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 Posted: Thu Aug 09, 2007 10:59 pm
Lesson of the Day
Through strenuous experimentation,
It can be noted that
You do not anger someone
With a muscle to body mass ratio
Similar to an ox’s.
If my writing is a bit messy
I apologize, lockers
Do not provide much light.
Please send help.
Ideas
Remember the time,
When we were playing Tag
In the park, remember?
Remember how,
My friend was IT, and how,
He chased me onto the slide?
Remember when,
People were climbing behind me,
And my friend was going up the slide?
Do you remember,
How I decided to jump
Off the slide?
That was when
It happened, while my eyes
Were closed.
That was when,
Laid down on the frozen sand,
I realized
It was a bad idea.
[insert title]
“The joke’s in your hand!”
You cleverly write,
Scrawled on the bathroom wall.
But no insult is made,
As your sister can attest,
Because the joke isn’t on me at all.
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Posted: Fri Sep 14, 2007 11:06 am
:.[.Power corrupts...
A little something I wrote as a memento to all those who died on that day....
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001
Its all over now dont worry
we're gonna be alright
even through darkness
we still can see the light
I lost a loved one
that didnt come home.
trapped in a fire
i still cant find my heart.
i wonder did i have it
before the spark.
even though i lost a loved one
im sure they'd want me to move on.
running back to the place in which i call home.
speeding through traffic and switching lanes
feeling the rush run through my veins.
im loosing it! please, somebody save me!
im loosing the mind that my country gave me!
im turning on a road that will never end
its full of drama and crooked bends!!
i need every one to do me a favor...
wake me up when september ends.
But absolute power is kinda neat.].:
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Posted: Fri Sep 14, 2007 9:10 pm
Writings?
Then I will just quote profound things I have said.
"The most beautiful women in the world are in porn. Think about it, where else can you find that many white women with huge asses? Or even an asian woman with a big a**?"
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Posted: Sat Sep 15, 2007 12:53 am
I swear to protect the weak and helpless. I swear to love and protect my homeland. I swear to fight our enemies to the death. I swear that I will never lie and will always be true to my word. I swear to be forthright and generous to all. I swear to always fight for good, justice and freedom.
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Posted: Sat Sep 15, 2007 10:42 am
I swear to win the race
I swear to DROPKICK your face
I swear to over come WALL
Which I can't do at all
I swear to be utterly AWESOME
I swear to fight and win some
I swear to swear
As ******** much as ********>
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Posted: Mon Oct 22, 2007 11:12 pm
Here's something that cooked into my brain a couple weeks ago and I began writing...
Across the Nightmare
Part 1
“Susy, go to bed,” yelled Susys mother from the den of their middle-suburbia home. Her mother yelled a few other things as well, but Susy didn’t pay attention to them since they weren’t directed toward her but at her father. It seemed to the little girl that her parents fought a lot more recently about bills… or a man named Bill, she couldn’t tell which. The seven-year-old girl put her chestnut hair up into ponytails and donned her favorite, pink Tinkerbelle shirt. Susys dreams were always filled with faeries and ponies and castles and happy, pretty things. Her mother had once told her that as long as someone wished her a good night and sweet dreams, she’ll always stay happy within her sleep.
And so, Susy hopped into her bed, leaving the covers off and waited for her mother to come in and properly tuck her in. Ten minutes past as Susy hummed softly to herself to drown out the noise that was coming from the den. Finally, her mom entered her room and looked down at the child pretending to be asleep in her bed, then turned off the light and shut the door. There was no “Goodnight, pumpkin,” and no “Sweet dreams, hunny,” as there had always been since before Susy could remember. Susy lay in the darkness, staring up at her white, plaster ceiling and reflected on the words her mother had once told her. She was five and had just been tucked into bed when her mother had asked her, “Do you know why people say, ‘Good night and sweet dreams,’ sweety?” The little child had shaken her head, sincerely ignorant to why she had always said something that had become a habit to her.
“As long as someone wishes you sweet dreams and a good night,” her mother replied before leaning down and kissing her daughter upon the forehead affectionately, “you’ll always wake up in the Land of Dreams where all of your wildest wishes and most wonderful fantasies come true.” Susy looked up at her mother, her eyes filled with wonder but a hint of fear in her voice. “And if they don’t?” the she asked curiously. Her mother looked down upon her baby girl with an honest, tender expression. “Then you’ll go to the Valley of Nightmares,” she replied before kissing her forehead again. “But you’ll never have to worry about that because I’ll always make sure your dreams are filled with everything you love.”
Susy continues looking up at her ceiling and at her poster of Chococat that is now barely visible in the darkness of her room. She yawns softly before hearing a soft, quiet laughter that didn’t come from the den. The raspy chuckle starts in the back of her mind and slowly grows in loudness before it echoed about her room. She quickly glances around the room, seeing small eyes peering from dark crevices and smiles from her favorite playthings. She starts pulling the covers up over her body, leaving only the top of her head visible as gazes back up at her poster, the once somber and apathetic cat now black in the dark with a large, toothy grin, its round eyes now half-lidded into thin slits. Suddenly its right arm begins to grow from its body and off of the poster, three, large, black, talon-like claws emerging from it as it reaches out toward Susy.
She pulls her covers the rest of the way over her body and starts chanting to herself, “Goodnight and sweet dreams. Goodnight and sweet dreams.” Another dark laugh fills the room as the voice replies to her mantra, “That won’t save you now.” She continues to say the words over and over again as her sheets are then ripped off of her. “Bad night and bitter dreams, Suzee,” the voice said before she was enveloped by darkness. Susy awoke once again, but this time not surrounded by faeries and magical creatures but instead by darkness, the child scared and filled with an almost overpowering feeling of loneliness. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light finding herself in a vivid world of black and greys. Trees that almost seemed to be made of bones of some kind, their branches jagged and devoid of any leaves, ending in sharp point of all angles dotted the seemingly barren landscape. Mountains that were tall and rose up in unnatural ways that surrealistically looked as if they were constantly closing in on her, making her feel much smaller then she already was. Little spikes, thorny and thin, covered the ground, some of them getting up on insect-like legs and moved a few feet before settling down into their new spot.
In front of her suddenly appeared a small creature that reminded the young girl of some type of cat. It had the same toothy grin, the same slatted eyes and the same clawed arm as the Susy saw on her poster only its other legs were no more then cones under it’s body. Its ears and tail both arched and cut at sharp angles, twitching every few moments. The creature looks up at the young child, its large, unnerving grin never leaving its features as it speaks, “Welcome to our world, Suzee.”
“Who are you?” she asks as she looks down at it curiously.
“My name iz Demen,” was its only reply.
“Where am I?”
Its grin seems to grow wider as it sits down and looks up at her, its head cocking to the side a bit as it replies, “The Valley of Nightmarez.”
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Posted: Sat Dec 15, 2007 2:33 am
Unnamed
Writers are liars
Fabricating farces and falsities
For themselves and others
Creating untruths
In poetry and prose
Harmless white lies
Devastating black lies
And lies of all shades of grey
Lies to evoke joy
Lies to create sadness
Lies to ponder and brood upon
Lies to make a break a world
Lies that humble the greatest kings
Lies that uplift the most shattered of spirits
We live within a world of lies
Lies made by ourselves
Lies created by writers
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Posted: Thu Mar 04, 2010 3:30 pm
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