Mitch

[size=1]Virus (werus) means Poison in Latin. Yay. Let me see. Tandem. That means, "At last," in Latin. In english it means things lined up in pairs, single file. Where do you get that from that? Tandem was a bike, or something. And the person that rode in the back was "At last." Makes sense to me. Vir means (a/the) man in Latin...and it's one of the only words that is male in Latin that is singular, and male, but doesn't end in "us." Heh. So in class today a kid accidently said "Virus," in the sentence, "Virus defessa." Tired poison lol. Yeah. I am taking Latin this year and I love it a lot more than Spanish, which I took last year. I feel stupid for not just taking Latin first off, but ah well. Me gusta...leche. Bah. Spanish is really hard for me to remember, I didn't like the language itself. Anyways, [i]sixty[/i] percent of the words in english have some Latin derivative. So this will help me a lot, I hope, with becoming a better writer. Plus in Latin we actually are going over some grammar. I'm glad for that too. [/size]

[size=1][url]http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=27614[/url] I am not going to say much else. DO NOT POST ONE WORD POSTS. DO NOT POST POSTS THAT SIMPLY SAY, "It's pretty good." Erg. As for your writing, it is pretty scant and horrible. Use paragraphs, for one thing, as they are supposed to be used. They add flow to the structure of everything, and the way and where you place them does make a difference. Not to mention whenever a new speaker speaks you make a new paragraph. Also, I do not know what in the world you are talking about from most of what I have read. Clarity is a definite thing that is needed for any piece of writing to be as fluent and beautiful as possible. Using vague, non descripitve, onward blabber does not suffice for this. "I know you are"he said "I like it too" and i said i wanted blah blah blah.. This is a better way to do that example: He turned from his table he had been staring into. "I know you are[b][i][u],[/b][/u][/i]" he said. He clutched his hand on my shoulder tightly, clawing at it like a scratching, sad cat. "I know you are." See how much better it is if you give narration a more painted poise, and use it to fluctuate around the story? You have done this...but too vaguely. It needs more punch, a better way for the reader to actually care what your are saying.[/size]

[size=1] I can't have superpowers so they wouldn't be anything. Hah. That is so unuseless. Do not turn away do not kill the logic covered in plastic trees Do not turn away do not hit your alarm clock or hit the breeding eggs the logical is logical today Heh. Spammmm! Yeah. I really don't think about it. I wouldn't want them if I could have them. It would become usual, as do all quirks and perks. And then I'd become power hungry and want more... Welcome to the jaws of hell.[/size]

[size=1] An unfinished poem...like one of two that I have. I usually finish poems. A train went through a burial fork It was split until He couldn't forget As the train skipped and skipped? It was split On aboard there were Cravens Old Sages and Wise Lamemans A Wight that was cold as he was white: And the engineer a homely old man? One that loved the train's flight First they were going round And round Until there wasn't even an after sound: The cravens sighed: for they were impatient And the Old Sages and Wise Lamemans were elated The Wight was tall and he never fell nor slight The old engineer, that homely man? Why, endeared as you and I: he was abridged He hadn't a clue which fork to take Which chance was meant and which was mistake So, as he sat in his caboose he pondered? Pondered 'til he couldn't choose 'Til he didn't know what was left And what was to lose By this time they were still going round And round Until at this time there still wasn't an after sound That was when the engineer came out: He first came to the Cravens Spoke to them of his timely situation And asked for their desperation? And they were silent as is the way of Cravens For they are unretribute and are fallen aback to any given salvation Hopeless to an endless relation There was one about the group of Cravens whom was their leader: He was a cruel being in his time, a ruler and leader until he died He was the one who spoke up then: spoke so loud the entire train seemed to sigh "We must turn back!" said he, the leader of The Cravens "We must turn back, for this path leads to damnation And the other to false salvation!" The entire group of Cravens then began to chant They said exactly what the leader had said It flew around the train like a sigh and a touch to skin All aboard heard it many times and again The engineer took this to his situation Then leaving those dear Cravens he entered the room Of the Great Wight Through the room could still be heard The Cravens Who were soon silenced by the Old Sages' connotations For their spells were of a powerful transpiration As the engineer entered the Wight stood tall and spoke sublime "There ye be thou dear Sir. Why dost thou come hither?" said he The engineer told of the state of affairs in quick retrospect "I see. Ye know which path thou shall take! Thou shalt take salvation withal?" The engineer stared uncertainly and unsure? He tried to speak yet his mouth would not move "I see thou art uncertain. Hear me now dear Sir: Thou shalt take salvation!" The Great Wight implored heavily outward and outsaid salvation as if it in one a big sigh Yet the engineer was still uncertain[/size]

