Goodbye John Glenn
Godspeed
Tag: soundcloud
The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few
Necrophilia Variations Stoya
Necrophilia Variations I promise
There, there,” I say, kissing your tears away. “I’ll make those awful things go away. Life won’t be a burden to you anymore. I promise.
We were at a party, you and I, in celebration of a long-forgotten cause for joy. There was raucous drinking. The party pushed on into the darkest hours of the night. Somebody brought out a video camera to tape the merrymaking. Your boyfriend was seated at a table with some other men, drinking. And you were there beside him, with your hand on his thigh. The camera came and exhorted you all to be witty for posterity. Jokes were made. Funny faces and obscene gestures were directed at the cam- era. I happened to be lying on the table. Your boyfriend picked me up, slipped his face into mine, put the cheap rubber band around the back of his head. He and I mugged for the camera together. For a moment, he was death personified as a drunk man. Or was I an inebriated reaper of souls?
You, my darling, leaned over and—performing for the camera— pushed your tongue through my plastic mouth and into his. You were tongue-kissing the personification of death. I could feel your breath, share your alcoholic saliva. Your friends all cheered. The kiss ended—but then, sweetness, you couldn’t pull your tongue back out through my face. My plastic lips had caught it tight, like a Chinese finger trap. You winced, pulled, made a sort of open-mouthed, gargling cry. The men at the table laughed and jeered. Finally you managed to extract your little muscle of love, but not without cutting it on the sharp edge of my lips. Afterward the videotape clearly showed sweet blood on your tongue.
If you’d been sober, you might have found it symbolic. You can kiss somebody else’s spouse and get away with it. You can kiss a member of the same sex with near impunity. You can give an incestuous kiss on the sly. You can tongue-kiss a dog or exchange raptures with lab rats. But you can’t kiss death without death kissing you back. Death is a pas- sionate kisser. I bite your lips, chew your tongue, leave a little taste of
blood in your mouth as a portent of things to come. If I were to kiss you between the legs, you’d see a little blood there too and think that your period had come early. But it wouldn’t be your menses, lover. It would be your ruination, a death’s head with your clitoris in its mouth.
Death is mad about you. Death loves you. Do you love me too? I’m not needy, but I enjoy intimacy—especially with you, darling. Go ahead. Slip your face into mine. I like to feel your warm lips in my inert visage. I like to feel your eyelashes tickling my empty old sockets. One day I’ll slip my face into yours too, and then we’ll experience another sort of intimacy. I’ll be inside you, like a lover. I’ll kiss you from the inside, and it will feel like catching a chill. You’ll get goose bumps up your thighs and shivers down your spine. I’ll whisk you to my wormy bed and we’ll lie there nestled in each other’s arms, or at least so long as you have arms. And even then, when you are hideous dust, I will remain true. I am death and when I love you, it’s forever.
And why shouldn’t you love me back? I know that sometimes you fantasize about me. You lie in bed at night wondering how and when I will come, and what I’ll look like when I do. Am I a knight in shining armor? A fiery dog of hell? Do I look like a vampire? A skeleton? A ghost? You imagine me taking you into my arms, embracing you, comforting you. “There, there,” I say, kissing your tears away. “I’ll make those awful things go away. Life won’t be a burden to you anymore. I promise.”
I pull back the curtain to reveal a wonderful new world—a party, a riot, a ball. It’s the costume affair, Mardi Gras, the Halloween festival, the Day of the Dead, and it’s enormous fun to prance around on the arm of inevitable doom. Life is short! Seize the day! Go ahead, darling. Slip me on. Pretend you’re me. See the world through my sockets. Laugh. Live. Love—while you can. Eat, drink, and be merry. What do you think I do? I’m death, and I laugh and make merry too. I dance with skeletons and make goblets out of skulls—to drink from the cranium, you should know, is very fine. When your brains are gone, what nobler substitute could there be than wine?
