O, chì, chì mi na mòrbheanna,
O, chì, chì mi na còrr-bheanna,
O, chì, chì mi na coireachan,
Chì mi na sgòran fo cheò.

Chì mi gun dàil an t-àite 's an d'rugadh mi,
Cuirear orm fàilte 's a' chànain a thuigeas mi,
Gheibh mi ann aoigh agus gràdh 'nuair a ruigeam,
Nach reicinn air tunnachan òir.

Chì mi na coilltean, chì mi na doireachan,
Chì mi na maghan bàna, as toraiche,
Chì mi na féidh air làr nan coireachan
Falaicht' ann an trusgan de cheò.

Landing In London- 3 Doors Down

I woke up today in London
As the plane was touching down
And all I could think about was monday
And maybe ill be back around

If this keeps me away much longer
I dont know what i will do
Youve got to understand its a hard life
That im going through

And when the night falls in around me
I dont think ill make it through
Ill use your light to guide the way
Cause all I think about is you

Well L.A is getting kinda crazy
And New york is getting kinda cold
I keep my head from geting lazy
I just cant wait to get back home

And all these days i spend away
Ill make up for this i swear
I need your love to hold me up
When its all too much to bear

And when the night falls in around me
I dont think ill make it through
Ill use your light to guide the way
Cause all I think about is you

And all these days i spend away
Ill make up for this i swear
I need your love to hold me up
When its all too much to bear

When the night falls in around me
I dont think ill make it through
Ill use your light to guide the way
Cause all I think about is you

The urge to create, to make something from nothing, is an instictual urge. Human beings see this most often in the urge to procreate, to have sex... but also in our art, whether it be drawing, writing, construction... all the time we are creating... but also destroying... we fear things, sometimes, when we cannot understand them. Yet surely some can understand things like Wicca (not the Olde Religion, Fluffs, but true Wicca), and other religions... something asked of us to believe entirely on faith... can you do it? is it really that hard? believe me, you can, and you will... its life...

Jeebus(NOT JESUS) and a disciple were wallowing in the mud of a sty in the middle of Jerusalem. Jeebus had been preaching the word of Dog(NOT GOD) all day, and decided to wallow in the mud. His disciple, Ringo(Not a reference to john paul, or matthew of the bible, but a beatles reference), had gone in with him, so as to protect him... Jeebus was then removed from the sty by Ringo, and shown to the people of Jerusalem: "People, look at your Jeebus now, how he is dirty, from wallowing in mud! Look, his whitest robe is now his darkest, and you see the many stains upon his very person!" Then Jeebus was pissed on by Dog, and he was clean. Hoo rah for dog piss...

If you had me alone, locked up in your room for 24 hours and I had to do whatever you wanted me to, what would you do with me? Answer this diary and repost it in yours. You might be surprised with the responses you get.

I stole this from [Today, McFly.], who stole it from [kavik]'s diary, but only because it says i can...

There will be a day,
When all of life just slips away...
And no matter what you do...
Life just spins away from you...

And you wonder
(where the hell reality went...)
And you cry
(Cuz you feel your life's been spent)
And you wish
(That all this shit would go away)
And you die
(Cuz your life just ended today...)


A song I'm working on.... enjoy

The Archpoet: His Confession

Seething over inwardly
With fierce indignation,
In my bitterness of soul,
hear my decleration.
I am of one element,
Levity my matter,
Like enough a withered leaf
For the winds to scatter.

Since it is the property
Of the sapient
To sit firm upon a rock,
It is evident
That I am a fool, since I
Am a flowing river,
Never under the same sky,
Transient forever.

Hither, thither, masterless,
Ship upon the sea,
Wandering through the ways of air,
Go the birds like me.
Bound am i by ne'er a bond,
Prisoner to no key,
Questing go I for my kind,
Find deprevity.

A portion of a poem by the Archpoet, in the late 1100's. It suits me well, methinks...

Where does it end? How many times do I have to wake up in a cold sweat wondering when I'll finally get caught, or when I'll finally get away? How many times do I have to [wipe the slate clean before I finally succeed]? When will the hell and the torture finally pay off? [And where is she when i need her the most?] Almost, it seems, a world away... I love you...

Hello and goodbye everyone... this is a message to let you know im still here and alive, but no longer dave... my new name is john :P so live it love it, and learn it folks..... i mean it :P

still around...... dont know why, but i am....... wish i could just disappear......

The wide, weird world of Daemeon Arkenyon Zane is now available for the low low price of a hug..... GET DOWN AND WRITE ME A FREAKIN MESSAGE!!!! :P