[size=1]little paper origami flies the explosion the implosion exploding exoskeleton of an implosion the nebulae in my iris's eye the beautiful little cries the sickening whispers behind the lines little paper origami flies wide hopeless ragmans with open wings hysterically, hysterically broken down to chemical processing the implosion the explosion the exploding the imploding the nexus the beautiful little cries the nebulae in my iris's eye little paper origami flies bended and ripped and torn and hysterically, hysterically the sickening gurgles of chemical processing the sickening eating away the sickening; the teethed; the headless stare pointing of an explosions' crosshairs pointing of an implosions' despair little paper little paper origami flies little paper nothing crumpled and torn and hysterically, hysterically and broken down chains and broken down and chained and broken down the heart pumping the heart pounding the heart crushing the heart twisted to cruel and steel without blood going through and chained and broken down and hanging around and living it down and exploding and imploding all around the nebulae in my iris's eye little paper origami flies and living around and let down broken down to chemical processing and broken down hysterically hysterically broken down let down hanging around breathing through water drowned the heart pumping the heart pounding the heart crushing the heart twisted to cruel and steel and the sickening whispers behind the lines sickening paper origami flies buzzing cruising driving down hissing shouting pounding it all around diseased and sick and violated sounds hysterically broken down and hysterically broken down and hanging around[/size]

[size=1] Who knows. All I can say is I really wouldn't care. I'd be something...but I'm not going to sit here and say what I believe I would be like, because it would be bent in some areas to improve all the flaws I see with humans as themselves really. Of course I have thought about it. I've thought about how much more pleasure a woman gets from sex, how much easier it would be to just be a woman. Other such pointless things. I really don't want to be like this anymore, though. Going over things and wishing they could be some way. I'm just going to live with what I have.[/size]

[size=1] I don't cry. Since I was young I learned that it was weak to cry when you scraped your knee a bit, and stuff like that. So it's progressed to where I don't even show my real emotions anymore. At least not outwardly. So nah. I don't really cry ever. I deal with stuff other ways.[/size]

[size=1]Pff. Most teachers are very bearable. And I guess I'll probably end up being one. What else can you get from an english major, other than a writer or such?[/size]

[size=1] I have recently become the parallelistic follower of two cultists which I find to be the upmost of intelligencing and fluent perdition. They are my new Gods. They stand before me as transitioned mortal beings that are just as me, bleed as me, and have an idealistic approach to the workings of the rules. These Gods, of course, have founded their steep steps upon me in the only way that is best to let out opinionated drivel these days: music. If it would not be for them and their music, then I would strive further for a true and almighty God. I would pray in recollection further for an endless answer to the spiraling mockingbirds that are labeled as divine, sly, and everlasting. I would still be searching for the truth that endlessly plagues us and endlessly grapples us in its unformless aberrations. But I have found the abnormal terrestrial which is said to be sublime and to live about and above us upon his royal ethers. Who sits upon his royal throne conversing and drowning himself for us below. I have found that through the ghostly bondage upon my arms and head and mind has been created two for me that appeals to my masses. I have found from within the pretty hate machine a hate pretty machine. A mechanism which throbs into my ears in bleeding elation about the things which encumber me down and convulse like a bleeding heart to me. And that is what I am to be said to be. I am a bleeding heart. I openly strive for something to fill my ceaseless bleeding. I try to well up the holes from which I bleed and cover them. I even try to eat my own dead tissues, and other's, to recycle it into a nexus of life. But still my heart is too convulsed and shaken. Still it tastes too much poison day by day. Then there is a symbolic symbiosis which holds me head and fills its holes and holds my heart and fills its craters. It is the artist. The bleeding heart and the artist. They are one in the same exempting one important factor: one cannot beat without the other. Without the artist there is no bleeding heart, there is nothing upon which to base the drippings other than pure drivel and meaningless holes. Without the artist there is no bleeding heart which has its throbs inducted through the artist. And I have become one such follower. I feel almost catatonic when my God's voices speak to me. It is like Devil Gods speaking to me about that which is right and that which is wrong. It is like a masochistic sex doll for me to continually lust on top of. It is like being conceived over and over again, continually a small child in a small womb feeding its self and gorging upon the blood that pumps his veins to dilation and rage. It is quite eloquent, like looking at a setting sun as it drains away past the horizons. I worship my Gods daily. I stand alone and as I listen to their written songs and their instrumental shakings. I sing along with them. I learn every crack of every corner in their words. I find my meanings through the meaningless. As I close my eyes now in soft whispers and recollect their faces and their bibles I see a bigger picture. I see a picture that has no meaning, that is painted with maggots that traverse across muddy pools of dried tar and eat that which has already died so that they one day can die too. I see them. Right now. I even hear them. I can hear them wailing this nearly same message in the driveling beauty in which they do it. Thom Yorke I am sure knows that he needs to give me nothing for my constant worship and prayer to him. I'm sure he's just as oblivious to the amazing intricacies which happen between the bleeding hearts and the artists. But I'm sure that he smiles in some numbing way that is too vague in his mind to really mean how profound it is. And Trent Reznor I'm sure is smiling too. Because he knows as well as Thom how great the bleeding hearts and the artists are. Yet too it is in a blurred sensation that is too small in his mind to really mean how profound it is. All they can do is hold their crosses of their sufferings and instead of rotting and dying from it like Christ let it rot and decay on a piece of blank paper and on their voices. That is what will make it all worthwhile. [/size]

