patterns

• aynı zamanda bir simon & garfunkel parçası;
  
  the night sets softly
  with the hush of falling leaves,
  casting shivering shadows
  on the houses through the trees,
  and the light from a street lamp
  paints a pattern on my wall,
  like the pieces of a puzzle
  or a child's uneven scrawl.
  
  up a narrow flight of stairs
  in a narrow little room,
  as i lie upon my bed
  in the early evening gloom.
  impaled on my wall
  my eyes can dimly see
  the pattern of my life
  and the puzzle that is me.
  
  from the moment of my birth
  to the instant of my death,
  there are patterns i must follow
  just as i must breathe each breath.
  like a rat in a maze
  the path before me lies,
  and the pattern never alters
  until the rat dies.
  
  and the pattern still remains
  on the wall where darkness fell,
  and it's fitting that it should,
  for in darkness i must dwell.
  like the color of my skin,
  or the day that i grow old,
  my life is made of patterns
  that can scarcely be controlled.
• black sabbath ın gitaristi tony iommi nin 2000 yılında çıkardığı "iommi" albumünün 5. parçası. system of a down dan serj tankian eşlik etmiş..
• serj tankian'ın seslendirdiği akıllara zarar şarkı... yok böyle bir vokal, böyle bir enstrümantasyon...
  
  life is a story
  go ahead and find your sight
  
  life is your glory
  go ahead and live the night
  
  but to live means to be here
  in the present now
  do try to bow for the gift of your day
  then you cede to the morning sun
  
  pretending that we live doesn't make us alive
  
  life is a story
  go ahead and find your sight
  
  but to live means to be here
  in the present now
  do try to bow for the gift of your day
  then you cede to the morning sun
  
  pretending that we see doesn't give us the sight
  pretending that we live doesn't make us alive
  
  what is it that makes us lose sight
  true sight, of what is real and essential
  i'll take organized patterns of chaos
  over the chaotic organizations of man, any day
  
  pretending that we see doesn't give us the sight
  pretending that we live doesn't make us alive
  pretending that we see doesn't give us the sight
  pretending that we live doesn't make us alive
• amerikan şair amy lowell'in 19. yüzyılın sosyal standartlarına, ideal davranış biçimlerine ve dönemin toplumundaki kadının yeri'ne karşı yazdığı bir bakıma ironik, eleştirel, her satırında ayrı bir imge barındıran uzun şiirinin adıdır ayrıca.
  
  patterns
  
  i walk down the garden paths,
  and all the daffodils
  are blowing, and the bright blue squills.
  i walk down the patterned garden-paths
  in my stiff, brocaded gown.
  with my powdered hair and jewelled fan,
  i too am a rare
  pattern. as i wander down
  the garden paths.
  my dress is richly figured,
  and the train
  makes a pink and silver stain
  on the gravel, and the thrift
  of the borders.
  just a plate of current fashion,
  tripping by in high-heeled, ribboned shoes.
  not a softness anywhere about me,
  only whalebone and brocade.
  and i sink on a seat in the shade
  of a lime tree. for my passion
  wars against the stiff brocade.
  the daffodils and squills
  flutter in the breeze
  as they please.
  and i weep;
  for the lime-tree is in blossom
  and one small flower has dropped upon my bosom.
  
  and the plashing of waterdrops
  in the marble fountain
  comes down the garden-paths.
  the dripping never stops.
  underneath my stiffened gown
  is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin,
  a basin in the midst of hedges grown
  so thick, she cannot see her lover hiding,
  but she guesses he is near,
  and the sliding of the water
  seems the stroking of a dear
  hand upon her.
  what is summer in a fine brocaded gown!
  i should like to see it lying in a heap upon the ground.
  all the pink and silver crumpled up on the ground.
  
