|
|
Post by Ouch on Sept 16, 2009 14:52:49 GMT -5
All My Sorrows [Adapted]
One thing troubles my mind,
my love is away, left me behind.
All my sorrows, soon forgotten...
One thing my money will never buy,
Your love, which never will die.
All my sorrows, soon forgotten...
It is painful, painful my love;
too painful, but pay it no mind.
One thing troubles my mind,
my love is away, left me behind.
All my sorrows, soon forgotten...
|
|
|
|
Post by Valkyrja on Sept 20, 2009 8:30:19 GMT -5
Good Lord, Wind!!! how beautiful pieces!! Thank for share!
|
|
|
|
Post by Pony on Sept 20, 2009 11:30:37 GMT -5
You are a ''romantico', mi amiguito!! ;
|
|
|
|
Post by Ouch on Oct 19, 2009 6:08:15 GMT -5
The Mirror
As this all comes to an end,
so goes the lilac of the valley.
The hours tick endlessly,
brilliant is our pain.
The dark image upon the wall,
is the reflection of it all,
her visage in the mirror…
And so she comes around,
apparition of a former love,
wraps her arms around me,
frigid warmth from the spectral embrace.
And she says,
“Sometimes you’re frightened
and you don’t know why;
I know there was once someone
that you really loved a lot,”
I say, “Some of us will never
live to see the light,”
…but then once again,
I’ve fallen back in love.
Her image never fades away,
and I sigh, “Oh, this will
never come again!”
She says, “Oh, but
who can tell?”
I say, “Well, I’m on a thin line!
On a thin line!”
And her image still stays,
a reflection on that wall,
a portrait of pain.
I say, “Burn it away! Burn it away!”
I once loved her a lot,
all I really wanted,
I only really wanted you,
and now it leaves me haunted in the mirror.
**********
Untitled
He goes under the cover of night,
sanity on a rapid decline.
He’ll arrive on the midnight plane,
he’ll do it a dozen more times.
When love starts out in the darkness,
it doesn’t do well in the light;
affairs of the heart
that start out in the dark,
always doomed to the night.
I say: I know you don’t agree,
every night you tell me…
You say: I know he loves me,
every day he calls me,
he says he adores me.
What can I say?
They say: You can’t love him!
You can’t have him!
You say: I do have him!
…most of the time…
So, maybe there’s something else
you can’t tell me.
I can see it in the way
you always look away from me.
No words even
need to be said,
I can always tell
when something’s wrong, my love.
You say: I know you don’t agree,
every night you tell me…
I say: I know she loves me,
every day she calls me,
she says she adores me.
What can I say?
They say: You can’t love her!
You can’t have her!
I say: I do have her!
…most of the time…
We say: Anywhere we can!
Anytime we can!
We’ll get away…
…we’ll get away…
Once again under the cover of night,
Watching the decline…
She’s arriving on a midnight plane,
She’s done it already a dozen times.
Nobody sees us together,
We spend every day,
Dying for that day…
…but what will they say,
When everybody finds out!?
They say: You can’t love him!
They say: You can’t have her!
I say: I do have her!
You say: I do have him!
We say: …most of the time…
…anywhere we can…
…anytime we can…
Let’s run away….
…run away…
**********
Violet, Purple Lilacs
Beautiful, deadly poison,
he grew among it.
Such fatal lilacs grown
in a garden of pain.
And yet you desire
what you know is wrong,
too many lilacs to cut down!
Oh, for the love I have for you,
for the love I have for your life,
please turn around!
Birthed as Rappaccini’s Son,
he’s cultivated me in
this toxic beauty,
never to see outside the walls,
never to see the true flower
outside this prison.
…but you desire
what you know is wrong,
too many lilacs to cut down!
Oh, for the love I have for you,
for the love I have for your life,
please turn around!
Trapped in this amethyst hell,
running through the garden,
violet, purple lilacs
swirling around in brilliant colours,
Too many lilacs to cut down!