[size=1][b][u]halloweve[/b][/u] skeletons are white in the endless abyss of the night and they say it well they say it right the skeletons are dead grey no matter the day no matter what they say the neon deathbirds flash my eyes as i hold the steering wheel in my hands and it is my course and i steer this land this country that is called to us free and grand democratic is a greeting skull on the halloweens of every day that passes by often wondering is the saddest face of them all even seeing their gravestones gives me the crawls the skeletons are white in the endless abyss of the night and what they say is what is right evenly they squirm in the maggots' sight a small fly in the corner of my rearview mirror a smear and a smile that says to fear seeking no truth is seeking no wrong eating away at myself is what takes its time the maggot weaves his grime where there is truth there are skulls underneath the poor soul of the earth thralls crawl and make their dirt where there is truth there are skulls and absolution is what keeps us calm absolute is what we want to have the skeletons are white they have gone; they have bled life like spiders with their many legs the spinning womb creeps to our heads as soon as we exhale we inhale another closer to dead another glance to backwards so close but instead this neon deathbird flashes to my pupils it dilates; and irate is my head the largest is smallest in the fields the skeletons have died to kill how beautiful the way it goes how beautiful and absolute these graves only flies and only canes crutches for the wickeds; the ones without names democratic is a greeting skull the skeletons so white so pale and it eats at me; this halloweve the calling of release and freedoms' ribs how gaunt it is to live at times how broken it is to crack my bones squeeze every last crack to crushed groans the calling of release and freedoms' ribs the beating heart that is held and singed so gentle but so wicked cruel beasts undermine the petty fools and too bad they are so untame for ponies are beautiful when they cave falling to crushed organs and chains only crutches for the wickeds; the ones without names the neon deathbirds flash my eyes as i hold the steering wheel in my hands and it is my course and i steer this land this country that is called to us free and grand yet the only release is through freedoms' ribs the chains that close us so brokenly in and to squeeze is to cough and choke joined to skeletons where they roam but to be so young and a pony in the fields too early to say yet what to feel[/size]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Semjaza Azazel [/i] [B]This argument would be good if people [i]actually did it[/i]. Who the hell does? Many people download random songs from random bands. Many also download entire CDs or even entire discographies online. Now, you expect me to believe that they're willing to go buy $20 shirts or pay for concert tickets for every single one of those groups/musicians instead? Maybe for every CD someone downloaded, someone bought merchandise or went to a show... we'd be fine. These people don't exist in that large of a number. I don't see anyone downloading tons of [insert band name here]'s stuff running to shows to negate their downloading amounts. To me this proves absolutely nothing. Do people honestly think that the label will even support these bands without record sales? Guess what? They don't. Two good examples... Example One: NIN - NIN is largely successful for their type of band. Everyone knows them in some form. However, The Fragile didn't sell as well as Interscope had expected. It was a 2 CD album, and did something around platinum in sales. Still wasn't enough. So what did Interscope do? They pulled most of their funding from the tour. Luckily Trent had enough to cover most of the costs out of his own damn pocket. That was for Fragility 1.0 in the US... Fragility 2.0 in the rest of the world was still upcoming, but he took care of that as well. Example 2: Curve - Curve isn't as successful. They are doing fairly well for themselves though. They also had the record sales problem. Unfortunately, unlike Trent and NIN, they didn't have the money to take care of any funding their label couldn't. So then what? That's right, no tour. This goes for a lot of smaller bands as well. Tickets to these shows seem to go between $4 and $15. They still have to pay a bunch of middle men and the club and whatever else, just like with the industry. They don't exactly get tons out of that either, but at least there is merchandise, which helps. To me, that argument is a bunch of crap. I really don't think most people go through with it. They get what they get because it's free. Not because they really care about it. There are obviously better ways to go about this. The industry in general screws everyone over. It's not just the RIAA. The Smashing Pumpkins put their last release online for example, which I thought was a good idea. Many bands put up samples, but it's not really the end of the world for the recording industry. The RIAA would be smart to embrace what is obviously the future. Instead, they are morons who want to stick to archaic, unfair business models that bring them in as much money as possible. On the other hand, I don't like the idea that people who don't "support" the RIAA think they are some modern Robin Hood. You're not. This doesn't hurt the RIAA as much as you'd like to think. It hurts the little guys that need that tiny bit of money to stay alive. Also, for all the stuff people have downloaded... has the RIAA gotten more sympathetic? No. They've gotten worse and worse and just keep coming down harder and harder. I do dislike the RIAA, I hope this is obvious. At the same time, I do what I have to do. This means putting up with **** I don't agree with and voicing my complaints by other means rather than stealing the songs and helping no one. If I shop around, I rarely spend more than $12 for a CD anyway. Most of the time I spend under $10. Why people shop at these yuppie CD stores and pay nearly $20 a disc, I have no clue. Also, open up a CD booklet. There are far more people involved than just the artist and the suits. In addition to those people, you also have to add in the stores, deliveries, package artists and everything else. There is far more to it than just that. The RIAA is whithered old hag that should just be brutally put out of its misery. However, I don't really think what people are currently doing is the most beneficial route... nor do I think the RIAA threatening their consumer base is the best idea either. They really need to get with the times. Edit - I really think the best course of action would be for these bands to take these things into their own hands. Curve, Rasputina and many other bands have already released entire albums strictly online. You pay them and you download it, bypassing most of the moneygrubbers. At this point, I think that's the best course of action for everyone involved. Although I doubt they sold as many copies doing that, they most likely got more actual returns on it. If larger bands embraced this idea it would probably work. There is probably an entire system they could set up just to make it work. I guess we'll see. [/B][/QUOTE] [size=1] Read this post again if you haven't read it enough. Tony is right in everything he says. I personally don't download anything anymore. Nearly all the music I have is from CDs I've either purchased myself, or my Dad has given me. I have some 100 songs downloaded...and 30 of those or so are Pink Floyd songs, which now I own The Wall, and The Dark Side of the Moon. So I basically have all of those songs. I only use it as a means to hear a band before I purchase their CDs or whatever. I'm nearly with Tony on this. I don't hate the RIAA. I'd be doing some of the same things if I were in their shoes... And that's what you have to do. Put yourself in their position instead of standing by yourself with your own shoes not seeing their side of this. I certainly don't know the half of this...I haven't really been paying attention. But I don't hate them. They are doing what I would probably do.. With each cause there's an effect. The RIAA might be pretty greedy...nearly never paying bands what they deserve, but hell, I can't do **** about it. When it comes down to it it's you people. All this is doing is destroying good bands that should have the spotlight and forcing record labels to not try anything new or any newer bands due to lack of money and such. So just look at the bands you love, ask yourself if they'd still be here if it wasn't for their record sales, and their getting a spotilight in a sense. Look there. Would they be here still, those that are, such as Metallica? I don't think so. Before the Black Album, Metallica wasn't known as widely as that at all. The record was what kept them alive. So when it comes down to it I'm as pissed at people that download music like cheapskates as I am with the RIAA. But there's nothing I can do..I can only support new bands that sound great, and buy their albums. It won't do much, but at least I can say I'm better than those other people and that I actually care what the hell happens to music.[/size]

