singindemonhq: (Default)
I sing more languages than you may know,
And would agree, thy lives are but a show.
And on the whole, some can be entertaining,
But hear, a life of endless Gigs is draining.

Those who would judge me may say at a look,
I ain’t the kind to recommend a book.
The truth is somewhat different, (in my role,
I am at least as happy with a scroll.)
My library is, sadly, far away.
But, from my memory, it seems best to say,
That Plato wrote quite well, so Socrates,
Was shown with wit that would be sure to please,
(While Xenophon, the military kind,
Showed Socrates to be of duller mind.
But if they quote philosophy or jest,
Their writings still show their own minds the best.)

But Alcibiades wrote a journal, once,
And that’s a man that never was a dunce,
Although in war he was oft' known as rash,
In private life - well, he was into “slash,”
And “het” as well, (and things that I can’t rhyme.
Like other men of Athens in his time!)
(But I forget, the censors had their way,
There was no public printing in that day,
And there were those who thought the volumes dross,
That library was burned, to human loss.
A scroll or two, a palimpsest, no more
Were saved to serve the ages as before.)

It seems my mind has wandered far away,
The questioner said “A book”, and for today.
Will Shakespeare wrote quite well, but then erelong,
you’ll find that reading him affects your song.

Ah, fret me not, you’ll get no more from me!
I haven’t seen a bookshop recently.
It’s not your modern writers that I spurn,
Your modern “paper” is too quick to burn!

Muse, "Sweet" the singing demon.
Fandom, BTVS
Words 280
singindemonhq: (sing to me)
Life’s a show or life’s a game,
And if you rock or jive it,
There’s one thing that we all know,
That no-one can survive it.
Dancing through the changing years,
Hearing songs and watching tears,
Swinging on along the path,
They sing why they love or laugh…

Life’s a game or life’s a show
And if it’s short or long,
There will be a tune to it
And there will be a song.
Blues or ballads, Joy or grief,
Harsh revenge or sweet relief.
Burning rage or loyal friend,
Closing curtain, happy end…

Life’s a show or life’s a game,
All we can do is wing it.
Most are losers all the same,
They know it when they sing it.
Every love can lead to loss,
Every plot’s a double-cross,
On the way on dancing feet,
Listening to that living beat.

Life’s a game or life’s a stage,
The players can’t be fools.
Only one will always win.
The one who makes the rules.

Muse; Sweet the Singing Demon,
Fandom, BTVS
Words, 165.
singindemonhq: (a - Stage)
If you could have any mutant/super power which one would it be and what would you do with it? (If you already have a mutant power, what one would you trade it in for?)

Man, now that’s a question!
Well, once upon a time
I didn’t have much power at all
Then I developed mine.
Since I got in the swing of things
I’ve really had a ball.
I guess I wouldn’t trade my powers
For anything at all!

I did see Superman one time
(And used him in a Gig
too many super-powers can make
The problems kind of big.
I’d guessed the truth before he sang
His mind can give him grief
Or why’d he wear his pants outside
And those tights underneath?)

Now, was that the dimension
Where I heard a Batman sing?
(It’s Robin’s song that told the most –
Man, that was quite a thing!
There’s X-powers and there’s Y-powers,
A new one every day,
I wouldn’t trade my powers for theirs
For any of kind of pay!

I guess kids want that kind of thing
But when the adults dream
Then I’m the one they want to be!
Say, can’t you dig the scene?
Your words are tools to shape the mind.
That can’t be over-rated,
But the effects are stronger
When the beat is syncopated!

Your poets once were singing Bards
Though fashions always change,
There never was a story
That a song won’t rearrange!
Since I got in the swing of things
I’ve really had a ball!
I guess I wouldn’t trade my powers
For anything at all!

Muse; Sweet the Singing Demon
Fandom; BTVS
Words; 260
singindemonhq: (a - amused)
You have been granted one wish. )

Sweet the singing demon
Fandom, BTVS.
Words 1066
singindemonhq: (fiddle)
A big thank you to everyone who nominated me at the most recent Tammy Awards and thank you to everyone who voted for me.

I like those Tammys. It’s something about the look of that mule. The expression (and the kick, of course.) It reminds of some of the humans I’ve known. It’ll be nice to have Tammys on both sides of the display cabinet.

