Friday, July 27, 2007

Veiled Taboo i didnt finish typin but did finish writin leave comments

As a child, I’ve always been Victoria Twilight Purannly. I’m not sure why my mother would have my middle name as Twilight, but I know I will never find out. My mother died during childbirth with me. My aunt, Anna, raised me ever since I was born. I had no other family besides her. I just called her Aunty because it has always been awkward for me to call her Anna. Aunty and I lived in poverty. We can’t afford much and Aunty struggles making ends meet. In 2016 its hard to believe there’s still a lower class in London. My aunt and I do look alike, which is good because she can pass as my mum and wouldn’t have to explain the whole situation. We both have auburn hair and fair skin. However, her eyes are brown like my mother’s, and mine are hazel. I was guessing that’s what color my father’s eyes were. My mother never told anyone who my father was, so I never met either of my parents. Aunty had most of the same facial features as I did, except for very few, I got from my father. She was appealing looking for her age. She was thirty-four, but she looked twenty-five. It was wintertime and my sixteenth birthday passed many months ago. Snow was starting to fall in my hair and I started to shiver. The frigid wind blew onto my cheeks like a frozen blanket. I hurried inside to my warm house. We were in poverty, but we live comfortably now that I was sixteen and could take care of the house. I kindled the fire and sat by it for a while. I had lots of chores to do plus my homework. I started with making chicken soup for dinner. Aunty came home just as I was pouring the soup. She sat down and we both chatted.
“What do you have to do for homework?” she asked me. I let out a sigh and answered her question.
“We have to type a two page essay on Lord Dunsen Maze.” Aunty frowned.
“They make you do the stupidest things in school,” she said. I smiled at her remark. Aunty always made me laugh. She was one person I counted on to brighten my day when I was feeling down. I kept my grades up and cleaned the house. This gave me nearly no time, at all, to be with friends. So I didn’t really have any. My one best friend, Baily, did understand my living condition so she never bothered me about hanging out. Her parents were rich. Her father was a famous wedding photographer and she explained to me one time that her great aunt was an actress. Her aunt was in her seventies and still alive, but they don’t visit her quite as often as they used to. Aunty and I were watching the debate on the teley. Lord Maze was going for prime minister. It showed him and his son, Shaymen. His son was eighteen and very good-looking. Girls from my school would write, “I love Shaymen” all over their binders. Shaymen had thin brown hair like his father, but had piercing green eyes unlike anyone you’d ever seen. His father had hazel eyes. Actually, they were the same hazel as mine. My aunt suddenly broke my trance from the teley.
“I bet that boy is just as stuck up as his father and spoiled. Political kids always get whatever they want.” I looked at my aunt then back at the teley. Shaymen had his head up high and didn’t seem to want to be bothered. She was right most likely. I didn’t know much about him though, so I didn’t want to judge him.
“Shaymen,” I muttered. I didn’t know I had said his name out loud. Aunty was staring at me with a little bit of confusion on her face. I decided to turn off the teley so I could start on my homework. Aunty started to clean the dishes and we got on with our daily lives. It was the same routine everyday, it wasn’t very exciting, but I didn’t mind it that much. Besides, I was used to the customary matter.
When I finished with my homework, I went straight to bed. My bedroom was the attic. It was done up well enough to be livable. The walls were coved with flower wallpaper. In one of the corners a few of the flowers were burnt. There used to be a lamp there, and that’s how part of the wallpaper caught ablaze. Aunty never replaced the lamp so it’s the darkest corner of my room and I put nothing over there. My comforter was a deep purple on a twin bed. I didn’t care it was a little small, as long as I could sleep in it. I crawled under the comforter and the sheets, then went to sleep.
In the morning, I got up by the alarm clock across the room. When my feet touched the cold wooden paneled, floor. I woke up entirely. I shut the alarm off and headed downstairs to take a shower. The shower was nice and hot on my skin, but I dreaded getting out into the cold house. Aunty had already gone to work, so I was alone each morning. When I was finally dressed and out the door, I walked to school. I was wearing my heaviest coat and was thankful I only lived five blocks from school. I lived on the east side of London, which was actually the best area. Most of the famous people lived there. I was on my second block when a black car pulled up next to me. The back window rolled down and revealed Baily’s smiling face. Her brown hair was whipping in the wind and her blue eyes were grinning.