[size=1][b]Rush[/b] is nearly all I have to say. Sure, there's Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan, other such stuff. They are all great too. But Rush doesn't get as much as they truly deserve as far as I'm concerned. All I really ever hear playing on the radio here of theirs is "The Spirit of Radio," which is certainly a wonderful song. But yeah. I also like Metallica's older stuff, when they had a more classical rock edge, not this new fangled crap sound that's been labeled as "hard rock." Queens of the Stone Age is a nice new band that has a sound that is fifty million times better than any of that new sounding stuff. Not that I hate St.Anger...it is a great album, but I really like their older stuff better. Especially Master of Puppets. What a solid CD.[/size]

[size=1] I don't think I have an accent lol. I'm sure that if I went somplace else and spoke like I speak here it would sound different to those people, but eh..yeah. Accents are definitely a cool quirk though.[/size]

[size=1] I seriously think there is a thread about this band every other month lol. All I have heard of them so far is [i]Sing the Sorrow[/i] and [i]The Art of Drowning[/i]. I'd have to say, after finally giving [i]The Art of Drowning[/i] more of a listen then I had, that it is much better than their newest album. I especially like "Morningstar," heh, I remember me and Tony talking about that. I really like how that song starts slow and just grows and festers until it explodes. So yeah. They are a really decent band. I am not sure how much exactly I like them, but I do really like them when I am in a fast-paced mood. Definitely.[/size]

[size=1] Lately I've decided just to live for now. All looking ahead or back does is make me depressed. So I guess that's my answer. I'm not going to belabor it.[/size]

