tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12333983109986765722024-03-14T13:17:54.930+02:00∞Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.comBlogger316125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-9413581639160845042012-12-13T15:29:00.001+02:002012-12-13T15:29:41.661+02:00муминтрол<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">
всичко около него е приказно<br />
той може да прави халва<br />
и да крачи в ритъма на снега<br />
да си свирука всички песни<br />
и да те гали като арфа<br />
говори езика на децата<br />
и има ключ за всички врати<br />
<br />
отключѝ ме<br />
като цвете, като име<br />
изречи ме, изсвири ме<br />
врата нямам, нито име<br />
вярата не ще големи думи<br />
ключът за тях не ѝ е нужен<br />
но защо все пак го има?<br />
</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-26279878314344640852012-11-29T14:13:00.004+02:002012-11-29T14:13:54.154+02:00точката<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">
<br />
точката<br />
зеницата<br />
центърът<br />
на ябълката<br />
на окото<br />
на знанието<br />
за злото и доброто<br />
средоточието на<br />
мудра<br />
мантра<br />
янтра<br />
тантра<br />
клетка<br />
яйцеклетка<br />
аз<br />
ти<br />
плодова мандала<br />
единство без маса<br />
точка!<br />
край.<br />
на думите<br />
и на телата<br />
точка<br />
и начало<br />
на светлината<br />
</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-23152420222399076352012-11-12T19:18:00.001+02:002012-11-12T19:18:27.654+02:00<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">
Поискаха от мен да те опиша. Но как да смеся акорда в дъното на всяка песен с дъха си и мига преди да се събудя? Как да изговоря топлината на гласа ти, който чувам в просъница с глава на бара? Как да нарисувам стъпките на еуфорията, която танцуваш в мен? Как да нарека връхчето на болката, която боде като стъкло в корема ми и шепне: "Страхувай се! Страхувай се! Страхувай се!" Как да изпея съня си, в който тихо и тежко витаеш като възможност? Как да призная страха и срама си, че те създавам? (Как не те бе срам, като го създаде, Господи?) Как да изкрещя усещането за теб... усещането за усещането за теб? Как да премълча, че се радвам, че те има и че трябва да те описвам? Как да се смаля достатъчно, че да мина през вратата ти? Как да превъзмогна ужаса, че ще остана без теме? И как... как... да разбера, че тук въобще не иде реч за тебе?</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-19044990734076792902012-11-12T18:56:00.001+02:002012-11-12T18:56:51.372+02:00<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">след съня<br />
излизаш от бездната<br />
и не си сам
</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-43046278962446075362012-10-08T12:49:00.004+03:002012-10-09T12:18:55.444+03:00dialogue with a river<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">
<br />
Когато реката ти проговори<br />
Когато вятърът в дърветата<br />
Следва орбитите на планетите<br />
На кръвта във клетките ти<br />
И ритъмът на клеткитепланетитеклеткитепланетите<br />
Слови през теб без думи<br />
Когато структурата на листата е в сърцето ти<br />
И в танца на момичето отсреща<br />
И всеки дъх е свят<br />
И всеки поглед - песен<br />
Когато видиш нишките на изтъканото<br />
И се вречеш да светиш по духа им<br />
Тогава всичко ще е същото<br />
Но тебе няма да те има<br />
</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-79308174708600943912012-09-25T16:12:00.002+03:002012-09-25T16:15:00.833+03:00По-горе билото<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">
<br />
Навън е крайно, навътре - безкрайно.<br />
Навън е раждане, навътре - зачеване.<br />
Навън е споделяне, навътре - диалог.<br />
Навън е пустиня, навътре - градина.<br />
Навън е тишина, навътре - ОМ.<br />
Навън е ОМ, навътре...<br />
Опа, няма значение! :)<br />
