Transmission? Not received. No one listens to this station anyway.

I never have much wisdom to offer, I guess I haven't lived enough yet. When I do, it's often overlooked. (Let's not and say we did!) The frustration isn't in being ignored (sometimes, I'll fade into relative obscurity just so I'll be left alone), it's having my moments of minute clarity turned upon a blind eye. I'm a quiet little fiend. Stealthy, quiet, whatever you wanna call it. I don't feel the need to yell. Because we'd all be yelling then. So, in good health, to each and every ghost, to the forgotten rebels, forgotten loves, forgotten children, fermenting condiments and Japanese phrases, I've only got one last thing to say. It's not mine, of course. I've passed all that.

The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return.










Souviens-tu quand dans l'école,on jouais des jeux de fugue? C'est impossible d'entendre quand tu n'écoute jamais. Alors, je fermerai ma bouche. Alors, j'irai tuer mes mots. C'est le temps d'hiver, mes amis. Le temps de fugue.

The anatomy of mourning (Stages of death)

Chapitre Un: Denial and Isolation

There once was a man named Thanatos, a truly humble man. He walked amongst idols and magicians with the shell of a seasoned warrior. Thanatos spoke only the kindest of words; touched the souls of 1,001 willing followers. Those blessed words that he spoke were held in the highest regard amongst his followers. You see, Thanatos was a man of sadness; a man of languor. He never once desired to be saved. Thanatos the Valiant only desired recognition and as a child had vowed to avenge his message, for no-one had ever quite understood his silence.
His uprising was tumultuous, with a horde of pains and turmoils. Broken Thanatos seemed to fix himself, though, long enough to make certain that his followers and brothers feared not for his safety. Dear Thanatos was, however, facing a neverending road of grief that he himself had created. He now desired to forget his designations. He desired to lead his followers through that road with him.
The longer that road pressed on, his followers slowly began to weave away, pave their own roads, realizing their own strengths. Such things infuriated Thanatos so much so that he turned to destruction to bring his followers back to his rule. They did not come, however. And Thanatos was soon privvy to the loss of one brother, one that he loved very dearly. This brother had protected Thanatos the valiant; fought in grandeur on the frontlines. Thanatos had not heeded his advices, and had begun to disregard him. On the third evening of the trek through His road, the brother and other followers realized the exhaustion that they had set out to conquer. On the sixth, Thanatos had but 600 followers left behind him.

"Pay no mind to that, humble followers," his voice boomed. For when it did, everyone listened. "For I will lead you through this!"

Within himself, Thanatos was full of anger. He felt he should harm himself for the loss of his brother, and for the loss of 601 followers along the road. His followers took notice. Thanatos would spew lividity upon each of them, though he had opposed such things earlier on in his reign. He soon felt the iciness of loneliness within himself, though he now had but 300 followers left. He knew that they were there upon decided obligations, and perhaps pity. He did not deny his downfall, but they did.

Chapitre Deux: Anger

" I, dear friends, once loved Thanatos, but that love is no more!'"

"We cannot let him lead us down this road once again! He may have taught us to reap and sow and save our children, but he is no longer the Thanatos that he once was!"

" He sleeps like a King, and spreads a foulness that he once spoke of so openly. Thanatos must be reimagined, for we are losing him quickly!"

He heard them one evening as they slept in the cold, his tent and coat of golden thread and furs keeping him warm. He could not be angrier than they; For nothing is angrier than Anger himself.

Chapitre Trois: Bargaining

"If only we had loved him more, perhaps this road would be untravelled."

"If only we had listened..."

"If only we had lavished him more....."

"If only"

"If only"

"If only.........."


There are 5 recognized states of mourning. Return here for two more in one day's time and choose Thanatos' fate.

How Alice Thwarted the End

You're late, you're late, I anticipate,
The clickety-clack of It's fate!

You cynic, you saint, pupils dilate,
In your mind, you stencil your fate.

You have no right, your ambition I'll negate,
For you have no state but one He'll create!

You'll sulk, you'll sob, BUT HELL, IT'S TOO LATE!
YOU CAN'T SAVE THIS NOW, IT'S NOT YOURS TO BERATE.

I'M ANGER, I'M USELESS, HERE, I'LL DEMONSTRATE!
What am I, what am I, what am I????

HATE.

P.S- Before you use this word, think hard. You know nothing. Get off your disgusting elitist pedestals. Smarten up. Your so-called 'institution' is built on nothing but stagnation.

