Axver (axver) wrote,

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True colours fly in blue and black ... under a blood red sky.

Just when I think I'm getting better, I feel worse again. How typical. Must be well tomorrow, must be well tomorrow, must be well tomorrow.

Here's something fun. My new icon! The I Will Follow music video is hilarious. Bono's dancing cracks me up every time. Go early U2, go!

Here's something else fun. Who's up for a bit of poetry? I'm feeling all poetically inclined lately and I need to see what books of poetry the school library has. Better be some good stuff rather than that disorganised shambles they call 'modern poetry'. That drivel's not poetry. Seriously, it isn't. If people are going to write that, they should at least create a legitimate name for it.

Untitled #1

Thrice reviled and again once more,
It was an image of suffering and poor,
Ripped from side to side, corner to centre,
Left to burn mercilessly by the tormentor.
The bomb blast shockwave was still felt,
Echoing through a land that just might melt,
Bouncing around the ravaged fields and plains
'til light did choose to wane.

The metallic forces of grinding and destruction
Had forced a violent and bloody reduction
To the life that was sustained, leaving it homeless,
Quivering in man's foxholes and on stripped streamsides at night's middle, defenceless.
With increasing fury had each wrathful wave come.
With increasing cruelty had each fiery wind blown.
With ferocity, it shattered and razed and then some,
Before it passed on to bring ravaging to more it did not own.

Fear still lurked, harassing the terrified innocents.
Their homes a scarred skeleton, they huddled in tents,
Awaiting a new dawn and another home
In a land where the streets had no name.
What survived did offer thanks, despite their conditions,
For the warmongers had departed, leaving no munitions.
Hope of a future eternally bright began to smoulder,
And with every passing hour, the remnant grew bolder.

The sun did look upon the land the next morning.
Welcome relief came with the dazzling, rejuvinating dawning,
A relief that permeated throughout the being of all.
Messengers brought news of safety, citizens began toil;
They could still sense prosperity in the air
And hope, wielding an axe of faith, ousted fear.
A pessimistic defeat became an optimistic return,
For even in the depths of horror, the desire to live never ceased to burn.

Untitled #2

With simple reality, it could be proven
That yet, the earth did remain unmoven
From its appointed orbit, a slow travelling
Around a lonely sun that burnt a yellow blot in the sky.
But I, wanderer of oft-forgot ways,
A meanderer of meadows in omitted spring days,
Had found cause to rejoice, and was revelling
When, with a tumbling, I found myself in a void, no lie.
From the black murk, I was excreted,
My body tired and energy depleted.
With a start, a sudden reality was revelated
And I recognised I was in a world much the same, but defiled.
My head could not stop turning,
As my senses were assaulted, set to burning;
With delicacies of a complexion so processed was my appetite sated;
And my mind churned, forsooth did it view a reality that knowledge reviled.

A natural ambience was marred by an unnatural voice;
A screaming man, much the reaper, told me to rejoice;
Reading of verse was announced, yet instead vocabulary was mocked;
Art was advertised in falsity, for inwards could be found naught but refuse.
Down a shimmering street, hidden from the sky's orb of light,
Darkness gathered, plotted, and went to dishonourably fight.
'Round the corner, resting at a mooring, in the harbour docked,
Was the only harking to a past that was slaughtered in this settlement so populous.
Wishing Divine power would restore me, I fell to my knees, praying,
Then I struck the surface and it was blood I began paying.
A grey barrier, impenetrable to crawling worm or bladed greenery -
It was on this I had landed, a ground more abrasive than a castle exterior.
My legs ran red, depresséd wonderment surged frantically within my mortal coil
And as I lay there, water seeping from mine eye, I wished for toil,
The comfort that comes from an owned time not used meagerly.
So, with petitioning, I sought reprieve, a chance to again be one the merrier.

