If anyone knows about the picketting of Heath Ledger's funeral and think this as ridiculous as I do, you may get a bit of a kick out of this video. My friend Russel posted it on my blog journal about the Picketing and I figured I would post it here for you guy's veiwing pleasure.
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INFECTIONS:
In the resonating silence,
Deafening my ears...
Roars of distillment, not a whisper from your lips.
You took me to this resting place,
You asked me to bleed for you,
To cry to you,
To give to you my all.
You asked of me "Do you have faith?"
And I told you forever.
You brought me here,
A lamb following blindly
Into the cool calm insanity of your mind,
Your seeping madness...
And here I reside.
You asked me "Do you love me?"
I told you forever.
You whispered your
Everlasting kiss upon my ears
Lulling me into a pleasant poisonous sedation of the mind...
And I followed...
Like a lamb to the slaughter,
I followed blindly,
And you lead with the sweet seductive pleasures,
The hooks within my flesh, so deep...
You asked me then, "Would you hurt for me?"
I told you forever.
Pulling upon the steel within my flesh,
Thousands of infections spread forth from your lips,
Kissing me sweetly to share the infestation....
And I fed hungrily.
You asked me then, "Will you give me your all?"
I told you forever.
Like a leech wrapped in pretty paper,
You fed from me...
Replacing my everything with your infection,
Mindless indulgence
And I reveled in the pleasures of letting go,
Even as I lie dying....
I drank in the purification of your disease.
And then you asked me nothing...
The angel's breath of a whisper that you once lavished upon my ears was gone...
I knew nothing of your voice, your reason, your mind, your fingertips...
And you were gone.
I waited for your voice...your comfort...
For you to wake me from this deepened slumber,
Of my death, from my rot.
But here you left me, no words,
No soft offerings from your pained lips...
No sweet touches from your embrace...
The only thing you had left behind,
Was your disease...
And the growing coldness within.
In the resonating silence,
Deafening my ears...
Roars of distillment, not a whisper from your lips.
You took me to this resting place,
You asked me to bleed for you,
To cry to you,
To give to you my all.
From this sickness, I rose...
A monster within my own pretty flesh.
The thousands of little infestations,
I have mutated into my own infection
For a world that is ripe for the sowing,
With fresh turned earth and soft minds.
For now, I spread my own infection...
And even now, it crawls within the deepest crevises of the soul and mind,
Anchoring with tiny splintered legs to latch unto it's victims.
Even now, I whisper my infections unto you...
~Nehmahati Kerosna (Kala)© Keisha Courville 2007
I am originally from Louisiana, but I live in Indiana/Kentucky now. I'm into most of the arts: theatre, art, writing, poetry, dance, singing, music, and magik. I have been writing and practicing/studying magik since I was twelve, so both are a big part of my life. And I have FINALLY come out of my writer's block and wrote some new stuff, so if you would like to take a look at it, go to my blog. Sometimes I like freebased rping (role playing) Because it helps with my writing...sometimes brings on inspiration. Unto my dislikes...Here is where I rant. Me and some friends were talking about perceptions and opinions...and I thought I would post my responce here to make my veiws on ignorance clear.:
Actually....I think that understanding something CAN make someone's opinion a little better....it depends...for example...Well...here's a rather simple and vague example....let's say for instance someone likes a certain canidate for presidancy because they are attractive...and they have a convincing smile...and let's say that the general populace of women thought the guy was attractive and that had a LOT to do with why they vote for him.....they really didn't know much about the man....simply mostly that he was attractive and he was convincing.
And then let's say that the other percent of voters for the same man are people who actually DID thier homework....KNEW what he stood for and what he offered and knew that he would offer something good for thier country. The opinion of the informed is more valuable than the opinion from the uninformed...they are BOTH voting for the same person...but there IS a difference.
The point that you made about how "It is always the weight of opinion, not the quality." And "doesn't mean that my opinion is more valuable than the person who has no understanding." YES it does....because perhaps...if people learned to take the time to understand things before they made decisions...the world might be a much better place (not to get all uppidy on ya).
