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To Music

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posted on Jul, 11 2004 @ 09:52 PM
Free form story, each addition characterized by a song. The song can depict the mood, plot, title, setting, etc. of the addition. If you can include the artist too, that would be great.

Shall we?

[edit on 7-12-04 by Scat]

posted on Jul, 11 2004 @ 09:56 PM
Polaroid Snapshots

Before I left my apartment, I traced my hand over the picture of us in the wooden frame. I don't remember when it was taken, but the color had lightened and the edges had begun to peel. Your smile was so real, your lilac hair billowing down, caressing your shoulders and reflecting the sunlight, which never compared to your skins radiance. It seemed as if you belonged nude, resting in the clouds of the cieling of the Sistene Chapel, too perfect to be laying your head upon my lap in a Polaroid snapshot taken by some drunk friend of mine while we sat in the bed of my old, wornout truck.

I never imagined that one day I'd leave my apartment to find you, and trace my hand over...................

(Slide, the Goo Goo Dolls...)

[edit on 7-12-04 by Scat]

posted on Jul, 13 2004 @ 04:59 PM
David Bowie - Quicksand

I'm closer to the Golden Dawn
Immersed in Crowley's uniform
Of imagery
I'm living in a silent film
Himmler's sacred realm
Of dream reality
I'm frightened by the total goal
Drawing to the ragged hole
And I ain't got the power anymore
No I ain't got the power anymore

I'm the twisted name
on Garbo's eyes
Living proof of
Churchill's lies
I'm destiny
I'm torn between the light and dark
Where others see their targets
Divine symmetry
Should I kiss the viper's fang
Or herald loud
the death of Man
I'm sinking in the quicksand
of my thought
And I ain't got the power anymore

Don't believe in yourself
Don't deceive with belief
Knowledge comes
with death's release

I'm not a prophet
or a stone age man
Just a mortal
with the potential of a superman
I'm living on
I'm tethered to the logic
of Homo Sapien
Can't take my eyes
from the great salvation
Of bull# faith
If I don't explain what you ought to know
You can tell me all about it
On, the next Bardo
I'm sinking in the quicksand
of my thought
And I ain't got the power anymore

Over the last five months time has passed so quickly. I move and yet I don't move, I travel and yet nothing changes. All around me quick-fix revelations and 10 step elightenment, programs of faith. Or chance? Or do I have no faith and thus I have no chance? Wandering through a moment i feel the neon crucifixes that surround me, pinning me to an imaginary wooden cross. I made a move downtown to a dance hall. Inside the walls a brightly painted with mock seventies furnature a decore everywhere. I look up and I am blinded by the disco lights, and chocked by the smoke machine.

I trip out of the doorway into the street.

[edit on 7/13/2004 by earthtone]

posted on Jul, 13 2004 @ 07:08 PM
Jessi- My Little Savior
you're my little savior
hold me up and stare into the night
do you think that someone out there
believes in us
after we've lost all our trust?

"How is it that one part of life is so beautiful and another so dead?"

That's what you said the first night we met. I tripped out of the doorway and onto the street. In the alley, I was hoping for some air, for some air with a higher concentration of ooxygen than marijuana. I meant to lean against the wall, but ended up falling onto it, thus proceeding to the ground.

"Sh*t!" You threw down your cigarette and stomped it out with the heel of your stilletos. "Are you okay? Oh my God, you're bleeding just a little bit right here, hang on, I have a bandaid!"

My vision was blurry but not blurry enough to not recognize you. You were the girl from inside, the one who sat at the bar by herself, the one in the old blue jeans and black jacket.

That's what started it all, me falling and you fixing my wounds. I never fathomed that one day the tables would turn and you'd be falling, but I was left without a bandaid.

posted on Aug, 7 2004 @ 04:54 PM
Turning Japanese
The Vapors

I got your picture of me and you
You wrote "I love you" I wrote "me too"
I sit here staring and there's nothing else to do
Oh it's in color
Your hair is brown
Your eyes are hazel
And soft as clouds
I have to kiss you when there's no one else around

I got your picture, I got your picture
I'd like a million of you over myself
I want a doctor to take a picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
You've got me turning up and turning down
and turning in and turning 'round

That's why I'm turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so

No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women
No fun, no sin, no you, no wonder it's dark
Everyone around me is a total stranger
Everyone avoids me like a Psyclone Ranger

That's why I'm turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so
Turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so
Turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so
Turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so...


