O Nightingale, thou surely art. A songstress of a fervid kardia. 19:54 Jan 25 2010
Times Read: 901
''The people that see them share some of the unicorn's traits. They're lonely with virtuous hearts.'' A quote by Ally McBeal.
This is a chronicle, veto, a journal of a peahen, recitaling the immediate belles lettres to futurition. The peahen strutted through daggers drawn, in high dudgeon, as an achromatic colour of thunder. The sun is lustrous, the Knopsvane is melodious, and today should go down as a model stereotype for perfect. Despite this, her life has been so far from pluperfect that it is not even comical. ''O Nightingale, thou surely art. A songstress of a fervid kardia.'', the belles lettres read when you glanced over the screen of the entry on vr. Do you feel like you're invading her personal space, and trully are you? Would you not be reading it if you didn't feel so meddling about her? Now even though you already know the telos, don't you wish to hear the details? Dig deep inside and you'll find the answer to your first question. If not, stop reading, if so, continue reading. This is a journal, a belles lettres to a peahen.
For as long as I can remember, the peahan was always overlooked in her youth in an all lasses' school. She felt unlike herself though she still felt incredibly abnormal and out of place. I have been thinking about it a lot lately. Why did she feel so left out of this cursted time? Why is it that her default and feelings are never put down? What kept this peahen so strong? Why is the majority of what the penhen is a criticism a upon? Why did she nearly get viciously beaten to death by both genders for being a lesbian? A black eye. A broken rib, or dual. Of course, the peahen fought well for what her is, she knows how to defend herself.
Feeling lonely and content at the same time, she believes it's a rare kind of happiness. This old, familiar feeling is one that no one ever wants to acknowledge. I have been happy for perhaps twenty one years? Yes, a question. She was too young back then to really remember, so I'm afraid that she needs to ask herself this question, too. Though I have to know what happiness feels like. I have to taste it, and so my ultimate question is. How can she achieve it if I don't know what it is? What is happiness, to you?
This is a difficult question. She felt too young and inexperienced to actually give a proper answer. Recently, I've felt how she felt but I keep reminding her that the feeling will pass. I can't tell her what she needs for her happiness, because I don't know her but I can tell her what makes me happy.
Today, I find peace in making those around me happy, and making love to my grand piano more than anything, more than tea or books. Some would say don't exaggerate. I'd snap the word, poppycock. But I'm happier not seeking happiness. I've never thought that anyone can be completely happy all the time. I think I value my happiness more because I don't have it all the time. So that is my definition, for now. I hope you will comment with better answers.
In aggression this pure Alice in Wonderland, and my appearance and demeanor are a nicely judged mix of the Red Queen and a peahen must wail a fevering temper, unwillingly seeking revenge. She has piano hands. Her muscles prominently defined by her instrument. She hardly slept, for her mind is always racing during those long nights she spent pacing, pacing her mind full of music. The peahen is a singer and pianist on the verge, releasing tension into her work. While pressing down on the piano keys she is releasing her demons. The piano keys conduct a song that will bestow revenge on all who have mistreated the music's chanteuse. Ah, the music, the piano fills my thoughts. My fingers racing across the keys, and my ecstasy flowing. Every free moment was spent practicing. Throughout her study of piano it was drilled into her head. Practice. Practice. Practice.
So she did. Sometimes she did so even when not by a piano. Tapping her fingers lightly on random surfaces, placing her fingers where the keys would be. Sometimes just closing her eyes and hearing the melodies travel through her mind was enough for her. Of course when she did this she looked fairly foolish, making her susceptible to teasing from her peers. The one great thing about the piano is it shows no sympathy. Maybe when life itself tore my cunt of a heart. I became familiar to these archaic conditions, pressing down on my piano keys. Her tongue would release a song, the peahen would not get no sugar coating. No feces. No sympathy. Just the hard, truth, and that's what she wants. I am blunt, and so forth my grand piano.