</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-62360666541045291972012-08-09T15:27:00.003+03:002012-08-09T15:29:45.692+03:00На какво мирише смъртта?<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">На какво мирише смъртта?<br />
Отвън и отвътре?<br />
Отвън - на мърша и медузи<br />
Отвътре - на лъчи, спирали<br />
Отвън е празна, вътре - пълна<br />
Вътре диша, вън те задушава<br />
Топла като майчина прегръдка вътре<br />
Ледена като шамар от татко вънка<br />
Отвън приспива, вътре буди<br />
Светлината й унищожава вън,<br />
А вътре...<br />
Вътре ти си светлина и смърт.<br /></span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-52414930054438911642012-07-22T13:07:00.002+03:002012-07-22T13:08:34.022+03:00... (зу)<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">
на терасата ти къпя гълъби<br />
а после ги суша до пепел<br />
<br />
свивам се на топка в гърлото<br />
и чакам да заспиш<br /></span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-2177435748365267252012-06-21T15:55:00.000+03:002012-06-28T17:42:39.439+03:00Как да стигнем в Румъния на Dark Bombastic?<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">[15:49:27] hindsight: да, може да отвлечем автобус, ще пуснем Дора напред да задава философски въпроси на шофьора<br />
той ще се депресира и ще се самоубие</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-35596266174920208642012-06-20T22:52:00.000+03:002012-07-07T14:10:37.071+03:00За истерията и наркотиците<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">
На Р., Н. и А.<br />
<br />
Аз съм счупен термометър.<br />
В сърцето ми пее мандала.<br />
В устата ми – Земята.<br />
В очите ми – стружки от паяци, от които слънчасвате.<br />
Когато се смея, се ронят стъкла, които пръсват телата ви на захар.<br />
Ходя по камъните в ръцете ви и ги карам да звънят.<br />
За закуска хапвам слънчев смях и сини пеперуди. За обяд – пост-рок, цветя и планети. За вечеря – Zep, треви и вятър. Нощем гълтам сенките ви и ги изплювам.<br />
Аз съм жълтото цвете в паважа.<br />
Аз съм тракането на влака: Тудуф-тудуф!<br />
Аромат на треви през прозореца на купето.<br />
Мирис на мърша.<br />
Първа цигара с кафето.<br />
Истеричен мак и морско синьо.<br />
Най-вкусният кашкавал в планината след 9 дена глад и дирене.<br />
Крада череши от дворовете ви и мириша на липи. Хвърлям вода към слънцето и гледам как блести. Присвоявам си обективната ви красота и чакам да ме приспи.<br />
Водя ви при Мистър Грей да го питате взима ли наркотици.<br />
Качвам илюзиите ви на стоп и ги запращам в небето. Оставям баба, дядо и детето да ви въртят в ябълка, докато не умрете. Да ви сочат с пръст и да ви се смеят от сърце няколко вечности – че сте толкова малоумни да не знаете:<br />
„Тя просто е. Защото може. Защото така й харесва. Суууупер мноого й е кеф да е!” Докато не разберете, че няма думи, няма думи, тя е, тя е...<br />
Уча смешна медицина. Мия лицето ви с планинска вода и ви давам мана, от която нямате нужда (която дори не е моя).<br />
Обичам ви.<br />
Обичам ви, обичам ви, обичам ви.<br />
Как може да мразиш някого<br />
Като на дъното на всеки<br />
Е оная ми ти... прихнала мандала?</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-52337928361522443672012-06-17T07:53:00.002+03:002012-06-17T10:10:56.880+03:00Errinnerung = Inwardization<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">[Intelligence] receives and accepts impressions from outside, that 'ideas' arise through causal operations on the part of external things upon it, etc., belongs to a point of view utterly alien to what Spirit is, as to the standpoint of its philosophical study. (...) Intelligence is re-cognitive in and for itself ... its product, what is thought, is directly the fact, the simple identity of subjective and objective. It knows that 'what is thought' is 'what is', and that 'what is' only 'is' so far as it is thought. To think is thus simply to have thoughts; to have these alone as content and object."