“Victoria Twilight Purannly, what are you doing out there?” Get in here.” She rolled up the window and opened her door. He scooted over and I sat down next to her.
“Thanks Baily,” I praised. She smirked and her chauffeur drove us to school. When we got out of the car, we ran inside in haste. The bell would ring in three minutes. I wished she were in my homeroom because most of the students in there were snooty. My school day had gone pretty well. Thursdays were the best days of the week because Baily was in most of my classes. At the end of the day she drove me home. I appreciated that, since it was starting to snow outside. Her car had heated seats and I wished I didn’t have to go out into the cold. I ran inside when we reached my house. I waved good-bye quickly and she left. I unbuttoned my coat and started to prepare dinner. We would have meatloaf tonight, and ketchup. That was one of our favorite meals. Plus it was easy to make.
When I took the meatloaf out, I set it on the table along with some ketchup. I waited about an hour, but my aunt never came home. The doorbell rang; it made me jump a little. I thought maybe Aunty left her key at home. I walked to the door and opened it for a policeman. He stood tall and had a very bushy moustache. He had dark eyes and asked me a question.
“Are you Victoria Purannly?” I was still confused on why he was here, but it was starting to frighten me. What could’ve happened to my aunt? I was hoping she was just a little late and the policeman was a coincidence.
“Yes,” I answered in a shaky voice.
“I’m going to have to take you into custody.” I looked at him in terror.
“Why? My aunt will be home any minute, you can talk to her about whatever it is,” I said it in a kind of psychotic way, while backing away from him.
“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible. She died earlier today.” I covered my eyes and started to bawl.
“That’s not true!” I screamed at him, so he had to grab my wrist and dragged me into the car. I was torn up inside and was going into hysteria. I kept telling myself that this was all just a dream and I would wake up soon. The policeman broke the silence by telling me the rest of the story. I didn’t want him to tell me because I wanted to keep on thinking she was still alive. If he told me something logical it would mean I wasn’t dreaming.
“Anna Purannly was in an enclosed room, but some carbon monoxide somehow got in and she dropped to the floor. A friend of hers told us that she had a niece named Victoria, who was her responsibility. We were told your mother had died and you don’t know whom your father is. So under the orders of the new government I am authorized to take you to a place where, with a blood sample, we can find out who your father is and you can go to him.” I didn’t say anything to him I just looked out the window and pretended to not hear a word he said. Right now I was feeling sad for myself and hate for the world. If there was a God someone should wake him up. They took away my mom and my aunt. There were so many people in this world that didn’t deserve to live but Aunty wasn’t one of them. She was the most loving woman I knew and would do anything for me. She would die to protect me. I shivered when I thought of the word “die.”
“Aunty’s not dead,” I mumbled under my breath. I guess I must of said it louder than I thought because the policeman had said something back.
“I’m afraid she is Victoria.” I frowned and looked back at the window. It bothered me I didn’t know his name. I looked around the car for his name. I saw a card that said, “Richard Smith” I looked at the man, seeing him for the first time as Richard Smith. He wasn’t just a policeman he was Richard Smith, another person of the same world that I lived in. He had a much different life but we both lived in this world to better it until we died. He stopped the car and told me to get out. At first I didn’t listen, but then I slowly opened the door and climbed out.
Some nurse took some blood from my finger and then gave me a band-aid. I sat outside the room they all gathered in. I heard one of them gasp.
“Are you sure that’s right?” I was scared of what they were so surprised about. What if my father was a criminal? I prayed for the first time in my life, that my father wasn’t a murderer or something as bad as that. The policeman named Richard came into the room. I would never forget the moment he closed the door and how drastically my life was about to change.
“We’ve found out who your father is. Your father is Lord Dunsen maze. We’re contacting him now to see when he could take you.” I looked at him in shock. My father couldn’t be Lord Dunsen. It just couldn’t be true. It was true though, his limo pulled up in front of the building. I looked outside the window and saw him walk into the lobby. I sat there, staring at him. We did have the same eyes. They were even shaped the same. Richard pointed at me and Lord Dunsen looked at me.
“Well, hello Victoria.” I just smirked and waved. He looked me over and grinned.
