RenoJe vais changer mon ordinateur bientôt. Donc, presque tout mes pièces d'arts seront "disparus". S'il vous plaît, ayez de la patience, et dites-moi si vous remarquez quelque chose qui manque. Merci. Et comme toujours, excusez mes fautes de grammaire.
BeyondBehold the spinning sun, a marvel bright Upon a path that's inexplicably Certainly arriving in its dark home.Beyond
This everyday, ordinary miracle Suffices to spin the earth and light the skies Above our thoughtless heads and sightless streets. To mend our sightless ways, observe an angel soft In swift descent upon a golden ray.
Hold dear your awe: for after all, we have Good evidence of world's creation. Fear not an awe-struck sight of hidden joy. Complexity's simple beauty arrives And holds the seeing mind: be not blinded By acclimitization's cold damp'ni
My KingdomTherefore we come, past word and drink, to soul: The heart of I, wherein I bandy stars, The toys of endless thought beyond hearth's ken.My Kingdom
A room, in solitude's entirety, With walls who bear the burdensome dream-whorls, Instead of colourful papers' murals.
And lo! A door of wood coniferous, Many scenes thereon are written deep. Beyond it lies one room, yet infinite The paths which branch from here to firmament.
Observe, my friend: the floor is drowned in time, And you who pass by quickly: you know not, These waters; do they come, or do they leave?
The Sun-Struck AfternoonIt all begins one sunny afternoon. At crossing corridors they called to me, To draw along the asphalt way to home: Not ours, but hers, in neighbourhood all calm,The Sun-Struck Afternoon
Among the windy vapours caught in light.
I heard them throw her name into the house: A bird to flit around the dining room.
I saw her come: a lady dark of grace, Who ought, we knew, to be on elsewhere's hunt, At crossing corridors where climb the doors.
Below the murmuring began the flame:
A ring of blue; above the blackened pan, Wherein we poured the lovely golden oil. And then: the sliced
La ChasseWhile day remains the house of sentient thought, Yet Night is Queen among our mist-soaked dreams. We hunt for joy and blood 'neath starrèd dome, Our thoughts in chase of long-forbidden touch: The clichéd lover's kiss, or spinning dance, Of intellect and lovely moist desire.La Chasse
Pursuit and search together bind our hearts, (In other ways, unfettered lords in silk) While fog and sea do paw around the quays, Of rationality's cold touch.
nerudai want to read your bodyneruda
like neruda poem
written in braille,
my fingers searching
the pages of your skin,
gently brushing away
the hair that falls like a silken bookmark
across your face. i will work my way down the page, hands
trembling with excitement, anticipating which words
will follow. fingers will linger in some areas, reread, so that on lonely nights like this one I will
be able to recite the subtle nuances of
your neck or the mystery surrounding your navel. I would try to interpre
Tired
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Be where your feet are
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the fatal habit of being myself.
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Futurowoman Fotographie
Signed Prints @ [link]
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An Enemy is just a friend who's trying to kill you...
2150
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glossy avatar tutorial because glossy kicks ass!
i just saw the words "clue" and "rehearsal" and i've seen that one of your photos was taken in maple ridge. i think i'm at you school!
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glossy avatar tutorial because glossy kicks ass!
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~usuyami~
~flcl ~The-Busters ~HamsterFun ~ThePsyenceOf69
"What we do in life echoes in eternity."
-Gladiator
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