When they go low we go high
The full transcript of Michelle Obama’s powerful New Hampshire speech
When they go low we go high
Well, let me just say hello everyone. I am so thrilled to be here with you all today in New Hampshire. This is like home to me, and this day – thank you for a beautiful fall day. You just ordered this day up for me, didn’t you? It’s great to be here.
So I’m going to get a little serious here, because I think we can all agree that this has been a rough week in an already rough election. This week has been particularly interesting for me personally because it has been a week of profound contrast.
See, on Tuesday, at the White House, we celebrated the International Day of the Girl and Let Girls Learn, and it was a wonderful celebration. It was the last event that I’m going to be doing as first lady for Let Girls Learn. And I had the pleasure of spending hours talking to some of the most amazing young women you will ever meet, young girls here in the US and all around the world.
When a parent dies reprise
Finally made a reprise from one of my favorite tracks. When a parent dies. Life gives rise to death.
The original post you can find here.
Have you ever had a dream like
Porn
Any dream you want
Any dream you want
Any dream you want
Life is just a dream
series of strangeful events that are not controlled
so why bother trying to control life
just let it go
and wonder
If you get too frightened, you can always wake up
Life is cascading, cause and effect. From the first moment when you grasp for air, your own butterfly. It determines the rest of you life. Life can be predictated. Ever action of evertyhing in this universe has it’s impact of every human being, past, present, future and unknown. One small rock could sent a astroide hurling our way for a dinasour II.
We Live Inside a Mathematical Equation
So if whe could have a mathematical formula that accounts for everything that ever was, will be, present and the unkown. We could predict Any dream you want. We would know everthing. Every child that will be born, his life death and his butterfly effect. We would know the universe. We would know everthing. Would I finally see who I was, am and will be?
Death is the waking up from the dream of life.
how long is forever
sometimes just a second
Original tracks by TRG Banks
You are marvellous
your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvellous
the gods wait to delight
in you.
Charles Bukowski; The Laughing Heart
Original track by Dexter Britain
The most beautiful thing I ever seen in my life
The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few
Necrophilia Variations Stoya
Necrophilia Variations I promise
There, there,” I say, kissing your tears away. “I’ll make those awful things go away. Life won’t be a burden to you anymore. I promise.
We were at a party, you and I, in celebration of a long-forgotten cause for joy. There was raucous drinking. The party pushed on into the darkest hours of the night. Somebody brought out a video camera to tape the merrymaking. Your boyfriend was seated at a table with some other men, drinking. And you were there beside him, with your hand on his thigh. The camera came and exhorted you all to be witty for posterity. Jokes were made. Funny faces and obscene gestures were directed at the cam- era. I happened to be lying on the table. Your boyfriend picked me up, slipped his face into mine, put the cheap rubber band around the back of his head. He and I mugged for the camera together. For a moment, he was death personified as a drunk man. Or was I an inebriated reaper of souls?
You, my darling, leaned over and—performing for the camera— pushed your tongue through my plastic mouth and into his. You were tongue-kissing the personification of death. I could feel your breath, share your alcoholic saliva. Your friends all cheered. The kiss ended—but then, sweetness, you couldn’t pull your tongue back out through my face. My plastic lips had caught it tight, like a Chinese finger trap. You winced, pulled, made a sort of open-mouthed, gargling cry. The men at the table laughed and jeered. Finally you managed to extract your little muscle of love, but not without cutting it on the sharp edge of my lips. Afterward the videotape clearly showed sweet blood on your tongue.
If you’d been sober, you might have found it symbolic. You can kiss somebody else’s spouse and get away with it. You can kiss a member of the same sex with near impunity. You can give an incestuous kiss on the sly. You can tongue-kiss a dog or exchange raptures with lab rats. But you can’t kiss death without death kissing you back. Death is a pas- sionate kisser. I bite your lips, chew your tongue, leave a little taste of
blood in your mouth as a portent of things to come. If I were to kiss you between the legs, you’d see a little blood there too and think that your period had come early. But it wouldn’t be your menses, lover. It would be your ruination, a death’s head with your clitoris in its mouth.