Ignorant people and stupidity is annoying...yes...but it is those WILLfully ignorant people who are the same type of people who burned people to the stake way back when...or had lynchings...it's the same willfully ignorant people who will look at a person like me and ACTUALLY believe that I am a "satanist or devil worshipper" (when they don't even know the difference between the two) and that I probablly do drugs.
Want to hear something funny? In the building I work(ed) at....I was the resident freak...the one everyone was scared of and the one everyone thought HAD to be doing drugs and I PROBABLY was some low beat depressed and suicidal kid.....Ready for the funny part? I have a 136 IQ, I have NEVER attempted/nor had thoughts of committing suicide EVER in my life, I don't even really LISTEN to gothic music...and I am one of the FEW in the handful of people who do NOT do any drugs and is clean.....I don't even go out to party a lot.
The point I'm trying to make is that if more people were informed and understood the things around them and took the time and initiative to learn what they can....then they probably wouldn't have idiots who ran the government...we probably wouldn't have NEARLY as much racism....and shootings...and things like that.
So...hence forth....YES your opinion...WOULD be more valueable...
NOW that being said....I DO understand and agree with part of what you say....For instance...you don't HAVE to know about Hitler to know that slaughtering so many people is wrong...you're right, the knowledge about Hitler makes that irrelevant...but if people knew WHY he believed what he did...and how the situation came to be...maybe they could PREVENT something like that happening again.
In that instance...yes, weither or not you know Hitler's histroy or not....does not make your vote on weither or not he was wrong for what he did....invaluable...because in the end, Hitler still slaughtered innocent people...weither or not you understand WHY he did it or not...He is still wrong for it. I just wanted to make that fine...but important distinction there...because I have this thing about willful ignorance...it bugs the hell out of me...lol.
***********************************************
(All of the following writings are written by me.)
:::::::::::::THE SLEEPERS WAKE::::::::::::
In the midnight, moonlit hour
When the feast of sleeper's wake
The song of Athien can be heard
Where silent screams are made
In the moment of resurrection
Time bestills the clock
The time to be broken
The voice to be heard
The gates are to be unlocked
When the body lie still
When eyes do see
The sleeper's wake is heard
Torn is the flesh
Hard are the eyes
She stands for all to see
By the sea of inevitability
She cries....
The pretty dancer sings
Her soul ataken by her scorn...
For those in which she feeds.
© Keisha Courville 2005 ~Nehmahati Kerosna(Kala)
:::::::::::::NOS FEMANTE::::::::
Inside does the darkness dwell...
Outside does the light shine.....
I am both in the same,
Yet none of them are mine.
I am the Yakshini in men's hearts
But am the Krishna In their eyes.
I come in peace,
Yet am a threat
To mankind and thier lies.
© Keisha Courville 2003 ~Nehmahati Kerosna (Kala)
::::::::WICKED LIGHT::::::::::
Face me....taste me...
Put me in my resting place.
Feed me...dream me...
Or is it too much for you to take?
Feel me...kill me...
Chill me with your cold touch.
Create me...and break me...
With your poisoned touch.
Break my fate and I can already taste
Your lucid skin upon my lips.
I rape your skin with my eyes,
I bleed your ears with my words.
Your pain is like a suffering that I gather upon myself,
But it is a reality I can touch.
Your eyes tell me everything, but see nothing...
Not even me anymore.
But I know that you can feel me,
Scratching....tasting...knowing.
I'll stitch your lips...
Your words mean nothing.
I'll pluck out your eyes, for you can not see.
You'll die quickly under my grip,
For I love you too much to kill you slowly.
Pain me...take me...
Watch me dance before you.
Find me...bind me...
Because in the end you lose.
See me...be me...
I'd love to watch you fight.
Fear me, hear me....
For I am the Wicked Light.
© Keisha Courville 2003 ~Nehmahati Kerosna (Kala)
::::::SHADES OF RED:::::
If I could paint the moon...