[size=1]You got a head like a hole I shot it full of fire and hell And now we eat our bones The pretty hates in our machines Make me want to slice the cross you bleed The pretty hate machine that is all over us Makes me want to die a death that crushes my ribs And I still look at all the people going insane I can show you why it's going to never change But I can't tell you why I am slaved Happiness in slavery bring the whip to my name Make the pretty hate machine a pony that is tame Happiness in slavery bring the whip to my name Make the pretty hate machine A wound that is skeletal like steel chains You got a head like a hole Like a bullet died alone and hit you And your halo is gold So tell me why are you so alone Why do you pray and believe you are lost Tell me why you bleed for this cross I can't tell you why people are insane I can't show you how you can do the same I can't tell you a thing I am chained My ribs are cracked my hair is all over me down to my knees The brutish ways breathe into me I breathe them in my lungs and choke My head is like a hole Just like you it's so empty and alone And I can't tell you why the people are so insane I can't tell you to do the same [b][u]sixteen lives[/b][/u] it just started snowing in the little foggy window in my window pane as i sit here on my little aeroplane with my sixteen lives it's all over the place the white on your suntanned face it's all over the place how am i supposed to stop it how am i supposed to make it not so cold at least i can say i tried at least i can say i'm not that tried i'll build you a snowman someday up in the big huge sky i'll build you a big snowman and he'll have black-eyed rocks for his eyes and black-eyed gloves on his hands and he'll have white all over him like the angels have just give me some time just give me some time it'll all work out as i sit here on my little aeroplane with my sixteen lives where do we go from here where does the snow stop hitting me so cold i'm in the sky i'm throwing snowballs from my nose in big huge cries and look it stops snowing everytime i give myself some breathing room and look it stops snowing when i stop with all the lies at least i can say i tried at least i can say i'm not that tried air is the thinnest thing that we breathe air is what makes us believe and i can't have it like this i need to get off the sky and shovel and roll the snow on the ground i need to make it all come together and stick in my mouth it just started snowing it's becoming a blizzard all over my head and it's falling down so fast all white and all clumps and all nothing that can make me feel like i can feel at least i can say that i tried at least i can say i'm not that tried just give me some time just give me some time it'll work out once i figure it all out just flying this bird with the herd and letting it have its own place and its own race just letting things fall down as bogeys in the rain as bogeys in the snow-eyed trains just give it some time just give me some time i can sort it all out with time just give me some time it'll all work out after i sort out all of these sixteen lives [b][u]potholes[/b][/u] we will bend you like a pot crashing crushing clot the blood in me is the blood in you we are brothers of the same race we are brothers in this place we are nothing and we have no face a vein is a twisted snake it hisses with venom as it slithers with no legs it beats inside its liver crushing its teeth all over me the vein will continue to bleed inside my brain there is a stove the milk is in my heart it gives me space inside my brain there is a drain the food is in my heart it gives me place chop me bow me kiss my heart kiss my brain cross the loves and cross the chains make me a mess that is beautiful and fall over my bangs the hair on me is the hair in you the kiss of your lips is a reaction that's true a vein is a twisted snake a lie is something that's on your lips it says to me that on my brain is the blame but the speaking of forever is a cornea dilated in my eyes we will bend you like a pot crashing crushing clot the blood in me is the blood in you we are the men that extinguish the truth we are brothers of the same race we are nothing and we have no face we are hopeless and we are romantic under candles we eat our plumbs in our heads we eat our dinners and kiss our beds the beating of our hearts is another second to dead the itchy taste of mosquito blood is what we love we are nothing we have no face we are angels we have grace we are humans that long for taste we are romantics that have no place the ideals of us are what makes us shake twisting collapsing a vein is a twisted snake from this we build our lives and through our twisted tongues we are twisted snakes we are hopeless and we are romantic and we challenge faith we kiss with saliva that pisses hate we are the society that made you and make you we are nothing and we have no face [b][u]little sex doll[/b][/u] she was my little sex doll on my bed we danced to the wall coming around our bones the mallow mellowed our ribs and reddened our veins she was my little voodoo sex doll that spun around my head the