Сезонно…

„Напролет – стотици цветя, наесен – луна, през лятото – хладен ветрец, през зимата – сняг. Ако безполезни размисли не тежат на сърцето ти, всеки от сезоните на този свят е прекрасен.“

(Вход без врата, #19)

My Legacy

I’ve been around for some time now
And I really don’t care what some people think about me
I’ve been called a lot of things
Some good, some bad
I’ve had many people doubt me
I’m not ashamed of anything
When it comes to this
I stay true to the game
And when the flames were burning slow
I grabbed the torch and let everybody know
What the music, the scene means to me
With pride and sincerity
Handed down by our brothers
Is this our legacy?

I’ve been around the world and back again
I’ve had the privilege of watching this grow,
Transcend beyond the streets, the clubs, the trends
Beyond anything we had imagined
That’s what the music, the scene means to me
Pride and integrity
Handed down by our brothers
Is this our legacy?

Madball
Legacy
This is our legacy

It’s an honor for us
For me
To stand side by side with those who paved the way for me
It’s an honor for us to see
So many showing respect
Even those who doubted me
And it’s only the beginning
That’s what the music, the scene means to me
Pride and integrity
Handed down by our brothers
This is our Legacy!

Prayer before Birth

By Louis MacNeice

I am not yet born; O hear me.
Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the stoat or the
club-footed ghoul come near me.

I am not yet born, console me.
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
with strong drugs dope me, with wise lies lure me,
on black racks rack me, in blood-baths roll me.

I am not yet born; provide me
With water to dandle me, grass to grow for me, treets to talk
to me, sky to sing to me, birds and a white light
in the back of my mind to guide me.

I am not yet born; forgive me
For the sins that in me the world shall commit, my words
when they speak to me, my thoughts when they think me,
my treason engenered by traitors beyond me,
my life when they murder by means of my
hands, my death when they live me.

I am not yet born; rehearse me
In the parts I must play and the cues I must take when
old men lecture me, bureaucrats hector me, mountains
frown at me, lovers laugh at me, the white
waves call me to folly and the desert calls
me to doom and the beggar refuses
my gift aand my children curse me.

I am not yet born; O hear me,
Let not the man who is beast or who thinks he is God
Come near me.

I am not yet born; O fill me
With strength against those who would freeze my
humanity, would dragoon me into a lethal automaton,
would make me a cog in a machine, a thing with
one face, a thing, and against all those
who would dissipate my entirety, would
blow me like thistledown hither and
thither or hither and thither
like water held in the
hands would spill me.

Let them not make me a stone and let them not spill me.
Otherwise kill me.

Достига до вас с любезното съдействие на:

Моята възлюбена (пожелавам ти успешна сесия, мило {})

Abyss

Животът ни е просто един път… понякога е магистрала, понякога пътечка, а понякога е шибан продънен мост над пълноводна река. Всичко зависи от завоите на житейските кръстовища, но рано или късно идва момент, когато се озовава пред злополучния мост. И човек е изправен на ръба, преценявайки шансовете да оцелее, ако се опита да прескочи или да търси друг път. Различните хора, постъпват по различен начин…

Едни остават на ръба завинаги, загледани в бездната и неспособни да вземат решение. Застинали чакат нещо да се случи…

Втори решават да се върнат и никога повече да не се отклоняват от широкия, светъл и означен с големи, светли табели път. На този път не може да ти се случи нищо – нито лошо, нито добро или пък интересно.

Третият тип хора скачат. Скачат изпълнение с надежда, мечти и видения за светло бъдеще. Колко ли от тях успяват да преборят гравитацията или светкавично еволюират в нещо с крила, преди да потънат в бездната?

Аз искам да скоча…