Never before heard beats of the Future (House, Electro and FIDGET Set March 15, 2010) There is no way to go back. The past is the past. Its done and over with. There is no way to go forward. The future is the future. It hasn't happened, you have to wait. Stop filling my head with these lies, Lies of time machines, Lies of going back, Lies of moving forward. Whats done is done. Whats yet to happen, hasn't. Stop trying to build your time machines. Stop dwelling on the past. Stop trying to figure out the future. Live in the now, Or your future will be dim. ©2008-2010 ~xxxlovexhatexxx

Modern House and Electro Set March 5, 2010 Time Machine- There are three kinds of people in the world: Those who, when they find a time machine, travel to the past, those who go to the future, and the most rare and courageous of all- Those who give it all up to stay in the present. ©2009-2010 ~KrnLeeroy

House Set from 1995-2005 March 3, 2010 Sshhh… and quieten your voice Don’t make a sound, and listen to the silence resound This is Being Alive When I feel and touch and bathe in pain When I wait around and stare just to see you smile again I want to breathe the air that you share, and join your hands with my own Get closer to your face and know every angle and feature, I moan And long for, crave for your presence For the tell tale signs that tell me are hidden within your essence And to get close, and closer, with my heart imploding in my chest A thousand brilliant melodies and visuals that elude all the rest With tremors enough to bring this world down to ashes and dust And feelings that echo around broken foundations that stand tall, I must Get it all out, escape its fate, and let my breathing lie heavy I need to get down on my knees, and hold your hand, and whisper all that you mean to me Because time passes me by, and the bass drum pounds, and the ending is nigh And my eyes, they’ve never seen so clearly and yet you’ve never been so blind Because I’d wound up with my words in knots and their lies in my hair With long forgotten promises I’ve left behind and forgotten for lack of air Why is it so hard to breathe when I’ve just remembered what it’s like to be alive And why do they hurt me so when I’m the one who could save your life With every sacrifice and spell and combination of words from past eras long dead gone I’d resuscitate hope and fix up some fragmented life in order to bring back and hear once more your long departed song ©2009-2010 ~maidenofwar

House and Electro Set March 2, 2010 The sounds of life, Are a beautiful thing, I like the birds, And the way they sing. The wind in the trees, The grass on the ground, When the breeze rips through it, Oh how it makes a sound. The fish in the sea, The bees in the sky, They bloop and they buzz, Whenver they fly. The dogs in the yard, The cats up the tree, They bark and they hiss, When they see me. The rats in the cupboard, The spiders in the sink, I don't like either of them, For I think they stink. Some people are screaming, Others are crying, This is because, Their friends are dying. ©2008-2010 ~Pink-Monkey-Bums

House/Electro Set February 24, 2010 Music moves us It's these words the melodies the sounds Words move us Crescendos lift us up They catch us up out of the monotone monotony of what we think is normal life And give us glittering glimpses of man's dream utopia which without God will fail Music without life Is an engineered artwork Like a template filled in To mold a second Mona Lisa Without heart it's an ice sculpture That hardly has breath When heat and pressure come false aspirations melt away Music without love is angry poetry is tasteful ranting But I want the music that breathes Makes a heart beat That, instead of painting in blurred abstract, Takes a vivid and lasting snapshot of the reality of love Lord, breathe on our artists; our musicians You are the Creator of creativity and the One for whom and by whom all flesh and spirit functions Teach us how to paint with unseen colors of holy zeal of burning love Two things that we know not completely of Teach us how to Love. ©2009-2010 ~ikostarr

House and Electro Set February 19, 2010 My dearest Lady Liberty How I know her wrath well When stirred to stand Across the land She will distribute hell And in the wake Make no mistake Such shadows will she cast Of prejudice And injustice The darkness will be vast My dearest Lady Liberty Don’t carry on this way Tie all lose ends And make amends And all will be okay. ©2009-2010 ~Bernard-Wicken