This alley seems like a fitting place for us to meet again. It's just us and the garbage and the rats. You look at me with your piercing eyes and turn me into a helpless child.

I can't even get high anymore. I can't look at another woman. I need you, but you're so cold. All my friends seem so foreign, so distant since you left.

I want you back, but you look through me. I long to inhale your breath and to feel you shudder beneath me as our perspiration mingles in the sheets.

[edit on 04/8/9 by GradyPhilpott]

posted on Aug, 7 2004 @ 05:02 PM

It's dat real
Yo, why is Jadakiss as hard as it gets
Why is the industry designed to keep the artist in dept
And why them dudes ain't ridin' if there part of your set
And why they never get it poppin' but they party to death
Yea, and why they gon give you life for a murder
Turn around only give you eight months for a burner, it's goin down
Why they sellin' niggaz CD's for under a dime
If it's all love daddy why you come wit your nine
Why my niggaz ain't get that cake
Why is a brother up North better than Jordan
That ain't get that break
Why you ain't stackin' instead of tryin' to be fly
Why is rattin' at an all time high
Why are you even alive
Why they kill Tupac n' Chris
Why at the bar you ain't take straight shots instead of poppin Crist'
Why them bullets have to hit that door
Why did Kobe have to hit that raw
Why he kiss that whore

[Chorus: Anthony Hamilton]
All that I been givin'
Is this thing that I've been living
They got me in the system
Why they gotta do me like that
Try'd to make it my way
But got sent up on the highway
Why, oh why
Why they gotta do me like that

Why would niggaz push pounds and powder
Why did bush knock down the towers
Why you around them cowards
Why Aaliyah have to take that flight
Why my nigga D ain't pull out his Ferrari
Why he take that bike
Why they gotta open your package and read your mail
Why they stop lettin' niggaz get degreez in jail
Why you gotta do eighty-five percent of your time
And why do niggaz lie in eighty-five percent of they rhymes
Why a nigga always want what he can't have
Why I can't come through in the pecan Jag
Why did crack have to hit so hard
Even though it's almost over
Why niggaz can't get no jobs
Why they come up wit the witness protection
Why they let the terminator win the election
Come on, pay attention
Why sell in the stores what you can sell in the streets
Why I say the hottest # but we sellin' the least


Uh, yea, yo
Why Halle have to let a white man pop her to get a Oscar
Why Denzel have to be crooked before he took it
Why they didn't make the CL6 wit a clutch
And if you don't smoke why the hell you reachin' for my dutch
Why rap, cause I need air time
Why be on the curb wit a "why lie I need a beer" sign
Why all the young niggaz is dyin'
Cause they moms at work, they pops is gone, they livin' wit iron
Why they ain't give us a cure for aids
Why my diesel have fiends in the spot on the floor for days
Why you screamin' like it's slug, it's only the hawk
Why my buzz in L.A. ain't like it is in New York
Why you forcin' you to be hard
Why ain't you a thug by choice
Why the whole world love my voice
Why try to tell 'em that it's the flow son
And you know why they made the new twenties
Cause I got all my old ones
That's why

posted on Aug, 8 2004 @ 03:41 PM

Cold - "Sick Of Man"

Gave all the vampires back
To God that day
No one got raped here
But the pains still inside
I'll never love you
But I've got words to say
No one betrayed here
But the memories lie
I said don't go away
Turned off the lights and then you
Said please don't follow me
And you cared

You stole my passion
Burned my everything
There all the same here
Locked up change deep inside
I'll never love you
But I've got words to say
You killed the feeling
But the pain's still alive

