Songs for a New Millenium

By A Minstrel - "Every lover in his mind
Is a minstrel, I've heard said,
But in his heart a fool he be,
And so t'is false, that in his head."


I am an acting major at UNCSA. I also write poetry. I have great respect for visual artists, although I am not one. I also play D&D and read comic books. I like good clothes, and good rock n' roll. That's what matters.
fehrihl: This picture is actually making me weep

fehrihl:

This picture is actually making me weep

xenadd:

Joss Whedon presents: AVENGERS: SMASH

The colossal Broadway hit.

Drawn by the awesome Louise Saunders

Brainstormed by myself and Louise.

nerf-car:

hey i just met you

and this is crazy

but here’s my number

so call me beep me if you wanna reach me

Becoming

We are made for the becoming of things,

To catch the current unerneath our wings,

While riding on the lazy winds we find,

To let the gusts and gyres, toward heaven, wind.

Our eyes were crafted so to watch the skies,

Our ears to hear the stories of the wise.

Our lips were granted so to kiss the cheek

Of they that take the time to hear us speak,

Our arms to carry children in their sleep,

Our hands to trace the hearts of those that weep,

Our hearts to swim amidst a drunken dance,

Our feet to walk a road that’s paved with chance,

Our bodies shaped to love the easy Sun,

And drink the Moon’s sweet rays, and be undone.

Letters to impossibilities: You

ponderingcomplications:

You,
With the crooked smile
And freckled nose.
With speckled eyes,
and lips of a rose

You -
With the wild hair,
and blushing cheeks,
With bells resounding
Whenever you speak

You…
With the careful quiet,
And large, graceful hands
And your inquisitive eyes,
With a heart that…

On The Shore

Love, do you hear the whisper on the waves?

They beckon to the feet to wander in.

The longing of the sailors’ early graves

Demands to take from life what it can win.

Love, do you feel the sweet caress of sand?

It wants to soothe your weary, sun-soaked skin.

If on the shore you find my careful hand,

Be soft, and by the sea we could begin.

But if you, as the tides, are washed away,

Or choose to walk around some inland town,

You’ll leave me here to watch the sea by day;

So sleeping here by night I’ll surely drown.

     So lost, amoung the sailors’ early graves,

     I’ll whisper love to find you, by the waves.