House and Electro Set February 12, 2010 Reminds me of those gritty New York Nights. Car headlights flashing in and out like fireflies; Towers sprouting from cement like metal flowers; People crowding the sidewalks, Overflowing like a swelled river Into my dreams and memory, Haunting me and tempting me to Stay forever—to sip from the cup of immortality Down on Broadway where The beat of street performers sets the pace For a hundred feet—seemingly strangers—yet, Feet and stories that are tangled together by fate. A beat that did something to my heart, that Beautifully infected my soul and stained my mind. When all I’ve ever known are Green Mountains and Green Trees and Green Grass and Green Tears I long to stay with you, tucked away in your metallic labyrinth. There is something dangerous and unstable about your love, yet Alluringly restless—an endeavor unintended for the faint of heart. I am prepared to give myself over, to be defeated by the demons of Sleeplessness, frugalness, cautiousness, weariness— After the warmth grows thin, you are a test: What can I sacrifice for a dream? With a simple answer: There are only two parts of my being— The dream, and that which I shall sacrifice for it. And as I forfeit the fight, as I give my hand to the City, It will envelop me and I shall become part of the River, brushing softly and curving around the metal topography, until My face washes away, into the water. The pale, scarred moon reflected in my soul. ©2006-2010 ~LightningRodOfHate

House and Electro Set February 4, 2010 Sometimes I think about the New York City skyline. What is it like to live under those buildings, so tall the sun never touches you? To be cast in a luminous shadow, walking with a purpose, proud of how grown up you've become. Even if its got the rats, you can call your apartment a flat, because you are a writer. You have a typewriter to prove it, even though your laptop's keyboard is perfectly fine. You can carry the latest scraps to the bagel shop a block away, where Leon knows your name, and can slip you an extra for the road. You can eat breakfast on the subway, heading to the Village to browse the shops of books by people long since dead. You can trace your fingers down the spines because no one will question it; it's a performance art at best, and a protest at the worst. And you can tell them at the coffee-shop just how to spell your name without a bit of shame or insult, because they don't mind so long you wear the proper sweater. And there, you may sip your chai tea latte in the park, scarf vacantly blowing around your neck. And as you look up, to the only patch of sky above, you can see snowflakes, well fed, to judge by their size, lazily whirling down, and leaving water on your face like tears you never spill unless your blinds are down. There you begin to wonder if you have enough money or time to keep a dog. And then your hands are chapped and red with wind, and you take the train to Harold Square, and look at the Christmas tree, or so you think, rather than the young man with the funny cap, and the smile on his face, as he turns to you and says, "You're not from around here are you?" ©2009-2010 *stardestroyr

House and Electro Set February 1, 2010 the promises you make are the most beautiful things. angels' words that cast three thousand lights in my head, behind my eyes, and it's like Times Square. you made me promises of music and butterflies, and that one day you'll dance with me --- but in the end, you can't dance. and neither can i. ©2009-2010 ~KadenceDaae

House and Electro January 31, 2010 She would show me the ropes, teaching me the way of the trade, Heading uptown in that extravagant automobile, top down, hair flowing in the soothing breeze, all cares and any stress in the world dissolving as we cruised. Heading the wrong way down the road, but we could care less, the road trip was all that really mattered in the long run. Stricken by youth, we could care less about the troubles and consequences that were all direct results of our careless and haphazard actions, for we were young. Reminded of those times when we would head uptown, when we had the times of our lives, when we were doing everything in our power to defy the norm, living life to the fullest, and no one could tell us otherwise. ©2009-2010 *royalocean

House and Electro Set January 29, 2010 The third rail hums, softly, quietly. The gentle patter of tiny paws fills the air, a steady, quick drumbeat. Silky sounds fill the silence, an ever constant symphony of night. Abandoned turnstiles whisper with the ghost of days past. Faint footsteps still echo in the empty air, though a blanket of black rests over them. A muffled musical, of a city that never sleeps. Early notes of rustling papers, of struggling musicians and rhythmic ringtones stay in the space, an orchestra at work, always present, always pleasant. Melodic voices seize the airwaves, shadows waltz in an untraditional ballroom, the chaos and bustle of day forgotten, in the sweet, kind silence of night. ©2009-2010 ~goddess989