Remember Me

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Remember Me

Remember, I will still be here
As long as you hold me, in your memory

Remember, when your dreams have ended
Time can be transcended 
Just remember me

I am the one star that keeps burning, so brightly,
It is the last light, to fade into the rising sun

I’m with you
Whenever you tell, my story
For I am all I’ve done

Remember, I will still be here
As long as you hold me, in your memory
Remember me

I am the one voice in the cold wind, that whispers
And if you listen, you’ll hear me call across the sky

As long as I still can reach out, and touch you
Then I will never die

Remember, I’ll never leave you
If you will only
Remember me

Remember me…

Remember, I will still be here
As long as you hold me
In your memory

Remember, when your dreams have ended
Time can be transcended
I live forever 
Remember me

Remember me
Remember… me…

From the Troy soundtrack

Triumph of the Will

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Triumph of the Will
I am a slave.
A slave to myself
and my gritty impulses.
My base desires have me
in shackles, tormented
by the eager need to
Fulfill all my carnal cravings.
I think it often to be just
another wonder of human
nature: a palatable taste
for the finer things in life.
Yet the older I grow,
the more I age, and
the wiser I become
The clarity further seeps in.
I’m an animal, if not worse.
I was given an intellect
no other living creature had
and here I am, killing all
the limited moments I have left
on the earth for the sake of
gratifying my insatiable thirst
for the flesh of women.
Sickening and repulsive? Indeed.
I never diminish the beauty of love
and mating;
However, when the bounds are
consistently transgressed to no end
One must take a stand and ‘fess up
to the depravity.
I do not know the anointed time of my coming demise in this world,
Nor can I say with confidence
where I’m too dwell thereafter.
Therefore I’ve taken the time to hastily reevaluate myself and
draw up a more pragmatic model
for this part of my existence.
Restraint seems like a good start – a difficult one, nonetheless.
If I’m to ascend back into a state of grace and divine acceptance then I’m to do away with the frivolous and niggardly ways of the Bohemian quarters of society that I’ve so blindly chosen to reside in.
I need not luck nor a miracle;
The only triumph is that of the will.

By Mensur Gjonbalaj
March 25, 2015

Arabella

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Arabella - Arctic Monkeys

Arabella

Arabella’s got some interstellar-gator skin boots
And a helter skelter ’round her little finger and I ride it endlessly
She’s got a Barbarella silver swimsuit
And when she needs to shelter from reality she takes a dip in my daydreams

My days end best when this sunset gets itself
Behind that little lady sitting on the passenger side
It’s much less picturesque without her catching the light
The horizon tries but it’s just not as kind on the eyes

As Arabella
As Arabella
Just might have tapped into your mind and soul
You can’t be sure

Arabella’s got a 70’s head
But she’s a modern lover
It’s an exploration, she’s made of outer space
And her lips are like the galaxy’s edge
And her kiss the colour of a constellation falling into place

My days end best when this sunset gets itself
Behind that little lady sitting on the passenger side
It’s much less picturesque without her catching the light
The horizon tries but it’s just not as kind on the eyes

As Arabella
As Arabella
Just might have tapped into your mind and soul
You can’t be sure

That’s magic in a cheetah print coat
Just a slip underneath it I hope
Asking if I can have one of those
Organic cigarettes that she smokes
Wraps her lips round the Mexican coke
Makes you wish that you were the bottle
Takes a sip of your soul and it sounds like…

Just might have tapped into your mind and soul
You can’t be sure

Written by Alex Turner

A Lay with the Violet Rose

Woman

Woman

A Lay with the Violet Rose

I wonder what became of the girl who once said she believed in me.
Is she still meandering about the earth with her delicate feet, white as snow and tender as lavender?
Her wide eyes still captivate my psyche, along with that petite body that so elegantly steals the hearts of men who dare gaze upon it whilst glaring in awe as she lies down in translucent garments atop a lofty sheep-fur-covered sofa like the white Queen of Sheba that she is.
I doubt she ever bore love for me, nor any sentiment of good feeling other than that of admiration for my talents in the art of crafting words, melodies, and thought into one unified element;
Though she did have an exceptional affinity that gravitated towards my cock.
She loved it. And in return for her love of it I gave it to her. And she loved it. So much so that her tight pale perky little ass swelled up after the endless pounding of my pulsating, blood-engorged, steel-hard cock that endured so long a thrusting it shot out my love juice almost as vehemently as dragonfire.
The fluids emitted all over her buttocks and violet dress, which was partially covering the rest of her back. I carried on slathering my slowly receding phallus along the curves of her ass and thighs as she lied on her stomach along the bed.
She carried on with the heavy breathing, in awe and in bliss of the obscurely gratifying sodomy.
I then seized the suckling of her breasts and neck with my tongue and swiftly rose up from the bed.
None of us spoke; and nothing was said.
We both got what we wanted, and despite the ecstasy wrought upon her by the beast of her wildest and most inconceivably deepest fantasies, she still didn’t love me.
I was fine with that.
But before I left, and that would be the last goodbye, she told me, and in stressed expressions, that she believed in me and my art and though we may or may not ever cross paths again that she’ll surely feel me through the work I do and will never cease to seek inspiration from it, be it in the open or private.
And that’s all I really have to say about her.

by Mensur Gjonbalaj

March 12, 2015

Central – John Frusciante

John Frusciante

John Frusciante

The following is a song written and performed by John Frusciante, former guitarist of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. The song Central is a track taken from his 2009 solo album The Empyrean.

Central

I’m central to nowhere
Thinking of sweeping it clean
When we choose to go were losing more than just our surroundings
I’ve gone around the sides of this universe as it stands
Outside the limits of all existence
Where light never ends

We should be grateful to the gods
Whoever they’re real to they are
I value my placement as in Hell
Remember that moment that I fell

Anything that could one day be is as real as what I’m saying
If something is nothing it must not be something in any possible way
Lo-lo-lose yourself in the far off worlds that are right under your feet
Switch below with above all the way up into infinity

We should be thankful who we are
Whether we know ourselves or not
Walking alongside myself
Neither of us listens very well

I’m dreading a time that is not near
As a man on cross I have no fear I can’t believe these words I’m saying
You gotta feel your lines
You gotta feel your lines

I’m dreading a time that is not near
As a man on cross I have no fear I can’t believe these words I’m saying
You gotta feel your lines
You gotta feel your lines

I’m dreading a time that is not near

Ahhh!

I’m dreading a time that is not near
As a man on cross I have no fear I can’t believe these words I’m saying
You gotta feel your lines
You gotta feel your lines

by John Frusciante

In My Dreams

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In My Dreams

These dreams I dream are godforsaken torture.
A day of good work and fun ought to be complimented by a night of sweet rest and slumber.
But you still haunt me every night.
From the moment I lie in bed I begin to fade away from reality
and into the inner annals of my deceivingly wretchéd subconscious.
I see you, laying next to me, whispering in my ear, and caressing my feet with yours in that strange way.
Deep in my heart I miss those memories,
though now they are only memories.
When you come to me I feel the calmness of companionship;
It’s as if you’ve never left and have always been here.
I see your face as if it had been the only face I’ve ever seen with my blind eyes.
The room is dark. But you illuminate it.
I don’t think much of you during my days.
You don’t even come up in passing thoughts.
Nor are lurking behind the melancholy lyrics and tender melodies of songs.
Yet you are always there with me in the dark of night.
Perhaps, that’s where you ought to dwell, in my dreams.

By Mensur Gjonbalaj
March 9, 2015