mallow mellowed our voices to sweet hay we danced the night away she wore all black and her nails were manicured like a tomb with sweet words she was my little sex doll my little sex doll on my bed i'd call her a black star and i'd look at all the other fallen stars i'd count them in my mind remove them all with staples that cut their skin dilapidate them they sin dilapoids that only touch the sky satellites like meteors a sweet lullaby dilapidate them they sin my little sex doll has never been my little sex doll has never been she only breathes when it's dreams she only coughs when she screams she only touches my hands when i need to have her touch is my blood i bleed so fake metal machines so fake as the sun is so pretty fake phantasmagoric matter fake fantasmagoric splatter my brains are my traveler to have her touch is my blood i bleed to have her touch is the blood i pump she was my little sex doll on my bed she wore black and she was dread she was my little sex doll my little sex doll on my bed [b][u]cannibal blues[/b][/u] walk along walk along the way you sing is coloringme with crayons the green is like grass ihate watching itgrow it's so slow wheres thesharpner yourcrayon is dull the way you sing is coloringme with crayonsthat are unsharpened give themsome glam colorthem with green grassandbrown sand make themcrayola and instant likesulking hands we usedto fly like peterpan all the children flewwith us and came to never never land where they nevergrew up and they never had problems all they had werecoloring books and crayons and with them they all made pictures of childhoods they all lived like they should all the children lived withus up in never never land but what's this what's this we eat babies we eat babies we eat babies we eat babies we eat their crackled bones we eat their petite cracker toes we make them wear fancy clothes we make them grow to grow the crayons are thrown away in the garbagebasket bin we make them eat their bones we eat them and make them eat their own cannibals thatused to color with crayons used to make themcrayola and instant likesulking hands but what's this what's this we eat babies we eat babies we eat babies we eat babies we eat their crackled bones we eat their petite cracker toes we pickle them in jars with dill and cloves then we cocoon them in their heads maggot their arms in seeds let them fester until they bleed all you can do you small baby is have the blues all you can do you grown weed is have the blues all you can do is walk along walk along keep singing that song its coloringme with crayons keep singing that song and sulkwith me grabbing my hand we got the cannibal blues baby you and me we got cannibal blues we sing for release keep singing that song its coloring me with crayons keep singing that song and sulkwith me [b][u]baby bones[/b][/u] at church we worship our lord jesus on the cross we cup our hands and eat his bread and wine tasting the mechanics of divinity that is divine then we all take our black goats and kiss them on the head we eat the babies until they are dead baptized little barbarian in his chains came to the pool at the crucible of the church to pray brought by mother and father today brought to be accepted the tribal way the chrism oil will cover you it is fragrant you have just been born from your womb to stave welcome baptized little barbarian in chains at this church we worship our lord jesus on the cross don't believe? just read the bible and its marching scribes the marching of the pigs will eat you up in time babies have wide eyes and know nothing they cry at their mothers and fathers when they want they are selfish and brats they deserve depravation and seclusion tender hearts and brains are so easily allusioned so easily pollutioned we eat babies until they are dead humping riding we give them life instead the nature is our answer because lord jesus said the nature is our answer because god gave us and for him we bled the marching of the pigs will eat you up in time you sweet fragile meticulous chiseled swine it is too bad that the jaws will hug you and gnaw you bones too bad you will emerge engorged with fear and dread they expect you to be dead we eat babies until they are dead humping riding we give them life instead the single cells augmenting skeletal shred when they grow too big to breathe young and small we eat them and gnaw until they are dead the new maggot that emerges has no wings the new maggot that emerges has no skull it is bare with its snout and tooth it is bare with its empty head and alone jesus will deliver you when you are grown when you grey and rot to dilapidated drones then the plastic earth will eat your bones and through them the single cells will augment a new skeletal shed and through them you will be dead the marching of the pigs will eat you up in time you will realize how meaningless it is to survive and that the best thing there is to do as a human is to stay alive my baby bones are achin down the lines my baby bones are achin all over my eyes oh catch me from the storms my baby bones are achin down the lines my baby bones are achin all over my eyes[/size]

