don't expect me to change for my lover. Popular media has overused the phrase "love me just the way I am" since the dawn of time. And why shouldn't it? It basically tells you that love means you can kick back and wait for the right person to arrive, and that everything's supposed to be smooth sailing when they do. No wonder it's popular. People who look for someone who "accepts them the way they are" or "loves them for the way they are" actually reveal their unwillingness to change for the one they supposedly gave their heart to. Is that true love, I wonder? A word of advice to all who would heed it: don't accept ready-made ideas about love like the one above without at least trying to untangle their meaning yourself. There's often a lot to look past.