<br />Hegel - Encyclopaedia of the Philosophical Sciences<br />
<br />
The same holds for phenomenological description which rests on the assimilation of all mental acts to one subjective form, as modifications of an original 'protodoxic' intentionality of consciousness, in Husserl's language, as modes of Dasein's being-in-theworld, or as even perhaps a function of one's speaking or writing. Not only is subjective objective polarity still residual in these views but the simple fact is not faced that intuiting, imagining or thinking are not properly to be described as acts of a subject in any sense, since subjectivity is already one of the terms in the free intellectual reciprocity in which such acts consist. In recalling anything, for example, I am as much in the object recalled as the object recalled is in me; and so for all cases. Thinking is not the act of a detached ego brooding over an alien world but the self-expressive activity in which it is a matter of indifference whether one says thinking immerses itself in being or being presents itself to thinking.<br />
- Francis L. Jackson - Hegel's Psychology Of Freedom</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-35201469205699307612012-06-13T15:47:00.000+03:002012-06-13T15:47:13.968+03:00short & sweet<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">
The first mushroom said: Eat me.<br />
The second mushroom said: I am God.<br />
The third one said: Eat God and let Death do us unite.<br /><br /><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/wlMWRhoDhsE" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-45286683672704322372012-06-05T05:15:00.000+03:002012-06-05T05:15:24.111+03:00За оклюмалия избит клин<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">тревожните липси се преглъщат<br />
с липсите на памет за онова<br />
което иначе не липсва<br />
<br />
~ <a href="http://cadaurus.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">cadaurus</a></span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-59619180129270315702012-06-04T15:47:00.000+03:002012-06-04T15:50:02.374+03:00за вечни... wait what?!<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">
Много ми е интересно юристите как възприемат вечността...<br />
<br />
За ползване на гробни места над 8 години се заплащат еднократно такси, както следва:<br />
1. (изм. - ДВ, бр. 119 от 2002 г., в сила от 01.01.2003 г.) до 15 години;<br />
2. (изм. - ДВ, бр. 119 от 2002 г., в сила от 01.01.2003 г.) за вечни времена;</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-14610757264929764162012-06-02T20:42:00.000+03:002012-06-02T20:42:15.728+03:00no more to do<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">"God is not outside us but is just us, the living and the dead, the never-lived and never-died. That we should learn it only now, is supreme reality, it was written a long time ago in the archives of universal mind, it is already done, there's no more to do." ~ Jack Kerouac</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-90184881248216052872012-06-01T13:51:00.001+03:002012-06-01T13:52:33.938+03:00Aloha!<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">I interviewed an American nature writer - Barry Lopez - the other day. He's been to 70 countries, taken part in all sorts of rituals, and he said that there is one thing in common between all religions - The Holy Breath. Prana, The Holy Ghost, Aloha, Nilchi...<br />
<br />
He told me the native Hawaiians live with a sense of aloha. The word "aloha" consists of two parts. "Alo" means to share and "ha" means to breathe. Aloha means to share breath, and more precisely to share the breath of life. Native Hawaiians often refer to Westerners as haole. The word "haole" also consists of two parts. "Ha", as we have learned, means breath and "ole" means without. In short, the native Hawaiians see Westerners as being people who are breathless. This is a fundamental difference between the Western culture and the Hawaiian culture. This difference has resulted in, and continues to result in, many confrontations among those who currently make Hawaii their home.<br />
<br />
In one of Barry's stories he speaks about the Holy Spirit Wind which to the Navajo steadies us in the world and allows us to move through it gracefully. Their word for it is Nilchi'i. Among the complexities of its translation into English is “the Wind that is Creation's first food, the source of all motion and change, giving life to everything, including the mountains and water.” It is the underlying force that unifies everything and the means of communication between all elements of the natural world. He says: “Other native North American peoples have refined similar ideas; but the Navajo conception is particularly successful in relating the idea of the individual to the concept of a stable society... through Nilchi'i, individuals participate in graces or powers that surpass these of the individual... those graces or powers keep one secure in the world.”<br /></span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-79505475327621337902012-05-26T00:04:00.002+03:002012-05-26T00:35:42.501+03:00after a long lucid dreaming pause...<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">First LD night in a long time. I guess this was the reason I had so many vivid dreams.<br />