[size=1] I would just be myself.[/size]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Leh [/i] [B][size=1][b] [u]Civil War[/u]: Southerners [i]loved[/i] having slaves, therefor they weren't willing to give it up. Northerners fought against them for their [i]love[/i] of freedom. Coincidence? [/b][/size] [/B][/QUOTE] [size=1] Actually, the civil war wasn't mainly focused on slavery. It was more about State issues and things of that matter. Excuse me for being very vague as to the other causes, but I can't exactly remember the circumstances. But my History teachers said the other day that the Civil war's main part wasn't about slavery. Think of it this way: In the south the slaves made the raw materials for the north. Then the north took the raw materials and made whatever. So thus, slaves were also beneficial to the north as well as the south. Here is a further quotation lol. Perhaps it will say things better for me. [quote]Having read a fair amount on this subject, I'll lean toward slavery being the second reason for going to war. The first was to conquer a newly forming, rival nation that held major agricultural assets, most notably cotton. The textile mills of the North needed that cotton. The South needed materials like brass for cannon. But, the general feeling was that enough could be scrounged to bust the North's chops. The North, meanwhile, suffered from arrogance as the industrial giant of the Americas. The North built up troop strength in Fort Sumter, thus goading the South into what might have been an anticipated attack. And the war began. In the North, near Manassas, VA, citizens brought picnic baskets to watch an early version of the Super Bowl. But it was no picnic. The South was looking pretty darn good in the early years; the North looked pathetic. Then things turned at Gettysburg with, among other bloody events, the insane Pickett's Charge. Historians still argue whether Lee blew it. I believe he did. Later came Sherman's cruel and devastating march. Atlanta burned. The South surrendered, but not right away. More blood had to be spilled. Along came Reconstruction and the aftermath of freedom for slaves. It would take another hundred years before freedom was guaranteed through the Civil Rights Act. We still, today, have the proponents of states' rights that the South used to justify secession and war. Not too far under the skin, the Civil War is still being fought in bloodless (usually) battles. Out of the Civil War we got advanced trauma medical procedures, advanced weaponry, and a bunch of post-Napoleanic strategies. Were the underlying goals of the war won? The Union was saved, by force. Slavery was abolished, but freedom was a long way off. We would have to do Rough Riders and world wars to get closer. So. Today, after a cold war and a bunch of other wars, the gulf wars, we stand as a divided nation yet. We've split between conservative and liberal, primarily, with various flavors of those stances promoted by individuals and groups. Rather than north and south, we have rural and urban, military and civilian. We have the economically stable and the destabalized, the movers/shakers and the disenfranchised protesters. The Civil War was a penultimative expression of the democratic republic initially envisioned. The loose union of sovereign states went into a mutually destructive phase that pitted brother against brother, and slavery was definitely one horn on the beast's head. Remember John Brown? The other was the right of sovereign states to reject the Union and form its confederation of slave states--state's rights. But, the Civil War was a beast. Of that I have no doubt. Some say you get reincarnated and carry with you certain lessons learned. Of these lessons, might the memory of men and animals dying on a battle field be one? Might the initial excitement and glory be another, to be replaced with horror and disgust? I've walked many of the battlefields and feel archetypical memories stirring, the most strong at Gettysburg. Illusion or reality? I don't know. But I do know that what came of the Civil War was the trading of one form of slavery for another. It took civil law process to bring freedom, and it will take this same process to unite a divided nation.[/quote] Love isn't the cause of war as far as I'm concerned as a whole. As a whole, war is about peace. War is a machine that brutishly makes peace. Perhaps the people dying for their country see it as in love, but I don't think that. Edit: Also read Heavens Cloud's post. Still think the civil war was mainly about slavery?[/size]