“I’m surprised about all this too, so don’t think you’re the only one going crazy over this. Did your mother ever tell you about me or…” Richard cut him off. He went over to him and whispered something in his ear. I knew he was telling him that I never knew my mother because when Richard stopped Lord Dunsen gave me a look of compassion.
“Well, Victoria, you’ll have to tell me all about yourself on our way home.” He put his hand out towards me. He was treating me like a child; suddenly I remembered all my stuff at my old house. I remembered my jewelry box that used to be my mother’s. I had gotten the music box as a gift. Even though it was broken I could still put things in it.
“I have to get my things from my other house. At least let me get my music box. Please!” I almost cried. Richard walked to me and handed me a shopping bag. Inside were a few things from my room, like a snapshot of my mum and Aunty together. Then I saw the old music box. I opened it and inside was a picture of my mum. Lord Dunsen looked over my shoulder and saw the photograph.
“I remember Helen, she was such a beautiful woman.” I looked up at him and gave him a tender look.
“I think she’s pretty too,” I said with a grin on my face. I think he was happy that I had finally addressed him. We walked into the back of the limo and the driver headed for the lord’s castle. He looked at me while I was staring out the window, but I could feel his eyes fixed upon me. I turned around to face him.
“You’re sixteen right?” he asked me and I wondered how he met my mother but I didn’t know if it was my place to ask. After all, I didn’t know what my mum used to do for a living and I only saw her personality through Aunty. It killed me to think of Aunty. Everything was moving too fast. I felt like I would drop right in the limo. I’m not sure if I did because I woke up lying across the seat and my father woke me up. I felt my forehead and I was hot.
“You look flushed. You poor girl, when we get inside I’ll have Mara show you to your room right away.” I wasn’t tired but I thought lying down would b a great idea. The castle was more like a court. It looked like a giant mansion with two wings on each side. One side faced the north and the other side faced the south. There must have been hundreds of rooms in the house. My father put his arm around my shoulder and brought me in. I was feeling unstable. A maid came up to us.
“Mara, this is Lady Victoria. Please show her to a room in the northwest wing. Oh and help her up the stairs she is not well,” my father had told her. I was rushed to a room in the back of the house.
“This is the part of the house the family stays in, “she said. She opened the double doors and inside was the most beautiful furnishes. The room was three times as big as my old room. I was so overwhelmed, but I couldn’t do anything in my condition. Mara took the golden, silky, quilt and pulled it out from under the pillows so I could get in. I lied in the bed and she put the covers over me.
“Miss, if you feel the need to change, your nightwear is in the two drawers over there. They were brought right away after the lord left.” I smiled and thanked her. She left the room and I got out of the bed. I looked in the drawer and found a white night gown. It wasn’t stylish at all but I put it on. It came high above my knees and had spaghetti straps. It had a V-shape neckline and reminded me of what a woman would wear on her wedding night. This made me feel a bit uncomfortable, but its not like anyone would see me in it so I walked back to my bed, leaving my clothes on the floor. I lied there for a half an hour, when I heard some voices outside the door. There was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” I yelled across the room. Mara opened the doors.
“Master Shaymen is here to see you.” Before I could say anything he walked in. Mara walked out and shut the door, leaving him and me in the room alone. Shaymen walked towards me and I lied on the pillow looking up at him. His eyes were tender and very green. He wore a green polo and black slacks.
“Aren’t you going to get up?” He asked me. My hair was down and sprawled all over the pillow. I pushed the covers off of myself and stood up. My hands were to my sides. He looked at me up and down with a smile across his face. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” I looked at him and then shivered a little. I was feeling a bit cold in that damned, skimpy nightgown. Apparently he noticed I was freezing because he gave me the jacket he was holding. I put it on right away.
“Thank- you so much,” I started. “I feel very vulnerable in this stupid thing.” Had I just said that? I must have not been thinking because after that he started to laugh. I took off his jacket when I sat back down on the bed. “I think I’ll just get under the covered again so you can have your jacket back.” He gazed at me while I went back to bed.
“Well I’ll tell father you retired,’ he said. He left the room and closed the doors behind him. After that I went right to sleep.
Later that night, around one in the morning I woke up to hear my door close. I heard the lock. I started to panic because someone was in my room. It was too pitch to see whom it was but they were walking right towards my bed. There were guards everywhere in and out of the huge place.

