breaking all your laws, one at a time. (aefallen) wrote,
breaking all your laws, one at a time.

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icons on crack

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I've always loved fire imagery. (*winks at firestorm717*) It all started from the time I was twelve and read Stephen King's Firestarter. (If anyone picks up the movie, it stars a young Drew Barrymore in the title role, although I far prefer the book). It's one of the most powerful images anyone can choose when it comes to writing. The destructive force that fire is capable of is an unbelievably compelling image, as is its all-consuming power, breathtaking in its intensity. And fire isn't all you get. So, like a moth to a flame, if anyone's burning bridges:

When I was at school a teacher drew our attention to how the very word itself is onomatopoeic. Speaking the word fire aloud, he said, sounds like a flame igniting.

There are so many phrases in the English language that use this word. Want to see? Here goes:

Getting on like a house on fire. Being on fire (this means being utterly consumed/motivated/enthusiastic/really good at what you do). Out of the frying pan into the fire. A baptism of fire is a particularly challenging/ardurous initiation into anything. Where there's smoke, there's fire. And of course, "You're fired!" (No, I quit!) Fighting fire with fire. If you're really embarrassed, some writers phrase this as feeling as if your face is on fire. Being all fired up. Someone's old flame. Carrying a torch for you. Burning bridges. Playing with fire.

Fire cleanses. And while it destroys, it also renews. As the phoenix rising from the ashes.

And here are some of my favourite songs and a favourite poem that use this:

The Point of No Return
The Phantom of the Opera

You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge,
in pursuit of that wish, which till now has been silent, silent . . .
I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge -
in your mind you've already succumbed to me
dropped all defences, completely succumbed to me -
now you are here with me:
no second thoughts, you've decided, decided . . .

Past the point of no return - no backward glances:
the games we've played till now are at an end . . .
Past all thought of "if" or "when" - no use resisting:
abandon thought, and let the dream descend . . .

What raging fire shall flood the soul?
What rich desire unlocks its door?
What sweet seduction lies before us . . .?

Past the point of no return, the final threshold –
what warm, unspoken secrets will we learn?
Beyond the point of no return . . .

You have brought me to that moment where words run dry,
to that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence . . .
I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why . . .
In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining
defenceless and silent -
and now I am here with you:
no second thoughts, I've decided, decided . . .

Past the point of no return - no going back now:
our passion-play has now, at last, begun . . .
Past all thought of right or wrong -
one final question:
how long should we two wait, before we're one . . .?
When will the blood begin to race
the sleeping bud burst into bloom?
When will the flames, at last, consume us...

Past the point of no return
the final threshold -
the bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn . . .
We've passed the point of no return . . .

Notice how the image of fire is used in every verse, first by the Phantom, then by Christine, and finally when the both of them use fire as a metaphor to describe casting off one's past to reach the future.

written by Bruce Springsteen

You're riding in my car
I turn on the radio
I'm pulling you closer
But you keep telling me no
You say you don't like it
But I know you're a liar
'Cause when we kiss
Ooh... Fire

You had a hold on me right from the start
A grip so tight I couldn't tear it apart
My nerves all jumpin' actin' like a fool
Well my kisses might burn
But my heart stays cool

I first heard this song as performed by Teresa Teng, but I remembered the lyrics. I wouldn't have recalled that this song existed if not for aingeal_isilme. xD *hugs!*

On Fire

Tell you where you need to go
Tell you who you need to be
Tell you what you need to know
Tell you when you’ll need to leave

But everything inside you knows
Says more than what you’ve heard
So much more than empty conversations
Filled with empty words

And you’re on fire
When he’s near you
You’re on fire
When he speaks
You’re on fire
Burning at these mysteries

Give me one more time around
Give me one more chance to see
Give me everything you are
Give me one more chance to be... (near you)

Cause everything inside looks like
Everything I hate
You are the hope I have for change
You are the only chance I’ll take

When I’m on fire
When you’re near me
I’m on fire
When you speak
And I’m on fire
Burning at these mysteries
These mysteries...

I’m standing on the edge of me (x3)
I’m standing on the edge

I so badly wanted this to be a Yuuri/Wolfram song. Which makes me doubly sad that I made a Murata/Yuuri video out of it :D *laughter*

one of my favourite poems of all time:

Sailing to Byzantium
William Butler Yeats

That is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
- Those dying generations - at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.

An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.

O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.

Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

Tags: kkm, literature, lyrics

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