She lived a life of solitude, of eternal gain. Left alone, she turned to her mirror, a round of burnished silver. Pensively, she stared into it. Everyone said that she was a peahen, and because of my endurance, she is absolutely flourish. Humans utterly disgust me. If she could, she would have entirely disassociate myself from them if having to do so. Both a beautiful, intelligent young woman. The penhen looked at herself with a critical eye. Pale cream skin, the cheeks of her oval face touched with light pink lotus. Long, thick, straight raven hair, silken to the touch, so perhaps it would be pleasing to me. I seem to remember that she's always caressing her piano.
She looked harder at herself. She was tall for a woman, she knew, but her body was flawless, her limbs well rounded without being fat, thanks to the active life she led. She gently slipped her slender hands beneath her breasts, and looked at them critically. She saw with satisfaction that she not be found wanting there. Her waist was slender, the hips slim, but pleasingly rounded. Her gaze moved upward again in the mirror, to her face, and she stared hard.
Her eyes, she decided, were her best feature. Almond shaped, topped by slender, arched, black brows, and thickly fringed with black lashes. The color of her pupils darkened to almost black when she was angry, remaining a deep brown at all times. They were the kind of eyes someone couldn't resist looking into. Although she was too young to realize it, her eyes were the mirror of her soul, telling anyone who was wise enough to look deeply into all her secrets.
What do I see? I see a tail of feathers with the delicate patterns of cerulean and iridescent green, and the opalescent russet of elegant barbs. Hundreds of eyes staring back at me blowing in the wind. Now you know there's more to me than meets the hundreds of eyes. I see a proud peahen, she is not far vain in words, and nature. She is kind, and gentle though sharp to wisdom. Her madness is entwined around her wit. I see paradise. She loves literature, it makes her feel alive. There is a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line. I have the quintessence of sweetness and innocence as an Alice in Wonderland, so I guess no one ever expected such darkness from me. I'm not afraid to correct others, and it's funny, though, because I sm not so easy to please. I'll read almost anything, I'll listen to almost any kind of music. Almost. Do keep that in mind. From the way her skin was so incredible soft to the way her spirit was sweetened with her maturity. The way she carried her years like the finest and richest of wines. If you thought the beauty of the peahen was amist, it is not her beauty, it is her soul that is beautiful.
How long has it been? Two, six days? The passage of time just felt so fleeting. I could remember, so vividly, the day I was thrown from Rosebud, the warlike rose. Why is Rosebud, the warlike rose? Among thorns is where she lies, a malevolent and benevolent chestnut rose. Rosebud loves me, like a spice of ginger. She never gave me trouble, and she seemed to know what mood I was in. She would mimick that mood by either taking a fast run, walking slow, or listening when I talked. Indeed, the Frederiksborg mare is a jaded rose though my friend is unable to mate any other stallions with her. She has already killed two stallions, and I ride her in doing medieval martial arts. Yes, I do my fair share of using medieval weapons. As for my riding is the art of keeping a horse between me and the ground.
When the hiemal dawn came, reaching across the fields with fingers of the glacial inferno, tinting the land pure and hoariness, a small wince escaped my lips as my frozen fingers grip the reins tighter as Rosebud quicken her pace. Hooves pound against the snow in a steady rhythm. Darn the obstrusiveness of the owl. I would rather tumble off a horse then fall for the owl. I am happy, and safe there was no concussion. Thank the gods, the helmet.
Every fist I suffered and every drop of blood I shed, every loss I took was worth it just to see that I didn't have to. I cannot be successful without taking risks unless I'm in Wonderland. A unicorn is the projection of her dreams about herself strong, powerful, beautiful, and it has the capability of giving her escape from her mundane existence. The unicorn is a marvelous beast, shining with honor, wisdom and strenth. Just to see her strengthened the soul. Hunters can catch the unicorn only by placing a young virgin in its haunts. No sooner does he see the damsel, than he runs towards her, and lies down at her feet, and so suffers himself to be captured by the hunters. What I am is a question only I can answer.