Why is Poetry always so depressing?

Why is Poetry always so depressing?
Is it death and gore
That sounds so caressing?

Why is poetry so Cliché?
Do people truly
Think this way?

Do we really have these problems?
Or all we just insane?
Do we really fell all this pain?

How do we come up with these ideas?
Are they just inside fears
That we write through our tears?

No one can answer me why
Poetry is so depressing

Population- NEED CONSTR. CRITICISM!!!!! THANX!

6,602,224,175. Do you know what that number is? That is the world population as of a July 2007 estimate. It is way too high. These gigantic proportions are literally choking our beloved Earth. To get this situation under control, we have a few options: we could all go to the moon (implausible), we could adopt children without homes instead of producing more, or we could just stop taking care of kids altogether (not going to happen). While the last option would have the most effect, it is the second one that is the most plausible.
Many people already choose to adopt children, instead of having them themselves (for various reasons). Because of the dire consequences of a ballooning population, I say we all forget about having our own kids and just adopt ones who have been abandoned by their birth parents (for various reasons). It would take quite some time for all children to get adopted, and goodness knows there are so many.
It makes perfect sense, ignoring bloodlines and related crap. There would probably be enough children to go around, without having extra ones to worry about. (If there aren’t enough to go around, remember that it takes a village to raise a child. You can share, right?) This is the only responsible and humane way to control the human population, which is burgeoning out of the Earth’s capacity to deal. We humans are putting a major strain on the Earth; in fact, we are the single most destructive specie to ever walk, crawl, swim, or otherwise exist on our small blue planet. Whether we are capable enough to clean up our own mess remains to be seen.
And don’t tell me because you didn’t start global warming or pollution or the human race means you are rendered incapable of doing anything to help. That’s like watching someone light a house on fire and saying, “It’s not my fault, I don’t have to do anything.” It is only decent to grab hold of the proverbial bucket of water and pitch in. My point is, we already destroyed the world enough, now let’s all help to put it back together again.
Scientific American had an article on June 17, 2007, pointing out how the Earth would be so much better without us, and revert back to its former green glory. Since nobody’s volunteering to go to the moon, children make people happy, we should all adopt children who otherwise wouldn’t have homes.

The figure at the beginning is according to https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/print/xx.html.

FINAL DRAFT: Late Night Movies

Late night TV movies have an endearing enigma about them. They’re usually not the greatest movies, but that’s the fun of it. It’s the whole experience of sitting in your uncle’s slightly chilly kitchen, staring glassy-eyed at the flat screen in all its glory, wondering how it got to be so late and why you’re still up.
Then you remember that it’s all your uncle’s fault. He had said to you, “Did you ever see Dragnet? It’s based off this old TV show with the same name.” And so you all sat down to watch the last two-thirds of it, waiting for tomorrow, when you’re going to a family reunion. You haven’t seen most of these people since last July, so you’re really excited.
You break out the boxes of portion-sized cereal and talk over the sound of the commercials and the rustling of the translucent plastic. You laugh at Tom Hanks putting on some random goatskin leggings and jumping into a snake pit.
Your uncle always shows you movies impossibly late at night and falls asleep every time. But that’s the fun of it. Your parents are back in your hometown, so for one night you can basically do anything you want. And that suits you just fine, even if you do end up seeing the bad parts of Air Force One at 2 AM, because that’s the whole point.
When the movie is, at some length, over, it’s just you and your sister in the kitchen, drawing portions of faces on squares of white paper.
Your sister turns to you and says tiredly, “You know we really should be getting to bed now…”
You roll your eyes and yawn. “I know…” but you just can’t seem to tear yourself away. The screen has you mesmerized.
Finally, after watching a particularly bad commercial about a product that is apparently a miracle at cleaning cars but looks like a rip-off, you force yourselves to turn off the TV and get up. Then you have to tiptoe upstairs as quietly as possible, because that’s the other important thing about late night movies- sneaking upstairs afterwards. And not getting caught.

Update- Peaches

INTRO (GUITAR VAMP IN BACKGROUND):
When I was little I never had time to sit around in my garden to eat peaches. Now that I’m 9 and single, I am free to hang out in the community garden and eat peaches that are too soft, and stare out into the confines of the unused silos. That’s not to say that I wasn’t thinking about Lowiara the entire time. Well, her real name was Lucy, but I always thought Lowiara sounded better.
It didn’t help at all that Lowiara had married my ex-best friend, a colonel named Sandy, when she found out about his bird food. I had never put her down as a gold-digger neither. Well,

CHORUS:
Lowiara, with her showy tiara
Laughing at the world,
And laughing at me, it’s her game.
Lowiara, with her glowy tiara
Now my life will never
Be the same

VERSE 1:
When good old Sanders took you
It hurt me in my gut
How was I supposed to know
That you were such a nut?