I’ve won a number of Awards in my life. )

Muse, Sweet the Singing Demon.
Fandom BTVS
Words 400.
singindemonhq: (by loonytunes)
Scars? I’m a glamour-user – and a shape-changer, up to a point. Piercings and ornaments and such just come and go. I have to think about keeping any features that I especially like, and why would I bother to keep a scar? I’ve seen them on other species and the damaged skin can turn – I think they call it keloid. It doesn’t stretch like unscarred skin and sometimes the scarred creature can’t move about as well after it gets injured.

I’ve heard people sing that scars on the heart are the same. Get that broken too many times and it won’t function the same. They sing that you can cure people of feeling love for anything at all by putting too many scars in their hearts. (Then they go out and do something stupid like giving their kid one more chance or bailing the guy who hit them out of jail.)

I guess scars are a reminder of a learning experience. Nature’s way of telling you not to do that again. I guess they are.

{firewalled against all who mean harm.}

Hey, I’d forgotten one. I was bitten by a werewolf, during a Gig involving them over in the cold northlands. I smoked out the moment I felt the jaws close. You never saw a pup look so surprised! It went back on its haunches and yipped like a coyote. That does show, in the right light. Four little marks, pale spots against the skin of my leg. There’s not many can say that they’ve been bitten by a werewolf pup and it didn’t change their lifestyle but I could, back then.

I picked up another mark from one, later – but that’s another story. {/firewall}

Muse; Sweet the Singing Demon,
Fandom, BTVS
Words; 280
singindemonhq: scary (noticing you)
Would you ever kill a human being (or if you are not human - would you ever kill a being from your own species?).

Now, there’s a tricky question! I should say,
That I kill no one when the Gig's in play.
My magic shows us clearly what they feel,
The music making all emotions real,
But sometimes melodies go on too long,
The deepest heart may sing the darkest song.
Truth, love and laughter can be hidden deep,
But sometimes too the deadliest demons sleep.
Dragons coiled round their treasures may awake,
Brought up and dancing for the music’s sake.

(The truths of ages can be wrapped in song,
Stories known to the shadowed heart for long…
Dark secrets lie there hidden in the mire –
And every creature knows – dragons bring fire!)
But do I cook the dancer, Man or Elf?
Some secrets burn - so does he fry himself?

And it’s a double question in a way,
Would I kill my own kind? That’s what they say.
Why do they think that my kind is immune?
And would not dance if they heard the right tune?
I’m known to sing in my Gigs, truth to tell,
And even dance – and do it very well.

So, do I kill some clients when we sing?
Well, you tell me, it’s just a viewpoint thing.

Muse, Sweet the Singing Demon,
Fandom, BTVS
Words 195


Words 139
singindemonhq: (Default)
Deyre Master Shakespeare, I have raised this Quill,
To let thee know that I have meant no ill,
In my appearance (which then led to funne)
In thy new play, to wit, “Love’s Labours Wonne.”
I learned thy tongue while passing through the land,
While one King James his modern bible planned.
(A book that could be kept in manse or dwelling,
And gave thy folk their first idea of spelling.
A thought that has some merit, in this time.
Although mine words do not match well to thine!)

Thou art a bard whom many do respect,
Nor would my hasty words thy plays reject,
(Though Juliet and Ophelia go to waste,
And Hamlet is too bloody for mine taste.)
I wryte now to appreciate thy plays,
And tell thee, in my view they will amaze,
When centuries have passed away and gone,
And speech like thine is like the throstle's song,
(Pleasant enough to hear, but at their gleaning,
The groundlings strain to ken a little meaning.

I do not tell thee false, nor any man
Will heare untruth from me, but while I can,
I tell thee why thy cast broke into song,
Those who call spirits may do very wrong,
(Although the best of them may pay the price,
and make themselves the summoning sacrifice, )

On finding amulets when they chance to drop,
I tell thee, do not use them as a prop!

We are agreed, thy world is but a stage,
But if thou wouldst avoid a singer’s rage,
Use not real jewellery in such a way,
Nor sing the summons that is on display,
And if thou wouldst bring thine admirer joy,
have not thy fairest maid played by a boy!

Post scriptum,

In fact, thou led'st to an frustrating day...
I tell thee as a critic, scrap that play!
singindemonhq: (ruin - tinkermellie)
Some humans deny that they’re fragile. They are. Humans are very fragile, in some ways – they can be incredibly tough in others, of course. It’s something I was trained to keep well in mind, during the Gigs. It can be useful then.