I said don't go away
Turned off the lights and then you
Said please don't follow me
And you cared

You kept your feelings hidden
Like a psycho
Burned it all down
Take me with you
Won't you let me go

So sick of man

I still lay awake at night thinking about the day you went away. I still have the letter on the side that said you didn't feel the same no more and you didn't love me. Is this a dream? I pray for the day that you come back home, but is that day ever going to come?.
Life feels so surreal, im keep telling myself, it will get better, but who am i kidding? the drugs and drink have taken over. I take my coat and button it up, then walk into the world that taken you from me.

posted on Aug, 21 2004 @ 02:26 AM
The Big Sleep
by The Gathering

Deprivation of my sleep
si so bad
I need to weep
myself into a coma

And drift far, far away
from reality

Sing me a lullaby

I'm dreaming
I'm dreaming

Temporary failure to close my eyes
leads to a final
loss of sanity
I need to slip
into a deep sunken sleep

And drift far, far away
from reality

I'm dreaming
I'm dreaming...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Loss of sleep is a special time. Loss of sleep is a mix of frustration and opportunity. This is the time when sanity can become twisted and senses can become different. This is the time when your mind gives you another thought. Sleepless nights are some kind of a gift, that you can only unwrap when you know what to do with it, that you can only use is you know how to use it.

Some formatting...

[edit on 21-8-2004 by SpookyVince]

posted on Aug, 25 2004 @ 02:17 AM
A Most Peculiar Man (P. Simon, 1965)

He was a most peculiar man.
That's what Mrs. Riordan said and she should know;
She lived upstairs from him
She said he was a most peculiar man.

He was a most peculiar man.
He lived all alone within a house,
Within a room, within himself,
A most peculiar man.

He had no friends, he seldom spoke
And no one in turn ever spoke to him,
'Cause he wasn't friendly and he didn't care
And he wasn't like them.
Oh, no! he was a most peculiar man.

He died last Saturday.
He turned on the gas and he went to sleep
With the windows closed so he'd never wake up
To his silent world and his tiny room;
And Mrs. Riordan says he has a brother somewhere
Who should be notified soon.
And all the people said, "What a shame that he's dead,
But wasn't he a most peculiar man?"

When the world seem cruel and there's no where to turn, there is aways solitude. When you can't relate to the world outside, there is always music. When ideas meet with scorn, there are always books. When life becomes unbearable and no one cares, there will always be death. The eternal peace. The great beyond. The last retreat. The final exit.

posted on Aug, 27 2004 @ 11:56 PM
Of course, until the doorbell rings and the shock tears me out of my sedated state. In anticipation of reaching to door in time, my stomach churns and I hurl out every last pill I took for pain, and every last pill I took after the pain was gone.

Ripping off my shirt and wiping myself off, I ran to the door, tripping over my baggy slacks and piles of newspaper articles you collected.

I opened the door and across the hall the elevator had just closed, but not without the glimpse of a cigarette and black stilletos.

(Taking Back Sunday- Timberwolves at New Jersery)

posted on Aug, 28 2004 @ 04:51 AM
PJ Harvey - The Letter

Put the pen
To the paper
Press the envelope
With my scent
Can't you see
In my handwriting
The curve Of my g?
The longing


Who is left that
Writes these days?
You and me
We'll be different
Take the cap
Off your pen
Wet the envelope
Lick and lick it


I need you
The time is running out
Oh baby
Can't you hear me call?

It turns me on
To imagine
Your blue eyes
On my words
Your beautiful pen
Take the cap off
Give me a sign and I'd come running

It's you
I want you

Step by step. Back and forth I roam this hall. Maybe I have travelled a mile, or two miles within this enclosed space. Pacing, monotonous, almost assonant avoidance. Every step I take I walk further from my pen and paper, my creativity. Creativity can be so monotonous.

Definition: [adj] tediously repetitious or lacking in variety; "a humdrum existence; all work and no play"; "nothing is so monotonous as the sea"
[adj] sounded or spoken in a tone unvarying in pitch; "the owl's faint monotonous hooting"

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