CHORUS.

VERSE 2:
When I crashed your wedding,
I thought that you’d bear in mind
The present that I brought you,
That peach Venetian blind.

CHORUS.

CODA/SURPRISE ENDING:
Well I guess it doesn’t really matter now
I guess I’ll always be a harebrained cow
We were always different,
And yet always together
I guess that’s why ol’ Sandy
Done took you by the feather
Now you’re slowly dying
And there’s nothing I can do
It’s just as well you’re frying
To become chicken stew.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Blood Lust

Cold white skin,
Brushes against mine.
As you lean in to me,
Your blood stained lips
From the past,
Graze my neck.
Your teeth get ready
For the pleasure,
Your eyes turn black
Your heart now empty.
Together,
We are lost in the darkness
Of the night.
Far from others
Who crowd the street
In the light of day.

Fear spreads through my body.
Quietness closes in
Around me.
Coldness moves
Through my blood stream,
As my heart stops beating.

You’re the only one who
Hears my scream
Pierce the silence of the night.

More sound bites

Oh my god what’s wrong with you
Exorcism no comments yet
What?
I have this weird friend who posts stuff on her blog.
Yeah this is the exactly the kind of stuff I’m looking for!

[laughter]

It’s a dream it’s about this cat who like wants to commit suicide or something and like… it’s like the exorcism, and she’s like “I hope I never go to sleep sad again” it’s like wicked weird!

I was going to print it out yesterday but we had that, like… duff come
Yeah.
Each breath I take… I think you want to say “feels”
Oh, what did I…?
“Feel”

Give and Take

Give and Take
JessKatt



Life’s a bitch
Point blank
It’s all about give and take
Like when
It gives you all this shit
Then takes away the things
And the people
That help you deal with it.

There is No God: What it's like to be an atheist (repost)

The world is a strange place. In America, Christianity is the most common religion. There are Buddhists, Muslims, and others. And there are Atheists. I am one of these persons. Atheists are not a common group of people, and are sometimes even shunned by other religions. Pretty much all religions involve gods and spirits, so a group of people who believe there are no gods or spirits, would understandably seem scary and satanic. But I don't think this gives people the right to treat atheists unfairly. When you think about it, it's just as bad as racism against black people.

If Christianity is such a great and fine religion, why are they so opposed to those different from them? It is human nature to be against the unknown, but shunning them is so primitive.

In my experience, if I tell someone I don't believe in god, (and they are Christian), they say "oh, you're going to hell," or, "Whoa, you're in trouble now!"

This really annoys me. If you believe in God, I have no problem, but if you insist he exists to someone and try to change their beliefs, I do have a problem. If I am atheist, don't tell me something is going to happen, that would only happen if there was a god. It doesn't make sense, so to me, you're just acing like I believe in God.

I predict that in the future, atheism will be much more widespread. Tis is because more and more science is proving things about the past: evolution, the big bang; all of these are explaining how the world started, without there being a god.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Snow White Version 3

Skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony."- Snow White

Black ebony lined the circular window in the South tower. There was a thick crack that ran from top left to the bottom of the window. Jack Frost blew in the cruel cold and beautiful snow of Germany. The fragile woman rocked in the creaky broken chair, humming an obscure tune. She was dressed in a thin white gown with decorative frills adorning the collar and bottom. The Queen, who was sickly and unloved, multitasked between fondly rubbing her stomach and embroidering a tiny baby dress. Unfortunately, she had accidentally left her pinkie finger in the path of the needle. As soon as the needle broke her skin, blood started to leak out. A drop fell on the snow that lined the window. There was a strict contrast between the blood, the pristine snow, and the ebony window. It made a smile grace the Queen’s lips, and with the slightly bloody needle she stitched the letters of her unborn baby…
S. W.
**
An ordinary child the age of seven fluttered through the snow. Jumping and twisting trying to enjoy her short moment of freedom. Her mother, the Queen, would arrive soon agitated at the disappointment that Snow was. She was not as beautiful as the Queen wanted. Snow White was not the statue that the Queen could just place on a pestle, no, the girl wanted to be cared for. She wanted a mother and a father that could display affection. Even though the Queen forbade it, the King would always give that girl hug and kisses. The Queen believed that county of Neuschwanstein, Germany would not listen to a King who showed any forms of affection. The fragile ice Queen shrieked at a servant to bring the child in. She watched out of her window and the huntsman son, a handsome boy of sixteen, joined her daughter in their useless frolicking.