For the love I have for you,
for the love I have for your life,
please turn around!
|
|
|
|
Post by Inigo Montoya on Oct 19, 2009 7:15:31 GMT -5
Very, very good.  |
|
|
|
Post by doe on Oct 20, 2009 17:47:00 GMT -5
Wow Windy, you've been busy. There's some great soulful work here |
|
|
|
Post by Ouch on Jan 9, 2010 16:33:35 GMT -5
[This isn't by any stretch of the imagination original material by me - just reflecting on what's swirling on the inside, and others can say it better than me.]
Go Your Own Way [L. Buckingham]
Loving you, isn't the right thing to do.
How can I ever change things that I feel?
If I could, maybe I'd give you my world.
How can I, when you won't take it from me?
You can go your own way...
Go your own way.
You can call it another lonely day
You can go your own way...
Go your own way!
Tell me why,everything turned around;
packing up, shacking up's all you wanna do.
If I could, baby I'd give you my world.
Open up, everything's waiting for you.
You can go your own way...
Go your own way.
You can call it another lonely day.
You can go your own way...
Go your own way!
You can go your own way...
...you can call it another lonely day...
...another lonely day!
...you can go your own way...
|
|
|
|
Post by BA on Jan 9, 2010 17:05:42 GMT -5
[ This isn't by any stretch of the imagination original material by me - just reflecting on what's swirling on the inside, and others can say it better than me.] Go Your Own Way [L. Buckingham] Loving you, isn't the right thing to do. How can I ever change things that I feel? If I could, maybe I'd give you my world. How can I, when you won't take it from me? You can go your own way... Go your own way. You can call it another lonely day You can go your own way... Go your own way! Tell me why,everything turned around; packing up, shacking up's all you wanna do. If I could, baby I'd give you my world. Open up, everything's waiting for you. You can go your own way... Go your own way. You can call it another lonely day. You can go your own way... Go your own way! You can go your own way... ...you can call it another lonely day... ...another lonely day! ...you can go your own way... Yeah, that's a sad one Windy. So is this: When routine bites hard and ambitions are low. Resentment rides high but emotions won't grow. And we're changing our ways Taking different roads. Then love, love will tear us apart again. Love, love will tear us apart again. Why is the bedroom so cold turned away on your side? Is my timing that flawed every feeling run dry? Yet there's still this appeal that we've kept through our lives. And love, love will tear us apart again. Love, love will tear us apart again. You cry out in your sleep, all my failings exposed There's a taste in my mouth as desperation takes hold. Why is it something so good just can't function no more? And Love, love will tear us apart again. Love, love will tear us apart again. Love, love will tear us apart again Ian Curtis 7/15/56 - 5/18/80 |
|
|
|
Post by ρɦoeɳix on Jan 9, 2010 17:12:49 GMT -5
[ This isn't by any stretch of the imagination original material by me - just reflecting on what's swirling on the inside, and others can say it better than me.] Go Your Own Way [L. Buckingham] Loving you, isn't the right thing to do. How can I ever change things that I feel? If I could, maybe I'd give you my world. How can I, when you won't take it from me? You can go your own way... Go your own way. You can call it another lonely day You can go your own way... Go your own way! Tell me why,everything turned around; packing up, shacking up's all you wanna do. If I could, baby I'd give you my world. Open up, everything's waiting for you. You can go your own way... Go your own way. You can call it another lonely day. You can go your own way... Go your own way! You can go your own way... ...you can call it another lonely day... ...another lonely day! ...you can go your own way... I like this one... |
|
|
|
Post by Dee Dee on Jan 10, 2010 9:43:43 GMT -5
I like this one... Why do you like it, Phoenix? |
|
|
|
Post by Ouch on Jan 11, 2010 5:12:53 GMT -5
-- Long Live the Queen...
Over the Edge
Wishing me well,
but banishing me to Hell,
I'm slippin' through your fingers,
and I tried to make it grow.
