shadow of sorrow lost in sorrows seduce...

people who mean a world to me:
ravengirl
fallen angel

...or i hurted tham:
miss madonna

the best ones:
bloody mary
beatrice
lesbostar
eewa
lunja
yesturday again

good ones:
eagletz
black milk
mandy

i just to be:
lost & cryin

and still am:
inuky of apocalipsa

ljudi se mijenjaju, životi se mijenjaju no ono što nikada nije bila prfektna kružnica neće ostati ni sada...
plesati usprkos vjetru, plivati uzvodno i utapati se u vlastitim snovima nije lako, a kaad zapadnete do granice idealnosti samodestrukcije poželite se vratiti i zakrpati pogreške, no dani se ne mogu vratiti a prošlost ostaje čvrsto urezana u vašu knjigu života...
jedino što još možete učiniti jest pogledati u ogledalo i reći samome sebi jednom se živi, no opet ni to se ne mora...

Srce udara ritam svakodnevnog hoda,
Hladne ulice već poznaju taj prazan korak,
Drvoredi kestena nemirno šušte,
Znak je to nemira i straha koji unosi,
Korak za korakom odjekuje,
Zaustavlja se i nestaje u prošlosti,
Cilj mu je bezdan, utočište,
Hladnokrvna zemlja što razjapljena čeka,
Još malo i stiže,
Evo sačekaj, već je tu,
Na groblju pjesnika i nemirnih duša,
Na ploči propalih slučajeva,
I još živo natrulo meso izjedaju crvi,
Štakori kidaju meso s tijela što u patnji vrišti,
Gavrani kandžama kidaju crne oči iz njihovih duplja,
Sve dok gozba ne prestane,
I ostaju samo kosti,
Kosti i srce što u plamenu ljubavi još gori,
Srce koje neće zaboraviti
Zašto je moralo ostati zapamćeno tim sramotnim činom,
Bijegu zbog nesretne ljubavi nekog mazohista,
I u gorkim suzama ugasne plamen,
A priču nose vjetrovi i oluje noćnih tišina,
Zaboravljeno tijelo,
Nula…ništa…više ne postoji,
A sjećanje iz dana u dan blijedi,
I umire u posljednjoj krvavoj suzi!

Nitko ne zna težinu tuđeg tereta.

Kad čovjek postane nesposoban za igru, znači da je izgubio životnu radost.

Bolje svima ponešto, nego nekima previše.

Samo je jedan kutak svemira koji možete sigurno promijeniti, a to ste vi sami.

Divna je mladost uvijek vjerovala, a i danas vjeruje, da je lako pokrenuti svijet.

Život je poput priče nije važno koliko je dug, nego koliko je dobar.

Ljubav sve pobjeđuje.

Što sam ako se usporedim sa svemirom.

Maštovitost je daleko važnija od znanja.

Stani, poslušaj tišinu! Slušaj srce, slušaj tajnu što je život zoveš.

Ako želimo postići istinski mir... Moramo početi od djece

Nužno je nastojati da nadiđeš sebe; neka ono traje cjeli život!

Što je mekše od vode? Što je tvrđe od kamena? Ali često meka voda dubi tvrdi kamen.

Plemenitu čovjeku kap vode je ocean, zlu je ocean kap vode.

Nenasilje je oružje jakih.

Imaj vremena za smijeh-to je glazba duše; Imaj vremena za sanjarenje-to je put ka zvijezdama.

Treba tražiti dobro u svakom čovjeku.

Riječ napretka neće imati nikakva smisla dok na svijetu bude nesretne djece.

Čovjek gdje god da bio, nosi svoju ljepotu sa sobom. On je može pronaći i u blatnjavoj vodi razlivene rijeke.

Kada uživamo plod, valja se sa zahvalnošću sjetiti onoga tko je zasadio voćku.

Vidim: moć ljubavi je veća od svake druge vlasti, pa čak i od kraljeva.

Nema sunca bez svjetlosti, ni čovjeka bez ljubavi.

Tko prijatelja nađe, našao je blago.


Od velikog bogatstva čovijek nema prave koristi, osim u njegovu dijeljenju; ostalo je samo uobražavanje.

Ljubav nije čudo, ali čini čudesa.

[b]Edgar Allan Poe
Raven[/b]

[i]Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow will he leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet violet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore![/i]


[b]Arsen Dedić
Kora Potočnik[/b]

[i]Zbog koje sam produžavao mladost
i volio na zaboravljen način.
Za početak:
širi se crnilo
između bijelih stupova Tivolija.
U ovom času ne mogu sastaviti njeno lice
koja je topla kugla
naslonjena na moju dušu,
koja je pokret noćnog mora -
Potocnik Kora.
Zbog koje sam vozio danima
i uvjeravao se da mi je svijet suvišan.
Tajanstvo Slovenije.
Vlaga se skuplja u njenoj koži,
a usta su joj smrvljena voćka.
Nejasan put na zvuk "roga"
do njene šume, do njenog mora -
Potočnik Kora.
Koja nije ona prava,
drukčije to želim reći;
dobrostojeća je moja mora.
Čiji telefon godinama šuti
i ponižava moje stare ljubavi
odane drugom vremenu,
koja je pismo bez odgovora -
Potočnik Kora.
Koja se jednom dala, tek tako,
da bi bila još dalja,
kao medalja na mrtvom tijelu
i pobjegla u nečijim kolima,
ali u jezero iz jutarnjih gora -
Potočnik Kora.
Koja je preslišala moju mladost,
prelistala moje albume,
koja nas proziva,
prema čijem su smijehu
moje iskustvo, Azija, ironija i diploma,
neusporedive noći - ništa.
Zbog koje se drukčije pije i hoda.
Jedina zemlja, jedini stanovnik -
Kora Potočnik.
Generacija o kojoj razgovaram.
Što hoće od mene?
O, tako jednostavno padaju geografija i literatura!
Ona ne voli, ili voli - ne voli.
Bez milosti je, bez uvjerenja,
duša bez tajne i izvora -
Potočnik Kora.
Koja mi je tako malo vremena ostavila,
koja se smije dok čita svoju pjesmu.
Zbog nje su moje ljubavi stvari,
a ona je opet ideja.
Koja je uzela više no što je smjela,
igrala se, ništa nije htjela,
koja se ljubila kao da mora -
Potočnik Kora.
Pa da se oprostim od one
kojoj treba manje ljubavi
no što joj se daje.
Koju je moje srce samo kratko nerviralo;
križaljka za koju joj nedostaju
još dva - tri slova.
Koja je sve tajne mog života,
kao čarobnjak u noćnom lokalu,
sabrala u jednu pticu
i pustila je da odluta.
Ja nečto drugo branim
i sve ovo stvarno ne bih smio,
pa ipak “na vašu službu” bjegunac-vojnik -
Kora Potočnik.[/i]

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