<br />
So I finally got to meet the big monster – sleep paralysis. Everyone’s been warning me about it and I kept laughing and saying there’s no such thing. Well, woke up at 5 for a WILD, you know the drill… Spent like half an hour motionlessly in bed, it wasn’t really pleasant cause I was in-between worlds, and wasn’t quite sure if this was a dream, let alone a lucid one…<br />
<br />
All of a sudden a horrifying noise pours over me – I wasn’t sure if it was an earthquake, flooding water, a gate slamming or a coffin closing. Then I felt something covering me, like a blanket (or even earth?) – I was positive my roommate was in the room covering me with a blanket. It felt like being buried alive, literally. Psycho. And it was so real. But it was a really interesting experience, I would do it again! <br />
<br />
Anyway, I was able to turn on the other side and the fun began. Almost all of my LDs are WILDs, so I looooove the moment I am finally in the dream world – the moment I look at my hands and the world around me and I’m sooo happy: I’m there! I’m finally there.<br />
<br />
1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I’m in a park or something. I see a bar near the park and I go in. People on the stairs look at me as if I’m not allowed to enter but I’m able to control them with my hands – I make a magical gesture and they let me in. I pick a blond guy on the stairs, make a gesture and he comes with me. (He wasn’t even my type, really weird.) I’m holding his hand and the rest of my body is floating in the air like a balloon he’s holding. We make out, I wake up in the middle of it, haha, figures.<br />
<br />
I loved this one:<br />
<br />
2. I’m in the street in front of my house. The atmosphere is haunting, yet beautiful and peaceful. It’s been raining, everything is wet, the trees have an emerald glow, the sunlight is really warm, almost sepia, and gives the dream a retro feel. There is an old lady next to me and I’m positive she’s a dream guide. I ask her about her name, she says something like Nevi…<br />
<br />
A boy is jumping around, trying to talk to me but I want to talk to my dream guide. She points to my house which looks really old and deserted. The windows in the brick wall are broken. I see a white bride in one of the windows – her hair is in a really tight bun. She is beautiful.<br />
<br />
She starts stretching her hands and her whole body out the window and starts crawling like a spider on the red brick wall. Then I look at the other two windows and I see some album covers which come to life and start crawling on the wall too.<br />
<br />
None of this scares me, I find it fascinating and keep saying to myself: This is just like a Lynch movie, oh my God, this is so Lynch!<br />
<br />
Then I saw lots of bicycles right next to us on the street and asked the lady if she wanted to take a ride. She said OK and all three of us – me, her and the boy got on the bicycles. I tried to pedal but I couldn’t, but was able to ride effortlessly without pedaling.<br />
<br />
3. I’m at a fruit and vegetable market, and I want to buy some cherries. However, they don’t look ripe enough to me, and I try to make a magic spell to make them darker. I couldn’t do it but the cherries turned into cherry-formed strawberries.<br />
<br />
All of a sudden Sri Sri Ravi Shankar (a spiritual teacher) appears and starts giving out orders because all the food has to be donated to the poor. I keep trying to transform the cherries when the place transforms into a kitchen and a heroin chic girl walks in. She has a hole in her shirt and kind of runs her hand under the shirt and into the hole, so that it appears in front of her face.<br />
I find this really sexy so I start undressing her. I notice she’s incredibly skinny, almost anorexic. She has a big black tattoo on her tummy – 5 rows of text in hieroglyphs. And, as usual, I wake up.<br />
<br />
4. It’s just a dream fragment – a deaf and blind girl was singing in front of a choir – her voice was beautiful, and I was amazed how a deaf girl can sing like that.<br />
<br />
5. I think I had a musical dream – I kept hearing this crazy composition with Sting’s voice and Bulgarian female choirs, it was amazing but for the life of me I can’t remember it.<br />
<br />