[size=1] This reminds me of an Acid Bath song that I really like. It is called "Scream of the Butterfly." Acid Bath is this more hardcoreish band, death rock kind of stuff. But surpisingly this song is somewhat mellow...in a really cool sort of way, of course. *nags lyrics* [quote]a creature made of sunshine her eyes were like the sky rabbit howls like something old as we twitch to her lullaby the scalpel shines in god's sunshine street lights whisper pain down here near the poison stream our god has gone insane she smiles like a child with flowers in her hair with blood on her hands into the sun she stares she feels it die, I heard her cry she smiles like a child with flowers in her hair with blood on her hands into the sun she stares she feels it die, I heard her cry like the scream of the butterfly sunshine a house in flames she likes it where she gets it but it's never felt the same surgery in the house of dissection when your candle burns out I will resurrect you she runs through fields of daisies yeah it's just a shame that they eat their own babies who cares cause the air is free when you get there will you kiss the dead for me? there's blood on the moon and the summer is cold there's love in the room but baby that's gettin' old there's blood on my face sittin' on a dead shore a highway of emptiness and I'm gettin' bored there's blood on the moon as we plan our escape the goddess in bloom handcuffed and raped there's blood in the bathtub, baby murder the king there's blood on the moon there's blood on just about everything sunshine a house in flames she likes it where she gets it but it's never felt the same surgery in the house of dissection when your candle burns out I will resurrect you she runs through fields of daisies yeah it's just a shame that they eat their own babies who cares cause the air is free when you get there will you kiss the dead for me? something cold is forced inside her a tear spills down her cheek stillborn songs of a dead dreamer, hymns of the needle freak with sunlight in her hair she smiles like she don't care her dreams are liquid blue I cut myself again and again to remind myself of you she smiles like a child with flowers in her hair with blood on her hands into the sun she stares she feels it die, I heard her cry she smiles like a child with flowers in her hair with blood on her hands into the sun she stares she feels it die, I heard her cry like the scream of the butterfly like the scream of the butterfly I met an angel with a sawed-off shotgun wanted by the FBI we dropped some acid, killed our parents then we hit the road like the scream of the butterfly like the scream of the butterfly like the scream of the butterfly like the scream of the butterfly [/quote] I really like that song heh. As for the poem...it is definitely good. But I do feel that in some parts you just used too much redundancy and too much sufficing in your rhyming. Otherwise it's pretty good.[/size]

[size=1] How did you see them live when the band is broken up? Perhaps you saw Frank Black and The Catholics? I haven't a clue. [/size]

[size=1]The way we walk when we are dead is as the world spins on our heads and we as chesire cats dream as the wooded within us scream "Watch as I take off my head," and so the chesire cat takes off his neck and there he walks when he is dead when is the place where you were conceived is it within you to forget to breathe when is the place where you were achieved is it within you to forget that you bleed and there in the open fields we as chesire cats dream as the wooded within us scream [/size]

[size=1] But Tony, you forgot possibly the best Indie Band ever! Or I suppose, from what I've seen, that is what they have been labeled. The Pixies, of course! Heh. Stormy Weather indeed. I seriously do not know what is "Indie" in the first place. O.o. It seems like some word some guy made up. [b]Guy:[/b] I need to come up with some friggin crazy horse for a genre. Something that really shows the home pride. [b]Assitant of Guy:[/b] Well Jimminy Crickets, sir, I think you should really do that. Music is going down the toilet for it's genres. You've got Rap, Pop, Rock. It's so lame. [b]Son of Guy:[/b] Thinking I am that is this idea good. Dreaming am I that this idea good to the masses appeals. [b]Guy, after thinking long:[/b] I think I finally have it! Guy jumps up out of his chair like a crazed barber. All around him lay the intricate workings of his mind all cluttered and claimed. The papers blow in the air like a cool wind, as if each one has somehow found its way to heaven, but ended up fallen and broken and came to hell instead. But there is one paper in his hand. He holds it high and large as he stares and cajoles and screams. [b]Guy:[/b] Indie Rock sounds like something God would be proud of. Sounds something like...like, well, like Indians. And Indiana. And...YES! We are so going global with this![/size]

[size=1][center][img]http://www.interpolny.com/images/totbl_lrg_thumb.jpg[/img][/center] I [i][b]highly[/i][/b] recommened you go out and buy this album and give this band a shot if you haven't. I really really like them. They just have this really amazing way with how they work things. It's very instrumental, and the lyrics and the signer are somewhat in the backdrop. Well, it's like that when you first listen to the CD the first times through, but eventually it just grows on you even more. I think the first time I was more or less too stunned by them to take it all in at once...and really, it is a lot to digest all at once. But yes. I love them.[/size]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by lea2385 [/i] [B]no one mentioned depression....i honestly cant think of one single reason anyone needs depression...you certainly dont need it to know what happiness is.... [/B][/QUOTE] [size=1] Depression is more of a melting pot of different emotions. I certainly wouldn't classify itself as one. It's hard to say exactly what mix of emotions depression is, though. It doesn't matter really.[/size]

[size=1] As with many other things, it's best to have a nice mix of both. Common sense in itself is in some cases derived from past things learned from booksmarts...while booksmarts in itself in some cases is derived from past things learned by common sense. It's better to have common sense obviously... I hate learning all of these meaningless facts and meaningless devices in school. I already know what I want to do. Anything that involves writing. In the end nearly all the crap you learn in school up to high school is useless. I'm hoping it's different in college, though, where you actually seem to be able to learn what you want instead of some pointless crap you will only use for that class and in some other occasions.[/size]