Říjen 2010


Muhaha.....

31. října 2010 v 17:08 | Bea-chan |  Moje keci
Temný a strašný Halloween vám prajem......

Eugène Atget

24. října 2010 v 20:55 | Bea-chan |  Nezaradené











Eugene Atget










EugeneAtget.jpg Eugene Atget image by Margaret06

atget_tree_stcloud.jpg Eugene Atget image by spaztastic277

Eugène Atget




atget1







Ivan Krasko - Topole

24. října 2010 v 19:41 | Bea-chan |  Básne
Topole

Hej, topole, tie topole vysoké!
Okolo nich šíre pole - -
Čnejú k nebu veľké, čierne
- zrovna jako čiesi bôle -
topole.

Hej, topole, tie topole bez lístia!
Duch jak čísi špatnej vôle
hrdo stoja ošarpané,
v mraze, vetre, nahé, holé
topole.

Hej, topole, tie topole bez žitia!
Nemo stoja v úzkom kole
- prízraky sťa z nirvány by -
pozerajú v prázdno dole
topole.

Hej, tie hrdé, vysočizné topole!
Ako vzhľad ich duch môj zmizne...
Hore...? Dolu...? Do nirvány...?
- Ako havran ošarpaný
do noci...


Píseň pro Satana

24. října 2010 v 18:55 | Bea-chan |  Hudba

Cintorín

15. října 2010 v 21:23 | Bea-chan |  Básne
Sedím na hrobe - premýšľam,
rozjímam.
Rozjímam o živote - slzy v očiach mám,
spomínam.

Spomínam na časy minulé,
ako malej si mi trhal bledule.
Odišiel si, odišiel z tohto sveta,
no tvoja láska naďalej popri mne lieta.

Teraz sedím na tvojom hrobe,
sedím na hrobe v gotickej róbe.
Spievam si pesničku, píšem si básničku
a slzy horúce stekajú po líčku.

Už žiadne bledule,
len časy minulé.
BUDÚCNOSŤ JE STRATENÁ!




Proklínám

15. října 2010 v 20:46 | Bea-chan |  Videjka

Edgar Allan Poe – The Raven

15. října 2010 v 20:37 | Bea-chan |  Básne
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 heart 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 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 an instant 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 angels whose faint 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 the 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.

9 prikázaní

9. října 2010 v 20:54 | Bea-chan |  Nezaradené
1. Satan znamená ukájení choutek, nikoli odříkání!

2. Satan znamená živoucí existenci, nikoli vymyšlené spirituální báchorky!

3. Satan znamená neposkvrněnou moudrost, nikoli pokrytecký sebeklam!

4. Satan znamená laskavost k těm, kdo ji zasluhují, nikoli lásku, vyplýtvanou na nevděčníky!

5. Satan znamená pomstu, nikoli nastavení druhé tváře!

6. Satan znamená odpovědnost vůči odpovědným, nikoli péči o psychické upíry!

7. Satan znamená člověka jako pouhé zvíře, někdy lepšího, mnohem častěji však horšího než ti, co kráčejí po čtyřech, člověka, jenž se díky "božskému duchovnímu a intelektuálnímu vývoji" stal nejzkaženějším zvířetem!

8. Satan znamená všechny takzvané hříchy, jelikož vedou k fyzickému, mentálnímu nebo emočnímu uspokojení!

9. Satan je nejlepším přítelem, jakého kdy církev měla, jelikož ji po celá ta léta pomáhal udržovat v chodu!

Jeseň

8. října 2010 v 20:55 | Bea-chan |  Moje keci
Jeseň je mojím najobľúbenejším ročným obdobím! Toto obdobie je najdepresývnejšie a zároveň najkrajšie....a páve v tomto období u mňa vzniká aj toto:
Som sama
                       
   Som sama,  
          
sama na mieste kde stretli sme sa .
                      

  Som sama,  
          
sama na tej lavičke v parku sedím .    

                      A lístie padá zo stromov,
                    
a ja mam pocit úzkosti .     
                         
Vráť sa domov,
        
ja smútim za tebou a pozerám do očí smrti .  

                            Som sama,    
          
sama v tom parku kde sme sa stretli .    

                      

  Som sama,
    
sama počúvam šuchot lístia v korunách stromov .

                      A slzy mi stekajú po tvári,
                         to preto že mi chýbaš .
                      
Tak nečakane si odišiel,  
             vedľa mňa len prázdne miesto v posteli .


                                
Som sama,
              sama premýšľam nad tým prečo mi ťa smrť vzala .
                                 Som sama,
              sama sedím v parku a myslím na to kedy sa zas stretneme.

               

A myslím na to že chcem ísť za tebou,
                         dúfam že sa raz stretneme .
             

A premýšľam nad tým že to skončím skôr,
                          musím na to stále myslieť.


                                     Som sama,
                       sama sedím na lavičke v parku .
                                     Som sama,
                          
sama svoj život ukončím .

                         A myslím na stretnutie s tebou,
                       asi sa nedostanem na to isté miesto .
                        Ale žiť bez teba už ďalej neviem,
                          a preto to musím skončiť skôr.


                                     Som sama,
                                 sama sa zabijem .
                                     Som sama,
                       sama tu, na našom mieste umriem .

                       A krv moja farbí listy na červeno,
                        viem že nemôžem ísť za tebou .
                     Ale žiť bez teba je horšie ako peklo,
                 a preto to musím skončiť, lúčim sa z tebou .

                                      Som sama,
                                  sama umieram .
                                      Som sama,
                              sama pôjdem do pekla .
















....to je snáď všetko :).....

New dess...

8. října 2010 v 20:22 | Bea-chan |  Moje keci
Ahojte....takže konečne po dlhom čase tu.....
Nový dess by mal byť halloweensky :D.....dúfam, že sa tomu aspoň trochu približuje, a že sa páči :)
....toť vše....vaše Máňa :DD

XIII.století-Květy zla

5. října 2010 v 20:34 | Bea-chan |  Hudba

....dokonalé.....