The immature can flood the minds of the used, pulling them deeper, but when we break free. Our mind open up, and we realize things. Napoleon constructed his battle plans in a sandbox. Things that we've never noticed before. As quoted by WildChild. ''Think I'll just let the cards play themselves out.'' Question is what do those words mean to you?
COMMENTS
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Fizbop
21:07 Jan 25 2010
"let the cards play themselves out"
Life deals you events that you either over come or sub come to.
take for instance a poker hand.
Sometimes you have nothing, and other times you have a really good hand.
In life you take what you can get that is dealt only to know that there's something better in the next hand.
Lovise
21:43 Jan 25 2010
I suppose you could say I'm like Alice. I guess in a way I am. I've always wanted something different than what I have. Wanted to escape to someplace safer, someplace better. Like in Wonderland, I found a way to frolic, through seemingly innocent places. While Alice went through the rabbit hole, I fell into a much more sinister ploy.
The rabbit hole will continue to remain iconic for many years to come. As Morpheus says to Neo in the Matrix. ''take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the Rabbit Hole goes.''
Maell
19:36 Jan 26 2010
Take a look at a rose. What do you see? What do you expect to see? Lush red, a scent that draws you into her peddles, a slim piece of flesh with thorns to protect the core of her and to hold her best feature; her beautiful red head up towards the sky.
But a rose is so much more than a pretty flower. It's a symbol. And even more so than a symbol, it has its own special story. It started off as a seed, blown from its home perhaps. And for some reason or another, it landed where it did. It grew; it survived the harshness of the world. Storms, people, wind, ect. It grew while maybe others of its kind died beside it. It grew strong, standing tall and opening up to the world to showcase her beauty.
Now, a rose is physically beautiful, but the fact that it went through hell just to be who it is and to survive makes it a beauty uniquely her own. You are you, untamed and something deep lies within you. Like all things in life, there is more than meets the eye. Like most things in life, your story is longer than just 20 plus years. It stretches back to the beginning of time. The fact that you are here is nothing short of remarkable.
These are my thoughts.
Lovise
20:40 Jan 26 2010
Assuming that honesty is always valued over pleasantry and euphemism, I will omit all superfluous pedantry and speak. I've never liked roses much. No matter the history, they've never been a favorite of mind.
Symbolism. Everything of what you said is true. I don't feel like explaining it really. -smiles- But the rose of what I am, and I shall tell you.
I am white rose. I do not hide behind the wall of leaves that guard me, cleverly hidden. I am careful with how I interact with others, and I strike out like a thorn against my foe. I do let my inner self be found, they who found it have also found an understanding, an understanding of who I am. I am pure. If ever touched, I am not afraid to wither and wilt unlike other roses. I am outward with my inner self, I feel that I have changed the world, not just others whom I interacted with. I have many friends, those who act as my friends, and those who are my friends. However, no matter who they are, how they act, or how they look, they are all beautiful, virtue, and strong.
It's never about what you get in the end, it's the wisdom you gain getting there. I cannot promise a garden of white roses to strangers, they may have my respect, and to have my trust they need to know me to understand me. Nobody can enter and look only I. Only my real friends can enter and look into my garden of white roses. So vain.
Maell
20:58 Jan 26 2010
A person's inner self will determine how filled their rose guarden is. Kindness, honesty, helping others and the like are what make you who you are. And why you are still here. Your other lives are not finished, which is why you are aware of them.
Like I said, you run much deeper than you, me or anyone else could possibly know.
Lovise
21:25 Jan 26 2010
''These are my thoughts.'' A quote by Maell.
If you saw a unicorn, what exactly would you do?
I know what I would do. I would lay nude in the meadow, and wait. I would ask if I could ride it, and gallop through the meadow to seek the truth.
What will you do?
Maell
21:31 Jan 26 2010
I would paint it. That was the first thought that came to mind.
And yes, my quote. I use it only for your entries.
Lovise
21:39 Jan 26 2010
Hm? -ponders- I believe you have a point.
Maell
21:46 Jan 26 2010
Yep, just like a Uni. lol.
My reply for you is special.
Angelus
00:58 Jan 28 2010
"What is happiness, to me?" she asks.