6. The last dream was not lucid – I called a friend of mine and told him about the bride dream – it was a really vivid and detailed description, haha, almost the same as the one I just wrote. I basically wrote it in my dream.</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-20790373436087889502012-05-21T18:36:00.001+03:002012-05-21T19:40:11.076+03:00divine moments of truth<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">През любовта към сина ми минава любовта ми към целия свят.</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-69613934751847612042012-05-18T17:39:00.001+03:002012-05-18T17:42:21.025+03:00да ти проговори песен след 20 години...<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">
Дали когато съм я слушала на 8 годинки, съм разбирала смисъла й по-добре?<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/tisjsgsgtZU" width="560"></iframe>
<br /><br />
Tomorrow Never Knows<br />
<br />
Turn off your mind relax and float down stream<br />
It is not dying, it is not dying<br />
<br />
Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void,<br />
It is shining, it is shining.<br />
<br />
Yet you may see the meaning of within<br />
It is being, it is being<br />
<br />
Love is all and love is everyone<br />
It is knowing, it is knowing<br />
<br />
And ignorance and hate mourn the dead<br />
It is believing, it is believing<br />
<br />
But listen to the colour of your dreams<br />
It is not leaving, it is not leaving<br />
<br />
So play the game "Existence" to the end<br />
Of the beginning, of the beginning<br />
<br />
"Tomorrow Never Knows" is the final track of The Beatles' 1966 studio album Revolver but the first to be recorded. Credited as a Lennon/McCartney song, it was written primarily by John Lennon. An innovative recording, it contributed to Revolver's reputation as one of the group's most influential and expressive albums. Music critic Richie Unterberger of Allmusic said it was "the most experimental and psychedelic track on Revolver, in both its structure and production." The song has a vocal put through a Leslie speaker cabinet (which was normally used as a loudspeaker for a Hammond organ) and uses automatic double tracking (ADT) to double the vocal image. Tape loops prepared by Paul McCartney were mixed in and out of the Indian-inspired modal backing underpinned by Ringo Starr's irregular drum pattern.<br />
<br />
John Lennon wrote the song in January 1966, with lyrics adapted from the book The Psychedelic Experience: A Manual Based on the Tibetan Book of the Dead by Timothy Leary, Richard Alpert, and Ralph Metzner, which in turn was adapted from the Tibetan Book of the Dead. Although Peter Brown believed that Lennon's source for the lyric was the Tibetan Book of the Dead itself, which, he said, Lennon read whilst consuming LSD, George Harrison later stated that the idea for the lyrics came from Leary's, Alpert's and Metzner's book and McCartney confirmed this, stating that he and Lennon had visited the newly opened Indica bookshop — Lennon was looking for a copy of The Portable Nietzsche— and Lennon had found a copy of The Psychedelic Experience that contained the lines: "When in doubt, relax, turn off your mind, float downstream".<br />
<br />
Lennon bought the book, went home, took LSD, and followed the instructions exactly as stated in the book. The book held that the "ego death" experienced under the influence of LSD and other psychedelic drugs is essentially similar to the dying process and requires similar guidance.<br />
<br />
The title never actually appears in the song's lyrics. In an interview McCartney revealed that, like "A Hard Day's Night", it was taken from one of Ringo Starr's inimitable intentional malapropisms. The piece was originally titled "Mark I". "The Void" is cited as another working title but according to Mark Lewisohn (and Bob Spitz) this is untrue, although the books, The Love You Make: An Insider's Story of the Beatles and The Beatles A to Z both cite "The Void" as the original title.</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-31115264323821833532012-05-17T22:34:00.001+03:002012-05-17T22:35:06.295+03:00The Red Book<iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/p6gqPonoITI" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-53465329005632387062012-05-16T20:14:00.001+03:002012-05-16T20:16:02.837+03:00обичам такива хора!<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">As you can probably guess, I'm rather skeptical of the existence of a metaphysical "soul". If you have evidence, I'd appreciate a link or something.<br />~ <a href="http://www.amazon.com/review/R16I4N3V0KCVSS/ref=cm_cr_rev_detmd_pl?ie=UTF8&cdForum=Fx240C8GGRDTAKF&cdMsgNo=4&cdPage=1&asin=0812693760&store=books&cdSort=oldest&cdThread=Tx2NCCG2GQVHPNX&cdMsgID=MxXBMQMME1XFX3#MxXBMQMME1XFX3" target="_blank">Tedd</a><br />