Slowly Heeding All My Envies...

We mock, we play, we quit, we maim,
Throw jacks, and blanks through this silly game.

She sneaks off, he sneaks off, they feed the flame,
Now friendships and families they have to reclaim.

When Dolly sits back and sees all of the blame,
She cannot believe that all this is the same.

Same people she knew loving each other, untamed
Now too many people choose the route of un-named.

Dolly waits for this dance, this macabre, this devilish dame,
She prays that you realize this is nothing but mainframe.

Something lies beneath that she thinks we must tame,
Cuiusvis hominis est errare, nullius nisi insipientis in errore perseverare.

What am I? What am I? What am I?

Ps. What lies beneath????

Shame.

Surely Smiling

Well here She is, she's at it again,
And She's got a love to profess.

For when no-one is listening, when they're leaving and lonely,
She knows that she must confess.

They may just slink through our shadows,
Exuding kind strength and eternal warmness.

This one that we call on when we seek some wisdom,
The wise, the wiser, wisest.

Who am I?

SS

P.S- A storyteller of valiant proportions.

For all the silly ponies.....

Anonymous, a promise less,
May not be what you want.

Anonymous, take a guess,
It's not your turn to haunt.

Anonyme, pour qui je rhyme,
Menteur, amour, c'est un crime.


Anonymous, do not mess
With our family, or with our time.

Nondum amabam, et amare amabam.

And teeming upon what we thought we had lost,
But now we brush off, we thaw through our frost.

Our memories fight to keep in our heads,
Although we have others that crawl through our beds!

Still when you see it, it's awfully true,
I think She might remember, baby..Do you?

Oh surely it's sad, it's tragic, it's low,
To think of what seems far too long ago.

But you never quite lose the first one you had,
And for this, my friend, you should always be glad.

Wipe your eyes, for it's too late now,
Had this been then, you wouldn't know how.

Just how it was possible to end up this way,
When you thought that Death would be Two's last day.

And so, now we weep, you weep, She does
For what is, what may be, what's there and what was.

P.S- Don't cry. We love you.

Look at this tangle of thorns........

In Death Thou Art My Waning Moon

In casket and soil lucid souls doth keep,

And trace two melodies e'er untamed,

For He is not one to comprehend sleep,

Or the wretched stones in which we lay named.

And o'er my head is a woeful deal,

And He cackles with Reaper's wretched grace,

"'Tis the souls of one thousand men to steal,

Should you wish to see Lover's deathless face."

Illusion hath torn you away from my wake,

Clutching my crux I did dreadfully slay,

A thousand souls minus one I did take,

He takes you, Time hath no faith of delay.

Alone in my sorrow, locked in abyss,

Hell hath no collision, none like your kiss.

By the Ragdolly Riddler

"Come into my parlor" Says the Ragdolly Ripper (Riddler)

Here you see what is about to be found
A wealth of pretty poisons and venom laying 'round.

('Tis what he asked for, is it not?)

She sits, red-lipped, red-tipped, bright-eyed
And knows poets' eyes will be opened plum wide.

What is it? Who is she? How does she? And "why?"
Perhaps Her only purpose is to let sorrows fly.

The answer is not what you seek in this riddle
It's not here, or there, or even the middle.

For the littlest riddler is riddling abound
There's no secret identity here to be found.

No Dark Defender, no Lady in White
Only She knows to fight the strange fight.

She will show unannounced the way that she cares
Perhaps through the riddles She awkwardly shares.

Just know that She is here, watching and wishing
And silently observing, and perhaps wish-fishing!

So if there's a thought that you think must be taught
Pull up a chair, or a carpet or cot!

It's not 1, not 2, not 3 days a week
Don't be TOO shy, for She is not meek.

Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet,
Eating her curds and.......WAIT!

Out of place was that rhyme,
But she's sure in time,
Perhaps today or too late.

For She's here to provide
What she sees inside (outside).

Or behind that black curtain,
contusions and parades,
and missing you so far,
and lovers crossed like stars,
and Bonnie and Clyde,
And dawning of dead men,
And dead lovers,
and the un-dead or DEAD!


Or Lady Dolores,
ghosts of her and of you,
And of morgues and morticians

Who may just tell you to Bring More Knives

Nevertheless, She did quit her rhyming,
For She was sadly looking upon her timing.

She is here for as long as she will be needed,
Even if her advice is never quite heeded.

For she does love you all, and she is quite chipper,
Who is she you ask? Well, the Ragdolly Ripper!