  i would be the pink and silver as i ran along the paths,
  and he would stumble after,
  bewildered by my laughter.
  i should see the sun flashing from his sword-hilt and the buckles
  on his shoes.
  i would choose
  to lead him in a maze along the patterned paths,
  a bright and laughing maze for my heavy-booted lover,
  till he caught me in the shade,
  and the buttons of his waistcoat bruised my body as he clasped me,
  aching, melting, unafraid.
  with the shadows of the leaves and the sundrops,
  and the plopping of the waterdrops,
  all about us in the open afternoon --
  i am very like to swoon
  with the weight of this brocade,
  for the sun sifts through the shade.
  
  underneath the fallen blossom
  in my bosom,
  is a letter i have hid.
  it was brought to me this morning by a rider from the duke.
  "madam, we regret to inform you that lord hartwell
  died in action thursday se'nnight."
  as i read it in the white, morning sunlight,
  the letters squirmed like snakes.
  "any answer, madam," said my footman.
  "no," i told him.
  "see that the messenger takes some refreshment.
  no, no answer."
  and i walked into the garden,
  up and down the patterned paths,
  in my stiff, correct brocade.
  the blue and yellow flowers stood up proudly in the sun,
  each one.
  i stood upright too,
  held rigid to the pattern
  by the stiffness of my gown.
  up and down i walked,
  up and down.
  
  in a month he would have been my husband.
  in a month, here, underneath this lime,
  we would have broke the pattern;
  he for me, and i for him,
  he as colonel, i as lady,
  on this shady seat.
  he had a whim
  that sunlight carried blessing.
  and i answered, "it shall be as you have said."
  now he is dead.
  
  in summer and in winter i shall walk
  up and down
  the patterned garden-paths
  in my stiff, brocaded gown.
  the squills and daffodils
  will give place to pillared roses, and to asters, and to snow.
  i shall go
  up and down,
  in my gown.
  gorgeously arrayed,
  boned and stayed.
  and the softness of my body will be guarded from embrace
  by each button, hook, and lace.
  for the man who should loose me is dead,
  fighting with the duke in flanders,
  in a pattern called a war.
  christ! what are patterns for?
• baby darling doll face honey albümüden bir band of skulls şarkısı.
• yeni bir minecraft klonu. bu sefer sadece küplerle değil üçgen objelerle de tasarım yapılabiliyor. elbette daha pek çok özellik bulunmakta. second life yapımcısı linden lab tarafından geliştiriliyor. bu da resmi duyuru videosu: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=locopsoevee
• band of skulls şarkısı. eşlik etmesi çok zevkli.hem saymayı da öğretiyor.sözleri ;
  
  there's one for the sorrow
  and two for the joy
  and three for the girls
  and four for the boys
  
  there's five for the silver
  and six for the gold
  and seven for the secrets
  that are never to be told
  
  there's eight in the river
  and nine in my head
  and ten of the worst kind sleeping in my bed
  
  there's a pattern, there's a pattern
  there's a pattern there to followed
  there's a pattern, there's a pattern
  there's a pattern there to followed
  
  oh, oh, oh, to follow oh, oh, oh, to follow
  
  there's one for the money
  and two for the sin
  and three for the tongue
  when authority kicks in
  
  there's four for the reason
  and five for the tricks
  but nothing's going to save you
  from the six, six, six
  
  there's seven for the days
  and seven for the nights
  and seven for the heavens
  and the tunnel and the lights
  
  there's a pattern, there's a pattern
  there's a pattern there to followed
  there's a pattern, there's a pattern
  there's a pattern there to followed
  
  oh, oh, oh, to follow oh, oh, oh, to follow (to follow, to follow, to follow)
  oh, oh, oh, to follow oh, oh, oh, to follow
• dangerous intentions isimli 2013 model albumleri ile kulaklarin pasini silen bir muzik yapan grup. biraz indie, ve biraz disco ama nu-disco. uzun uzun dinleyip siz sikmiyor olusu ile gonulleri fethediyor.
• alt-j gibi gec keşfetmediğime sevindiğim indie grup. hadi nice güzel albümlerinize çocuklar.
• sofar organizasyonu içerisinde seslendirdikleri burning man parçasına bayıldığım grup. işte.