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Mar. 13th, 2012|01:01 am

art_sua
   pa ilgiem laikiem izgāju cilvēkos, lai norautos no ķēdes.
esmu gan apdedzinājusi, gan pati mazliet apdedzinājusies, bet lielākais prieks par maķenīto izdegšanu ar to eventualitātes piegaršu.
cilvēkiem tagad ir par ko mēles trīt, bet lūdzu.
   man tagad uz palodzes blakus anonīmā dāvātajām tulpēm atpūšas īsts saderināšanās gredzens, ar ko pirkstā pamodos blakus kādam, kurš pat mazliet līdzinās drīz par vīru topošajam punktiņrocim, kuram vakar, ap 18:00 beidzot uzsākot ceļu mājup, netīšam uzskrēju virsū, pirmo reizi acis uzmetot viņa līgavai. esmu izskatījusies dusmīga, kā uzzināju, kad šodien apzvanīju cilvēkus, kuri rūp.
   pārstās sāpet mugura un viss būs kārtībā.
vēl pagājušajā nedēļā bija apceres bagāta vārda diena.
Dakša zozsādīgais koncerts.
sieviešu dienas tulpes, zvani un bučas.
neizprotamas īsziņas.
mātes nervus bendējošie izgājieni.
šūzucīšu izgāšanāš ledus priekšā, sestdienas rītu padarot no besīga uz smieklīgu.
visbeidzot sestdienas migla.
svētdienas paģiras.
sešpadsmit stundas miega, ko pārtrauca viena no visjaukākajām īsziņām īsziņu vēsturē.
   puse šodienas pagāja visa sagremošanā, meklējot balstu sievas klātbutnē, tagad te, darbā, pūtinot smadzenes viņas dāvātajā grāmatā par nepelnīti aizmirsto Lennonu. galu galā, nav jēgas sevi mocīt ar morālēm u.c. grūti attiecināmām lietām šai situācijai, atzīt, ka bija jautri un pagātne nu ir tikai stāsts, ko ne izmainīt, ne izdzēst. heh, piektdien esmu uzaicināta jau uz turpmāku pašizdedzināšanos, jo nav vairs nekā, izņemot sevi pašu.



prātā nāk abas Baklija Jaungada lūgšanas:

dzejolis - audio variants ar saviem bonusiem
You, my love, are allowed to forget
About the Christmas you just spent stressed out in your parents house.
You, my love, are allowed to shed
The weight of all the years before, like bad disco clothes,
Save them for a night of dancing, stoned with you lover.
You, my love, are allowed to let yourself drown
Every night in bottomless wild and naked symbolic dreams.
You, my love, in sleep can unlock
Your youth and your most terrifying magic and dreamings for the courageous.
You, my love, are allowed to grab my guitar
And sing me idiot love songs if you’ve lost your ability to speak.
Keep it down to two minutes.
You, my love, are allowed to rot and to die
And to live again, more alive and incandescent than before.
You, my love, are allowed to beat the shit out of your television.
Choke its thoughts and corrupt its mind.
Kill, kill, kill, kill the motherfucker before the song of zombiefied pain and panic and malaise and its narrow right-winged vision and its cheap commercial gang rape becomes the white noise of the world.
Turn about is fair play.
You, my love, are allowed to forgive and love your television.
You, my love, are allowed to speak in kisses to those around you and those up in heaven.
You, my love, are allowed to show your babies how to dance full bodied, starry eyed, audacious, supernatural and glorified.
You, my love, are allowed to suck in every single endeavour.
You, my love, are allowed to be soaked like a lovers’ blanket in the New York summertime with the wonder of your own special gift.
You, my love, are allowed to receive praise,
You, my love, are allowed to have time,
You, my love, are allowed to understand,
You, my love, are allowed to love.
Woman disobey,
When little men believe,
You, my love, are Rebellion.

dziesma - muzikāls desertiņš
Fall in light
Feel no shame for what you are
As you now are in your heart

Fall in light
Feel no shame for what you are
Feel it as a waterfall
Fall in light
Grow in light
Stand absolved behind your electric chair, dancing
Past the sound within the sound
Past the voice within the voice
Leave your office
Run past your funeral
Leave your home, car, leave your pulpit
Join us in the streets where we don’t belong
You and the stars
Throwing light

Fall in light
Grow in light



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