No more NHL games from The Big House, Stadium Series and the 2002 Olympics on the NHL Network with the preseason starting on Sunday! Aww yis.
Games to watch as a self-reminder;
Sunday, Sept. 21- Calgary and Edmonton
Monday- Minnesota @ WInnipeg
Tuesday- Detroit @ Chicago
Wednesday- Edmonton @ Winnipeg
Thursday- Chicago @ Detroit; Anaheim @ Los Angeles
Friday- NYRangers @ Chicago
Saturday- Winnipeg @ Minnesota;
Sunday, Sept 28- Chicago @ Edmonton (Ohh shit son..); LA @ Anaheim
Monday- Winnipeg @ Edmonton
Tuesday- Ottawa @ Winnipeg; LA @ San Jose
Wednesday- Montreal @ Edmonton; Colorado @ LA
Thursday- Winnipeg @ Calgary; Vancouver @ Edmonton
Friday- Chicago@ NYRangers
Saturday- Calgary @ Winnipeg; Edmonton @ Vancouver; Colorado @ LA
Also, while I’m at it here, might as well note the other games..
Friday, Sept. 19 - Sept. 21- Toronto Blue Jays @ New York Yankees
Saturday, Sept. 27- Hamilton Tiger-Cats @ Winnipeg Blue Bombers
Friday, Oct. 3- Blue Bombers @ Ottawa Redblacks
Monday, Sept. 21-25 -Seattle Mariners @ Blue Jays
Friday, Sept. 26-28 - Baltimore Orioles @ Blue Jays
[Edit; I realize this now, but that’s gonna be a lot of coffee and cigarettes during this time.]
The Violet Letters [Part 3] (The Curtain’s Close)
Though this life just seems so detrimental,
This conquest— Being rendered null and void,
I’ll grasp through dark for whatevers in reach.
Albeit the oblivious is worn,
To bend this envelope and strive further,
I shall attain the unattainable.
For which I will solve life’s complexities
And bask within the prime of this strayed peace.
Archfiend Meszaria’s Final Strike (Sea Burials)
[Death growl passage; CS (Vocal Intro)]
Series of caustic explosions to follow suit of the fall of the empire. I’ll get you to know the desolation that I now long to admire. A crippling fear of acceptance of a fallen and forgotten past of kin. While the dynasties end here at the strike of the jugular with my blade of sin.
(Verse 1A; 2F3)
In the hollow heart of a disparing regime,
There will never be a way to bring the pedals of a deflowered woman while the fire burns.
Because dirty are the hands of blood that you’ve done unto us.
So go on and make your move to victimize us just once more.
So send out your scapegoat of a Soldier one step to seize your vengeance.
(Verse 1B; 7F5)
And I’ll step up with the Freedom Faction two steps to break
Your black tooth grin I can see through lips sewn shut,
Averting the truth of experimentation on my daughter so to say.
To kill you off will kill off her last memory of her life, a matter of Stockholm; to my own dismay. (So thank you for all you’ve done)
And its to my own dismay, that Cassia has found her peace.
In a world corrupt, the angels sing her song.
(Falsetto to end of chorus)
Because a foolish king with the most feign intentions
Would fall short in the burning waters below.
(Verse 2A; 2G4)
An ideal misconception of the king will expose vulnerability.
Just long enough to expose my hands to your neck.
But I know she doesn’t want that for you.
(So leave him to me, I’ll make him pay for his sin)
And that’s what scares me most,
A vice to hold, splintered fingers to hold me back.
(Falsetto; A vice to hold, splintered fingers…)
(Verse 2B; D8H4)
While my queen is gone, the guilt you hold
Will be greater than the damages I could to unto you.
with a fuckin’ checkmate, the angels sing back her last words.
With you gone too, I’ll bury you in the warmest waters below.
(The Final Chorus)
And to my own dismay, Cassia’s words strike my heart.
In a world corrupt, pointing blame would be irrelevant.
Because a foolish king with the crown on the ground,
Would no more greater than the shame he knows now.
The clockwork of my pocket watch dies off with its time.
With all but a frame of who I used to be and love.
As ageing of morals and recollection comes around,
I’ll make sure I leave something to grow.
This life of the con men and evasion of personality distress,
It’s all soon to fuckin’ find place with the general’s men.
Can you hear the horses pounding against the cobblestones?