<br />
а link or smth? култ, култ...</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-49299624317245735102012-05-15T03:08:00.001+03:002012-05-16T12:08:21.862+03:00<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;">In fact I can't remember why we're alive...</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-35815133538993174552012-05-14T17:35:00.001+03:002012-05-14T17:35:49.587+03:00отвъд<object classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" height="40" id="gsSong2930563261" name="gsSong2930563261" width="250"><param name="movie" value="http://grooveshark.com/songWidget.swf" />
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<span>The Other Side Of The World by <a href="http://grooveshark.com/artist/Swans/82950" title="Swans">Swans</a> on Grooveshark</span></object></object>
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;"><br />
<br />
<br />
the other side of the world
<br />
<br />
i won't think it<br />
i won't speak it<br />
but i feel it<br />
and i see it<br />
and it comes down<br />
and surrounds us<br />
with sensation<br />
with perfection<br />
without purpose<br />
and there's colour<br />
and there's light<br />
and there's movement<br />
on the other side of the world<br />
with each movement<br />
new reactions<br />
cause sensations<br />
which move through us<br />
and the warm wind<br />
kissed your body<br />
and the sun was rising<br />
on the other side of the world<br />
and there's colour<br />
and there's light<br />
and sensation<br />
on the other side of the world<br />
now i breathe it<br />
and i see it<br />
before thinking<br />
and it's perfect<br />
without purpose<br />
and there's colour<br />
and there's light<br />
and they're rising<br />
on the other side of the world</span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-4657480378173858802012-05-14T08:28:00.000+03:002012-05-14T08:45:12.906+03:00а, а, точно!<object width="250" height="40" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" id="gsSong2919229720" name="gsSong2919229720"><param name="movie" value="http://grooveshark.com/songWidget.swf" /><param name="wmode" value="window" /><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /><param name="flashvars" value="hostname=cowbell.grooveshark.com&songIDs=29192297&style=water&p=0" /><object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://grooveshark.com/songWidget.swf" width="250" height="40"><param name="wmode" value="window" /><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /><param name="flashvars" value="hostname=cowbell.grooveshark.com&songIDs=29192297&style=water&p=0" /><span>Identity by <a href="http://grooveshark.com/artist/Swans/82950" title="Swans">Swans</a> on Grooveshark</span></object></object>
<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 130%;"><br />
<br />
Identity<br />
<br />
Now I'm breathing the breath of god,<br />
And the cold wind cleans my<br />
Mind<br />
And I'm standing in a ring of fire, and<br />
My heart s made of light<br />
And I fly across the red mountains.<br />
And my hands contain the sky<br />
And earth rolls away in<br />
Darkness, and I ride a piece of<br />
Lightning,<br />
Killing time, killing time<br />
<br />
Now they punish our imagination, and<br />
Corrupt our blood with fear,<br />
And infinity's beneath the ocean, but<br />
Oblivion sits right beside me here<br />
So we are blind and we're polluted,<br />
And each breath is drunk with<br />
Tears<br />
We'll drift away across tomorrow,<br />
And we'll ride the breath of<br />
Nothing<br />
Through the years, killing time,<br />
Killing time.<br /></span>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1233398310998676572.post-75845520968402103912012-05-14T06:40:00.000+03:002012-05-14T06:40:07.611+03:004:00 ~ translating the beauty of life!<object width="250" height="40" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" id="gsSong260537764" name="gsSong260537764"><param name="movie" value="http://grooveshark.com/songWidget.swf" /><param name="wmode" value="window" /><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /><param name="flashvars" value="hostname=cowbell.grooveshark.com&songIDs=2605377&style=wood&p=0" /><object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://grooveshark.com/songWidget.swf" width="250" height="40"><param name="wmode" value="window" /><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /><param name="flashvars" value="hostname=cowbell.grooveshark.com&songIDs=2605377&style=wood&p=0" /><span>Will We Survive by <a href="http://grooveshark.com/artist/Swans/82950" title="Swans">Swans</a> on Grooveshark</span></object></object>Dorahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07015300131370457354noreply@blogger.com0