Make it glisten in it's rouge temperament...
To cover the world in a translucent fire of death and destruction Of my own wake...
The world would be a perfect place.
If I could sing a tune...
So sorrowful and sweet to fill...even the deepest crevices....
To make the dead dance in it's tremulous countenances, a fear to make them shudder...
I would sing to make the moon wake...
In some jolt of a lunatic's sorrowful lyrics,
The moon would rise, stir and wake
And shine it's maddening gaze upon the world to cast my red and shiny rage...
To make the world glitter in it's mishappened shape.
In some depth of the world's bowels, it would spit out it's vile...
Let the dead dance in it's transcendent ways...
Compelled by the dancer's song in full delight of her gaze...
The binding ritual of a lover's caress to create the sleeper's wake.
© Keisha Courville 2003 ~Nehmahati Kerosna (Kala)
:::::PERFECT LITTLE SHEEP::::::
If I...could find...my center...
If I...could find...my peace...
Maybe I wouldn't have to suffer...
To follow your plan for me...
You like to have your opression...
You like to play Queen...
But let me tell you a little secret...
I'm not your perfect little sheep...
(Chorus)
Follow the kill...
Follow the sheep...
Swallow the pill...
Sew what you reap...
Follow the kill...
Follow the sheep...
Take what you will...
While we sleep
(End chorus)
Everything's for the taking....
Or at least that's what you thought...
But now that I'm fighting the opression...
It's you who's caught.
(Chorus)
But here is where it ends....
Here...Is where it ENDS....(break)
Here, take another pill...
Shove it down your throat...
It's for your own good...
I swear, I will never tell...
Don't you understand now....
It's for your own good...
It's for your own good...
It's for your own....GOOD!
(Chorus)
© Keisha Courville 2005 ~Nehmahati Kerosna (Kala)
::::TAKES OF VENUI::::::
The children that call out to you in all thier love...
The screams that reach your heart, with the crying of your blood.
The stems of forgotten takes of Venui
To bring about thier war,
To touch the loving hands of Keri...
Never to go that far.
I see you in all your fades and glories are to bleed in rights....
The way we come...
The time will go...
Into your sleepless nights.
So listen now, to the cries of many
In this time of weep;
The cries to be heard....
The war to be carried...
In a time of greed.
© Keisha Courville 2003 ~Nehmahati Kerosna (Kala)
:::::::::::MY LOVE, MY BREATH, MY FEAR, MY DEATH::::::::::
Trust me love, but not for my heart.
These stolen dreams are tampered;
Are they not one in the same?
Pray for me, My love...
For eternity waits in it's webbed dreams
And dangerous notions rise against all will
And the night creeps in like fog.
Sing for me, My love...
For water wavers upon dancing light...
And these dreams that hold me...
Are no longer real.
Watch carefully, My love....
For deceit is closer than you think...
And preys its fingers upon thy soul.
Weep for me, My love...
For I am forever gone here,
Without a whisper in so many wicked dreams.
Dream of me, My love....
For it is sweet abandon that you so deliciously savor on thy lips.
Return with no sorrow, forever hate in willful ways....
Come to me My love...
My arms are wide, but my words are few.
Do you despise me?
These things I fear.
Whisper to me, My love...
My sweetest dreams cascade like water over my open wounds.
I live no longer in this redeeming way.
Rise for me, My love...
My whispered fingers cling too long to thee...
All the dreams of a thousand nights stretch into an Eternity Hard to bare.
Sleep for me, My love...
The life that transcends your soul,
Will never wake a mortal soul...
And all that lies beneath your head,
Lying here with all that’s dead...
Smell the flowers for me, My love...
For I live not my life, but the life of another.
Dreaming hopes of bleeding hearts,
Silk less pillows for thee to part...
Admonished dreams of those that wait...
Hoping lovely for a beautiful fate.
Be with me, My Love...
For no longer will my soul be mine.
© Keisha Courville 2003 ~Nehmahati Kerosna (Kala)
