The Dull Flame Of Desire - Crossed Hearts' Ballad

Well after years of seeing others create videos I have finally done one! ^_^

This is my very first video I HAD EVER MADE AND I AM SO GLAD THAT IT WENT WELL AFTER HOURS OF EDITING, PROGRAM HANGING, SCENE SPLITTING AND TINKERING!!!!! I MEAN THIS IS A HARD VIDEO TO DO DUE TO THE INSTRUMENTAL NATURE OF THE SONG

I want to THANK ALLAH ALMIGHTY (ALLAHHUAKBAR, SUBHAHANALLAH, ALHAMDULILLAH, MASHALLAH - thanks to God Almighty) for making me able to make this.

Do you know God was kind enough to let me make accidents that turn out to be serendipitous to my whole project? It was really AWESOME and I was smirking and THANKING ALLAH ALMIGHTY 'CAUSE THIS IS THE FIRST EVER VIDEO I EVER, EVER MADE

Ok, The Truth is I tried. It may not be great, good or ok even but I tried. I WANNA THANK EVERYONE WHOSE VIDS I'D SEEN TO GET INSPIRED BE IT ANIME OR OTHERWISE - ESPECIALLY KUSOYARO FOR THE UTENA BACHELORETTE WHICH INTRODUCED ME FIRSTHAND THE JOYS OF MAKING VIDEOS AND THE GREATNESS OF BJORK - ALLAH ALMIGHTY BLESS YOU MAN

Ok

The Song: The Dull Flame Of Desire

Artists: Bjork and AntonyHegarty

Anime: Paradise Kiss

The Video FanSubs are not done by me neither am I claiming to have done them - this is done for solely fan reasons and I give everyone who did all the necessary original formatting their credit. I only made the fan video. So Thanks to you guys for your great work.

The song's meaning is very much explanatory to those who has seen the anime - if not this is a spoiler to the series.

Yukari's and George's Dull Flame of Desire is very prominent - so is Miwako and Hiroyuki's - Isabella is on the middleground and Kaoru, George's friend, understands this too.

Basically a video of tormented love, lust and of course desire.

We have a lot of thorns in our roses - thorns in which we step - predictably or unpredictably - the ballad of life is danced on paradoxical shoes more deadly/enchanting than Karen's - thus we blossom - thus our petals dance to the air...

And Lilith spoke

Last night I envisioned a retelling of the tale of Lilith

She was no women but the first Androgyne

Man withing the female casket of bones and flesh

Women within the masculine bosom and the looks so entwined-ethereal

Feed me not with the sinner's apple but with the leaves of that knowledge wood

that scarred humanity - let me dance with sin in a periphery

but never drunk with its hollow dances of a tale too cut with chaos

Let me know man as a single; the woman as a double

Let me know woman as a single; the man as a double

Let me see the one called Azazel fallen for that which he constructed

Oh Allah let me see to know the bounties of sin and grace

To know Eve's purity and satan's malnutrition

Oh Allah the One who wrote the book by which Cosmos prays

Let me be embedded with the voluminous alphabets known as stars

Let me read as I make tea of these leaves

For You who knows all

Knows me

Let their fingers have blasphemies

I shelter no sainthood...

Vein Explusion

That which was done to improvise - impoverish the necessity

came into the mouth of the apocalyptic - dreaming vices in a riddle

your corrupted semblance resemble those of biblical destructions

your lies crafted as but the poetic of bone-bound bondaged machine

you are called the threshold of nightmares and romantic disabilities;

why

why

oh

why

oh why

oh why

why

oh

why

Did you understand so little you mechanism of ill-trusted design?

Why was it not enough to cradle a love-enzyme enabling gestation?

You are so coil for striking a madness of pragmatism-dogmatism

Is this the cause of a resolute being? Or, the cause of a dominion of you?

I reject
I inject

cross veins

My madness

My Kingdom

My dominion

is of my own

Myriadic

You blind denizen who has lost his slipper
I recall Solomon's scenarios

of streets visited by a paramour seeking

beau lost

The art that which emits me now

is warmth

Ai Wa Umi

on my mind

listening to it

dreaming

oh what a nuclei in the midst

like oiled up cells

bursting with life

maybe so

who knows anything

But then we might be sleeping

in a cocooned off-filled comfort

progression in regression

life twisting

an earth inside

an earth external

too many mouths talking

in a beautiful water

of me - whole.