But all in all, I’m just the accepting sheep seeking the wolves.
Now I stand not behind the flag, but in my beliefs.
As a doctrine of spiritual means.
A sacrifice of life, I’m now between the cavalry and the wall.
And when the twenty-two cal. rifle cross-hairs meet in between my eyes,
I shall then know what real freedom means.
To be free of the relentless perishing and sin in a world’s topography
Scaled by everything that is wrong.
Withering away is my lapel’s lavender stained with red.
Along with rotting flesh and the pedals to start of new life,
rests a pocket watch with a goddess of mine inscribed.
So is this what I’m living for? A lifetime of mistake and death?
The Psychological Warfare of Cassia Morgendämmerung and the Matriarch King
"Brothers and Sisters, friends of who I treat as a blood of my own, my time is soon to be overdue. My swollen arms and broken bones can only hold a soul for only a time and a half. It’s my time to go now..’ Cassia repeated to the ones who long for a prosperity of her own. Exhaling a moment of pain and regret
(Verse 1A; The 76th Hour)
The signals ring amok through the panicking streets,
A matter of opportunity of the wandering men in the distance.
Silent breaths, with no course of remorse.
The conversations have since left the table, with my finger on the trigger.
(Verse 2A; The Megalomaniac’s Fear)
Im the still stone cold self, ready and aim, a kill is now confirmed.
One more head and scalp to hang on the plaques of parchment of my own.
An American dream, A Crisis Denied, you praise this killing spree.
Terminal morals lead to a future execution of my own.
Is this what I’m fighting for in these foreign forests?
Disparity calls and you’ve claimed all of what you want.
Another week with the devil’s solitary in demeaning patience.
Disparity calls as with the choir of the civilian casualties you’ve claimed.
Another week of images of their vestal selves in their eyes.
(Chorus; Sanctity of Purities)
In this court of God’s complex,
I know of not one whose guilty.
Where the fuck is my adderall?
From trembling hands, I pray for my cleanse.
(Verse 2A; Operation Ego Death)
Deseminate the autonomy of the court of morality,
A matter of opportunity of the men in the distant barracks
Drinking a brew, with a sense of falsened security.
Father, Sister Abigail, and the holy ghost; tell me my wife loves me so.
While she sleeps with a man of no moral obligation.
Cause goddamn I know I’m no god, nor do I want to be.
(Verse 2B; Planetary Departure)
Choruses of the lost souls remind me of my broken self.
And all of that I have done. A widow now sits in her home, lonesome self..
I thought I’d be flying home to the silent place I grew up of.
A silent masquerade plays on in my head, ill be soon homebound.
This isn’t gonna be a normal flight home, yes I know.
Falling in reverie, one last shell to shock.
For whom ever holds me in their hearts.
She knows I want to explore the infinite skies.
As I’m now digging six feet below with my broken fingers.
Falling in reverie, with this taste of coldened metal.
That’s taken the souls of the unexpected lead.
A spirit caged inside, its time to set myself free.
With the click of this triggering freedom.
The Unnerving Past and Present of the Trails of Fractured Glass (Post Comatic Fugue)
Your clean white walls are much more than mine.
Something far more than my decayed walls can provide.
Trudging through the trail of the fractured glass,
I’ll bleed for you, and I’ll bleed my fucking soul.
Even when you turn your blind eye.
But how am I supposed to nurture the fact
That conflict of interest strikes when faced with diversity.
My longing for a sense of comfort and safety.
Has far burnt it’s way into tissue and bone,
Along with the picture of you that I cherished over myself.
And that’s when my dreams diminished with all of me.
What’s stranger than fiction is the unparalleled stories
Intertwined from two caustic lifetimes.
That’s the kind of push you need for a minute of free suspension.
A clarity of sorts, but a regretful idea after step thirteen.
Shedding past the now disillusioned veil of judgement
We know now temperament isn’t psychological.
Solemn lullabies, in a centerpiece rests a rose.
It’s intentions are to comfort you in your sleep.
(This caustic masquerade fades out as the curtains close)
In hindsight the trembling words I praise today,
(Whilst the chorus of silence echoes through my life)
Has no fucking relevance to the words I’ve written before.
(I’ll have you know now, my method is different)
But how am I supposed to nurture the fact
(Though whatsoever , this is all irrelevant)
That conflict of interest strikes when faced with diversity?