My Poems for the Anthology Noah

In the Dark


Flickering in the dark,

Wood burns

In a red-brick fireplace,

With pictures, framed, and on hooks,

And set in the Living room.

And set in the living room,

With pictures, framed, and on hooks,

In a red-brick fireplace,

Wood burns,

Flickering in the dark.

In the Light


Hooded, though in the light,

Walking, the black-paved roads,

A hooded person, slowly striding

On the sidewalks, of Manhattan.

On the sidewalks, of Manhattan.

A hooded person, slowly striding

Walking, the black-paved roads,

Hooded, though in the light.

Painting


First, a wink of color,

Then, a few,

Then it slowly forms,

When added dot more,

Into an object,

A chair, a tree, a person.

Then another being creeps,

Onto, the canvas,

Inhabiting, the world,

Created behind it.




Pompeii


It was everywhere,

In the streets and houses,

even on, some silk blouses.

Gray, dead ash,

As it falls,

Everywhere, people dash.

Vesuvius devours bodies,

and many many lives,

killing only to kill,

the hole, atop a hill.

Darfur


A hidden, Not well-known

country, Many, just ignore it.

They don’t know, that inside Those red boundaries, on the map, Horror lurks. Not enough people, to help stop the violence,

Lives are ruined, ended.

Families torn to screams and sorrow.

Just as Rwanda had,

There the world nearly ended for those inside, don’t let that happen,

To that red-boundaried,

not well-known country

Waiting

Standing in the cool October breeze
in her jeans and t-shirt,
she waits impatiently on the broken, sandy asphalt,
next to a woman in shabby clothes,
for the muffled purr of the ferry engine.

Wandering past the abandoned boat,
an old fisherman sits between the timbers,
slowly creaking in the incoming tide.
She walks out onto the ferry dock,
carefully missing the crooked nails.

She leans over the 4th post, covered with faded initials,
and looks into the murky bay-water
only lit by the old kerosene lamp for the ferry drivers.

Among the bait-fish a dark shadow rises to the surface
like that one dark thought that creeps forward at the worst times.
Razor-edged fins and tail appear,
and she shudders and backs away from this three-foot monster.

Getting her bearings, she hangs on tight
and leans her face closer to the water,
to that disgusting, despicable creature:
a shark.

Loathing it more every second,
she sits on the dock and continue to watch.
she wants to look away from this creature
that she hates, but doesn’t fully understand.

The dirty old fisherman that hangs by the dock,
The woman sitting on the street corner,
We watch and loathe them.

Why do we hate them? Yes, the shark bothers,
The fisherman curses, and
The woman begs,

Maybe because they get in the way of our schedule.
Maybe because it’s too much to care.

The ferry finally slides into the dock,
and the shark disappears into the deep,
along with her caring thoughts.

She gets on the ferry
and sits on the wet wooden bench,
slowly edging away from the old fisherman.

Finished: Farewell

Farewell

VERSE
Let me tell you a story
‘Bout a boy and a girl
Love in her eyes was his crowning glory
They were each other’s whole world

He knows in his heart he’s bound away
She knew from the start that he couldn’t stay

CHORUS
And so now we say
Farewell, fare-well…
Farewell, farewell, farewell.

VERSE
Now he’s over the ocean
She’s sitting under their star
Wondering where he’s at this moment
In a place much too far

They’re miles apart, too far away
And guilty in part are those who won’t pay

CHORUS
And so now we say
Farewell, fare-well…
Farewell, farewell, farewell.

VERSE
He realized memento mori
In the American way
(She) Opened her eyes to a morning glory
As he was slipping away

She knows in her heart that she is breaking
He knew from the start the chance he was taking

CHORUS
And so now we say
Farewell, fare-well…
Farewell, farewell, farewell.