Three Eyes

Three eyes
One body bagged

two souls in one

Three eyes

around legs

threesome induced

body bagged

Three eyes

complex love

like dotting nightmares

in polygraph

Three ties

Three eyes

crossroads birth

fork nods with a tongue

License

To the bleeding corpse you cry

to living automatic no eye shine

to parer burned

we scribe

to papers now torn

we sew not

a ballad is but ballad sans

instruments entangled in their own entrails

stringed by vein-failure

life academic - life learned

soul writes

the world does not obey

Sense Life

The farcry

ranges out
wades not
oceanic oxide
parasite foam

there diver

death culminates

you asphyxiate

the foamy frills

a worker's parallel

curves into

tentacles

and worms

no,

water

is free

life endures

exotic replenishes

Mutilated stars End

The telescope mounted my eyes
it reproduced a tragedy
bend it back
the lenses cloud

your astronomy knows no senses

you are packed in the neutrons of sadomasochistic

pray, look at that bow

pray, look at that sword

that constellation armoured

the heavens soar to battle

Climbers must kiss

Your pent up bones

need release

like climbers kiss

on top of tress

you engage in orally stimulated speech

body language systemically wild

rich in hyper

space for a universe of motion

leading lamps

like photogenic smiles

come up in moves

detailed hermaphrodites

just awaiting birth

Your pent up bones

climbers must kiss

or fall

leading to falling bones

no machine exquisite

breed no breakage

grow up

grow up

climbers must kiss

Rushing forward

Thunderous poison

thou art aphrodisiac

thou art solemn

a riddler of twisting bones

lifelines crackle

like veins postponing

blood flow

exploding

blood colours

It is fate

breathe on the tip

It is fate

breathe on the tip

grow more expressive

intensive love

made for machinistic sex

bled for regretful after taste

Mirth is boiled raw

you are but a poison synthesized as skin

Tuck

Bedtucked world of moon-dropped love
like tickling fire with a mirth ascribed
to night I am forlorn
to the avarice I am spent

to think of mutiny now is senseless

thus I spill blackish-silver

from my tongue

like moon flower

to grow

Bedtucked heart that longs no slumber

think crab like fingers

pierced are the nails

like dandelion they grow

corrupt cutting

as biting you know

is a habit happening

habit to know

You bled like silver flow

your rich tongue knew

you are the art

I am the canvas

I am the artist

you are the brush

let us be born

one breath at a time

Dip Into Life

You were spying on me
like the moon

when it's new

when it's excited

to be drunk and full

Your lips are satin wine
a fleshy paradox of love and lust

like mirth that calls itself your heart

and the oval world that is your soul

We are not the avarice seekers

not stunt coordinators

but we sail into eclipses

our sails better than polythene bright

like a seashell learning to sing

Life is always an equation

you'll never solve

always a tongue

whose language is thus revealed in letters

here and there

but we ate from some similar cup

grabbed and were nailed onto

weaved-sprung in the identity-mirrors

I guess I like you
You may not know

you are a glorious moon

your breath are the stars

Versing

Appendages
Faces
Limbs
Extraction
Portfolio
of
Blood
Design
Endless
Factor
Limitless
In
Limit
Dimensions
Versing
Via
Brain
Soul
And
Tongue

Lines

The factor with lines
they blur
they merge
zygotic
kisses

Some peripheries

no peripheries

all

transcendental

allegories

analogies

dichotomies

synonymic

alterations

originals

Eyes

are

detailed

beholded.

Red Labyrinths

Your red eyes
irises on watery ground
pinching off
labyrinths
your
destiny
soaked
in
blood

Paper and Ink
Vein and heart
Brains and collagen
all interlinked
in the offspring
called body
soul's heir
practice
the
eye well

Sun-Kissed Walk

The road ahead tumbled
wake against wake
crystals in the avarice
crystals in morality
the touch axis
plays cordially
life opens
as sun
lamps
on
Serenity orchestra
waters aloud
greens purring
pouring waxen delight
viridian candles
sorcerer's intake
sorceress magical
annihilation
of
impiety
Giveth
Chance
cracked
walks
imperfection
yet
skin-talk-like
beating
proud
weathered in weather

such romances
are hard to sleep

Gig Draft

I am an artist. Who would believe this? I don’t think anyone would. That is because I can’t paint. I can’t sketch. I can’t draw period. I can dream. I can write a bit. I can talk. Now you will definitely be justified to question: “How are these aspects pertaining to an artist?”

