iPOD CONTEST::. thefinalcontest. over! xD

best thing about the iPod Contest? :]

the idea of the contest itself.	49.0%	[ 24 ]
the prizes.	6.1%	[ 3 ]
the entries.	2.0%	[ 1 ]
the stoopid conversations. x]	4.1%	[ 2 ]
EVERYTHING! :D	38.8%	[ 19 ]
Total Votes:			[ 49 ]

[triplenegative]

Not even remotely trying to win, but for old time's sake...

(Club) Airplane alcohol bottles a (Mile High)

Leaving nothing,
Mine is the last seat in the back,
Washroom close, banging closer, hearing something,
feeling TOO INTOXICATED, green and wedged like the
teenage lovers between the toilet and the sink.

Some subtle allegory got sucked
into one heart of our flying machine and
The weight of my thoughts grew lighter,
INTOXICATION WITH SOME SPIRITUAL GRAVITY LIGHTENING.

[calviness]

well, I was going to submit something entirely different, but it didn't meet the word req. and then I actually read the lyrics and realized that it was a pot-song...
so we get this...


Recycled Air
Part 1

St. Thomas Jeremy the 3rd is sitting halfway between me
and the incessant cooing
of the deranged Nightingale he keeps around
in case his walls are going to fall in.
He is smoking a pubescent cigar
it's pasty white
and he doesn't like my phraseology
but I don't like the body odor smell of his deformed cigarette.
It's too pudgy to be grown, yet it's ends are skinny
like it hasn't grown into it's own limbs yet
It's smoke is surrounding my wooden head
in Christmas wreaths of purple and green. I always liked
the sound of green. it's not at all like
the white white white that is giggling inside my head now

Ghandi is staring at me, wanting me to change his water
or maybe for me to fill his bowl
full of kitty food, Meow Mix
Makes me wonder, what sound people make.
not a hiss or a groan. Or a wobbilyshook
Dogs go "bark" or "woof"
and chickens have their own sound, something like a giggle
or perhaps a punt.
but i would like some People food. in a nice can, like a Twinkie.
without a person, though,
who would open my People mix?
maybe a butch feminist would be nice enough to own me
and l could let myself drown in her razor-free legs.
No shaved subservience here.


Recycled Air
Part 2

St. Jeremy 3rd thing is leaning toward me
and he sends his eyeballs zooming ahead to scout me out.
They are careening through the
white white white bubbles
scattering the weed fairies with their bulbous sightly shape.
Their pupils open wide, I can taste them
speaking for him.
His words taste bitter, and cold
Like a nineteen-year-old divorcee
whose mangy head appears to be sprouting one of the deadly viruses
from books - opaque and menacing.

I reach forward, ask him to please give me his skull.
His eyes only stare, they refuse to speak.
Instead they retreat, dripping back into the dreaded
white white white clouds surrounding his head.
To my giddy delight, the oozing Iris meets my outstretched hand
and Fireworks dance
along my nerves. I watch in awe
as the hazel goo sifts through my veins
Lighting me up like a fridge in the night.



Recycled Air
Part 3

I can hear Hitler's voice in the background
and he is singing a bad Jazz rendition of a song I once knew –
Perhaps it used to play on the radio.
I tip backward to see if his mustache really
looks like a scrawny caterpillar taped to his lip
but instead i only see the washing machine as it hits it's spin cycle.
It's mouth open wide as I tilt backwards
and catapult into
it's sudsy depths

Iridescent black bubbles
The color of my x-wife's teeth.
bark at me to grow up
but there is no up to grow to, and I fumble about
until her disappointment washes me back into the
white white white smoke
surrounding Jeremy's wormy cigarette.

Good Ol' Jer. JerBear we called him when we were little
Before our cigar ends were lit
to burn out
before the skinny ends could meet up with the chubby middle
always hungry, that middle
always wanting another Twinkie
because they reminded him of his father's own fatty rolls
waiting to be packaged
and shipped out
along with the rest of Daddy's rotting body
already full of worms
winding through the cream filled center
leaving only the white white white
and the endless hum of Hitler's undergrown mustache
chomping away at his undergrown cigar.

[calviness]

triplenegative

green and wedged like the
teenage lovers between the toilet and the sink.

Some subtle allegory got sucked

and triple these two lines.. were like perfect. haha. Amazing!

[triplenegative]

calviness

triplenegative

green and wedged like the
teenage lovers between the toilet and the sink.