If you love me baby, then you can't walk out,
someone's gotta' tell you what it's really all about.
You say you're in wonder,
am I someone you just love to hate?
Should I go six feet under,
'cause you can't wait?
If you love me baby, then you can't walk out,
someone's gotta' tell you what it's really all about.
Oh, I told you I can't make it, baby.
Woah, you told me I'm never gonna' make it, baby.
Oh, we're never gonna' make it...make it...make it.
Got a .44 Magnum lined up with my head,
Johnnie Walker dressed in Black lined up in tow,
had me wrapped around your finger,
and it hurts to see me go.
If you love me baby, then you can't walk out,
someone's gotta' tell you what it's really all about.
Paint us a picture,
tell us all a lie,
invent yourself a person,
see who you surprise.
If you love me baby, then you can't walk out,
someone's gotta' tell you what it's really all about.
Oh, I told you you can't make it, baby.
Woah, you told me you're never gonna' make it, baby.
Oh, we're never gonna' make it...make it...make it.
...some day you'll see who's right,
it'll leave you cryin' in the night...
...if you love me baby, then you can't walk out,
someone's gotta' tell you what it's really all about...
|
|
|
|
Post by Inigo Montoya on Jan 11, 2010 8:31:22 GMT -5
That's sad... I like it, well except for the .44 Magnum part... but it's sad.  |
|
|
|
Post by Ouch on Jan 11, 2010 17:51:21 GMT -5
Wrung [Adapted] [E. Dickinson]
Had a lover from across the sea, sea, sea,
her authority made me bleed, bleed, bleed!
My essential oils she has wrung,
the attar from the Rose,
The tale is not expressed from the Suns alone,
She was a Gift of Screws.
All I got was a frown, frown, frown,
her authority kept me down, down, down!
The Thorny flower decays,
memory sour in the lady's drawer,
will Summer ever return once more,
while the lady lies in ceaseless slumber?
|
|
|
|
Post by Ouch on Jan 18, 2010 5:57:06 GMT -5
B.W.
B.W., the Black Widow
she crawls on through my window.
Tried to mate me,
tried to bait me.
Tried to make me her prey.
Wanted me just to propagate
her poisonous spawn,
I was just a worthless pawn.
Her deadly hourglass,
running chronically out of time.
Escaped that deadly web of lies,
Slowly the miscreant dies.
Let this one get away,
eventually there will be a day,
you'll realize it was a heavy price to pay.
|
|
|
|
Post by Ouch on Feb 1, 2010 2:15:41 GMT -5
-- For M.R.
Crimson Angel
Up atop the
house on the hill,
I could see
the Northern Light;
Upon the wind
she came riding
for the man
with only himself to kill;
the Crimson Angel lit up the night.
Something lovely to observe,
far away, but so close,
entranced by the Siren's voice.
From the Queen
so profoundly enerv'ed;
to her I had to listen, had no choice.
So I could not believe my intuition,
had to trust my imagination;
my heart has only known doom,
but she's come to take me home.
She told me, "Don't quit!"
To keep in silence, I resigned,
guess the Queen thinks
I'm quite a nut;
turned my blood
into her wine.
Which wrist
shall I cut?
Living and dying day to day
Since that time I've
been in a rut;
I thought today of
what I should say,
I know which
connections I need cut.
Was just a part of
the diva's scenery,
had to escape
her familiar machinery;
my heart beat a familiar tune,
but the angel has come to take me home.
She said, "Let's go!"
Illusion twice spun me
into a net,
put me in places
I didn't want to be -
Crimson Angel pirouettes,
of such bondage
she set me free.
Being witnessed by
all of your empty silhouettes,
You all close your eyes
but claim you can see,
as I cast away
my two regrets;
I'm not quite
who you've made me.
Mr. B, Mr. E won't
be suitable replacements;
Shamrock only knows what
a smile on my face hints;
my heart's going: Boom! Boom! Boom!
Keep it all,
she's come to take me home!
|
|