Untitled #3

Blinding light and the searing agony of truth struck
A man entangled by eternal loss and the riddle of luck.
Yet, while one chain did fall, clattering on the stony ground,
A new shackle ensnared him, twisting 'round him with naught a sound.
He didn't realise, for, his eyes a-blinded already,
He was simply stumbling in the light, and the shackles held him steady.
The position was wrong, contorted and twisted,
And soon, from the error, his feet were sore and blistered,
But he didn't even notice as he was wrenched from the light,
And taken to a shining darkness that truth did fight.
He went in shock, spoonfed, unable to notice the error,
And while he was in a virtual comfort, he realised not that he should be in terror.
The deception presented balm, ointment, cures many;
The man failed to realise the fallacious powers of trickery,
He thought not of a miracle from Hell,
For, in his own mind, he remained sturdy and well.
Nothing could grind him down, he said,
He was solid as a rock, seeds of truth planted in his head.
But the weeds did grow, crows did gather, a silent disease filtered in,
And despite his heightened horse, he had slid further into sin.

Interpretations, anybody?

Created my English speech. I managed to write out some drivel, spoke it, found it nearly hits the six minute mark. All well and good, but that means utterly nothing seeing what I actually say I'll be inventing on the spot in class. I'm going to walk around my room a few times and get the basic idea of my routine done, so that I can control length and not pass the eight minute mark. I love speeches, debating, and public speaking. So easy. Am I strange for loving it or something? Eh, oh well.

I still find it amusing how I got my start in debating. Of all ways to get into something. In grade nine I was an argumentative prick (hm, still am, just with more veiled insults) and my head of house had his office near where I hung out. At a loss for a team one day and hearing me get into some really heated argument with someone for the umpteenth time, he came out, asked me to be on Wesley's team, and the rest is history. I also find it amusing how I ensured I was on my current debating team simply because, at the start of grade ten, I really liked one of the girls on it (Yes, believe it or not, it's true). It's funny how things work out.

Woohoo, yes, I'm having one of those memory trip days. Why? Because I'm bored. Things seem strange today. Sigh, I wish I'd gone to the model train exhibition in Brisbane. I miss my model trains. I don't quite know what happened there. But I need to get back into my trains ... probably will have to wait until next year to see where I'm living before I can seriously think about a layout. In any case, I'll probably have no money for trains so I'll end up being another one of those typical stories - grows up liking trains, goes to university and has no room for a layout, finally settles down somewhere and builds one. I just wish model trains weren't so expensive. Don't suppose anyone else out there has an interest in model railways?

You know what's amazing? The 28 October 1984, Brussels concert.

Bono: "Well, this is somebody we had to take to the concert in a stretcher. Will you welcome a very sick man - this is The Edge and this is Seconds."

So, let's get this one straight: Edge was that sick that he had to be taken to the concert in a stretcher, and yet he still gets up and plays a full show, including his normal lead performance during Seconds. Most bands would probably cancel ...

U2's catalogue is so bloody deep. It's like an endless deep </ bad U2 pun> and to think I'm that fanatical and there's still more stuff to discover. But if anyone has the studio version of She's A Mystery To Me, that would be very cool. The only problem I have with the 6 January 1990 performance is that it feels like Edge should launch into a solo at the end but he doesn't. The additional verse on Running To Stand Still is amazing and really out of the blue.

And if my love is blind then I don't want to see

It's amazing how ideas lurk in Bono's head for so long. 1984, Love Comes Tumbling --> 2000, Always. 1987, She's A Mystery To Me --> 1991, Love Is Blindness. 1990, Axtung Beibi Out-takes --> 1993 Lemon. 1990, Axtung Beibi Out-takes --> 1997, Wake Up Dead Man. 1991, Acrobat --> 1993, Zooropa --> 2000, Always. I wonder what else we're going to see in the future.

To keep everyone updated, this is the latest U2 news;
- Bono and Larry have both stated there will be a single in September, album in October. Bono's notoriously unreliable, yes, but we also have this from Larry, lending it more weight.
- The lads have been in Lisbon, Portugal, reportedly taking photos and shooting the video for the first single. Details are very sketchy. However, they were there.
- Anton Corbijn was with them in Portugal.
- What's taken place in Portugal has caused some to speculate the single will be sooner than September.
- Mixing of the new album will be starting any day now. If the report we have is factual, it's probably starting today.

Now is the time to feel excited. New U2 is just around the corner.
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