Some subtle allegory got sucked

and triple these two lines.. were like perfect. haha. Amazing!

Aw, thank you so very much!
mrgreen
Stolenish from the song.

[Da Flea]

Gah! I never got anything written for this! I can't believe it's already the deadline. gonk I've been so out of it the past week or so. There's a lot of stuff I was supposed to do but didn't sweatdrop

Well, good luck to the entrants, and Merry Xmas to everyone. 3nodding I shall go sulk for having missed the last round. crying

[calviness]

triplenegative

calviness

triplenegative

green and wedged like the
teenage lovers between the toilet and the sink.

Some subtle allegory got sucked

and triple these two lines.. were like perfect. haha. Amazing!

Aw, thank you so very much!
mrgreen
Stolenish from the song.

that's exactly what makes it so perfect! biggrin

[absolute_amore]

Helllooo! :]

Actually, I might extend this for a couple of days since I haven't been online much today...just so that I can read and judge the rest of the entries. x]

No don't sulk, you've time, Flea! biggrin
I have to get offline for now, but I wish you all a Merry Christmas. Or if you don't celebrate Christmas then have a Happy Holiday. heart
-Emmy.

[triplenegative]

Thanks you!
whee heart whee

[Nekairu]

YESS.

CAN WE HAVE AN EXTENSION 'TIL THIS FRIDAY OR SUM'IN X3?

Y'know, since it's the last contest. =D

[The Love Mutt]

ENTERING!

If I did miss the deadline (though I think I'm OK kuz of the extension), then just cancel the trade or give the money back.

Here it is (a STORY! I knOW!):

Reality’s Take On a Charlie Brown Christmas

Lucy stared at Joey’s Christmas tree with her mouth falling to the floor. Seeing her face, he simply smiled sheepishly and stumbled on his words. “Well, uh. You see, Christmas is a, uh, a really, REALLY big thing at my house. Especially this year. Because of college next year, and, uh, yeah, you know.”

Yeah. Sure I know, Lucy thought, her eyes transfixed on the mountains and valleys of presents. Me? Who never believed in Santa Claus… Who never had the chance to… Who never got anything for Christmas. Ever. She was consumed by her jealousy. Again. What is WRONG with me? she thought. Joey is just trying to be nice, having me over for Christmas Eve, keeping me from my psycho family, and all I can do is fume that he’s better off? GET WITH THE PICTURE, LUCY!!!!!

“Lucy?”

“Huh?”

“Are you OK? You totally zoned out right there!” Joey’s eyes were full of concern, and Lucy belittled herself for thinking bad about him. He was just trying to give her a better Christmas than she’d have stuck at home. “Anyway, I’ve got something for you.”

“What?! I… I thought we decided we wouldn’t do anything for Christmas since I was invited over and you know I can’t buy anything right now and I’m awful at making stuff.”

“We did. But I wanted to. Here.” Joey handed Lucy a small box, meticulously wrapped in metallic gold paper with red ribbon and a matching bow. At least it’s small… Both of the teens went to the couch in front of the fireplace, the fire’s smile crackling furiously, and sat down; Joey fidgeted nervously while Lucy slowly (very slowly) opened the package.

“Oh.
My.
God.”

Lucy could hardly believe her eyes. It was a bracelet, silver links with a silver heart, decorated with real diamonds, hanging in the middle. She tried to talk, but could only stutter out incoherent phrases. “But… But…. Oh my god… W-why?... I… I didn’t get you…. GAH!!!!” She finally gave up, exasperated and exhausted with the effort to express the tumult of thoughts and feelings swelling in her body, thisclose to breaking out and covering the walls in the slimy, pure mushiness of teenage emotion.

“Luce, it’s OK. I wanted to get you this… I… I guess, well... I like you. Well, that’s obvious; you’re my best friend. But I mean, REALLY like you. More than I used to. More than friend-like. More like girlfriend-like. AKA: Will you be my girlfriend? Gimme a shot… Please?” His last sentence, that one word, was said in such a small voice, so desperate and craving for her to make or break him with one of two words: yes or no, that she had to smile. Should she? Lately she had been thinking more and more of him, and he was right; it was more than just friend-like. But did she really want to risk their friendship if it didn’t work out? Well, either way, normal friendship is lost; we both know we like each other.

“…yes.”

***

Joey walked Lucy home that night, the flush on his cheeks more from happiness, the slight temporary awkwardness that change the new relationship had left, and excitement of what would come of it, than from the cold air. They reached her front door.

