IPOD
RADIO
"The Revolutionist is a doomed man. He has no private interests, no affairs, sentiments, ties, property nor even a name of his own. His entire being is devoured by one purpose, one thought, one passion - the revolution. Heart and soul, not merely by word but by deed, he has severed every link with the social order and with the entire civilized world; with the laws, good manners, conventions, and morality of that world. He is its merciless enemy and continues to inhabit it with only one purpose - to destroy it."
BLOGS
Lovely threats
I'll imagine this love of ours to be a knife
And sheathe it in my heart where it's supposed to be
Because there is nothing left to live for
And everything left to die for.
As the cold creeps in around me
like nights spent in lonely beds
I'll remember the springtime of desire
Fond memories in this winter of death
Because there is nothing left to live for
And everything left to die for.
An epic battle of grand proportions,
Our troops gathered to make new assaults
I hold Hurnting in one hand
The glisten and shimmer of steel cast across my face
You hold the arrow of Troy poised to pierce my heart
Taking aim, cupid's bold attack.
But this is no strike to find love;
It is a deathblow
Looking to kill the Achilles of my love
Fearful he may actually conquer,
And you become the slave of some foreign invader
Despite what good may come of it.
A catapult of treachery,
Swords forged in heartache,
A quiver of malcontent,
Spears tipped in regret,
And a battering ram of forgotten vows and promises
These are the weapons we used to make war.
And we littered the earth with the soldiers of our used emotions
A nation of feelings spent in vain
Crushing spirit and life
Leaving us shell shocked, broken, and scared.
All we have gained are just more wounds of the soul that never heal
They only turn into constant throbbing reminders of peaceful bliss
Lost to a sudden change of opinion
A shift in fond thoughts.
I'll imagine this love of ours to be a knife
And sheathe it in my heart where it's supposed to be
Because there is nothing left to live for
And everything left to die for.
As the cold creeps in around me
like nights spent in lonely beds
I'll remember the springtime of desire
Fond memories in this winter of death
Because there is nothing left to live for
And everything left to die for.
An epic battle of grand proportions,
Our troops gathered to make new assaults
I hold Hurnting in one hand
The glisten and shimmer of steel cast across my face
You hold the arrow of Troy poised to pierce my heart
Taking aim, cupid's bold attack.
But this is no strike to find love;
It is a deathblow
Looking to kill the Achilles of my love
Fearful he may actually conquer,
And you become the slave of some foreign invader
Despite what good may come of it.
A catapult of treachery,
Swords forged in heartache,
A quiver of malcontent,
Spears tipped in regret,
And a battering ram of forgotten vows and promises
These are the weapons we used to make war.
And we littered the earth with the soldiers of our used emotions
A nation of feelings spent in vain
Crushing spirit and life
Leaving us shell shocked, broken, and scared.
All we have gained are just more wounds of the soul that never heal
They only turn into constant throbbing reminders of peaceful bliss
Lost to a sudden change of opinion
A shift in fond thoughts.
MAY 2008
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Mneylu