Traskold

the adagio in d minor / i’ve said it before / i’ll say it again / it is just so fulfilling / as a piece of music / as a piece of art / it is soul music. it moves you to tears / it moves you to despair / it moves you to joy / it moves you to love / it moves you to war. it moves me to the never ending war / that goes on inside my head / the war twixt good and evil and emptyness / the war of us and them and it / the nameless it / the it / the it / the it / the terrorist. like / yesterday i wore the white poppy for peace i felt as if i were part of summat bigger / i felt as if i were morally in the right / i felt as if i

‘you. you. you can. not you.’ shut up pryce. you’re not him. you have no right. you can’t win. you can’t beat us. ‘not you. not at the front.’ for god’s sake why? why do they make such a fuss why do they seem so ashamed of us? why do they think we’re embarrassing them when the only ones here who’re embarrassed are those too young those who were too young to fight and yet are still of that generation, who were expected to go and to die for the king and his nation, they’re here in the hall with us and you’re not adverse to putting the on show, so why won’t you let

As they chose. As they Choose If you choose to think of Dulce et Decorum est, With its mocking tone and sardonic voice, Then you choose If you choose to Counter-Attack And cower behind your own fear and fallacies, Then you choose. Don't believe what they say, What they think, What they want Because if you do, Then you choose A warped image, A blurred message The wrong remembrance. If you choose those who abandoned their friends and brothers And blame it on those who had to, to stop the barrier breaking And the tide of Hell advancing, Then you choose to forget to Remember.

i hear voices in my head, but i don’t understand them i see the people of the world, but i don’t trust them i taste the saltwater upon my tongue, but i do not drown. no. not yet. not yet anyway i hear the song, i hear the singer, i feel the music in my soul and yet i do not understand the words

entomb me in the flowers of this land, our sweet land, where the sun shines glittering through glass and rain, and the clouds gather to hide us from the night when the corn is gathered, and the orchards bare, when the fields of the south lie empty and fallow and the northern beast rises from summer slumber, take me back, take me back to the beginning after travels ventured round this globe, to places no man has been and where we once were rulers supreme - lords, lords of light, i will go back, to safety, to shores and white cliffs welcoming me home and as our woods grow and our bairns play, play at kings and knights, and cowboys and indian

As it grows colder Into the nighttime hours The darkness advances On our small patch of hope I feel like I'm drifting away From that old, ragged, worn-out Husk of a body So young on the surface, yet it has seen so much - too much Dead before its time Dead in prime, condition: Fading Why am I like this? Scattered in my thoughts Always flitting and switching Never focussing, never finishing I never finish anything Simply because I ne'er want anything to end If it does... It just reminds me of how everything ends I don't want this to end But yet, the darkness Darkness advancing, ends all regardless And my hope? Such as it may be It's useles

See the candle burning dimly, weakly, Flickering on the edge of existence a whisper away from darkness See its wick, crooked, like me and my belief When I first started It was lit from the dying flame, The last few drops of wax, Of an old, unloved candle One which was soon to be gone The flame, passed down, candle to candle wick to wick, A chain unbroken I/You will be part of that chain I/You will be a candle I/You can light many others, pass on many flames, if I/You just share the light.

You say to yourself That this is it, this is where it ends When and where you leave your childish fantasies behind and grow up. Be mature. Be sensible. - You cannot keep this up forever - these unending nights of living and loving and crying and dying all from the comfort of your own imagination - This high fantasy, high culture, must end. It cannot go on. No more sleepless nights No more heartfelt sights and sounds and songs - songs of freedom and innocence - No more wanderings, and no more nights to wander in, into and through and back out again Forever to be drawn back once again by the lonely longings of your heart - You say to

Shut out the light Keep out the day I don't want anyone to tell me that 'It'll be okay.' Because it won't. There's this cold spot Right inside of me that I go to when it's too much And it's no shelter - it's a prison. I'm scared - - that's why - because I'm scared Of what I might do Not that I care to whom, I hate them, But to give in and snap Would be weak And - this is the thing Hilarious - it's happened to all of us I refuse to accept that before now, Before the Generation Y, no one was dark inside Yet - if so - they seemed to have forgotten Forgotten their own troubles Or maybe they wish not to remember (Why would anyone do that? I