Lucy counted to five before swallowing a goblet of the stale, recycled air that seemed to surround her neighborhood and probing a sensitive subject for the both of them.

“Wanna come over tomorrow morning?”

And with Joey’s reply, the recycled air of the past mixed with the tender air of the here and now and left Lucy with a bittersweet taste of what Christmas would bring: happiness, a thing she had never truly belonged to in her own home, or rather, despair, destruction, and the normality of her life that would crush the new hope that Christmas Eve had presented her, wrapped in metallic gold paper and red ribbon, with a matching red bow on top.

-Wolven Poet
December 26, 2006

[Da Flea]

I still have no inspiration... @_@ All I've got is a silly poem. I'm no good at poetry, and it's not even 200 words, so it doesn't count as as actual submission xd But if I don't get a story written, at least I'll have contributed something. domokun

----

Waiting Room

Leather squeaks beneath rough fabric of my jeans.
Palms of sweat and nerves unwoven.
It's paranoiac fear from all my darkest dreams.

Water vapor hangs from every cough and wheeze.
Germs dance lightly on the air,
Awaiting propulsion in a breeze.

Across the room is seen a pale and shuddering wife
Who sits beside a man with hives.
Belly bloated, body wide, he's super-sized his life.

Children dressed in red pox polka-dot
each wipe a runny nose
then fill the room with abandoned snot.

Here sit I, a lone handkerchief for shield.
Like the rest, I've my contagion.
I sit here hoping to be healed.

Melting pot infections, pre-baked from summer sun,
Now air condition chilled,
Recycled, ready to serve like a smoking gun.

Vents and fans do little to give me ease.
They shut the doors, seal off the windows.
They lock us in with our disease.

[absolute_amore]

Haha that's okay. As long as you got something in. :] Let me update the front page and I'll read over the entries you've just posted.

[absolute_amore]

Keriea

YESS.

CAN WE HAVE AN EXTENSION 'TIL THIS FRIDAY OR SUM'IN X3?

Y'know, since it's the last contest. =D

Yeh, probably ^_~

[Arkhangelsk]

Oh, Darn I missed the Entry date. Damn connection failures. Anyways i hope you accept this...

Recycled Air

Jackie coughed again, this time her whole body from shaking from the effort. She may be only eight but this life didn't spare her from this disease. The last five doctors had muttered something relating to recycled air and had all left, each slamming the door without even taking the money offered for their services. It was the same way all across the city; the doctors were the first to call for blood and the first to feel the blow from the floating royal city.
This wasn't economic, it wasn't conservative, it was a plague. Everyone knew that, but no one would say a thing. Everyone feared the Pre-Armageddon weaponry, with their explosives, beams and chemical poisons.
However, I might be jumping the gun, you might not know what has happened to the Earth since you were last awake, and evidently that was many, many centuries ago. So, let me give you a small recap of the last 1000 years. However, you will have to promise me that you won't do something rash, or even think of doing something rash, because you might get angry and I'd probably be the one getting hurt. I know you probably can't hear me but I might as well tell you. I have nothing else to do but wait now.
To start it off, the world was destroyed in year 2018, by rebels from all across globe. They had got it into their minds that it was their mission to purge the planet and got their hands on some nuclear bombs. It has never gotten any better since that bomb went off, in fact I could say it has only gotten worse. Certain people rose up in the ranks of the living and became queens and kings by their own rights. They left the planet to spoil as they raised their cities high above the darkening clouds. The environment is wild and savage and no longer follows any pattern, it can snow in July and rise up to 100+ in January. Agriculture is a dream and is now almost impossible except for in the extremities of the planet. Not much progress has been made, medicine knowledge has been set back 500 years and the keys to technology are tightly kept in the towers to the floating cities. The only times you see them is when the city has angered one of the residents on the floating city and that usually ends up with hundreds dead. I know I may be saying this calmly and that might disgust you, but to the people here its just part of our life here.
If I were you, I wouldn't want to wake up. Wait another 500 years, by then things might be better, or at least not as shocking for you. Sleep my dear grandfather, sleep. Now, Jackie is dead, she has stopped coughing and she is at peace. I envy her, soon this recycled air will slowly kill me too, but I won't have anyone to sit at my side. But I will smile and keep my hopes up for tomorrow, because something might change. That last doctor had a glint of rebellion in his eye.

[fdgh9875tgbf]

Now I really missed the entry date.
Damn. But now I'm going to write one, and send it outside of the contest.
I feel bad. gonk