I guess I have no argument. No defences. Maybe: just a desire? And all I can repeat and say that I think I am an artist or – I am an artist.

I know we are back to square one. I know this is an endless cycle and doesn’t have any value in repetition as it does not sort out the paradigm I had injected. It doesn’t leave room for any thought flux – any exploration – but I still felt like saying it.

This might be entitled as a foolish process. An individual’s methodology to escape the considered common or the considered canon by comprising with reality and living in the delirious state of hypersensitivity and hyperreality: only to exceed in the process of doing such superseding tasks. I know this not make sense. Hell – it might only make sense to the puppet.

The puppet, in case you didn’t notice, would be the speaker – in this case “I” as in infinity in the nutshell of a universe that has “I”’s in the mortal fluxes of immortality-pseudo-realities. If that didn’t make much sense don’t blame me. You are not thinking hard enough. Also, we have somewhat digressed but put it plainly you were doubting my ability to be coherent but now you are listening to me. Insanity does have some literacy be it political or psychological or otherwiseical. No I’m not making fun of you but rather illustrating the fact of today’s public and privates. We are stimulated by the ardent orchestration of the bizarre. It might be a postmodern thing, modernist thing, feminist, masculinist thing, humanist thing, psycheist thing or the ist of ist thing but don’t worry this digression has some roots to the philosophy of me being mad thus it is rooted to the main topic – yes, it resemble plant like roots and everything has interconnectivity – so, yes, where were we – yes you are fascinating by my ingenious idiotism but don’t worry it’s only natural to admire and laugh at fools – they even come up in the Taro deck!

Now you might think I am acting like an ass which is usually regarded higher in standard than the fool but then again I must say that is an accomplishment in itself so thanks for such an opportunity. No – wait – don’t give me a tiresome speech of madness because we had gone through that and you and I both agreed that I had insanity coursing through my veins and brains (though in actually like double monitors and keyboards I think this means two hemispheres than the 2x because that would be too simplistic and bizarre, though we revel in bizarreness I mean there are limitations to the dosages of what drug is your fix, now let’s take care to remember the 2x rule – no, no, no no imposition here I just want to get matters straight to a reasoning that would benefit us both so yes no commands here though the I think I would love to assume being an ideologue for the dominatrix/dominator but let’s forget that for now – ok do not worry safe sex is the best option when considering excess kinkiness and let’s not digress but then again I was the one saying we are not digressing so I think I am being foolish right now speaking otherwiseist like but that’s ok ‘cause I am human too and can be seduced by all things others can be seduced by and such and...ok this is not total digression nor else I wouldn’t be speaking it but then again who knows?) But that is the apprehension. I know this so – am I doing a known evil. I cannot say. I cannot say though I know it annoys you. But truthfully maybe I haven’t thought about it much – ok ok I know you are pissed now but seriously I know I know I am contradicting myself so yes I know I’m pissing you off but then again why wouldn’t I be pissing you off? Ok no, those were not my initial intentions but I haven’t got to piss off people much so it is actually fun pissing you off but then again this pissing off is a digression-dead-root not healthy nutritional so I’ll let it snap off like some dead root (plants may do this) but then again this is no nihilist interest it is just there. Ok now let us go back to where we started. Yes Yes I remember where we left off so it’s no biggie that I digressed. Because Digressions are the gig-lamps of life.

Theoretically anyway. Many might argue this approach I have but then again 0.5% or 0.2% would not. No, no this is not nihilistic as in in the process of the gig-lamps of life is surely not my own coined term, let’s think of Woolf and then continue – if she was nihilistic then her words are not my own and of the 0.5% and 0.2% some may actually ingrain this though as a nihilistic paradigm I say “Not my fault – that’s their drug to devour and not my own”: I thought I should clarify some of these things so don’t look so crossed at me. You can’t deny if I didn’t have these clarifications could not been done then we wouldn’t have had any proper understanding.

