vetur sál

fyeahkiwikiwi:

I didn’t know how Alicia wanted to do this, but here are all the submitted songs, alphabetized by artist name. c: The song title links to a video of that song for your listening convenience. Enjoy!

Little Islands - Anna Coddington
Ends in the Ocean - Avalanche City
Arithmetic - Brooke Fraser
April Sun in Cuba - Dragon
Rain - Dragon
11:57 - Elemeno P
Circles - The Exiles
Astronaut - The Feelers
Nature - Fourmyula
Sophie - Goodshirt
Now is the Hour - Hayley Westenra
World in Union - Hayley Westenra
Learning to Fall - Midnight Youth
Aotearoa - Minuit
Anchor Me - The Mutton Birds
Always Be Kiwi - Oosh
Home Again - Shihad
Forever - Six60
Only to Be - Six60
Counting the Beat - The Swingers
Renegade Fighter - Zed

:D Also-

Long White Cross - Pluto

One Day - Opshop

K - The Tutts

Lydia - Fur Patrol

Candyman Shimmer - The Checks

fuckyeahricksantorum:

i think the sexiest thing a person can wear is a cravat

• saw jace’s post about ‘guys this is how we should all watch harry potter’
• ‘all watch harry potter’
• ‘all’
•  
•  
• you must go on without me
• for i won’t have internet soon
• go on… without me…
• hurk　

with eyes only as mine, slate and sky and pewter and steel dust, peer into the void

echo with the sound of raindrops striking lifted shields, screams of victory silenced

warriors stand with mouths ajar, faces tense, frozen in an eternal ephemera

the rain will pour in, filtering through small shards of metal, lifted back into the sky

lifted, gently, back into the sky

-

glimpse of death and into it

there is only an illusion of void to be seen; what lays in the beyond is not escape

but the strange secrets sought by living warriors, shields raised to blindness

bold and obvious, engineered to cataclysmic perfection with answers so apparent

through eyes of slate, there is no mystery to a secret strewn across graves

-

mayfly wings, unfold upward into an illusionary void, fake vacant

behold, sky and pewter and steel and stone and the colours of eternity

behold, spirals, the shape of time and power and life and the absence of life itself;

an awakening comes.　

None of your poetics can compare or synthesize, stimulate, simulate the feeling of the needle when it breaks off under the skin, you tell me

That glorious panic, the realization of metal trapped; blood soaked in heroin.

And when you witness how the steel devolves into insects that rob you of sobriety and caress your taint, only then may you cry my name, I say,

And craft some inelegant language detailing the pain while you bleed your mind dry as high atmosphere.

There is a giant, sick city within you that only the White Queen of acetone can take you to, and you’ll surely lose yourself in the streets

Like the snaking roads there, your skin will become pallid and arid and cracked; your veins will become the dust that settles in the gutters.

Submerge yourself in ice and talk straight to me while you’re shivering. Show me an ugly and vulgar death. Scream for your mother and shit yourself, staring at a blank wall.

Then maybe I’ll take you seriously.

‘this is just the polymorphing opinion of a bent life lived by crowbar pseudo-philosophies. know that onlookers are not welcome here, save for those with silver eyes; kindred spirits, if you will. this is just the ephemera, the unimportant, the useless and the poorly contrived. this is not more than a study of studies, a muse of beauty, love and death, notes of a dry mind, a pilgrim of inspiration.

know the purposelessness of every pen marking, every twitch in every one of my movements. let it all mimic art and an artists existence, amounting to the total sum of memories balanced against ashes, ashes against dust, and you will know what a single soul weighs, not much more than lead or ink on paper. let it be known you are witnessing an idea clothed in false axioms and bright, crisp patterns - but after all, stories and lies do reveal delicate truths.

let it be known that you permit everything you see and do and wonder, and know that the impossible will always exist, and someday we will realise how important the impossible really is.’

-

Unfortunately this passage I wrote early last year　 signalled the end of some of the most powerful poetry I have ever written. I think I’ll try getting my feet wet in those waters once again. I miss writing, quite terribly.

savingthisforlater:

For Molly, who wanted me to post these.

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I read this and teared up :(

I love you so much and I really miss our brief but considerably powerful friendship.