It’s something to keep in mind anyway.
[firewalled ‘gainst all who may do harm, See the words, obey the charm.] )

Muse; Sweet the singing demon.
Fandom, BTVS
Words, 2,100
singindemonhq: (preen)
Night – that’s a tricky concept. The time of the dark. The time when all the hidden things come drifting out of the corners, out of the cracks in the stones and out of the deep, dark cellars of the mind. The time when fragile, diurnal humans used to keep a bright fire at the mouth of their caves or hide away in their little boxes, sleeping and trying not dream - until the pale fingers of dawn start to stroke the skies and the birds start chorusing with relief, and the things of night creep away, to hide from the light (for a little while.)

The night can be a good time for songs. Dreams set to a beat, hopes set to, maybe, a pop hit, a thing of the moment (for hopes can be a fleeting thing, gone by the morning.) Fears set for a whisper-singer, a skittering jazz scat, unruly and fragmented. Loss set to the blues and the wail of the lonely saxophone. You need a tune that’ll last, to sing bereavement right.

The night’s a time for courting, too – swains courting lovers, hunters courting victims, slayers courting death …

The night’s a time when the deepest pits can open – and sometimes when they don’t death comes on creeping feet while the defenders sleep.

Fiddling while Rome burns. )

words 592
singindemonhq: Sweet gesturing to get response from viewer (jazz hands)
What am I waiting for? Only to get a call. Then I’ll be on my way – to a gig that takes in all!

The Vampires, the Slayers,
The demons, the lot,
Are secretly unhappy deep inside
The dancers, the players
Have all lost the plot,
They bottle up their feelings
And they hide,
Just get your inhibitions on the run,
Call with my talisman –
And then I’ll come…

There’s no Gigs like my own Gigs,
There’ll be good numbers for all,
Possibly my co-star isn’t willing,
Possibly the venue’s not ideal,
Possibly the cast ain’t really thrilling,
But there’s top billing
For what they feel!

There’s no songs like the real songs
When the sore hearts are laid bare,
Early numbers can be sad or joking,
Singing who you love or you despise
Later on things get so hot they’re smoking,
(And may lead on to,
a quick demise!)

There’s no Gigs, like my own Gigs,
They’ve got real get up and go.
If you’ve ever feared
That you will not go far,
Just chant my summons,
And there you are.
Maybe you could end up
As a real hot star!

Let’s go on with the show!
Let’s go on with the show.

Muse; Sweet the Singing Demon.
Fandom, BTVS
Words 206.

TM 163

Feb. 2nd, 2007 03:17 pm
singindemonhq: scary (noticing you)
It ain't no hit, So I've cut it. )

Muse; Sweet the Singing Demon.
Fandom; BTVS.
Words; 164
singindemonhq: (Default)
I can dance and I can sing
And I can do most anything.
I am fit and I am strong.
I’ll dance all night
And sing a song.
I’m really looking for a wife
And I pass on a good long life,
And I know just what you feel,
(Perhaps not why
That’s not the deal.)

I guess the worst if I just knew
Is I’m too perfect to be true!

You call me up, I’ll be right there,
Now don’t that show I kinda care?
I’ll listen to each word you sing
Now ain’t that quite a caring thing?
I bring the fun in and it’s true
That my attention’s all for you.
I’ll listen to each need and shame.
How many guys can sing the same?

I guess the worst, if I just thought
They don’t believe that I’ll get caught!

Just hear what I sing, and it’s true.
I’m into real commitment, too!

I guess the worst, if I just knew,
Is I’m too perfect to be true!

Of course, I ain’t all that modest – but then, I’m into the Truth!

Muse; Sweet the Singing Demon.
Fandom, Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Words; 185.
singindemonhq: (portal-cat)
How can I tell you what we do?
Our problems won’t mean much to you.
Portal controls )

*Gribbles - a unit of currency worth 19 Pylean Scrutches at the current rate of exchange.)

Sweet the Singing Demon
Fandom BTVS
Words 484
singindemonhq: (sing to me)
I guess I’m more a lover than a fighter,
You hit at me - I dematerialize,
Though I’m not much for war,
Truth’s what I do fight for,
I guess you’d say my enemy is lies.

They sing the truth,
There I’ve no doubt,
Those hidden secrets are
The things their song’s about,
I tend to win. But it’s a shame,
If they forget their song
it all starts up again.

Of course, that ain’t the whole story, but when is it ever? You’d be amazed how many of my customers can get real ungrateful. They've probably made more attempts to stop me than they’ve made to cure the common cold. They’ve had just about that much success with it, too.

Hell, they say the truth hurts. Sure it does. That’s why it sometimes gets buried so deep –
but there ain’t no way to handle your life or your world without it.

