"For it is the mind which creates the world about us, and, even though we stand side by side in the same meadow, my eyes will never see what is beheld by yours, my heart will never stir to the emotions with which yours is touched." (George Gissing)
Thanks for the quote Elainte
Little Batty was the lonely, only bat left in the whole, wide wasteland that was once a world. Orphaned by the great End of all things, he wandered the wastes, seeking a friend to spend the empty days with. But Little Batty hadn’t found one yet. He soared above the crumbling cities, the septic seas and ghostly towns, graveyards all. The buildings were headstones, the scorched earth a burial pit. But surely there were more like Little Batty left? He couldn’t be the only one. He just couldn’t. And as it happened, he wasn’t... One dark day, like every other, Little Batty set off on his survivor search, his tiny flame of hope all but extinguished. Until, far down below there was a noise. An unnatural noise. A barely audible bleep carried on the wicked winds to Batty’s little ears. ‘Hello?’ cried Little Batty, for in this dismal future bats could talk. And the bleeping arranged itself into a robotic response. ‘Hello’ it answered. Batty dive-bombed earthwards to the source of this response, this potential friend. And there, amid the terrible rubble, he found Robotron, a steel giant with sorrowful, black eyes - for in the dismal future, bats can talk, and robots have feelings. Poor Robotron weeped almost silently, sat slumped on a rubble rock, his woeful weeping punctuated by a mournful bleeping. Little Batty stood alongside the emotional machine, empathy emanating from his big bat eyes. ‘Would you like to be my friend?’ said Little Batty. ‘Then, together, we can roam the rubble.’ Robotron wiped a weeping eye on a cold steel arm and sniffed and said. ‘I would’ Then ,Little Batty held aloft a wing for Robotron to take, and gently, a robot hand closed round it. Fast friends in a hopeless time, they wandered into the wastes, questing together for a friend, for an unpolluted place, for a future they could fit into. And that was the day Little Batty discovered that he wasn’t the only, lonely survivor after all... Metaphorest September 21, 2010
Please don't deny me, I am you , we need each other, there's no light without shadow . Don't try to hide me from your friends and from yourself , I will always be seen in deeds.
Inspired by jestsaying's poem.<3
the poetree is a source of life,
are embedded in the grounds of expression.
is the conceptual & developmental foundation.
its twigs, its boughs
are the vessels of creativity.
are the colorful, ever-fleeting outcome of interpretation.
these components form a marvel,
a miracle -
Make Space for Me in your Coffin Poem: By Metaphorest
Make space for me in your coffin Let me hold your empty shell When you turn back into nothing Let me rot away as well I am happiest decaying It excuses many flaws to call them tricks that time is playing And avoid the dreaded pause Let me hide inside your ribcage Let me rattle in your bones In your shelter I'm a blank page Guiltless, fearless, safe, alone.
"Hindsight" by Metaphorest
"Up in the attic is a faded photograph of your wedding day that's the way time goes these days Out of your window is an unfamiliar scene You rememeber when it was all empty and green"
Inspired by jestferlaffs, crystalhaung, and this:<3
By bibest http://hitrecord.org/records/270270
I am a callous and shallow footwear lover, constantly feeling infatuated, (sometimes suffering the conequences) often being unkind to the object of my current affection. I take the comfort of furry slippers for granted, abandon old friends when dazzled by new , I get them when they're fresh ..and stomp on their soles!
In the misty dawn the creature waits
Adorned, in hope of Another
The One who will come to end the alone,
And live in love forever.
The creature waits...
I am Grateful by Metaphorest/Sarah Daly. (Photo taken by moi, in county Waterford, Ireland)
I am grateful that my body is intact That I have arms and legs, a front and back
And I'm grateful for the forces in my favour For benevolence that only rarely wavers I am glad I have the freedom to reflect To speak my mind and be met with respect
That I have loved and been loved back as well To have people who would catch me if I fell I am lucky to have been born in a place
Where I can eat and drink and show my face To a family where I was well looked after By two brothers and a mother and a father.
I am happy to be healthy and still breathing And to know that when my final breath is leaving That I can set my soul and bones to rest Knowing that my days were truly blessed.
Only a very small percentage of the many wonderful tiny stories will end up in the upcoming book, but the process is important as well as the result.I feel the tiny stories captured our imagination and interest in creating and appreciating them.
To My Future Daughter a poem by: Blbest
You are and always will be beautiful. Never forgive me if I don’t tell you that enough. .................. Never let anyone tell you your worth, knowing you’re an endless vault of sun brewed tea and campfire, ginger snap and jazz, late night movie marathon and miracle. Don’t ever let them define you. Because you, will only ever be you, and no one will do it better.................................
"Sometimes kisses Can be hits or misses And sometimes hugs Are an armful of shrugs But to me holding hands Is just simply grand." By : Day Glo
Brook's Magic Kingdom I was delighted to find Brookduckart was my Secret Santa pick. You know how much I love your work ( by how much I remix and recommend it :) ) so it was a great chance to have another look at your records and remix some again. Hope you have a loveky holiday seasonX Marlene
When the Bear-owl howls and the blue rose blooms,
When broken hearts are few.
In the month of noon , under two new moons,
I Will Return To you.
"The Longray, slim and graceful,
Did not answer for a while,
And when he spoke, his eyes were cold
Above a midnight smile.
"I've often found that Gloamings
Who require our instruction,
Reform the best when we suggest
That faithful cure: destruction." Poem by Michal
The clown made a pass at the lady in the glass
He was rejected, now feels dejected.
She proffered no excuse , just gave him the boot...