The chance to go a walk tomorrow and enjoy breathing in the countryside; poisoning the homeless with my cooking.. and, enough in my pocket for the price of a whiskey.
Lovise
11:35 Jan 28 2010
''The secret of happiness is to admire without desiring.'' A quote by Carl Sandburg.
Maell and Angelus, two fine gentlemen like the rest on vr. -ponders- Well some on vr, apparently. If only you knew my face, the look I have when, I recognize this.
To me, happiness has always been something more or less between a vision and an illusion. Something that's always there, yet always just out of sight. Not only do I not deserve happiness, but I don't want it. Do not have the wrong assumption.
You're right, even someone with very little to call their own can be happier with their life than a king.
This is sweet, thoughtful, and lovely to read. I've thought about this before, so it doesn't introduce any entirely new ideas for me, but it does restructure and clarify the old thoughts. The thought that it's sometimes easier to be happy than sad, for example. That's lovely.
Happiness is in the mind as well as the heart, those are my thoughts on happiness. I'll let that sink in.
LordBaalNox
13:45 Jan 28 2010
If you are alice then I am the mad hatter lol
The pehen can make whatever life she needs, she needs to not look into the past when bad darkness ruled her life but peck her way into the future because that is where the world is her oyster
We mould our future from past experiences but we also shadow our past from the very same
Life is what we make it today and for the rest of our days
Jump onto that unicorn and fly high girl
Lovise
13:56 Jan 28 2010
Lovise: Your reply sounds drug induced, though significant in vital. -stamps book- Approved. Check it back in, on the weekend, Mr. Nox.
08:52:05 - Jan 28 2010
Lovise: Goody. Goody. -rises an eyebrow- Soporific Lovise gets to see a comment on the entry.
08:48:43 - Jan 28 2010
LordBaalNox: i have commented on your journal
08:45:34 - Jan 28 2010
Yes. I am tired right now, and just so you know, Mr. Nox. There is already a Mad Hatter in the six of vr. You're the Dormouse. -pats your head-
LordBaalNox
14:13 Jan 28 2010
dormouse? lmfao i've been called somethings in my time
Lovise
14:17 Jan 28 2010
Perhaps I should have been more careful. If I hadn't torn my silk frills, or chosen to follow that rabbit, then maybe I wouldn't have been in this mess. But those studies were boring...
LordBaalNox
13:58 Jan 30 2010
ahhhh but if you hadnt of followed that rabbit I would never have got to know you :-)
Lovise
02:59 Feb 02 2010
''You read women's journals like looking through their undie drawer.'' A quote by Jay.
Poppycock! -giggles- I am joking.
LordBaalNox
03:25 Feb 02 2010
maybe I like rifling through womens undies lol
Lovise
03:33 Feb 02 2010
What's wrong with anything done in private for the pleasure or amusement of both parties?
You just said it...
LordBaalNox
03:39 Feb 02 2010
I'll say this.....
you wear them, i'll rifle them :-P
Lovise
03:59 Feb 02 2010
I'm superstitious...but not like wear the same underwear for two weeks superstitious. Yuck!
If you dare touch or even go to rifle them, I will clout, wallop, and biff the prowler, that you are naming yourself as. Your head will be the next trophy on a stake into my wall. -smiles- I am only joking. Hehehe...
Lovise
04:08 Feb 02 2010
Better yet, I am not joking, my dear friend. -crooks an eyebrow- Tisk. Tisk. Tisk.
You think women's liberation and feminism entitles you to be sexual? Sure! Fine! But you still have to get us and make us the center of your universe. I ask you one question. Which gender do you think invented the thong?
Besides the only ones to rifle my bloomers is WOMEN only, my two best friends, i.e. my 'cuddle' friends. Period. No others. Period.
Lovise
04:10 Feb 02 2010
The question for you now, am I joking or am I not joking? You decide.
LordBaalNox
10:41 Feb 02 2010
I already know the answer lol
Kglitterous
01:39 Feb 04 2010
Curio, I’m always entertained by your wordplay.