TM Dance

Dec. 5th, 2006 01:16 am
singindemonhq: (dancing sweet)
Some humans say, "In the beginning was the word." They're kidding you. In the beginning was the Dance. Look at it. You've got the instruments to see, now - look at the dance of the atoms, choosing their partners for the reel. Look at the molecules setting out to skip the Drunkard’s walk. Look at the whirl of the planets, spinning out, spinning in, round and out and spin and twirl. That’s real dancing, everything set and balanced and right. Don't call me The Lord of that Dance. That's a real big job.

Them things ain’t alive, though. When you get onto the living level, down to the basics - in the beginning was the beat! The first sound you heard was that beat, the strong, rhythmic beat of the oldest drum of all. The beat of the blood. The drum of your mother's heart, the pulse of your own, the beat in the blood dancing the life through your body. The first instrument that mankind ever made was the drum.

In the beginning was the word? Well maybe, in a way, if you mean the beginning of thinking how to put a neat shape around things - but the beat was first and then even when the Shaman syncopated it the beat went on.

When you die, mostly the last sound you hear is that beat, drumming in your ears, slowing and fading and faltering and … gone… whispering into the background pulse of your world.

In the meantime you dance. Not just to my music. That heartbeat throb is your very own.

Of course, the songs, the feelings, the energy, the love and the hate and the whole damn Gig – that’s another story.

Muse; “Sweet” the Singing Demon
Fandom BTVS
Words; 282
singindemonhq: (she will come to me-tinker-mellie)
The trouble with dimensional portals is that you can never be quite sure where they’ll lead. Some worlds seem very like your own dimension – but there are differences – oh yeah.


So I’ll sing you a song
Of a Maid and Knight,
And the meeting he planned,
At the day’s earliest light,
And he sang at her window,
I’ll take no gainsay,
I’ll come for you at sunrise,
Though Hell bar the way.

It was dark at the window,
With dawn coming soon,
With the stars hid by clouds
And the least of the moon.
And the maid at the window,
She heard the Knight say
I’ll come for you at sunrise,
Though Hell bar the way.

Not all in that dimension
Is quite what it seems,
The Maid knew the Knight
Would be haunting her dreams.
She knew too many Maids
That he’d come for, they say.
So she sent for a Demon
To steal her away.

Cut for the Moral of the story! 151. )

Muse; Sweet the Singing Demon
Fandom; BTVS
Words 324
singindemonhq: (sweet sitting)
Now here’s a topic that I’d say
Is on the lighter side!
I’ll sing my songs and run my Gig,
And maybe take a bride,
And when the work is over
Then there’s plenty time to play,
Then maybe I’ll be up all night
Or dancing through the day!

I’d say that if you sleep or wake
Depends on what you do,
There are better things than sleeping,
You know that can be true,
So while my Gig is running
I’ll be up to hear a song,
And once the show is over
I’ll be home before too long.

The thing that I would recommend
Is to be young at heart,
(And be as young as you can be
In every other part!)
And keep your lyrics honest
Though the subtext may run deep,
After two thousand years or so,
There’s time enough to sleep!

Seasons turn, empires burn,
And the world turns on
Oh can’t you hear the beat?
We only get one life to live
So swing it while you may,
The dance may keep you up indeed
By night or by the day!

Muse; Sweet the Singing Demon.
Fandom; BTVS
Words 186
singindemonhq: (Default)
I always remember the way she looked in summer, bare feet and summer dresses and the green and blue and tawny of the hot, dusty days. She had the air of summer about her, too. I guess part of it was the hair. She called it strawberry blonde, but berries ain't that color. The sunlight used to tangle in it, like she was wearing a crazy halo. Maybe, though ...

Maybe it's because winter ended it. A winter that came too soon.

It's something that doesn't get into songs, not directly, but humans feel it, all right. A happy ending depends on where you end the story. So does tragedy.

Romeo and Juliet had to die, or a true story would have gone on with all the little pieces that make up their lives. They'd have had in-laws from Hell. Then there'd have been her temper and his impulsiveness, his roving eye and her morning sickness, his bad teeth and her backaches. Soon enough it’d be her rheumatism and his haemorrhoids.

Humans spend most of their lives old.

Summers end. Humans age. Winter comes too soon.

Muse; Sweet the Singing Demon
Fandom; BTVS
Words, 187

TM. Hidden

Sep. 30th, 2006 09:52 pm
singindemonhq: (fun  androses)
Hidden, )

Words. 236.
Page generated Sep. 26th, 2017 03:45 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios