...We came in And everything was spread out: A cheap buffet on broken crockery. A girl stared out of the window And the white was apparent: White teeth; White skin; White eyes; White soul; White wings; White grass; White walls; White sky. Did she know about the dark? Did she know about the cold? Did she know I was watching? Did she know where the exit was? Isn't this where...
The Wall, Rock Opera and Concept album by British rock band, Pink Floyd, was release today in 1979.
After a long time I finally plucked up the courage to open the door. Squeak. I was expecting a forest scene with a Lion, but instead I was met by Ganesh. Odd to meet a deity, because they are not what you expect, he was very Oblique. Our conversation turned to the weather and how the rain tasted like Horse flesh. And I realised that, just like this poem, the sense had left us both Bleak.
C. S. Lewis, British writer and lay theologian, was born today in 1898.
George Harrison, English musician, singer-songwriter and producer, died on this day in 2001.
Out there are places we can't even imagine. Uncharted wilderness acquired by untrodden paths, Undisturbed routes beyond unenvisioned borders, Untravelled miles to unbelievable vistas.
But, within, there are those who dare to conceit. Who will craft a craft to haul human knowing to extension With blind will, pregnant with bristling desire, To chart, tread, disturb, envision, travel and believe.
Bruce Lee, Chinese-American actor, director, martial artist and philosopher, founder of Jeet Kune Do and one of the most influential martial artists was born today in 1940.
Jimi Hendrix, American rock guitarist, singer and songwriter, regarded as the most influential rock guitarist in history, was born today in 1942.
Freya fell down and prayed to the light, Revelling in the horrible sight. She felt so pious, down of her knees, Relishing her most murderous disease.
I hear your question, the gnawing enigma: Who is this girl? What is her stigma? I tell you that she's a terrible bitch Who dumps her dead prey into a deep ditch?
She is evil and callous, dreadful and cold. Stopping the young from getting too old. A killer in heels and tight frilly panties Waiting for vengeance from wild vigilantes.
Revenge from whom, I hear you all call? Why isn't that obvious! Revenge from all! For Freya is dead to the world and the thrill Comes from being right there at the kill.
That's all she feels, that terrible urge To hack with her blade, to continue the purge. Her only desire is to wipe the slate clean And remove all her DNA from the scene.
Although she seems sweet, behind that cute smile Is a viscous cold killer, who kills all with style. She slashes and rips, displaying their guts, Slicing their gizzards with multiple cuts.
When deep in her frenzy she reaches a high Which peaks at the death with a slithering sigh And down, then, she tumbles, deep into depravity, Slamming to earth with the staunch pull of gravity
She reaches her senses, is sick with the taste Of the blood on her tongue, the vast, vile disgrace Of cold blooded murder and the terrible waste Of innocent life now sadly misplaced
And she cries to herself and the innermost pain Of the wilful destruction of those she has slain As their phantoms approach with cackling hate It confirms all her feelings, her crazed mental state
She's lost her cold soul in the wickedest acts On the alter of sacrifice and devilish pacts And condemned she will fall into burning hell And no one will miss her, and no one will tell
The story of Freya, in pain and alone, Of Freya in life, who killed to atone For the hurt that she carried deep down inside Inflicted by bullies, punished and tied
For she was a victim, just like those she'd taken, And she was down trodden, abused and forsaken, So she killed and she butchered, she slashed and cut off, With the dream that avengers would finish her off
Bring to conclusion her simmering anguish And the wilful prison in which she does languish. So onward she slices till hatred transcend And bring her murderous life to an end.
Hawley Harvey Crippen, known as Dr. Crippen, American medical doctor and murderer, was hanged today in 1910.
Roald Dahl, English novelist, writer, screenwriter and fighter pilot, died today in 1990.
If the tidal swell of human emotion Could stop this world from turning, It would've done so on the day The sands of his hourglass Drifted wholly into the deep.
The clocks would've held back their tick for him, The moon stock still in waxing crescent ever more, The sun, somewhere setting, somewhere rising, eternal, The frozen waters fixed without Winter's stark hand.
All to keep that moment at bay, To quench the powder-burn bursting, To comfortably home the casings Safely within their chambers, And still the pulsing instinct of assassins One heart beat ahead of murder.
I tried freedom once. The high was pretty good But coming down was really hard. It sticks to your insides, see. And then your just lumbered With the memory of it. Like an unwanted acquaintance at a party No matter where you turn, they are just there. And the effects of freedom are like that... They're everywhere. They get under your skin, You sweat them from your pores And they stink like stale perfume, Following you around, Your personal storm cloud Always pouring rain on you. Ever since I did it I have an ache And I can't shift it, no matter what drug I take. And taking more freedom won't help Because after the ache is just worse. I can't help but think that freedom Makes everything worse. Freedom seems to blind me To that fact that I don't actually have it. It's hard to get hold of, you know. When you think you've got enough You discover that you've only had a taster. Even the man selling freedom, doesn't have it. Freedom provision is just-in-time. The shortages would cause queues And panic-buying If they sold it at the supermarket. So maybe I should just do without, Like cold turkey. Go to rehab for freedom. I'm told, getting off it can be liberating.
Voltaire, French writer and philosopher, was born today in 1694.
Quentin Crisp, English actor, raconteur and writer, died today in 1999.