A: A mythical beast, duplicitous in unicorn raiment, looking for maidens to believe they captured one.
Q: How hard is the fall from a unicorn; how hurt, they, who seamed, too well, to fall with least damage… or too much?
Kglitterous
01:54 Feb 04 2010
P.S. Who then, Alice, may I be? I beg the Knave of clubs. *laughs* I shall change my suit, as should Nox.
Lovise
20:54 Feb 04 2010
LordBaalNox, get off the ceiling, you're disturbing the macrocosm. -rubs her temples, lightsomely- It's so good of you to know the answer.
Hm? -ponders- You both might've ventured the same question, had it not been for the symbolism. I suppose it would depend on whether the Dormouse and the Knave of Clubs were both on opium, and on the same brain length. Though the hyoid bone, in your throats, is the only bone in the body not attached to another bone. Ironic, isn't it? Lunacy is an ironic fate for such clear thinkers.
''Well, now that we have seen each other'', said the unicorn, ''If you'll believe in me, I'll believe in you.'' A quote in Through The Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll.
Kglitterous, a funny quote, but I bet at the time, the consequences of those actions didn't seem worth it? When you see your world through a viewfinder, as an image in your mind, the world is a different one to those others simply pass through, open your eyes. I found it ironic that a creature so vain could be so pure and pride in its' morals and justice. The only horse in the world bold enough to kill and eat gryphons. There is an area of the mind which could be called unsane beyond sanity and yet not insane. So it was really no surprise when people begun to mentally imagine falling from a unicorn.
A unicorn takes a scunner against the mark of Cain. So much in fact, that it will only approach and show itself to the pure. So say the legends. Now it's no wonder that no one has ever seen one is it? There is nothing as vile and as venomous than the kardia. It's precisely as stated that only the blood of the pure can atone for it. The act of atonement of course is barbaric and horrid. Not the actual act of euthanasia, as I am sure others have died much worse deaths, but because of the hardships of emotion, mental, and of the kardia.
Sin and purity cannot interact with out discord. Sin can be forgiven, but never condoned. Being the deplorable creatures they are, the majority of humans wouldn't recognize purity and holiness if it snaffle them in the arse. The acts of a pure entity would of course only enrage and irk the contaminants. Especially the contaminants who believe that there is no such thing as a pure entity. So of course, many loathe this pure innocent maiden. They hate her with a passion. They ridicule her, then strike her. They betray her. All of this of course is not necessary for the act of atonement.
A unicorn does all of this for them, and they in return mock and hunt it with their spears. The simple act of them living is strain on the maiden, because their taint is an affront to her clean soul. But of course being a pure innocent maiden, she loves them anyways, and so its a vicious, hateful, wire that our innocent creature has wrapped around itself. The answer of course to stop the pain is to cut through it. She can after all.
A unicorn, and it's maiden has no obligation to these pathetic creatures. But still, they are pure, and they love them. So not only is the unicorn allowing them to kill it, but to do it as slowly as possible, and letting them pierce her heart to the core, letting them use her love for them to hurt her in return.
You ask yourself why a unicorn, and it's maiden does all of this. Normally when someone is in a abusive relationship like that you tell them to leave the abuser. They did it because, they can cure us. They can change us. You tell them to leave because the abuser is someone wicked and terrible. The reality is, that underneath the surface, the surface of your personality, the surface of your mind, your just like them. The hunt of the unicorn. The evaluation of our souls. Every human is just as horrid. But what if you could stop it? A unicorn, and it's maiden could, and they made the way. It suffered this, so we have the option to one day just sit up and be rid of this poison. This dark bile that makes us all ugly. To have it just be drained from us. For the pain that we brought on ourselves to be over. To stop the endless night terror that is our life. So now, I have choose that option. I have never been vile. The unicorn did it so we could be as pure as it one day in the future. So from a songstress of a fervid kardia, a white rose blossomed there appeared a unicorn.
Kglitterous
06:36 Apr 20 2010
a href=http://www.sabian.org/alice.htm> Saw this and thought of you