Death is mad about you. Death loves you. Do you love me too? I’m not needy, but I enjoy intimacy—especially with you, darling. Go ahead. Slip your face into mine. I like to feel your warm lips in my inert visage. I like to feel your eyelashes tickling my empty old sockets. One day I’ll slip my face into yours too, and then we’ll experience another sort of intimacy. I’ll be inside you, like a lover. I’ll kiss you from the inside, and it will feel like catching a chill. You’ll get goose bumps up your thighs and shivers down your spine. I’ll whisk you to my wormy bed and we’ll lie there nestled in each other’s arms, or at least so long as you have arms. And even then, when you are hideous dust, I will remain true. I am death and when I love you, it’s forever.
And why shouldn’t you love me back? I know that sometimes you fantasize about me. You lie in bed at night wondering how and when I will come, and what I’ll look like when I do. Am I a knight in shining armor? A fiery dog of hell? Do I look like a vampire? A skeleton? A ghost? You imagine me taking you into my arms, embracing you, comforting you. “There, there,” I say, kissing your tears away. “I’ll make those awful things go away. Life won’t be a burden to you anymore. I promise.”
I pull back the curtain to reveal a wonderful new world—a party, a riot, a ball. It’s the costume affair, Mardi Gras, the Halloween festival, the Day of the Dead, and it’s enormous fun to prance around on the arm of inevitable doom. Life is short! Seize the day! Go ahead, darling. Slip me on. Pretend you’re me. See the world through my sockets. Laugh. Live. Love—while you can. Eat, drink, and be merry. What do you think I do? I’m death, and I laugh and make merry too. I dance with skeletons and make goblets out of skulls—to drink from the cranium, you should know, is very fine. When your brains are gone, what nobler substitute could there be than wine?
When they go low we go high
The full transcript of Michelle Obama’s powerful New Hampshire speech
When they go low we go high
Well, let me just say hello everyone. I am so thrilled to be here with you all today in New Hampshire. This is like home to me, and this day – thank you for a beautiful fall day. You just ordered this day up for me, didn’t you? It’s great to be here.
So I’m going to get a little serious here, because I think we can all agree that this has been a rough week in an already rough election. This week has been particularly interesting for me personally because it has been a week of profound contrast.
See, on Tuesday, at the White House, we celebrated the International Day of the Girl and Let Girls Learn, and it was a wonderful celebration. It was the last event that I’m going to be doing as first lady for Let Girls Learn. And I had the pleasure of spending hours talking to some of the most amazing young women you will ever meet, young girls here in the US and all around the world.
When a parent dies reprise
Finally made a reprise from one of my favorite tracks. When a parent dies. Life gives rise to death.
The original post you can find here.
Have you ever had a dream like
Porn
Any dream you want
Any dream you want
Any dream you want
Life is just a dream
series of strangeful events that are not controlled
so why bother trying to control life
just let it go
and wonder
If you get too frightened, you can always wake up
Life is cascading, cause and effect. From the first moment when you grasp for air, your own butterfly. It determines the rest of you life. Life can be predictated. Ever action of evertyhing in this universe has it’s impact of every human being, past, present, future and unknown. One small rock could sent a astroide hurling our way for a dinasour II.
We Live Inside a Mathematical Equation
So if whe could have a mathematical formula that accounts for everything that ever was, will be, present and the unkown. We could predict Any dream you want. We would know everthing. Every child that will be born, his life death and his butterfly effect. We would know the universe. We would know everthing. Would I finally see who I was, am and will be?
Death is the waking up from the dream of life.
how long is forever
sometimes just a second
Original tracks by TRG Banks
You are marvellous
your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvellous
the gods wait to delight
in you.
Charles Bukowski; The Laughing Heart
Original track by Dexter Britain