Now. As I said only 0.5% and 0.2% would actually think of the gig-lamps-is-digression theory. Distractions compose like. How? Well you might even think of this conversation as one – no I’m not saying you are not a focused individual because this is a wrong philosophy to think that distractions and digressions sans focus because if we look closer a mechanic’s tea-time may need focus too a> The mechanic may still be thinking about work or home or love or any other issues at hand and b> The mechanic savouring the tea is indirect compliment to God and the human who was the medium that help to make leave, water and sugar and maybe milk into this good old beverage that we love. You see I spoke of God – and you can think of Her as a Unity or Him as a Trinity or whatever you may like those are the personals which I don’t feel like preaching. But you see, going to a topic we started, distractions do make much of life a> You must educate yourself b> You must have sex c> You must be promiscuous d> You must stay monogamous e> You must have a life philosophy f> You must get a good job that makes loads of cash: well I am not saying those are not important but the 0.5% and 0.2% know that they might eventually become distractions. Why you may ask? It’s simple in the sense that we might lack the astronaut’s mind later on in life. I mean – let’s give it another dashing name – I mean curionaut – do you ever explore things that the threshold of popularity never beckoned? I’m not telling to go cannibal like Tooms or Lectar but have you done the daring? This does not equate always to sky-diving and monster trucks but in the sense of learning for the love of curiosities and knowledge.

This may come as self-perspectives and self-analysis and usually this process is autodidactical. I mean I’m not saying you will have a mentor but you might not be resistant to the fact that pilgrimages of such proportions also require your self’s cooperation nor else those beans won’t make a beanstalk. But that’s the thing. The mirror is not only narcissism or mutilation or ego formation (as Lacan might suggest) but it is a nexus of too many articles and such is the womb for much contemplation. You can devour your image and create the infamous/famous alter ego or even delve the finger and stone closer to the goblet of a wisdom that sought you since birth. Gradually the art may reveal itself to you and maybe yourself is under those reflective silky draperies of cut and flats.

Now look you are looking at me. Disappointed? Don’t be. I might have introduced to you something interesting after all haven’t I – so, will you doubt it now – can you not say I am an artist?

Sand Words

Sand like your eyes
time-glass hour piece
contrasts, inverted
lives and deaths

If you could bite your tongue
and tell me your thoughts

telepathy doesn't equate sympathy
but it offers an antidote to lost time

Precious is what Precious does
good baptisms may fade to dust

heart is kind but cruel has branches

seeds need love

seeds must survive

Hope has written with swords and goblets
ink-rain on paper earth

lives are written

lives betray

death needs his own deathbed

even if eternity

spots a fine line

a rupture to mortality

even if sands are but broken glass

we might mend artifacts

lost time can wage

lost time can make

all delusional

all real

efface not

efface not

want merely

desire merely

don't let that be bound

you flesh symmetry

Listen

Are you listening to me?

No wait don't stop. I see you were listening. It was me who digressed. I apologize. It was not an option I wanted to choose. But I had chosen it. Readily. I know I'm quite destructive. Self-destructive. I don't know why. Maybe I am a masochist. No, that's not true.

Truth is I am lost. I haven't had the right hands. The right tongues. To taste. No, do not take off your clothes. My intention is not to stimulate. Not the erogenous anyway. I wish to stimulate you. With my tongue, brain, vocal chords. A trinity in practice. Then what of soul and heart? Yes this practice is pentagonal or possibly hetegeneously-homogeneous.

I adore it.

Call it the original phase of erotic.

Its like wine only the grapes can be swallowed via air, tongue, hand and mind - yes the genitals can be stirred be it all the dish of metamorphosis and ardent awakenings to the street that you haven't explored it.

You begin with street. Then slowly angle with place - as in nerighbourhood, area - then it becomes country and continents and all those things. Even planets - an analogous milky way - astronauts and philosophers make great bedfellows.

Yes, I am constantly looking at you. It's nice to look at people. Its nice. To just look. If you can look I can look as well. So please let me look. Let me engulf you in my eyes. Beyond skin and bones. Beyond flesh. Let's have a slice of mind together with some tea. With some sugary teeth. With some sipping-sipful. Let's warm us up in exotica and erotica galore like this.

Yes we don;t have have to touch sex to do that. That's the simple part. Those are the simple bits. Let's put ourselves in the shoes of others. Let us race through bedlam and brain. Let us course through and see courses.

Are you listening to me?

I laid a Brick

I opened up a wooden house

that the wolves could not blow

it too had straw to spare

and it was strewn on the earthen ground

where I also slept and ate

life had some simplicities

I learned how to make bricks

thus the mundane world was lost

and the age, the morn became

a construct of a new

it teemed

gave

glow

I laid a brick

the house was changed

not so much to not remain

a cocoon of stone

from whence

came a grown