Poland (the Polish version)

Poland

No to tak: choc tylko tak powiemy
Ze ty tylko zkonczylas
Karmic cielaki
Zaganiac krowy
Z pola
Nie daleko ulicy

No to wsiadasz na zardzewialy
Rower oparty o stodole
I pedzisz
Do wsi
Przejezdzasz kolo wszystich
Znasz wszystich
I przywitasz wszystich
Z zamachem glowy

Kiedy zajedziesz to sklepu
To wchodzisz,
I otwierasz grube
Plastikowe dzwi
I wyjmojesz jednego loda
I zaplacisz 0.14zł

Jedziesz zpowtrotem
Do domu
I siedzisz na polu
Pozwalasz komarom ciebie grysc
Dokanczasz swoje roztopione lody
Zapatrzony w niebo
I wdychasz pachnoce powietrze
Polski

Haha Smileys

Smiley and its Meaning
My Meandering Thoughts
Smiling
Duh.
Frowning
Seriously, duh.
Winking
Just in case they want you to explain that joke.
Sticking-out-tongue
Zing your friends. Then add some salt to the wound.
Surprised
Wow.
Kissing
The most unsettling smiley.
Yelling
WHO NEEDS ANGER MANAGEMENT?!?
Ecstatic
Again, duh.
Money-mouth
I'm not sure what this one is for.
Foot-in-mouth
Say something wrong? Tisk, tisk.
Embarrassed
It happens to everyone, right?
Innocent
If your buddy has no evidence that you did anything wrong...
Undecided
Meh. I haven't decided.
Crying
Boo-hoo.
Lips-are-sealed
I'll never tell you what we really think about this one.
Cool
Giggidy, giggidy goo.

What Can Be Said

What can be said
To make it all better
To help the whole world
To not be self-centered.

What can be said
To make it all right
To Silence the cries
To wipe away their tears.

What can be said
To show lives some mercy
To reassure the scared
To make sure that the pleas are answered.

What can be said
To make it all right
To help the whole world
To silence the cries.

Poland

What it’s like living in Poland

Here’s what it’s like: let’s say
That you just finished
Helping feed the calves
Bringing back the obese cows
From a field just
Down the rocky road

So you hop on your rusty
Bike propped up against the stable door
And pedal toward
The small town
Passing everyone
Knowing everyone
Greeting everyone
With a simple nod

You arrive at the shop
Forehead glistening with sweat
Once inside,
You slide open the thick
Plastic door to reveal a
Display of ice-cream
You pluck one from the pile
And give in your 0.14zł

You ride back
To your farmhouse
And sit in the field
Letting the mosquitoes bite you
Eating your already melted ice-cream
Staring at the sky
And inhaling the deep aroma
Of Poland

Before I Had Time

We left before I had time,
not knowing it would be the last,
only having time to watch
as you left me behind.

We left before I had time,
to memorize everything around.
To engrave your face within
the center of my heart.

We left before I had time,
to prepare for the regret
of never seeing you again.
Never hearing the words “I love you,”
coming from your mind.

You left before I had time,
to share my ending thoughts.
To let you know how much
I’ll miss you,
as you leave me behind.

You left before I had time,
to spend another day
as it use to be,
Together.
Now it’s just me.

You left before I had time,
to let the tears hit the ground.
To let my voice fill the room
with a final good-bye.

Questions

Questions that keep me awake at night
(A Song for Joanna Newsom)

What are lies?
What is truth?
How does age
Spring out of youth?

What is hope
And what’s despair?
Does it matter
If I care?

If seeing is believing
And seeing’s with the eyes,
How come things
Come so often in disguise?
What came first,
The stormcloud or the weather?
Surely, they can’t have
Come together.

What is truth?
What are lies?
All these ques-
Tions I despise

What’s despair
And what is hope?
How many threads
Does it take to make a rope?

Springing from the woods
In the dead of the night,
Strange things lurk
Just out of sight
Then in the morning
Comes the dew
What is me
And what are you?

(Fictional) Overheard Conversations (Draft)

“What?!”
“Yes.”
“You’re not serious.”
A sigh. “Unfortunately I am not kidding whatsoever.”
“But that’s-“
“I know, I know it sounds bad.”
“You think?”
Silence. Then, the same voice: “So what do we do now?”
“I have the barest hint of an idea.”
“Really? You know how to get us out of this?”
“I might…”
Coaxingly: “Come on, you know this will go through all right. So… why don’t you tell me what your plan is?”
Another pause. “All right, then…”

“Excuse me, that’s my dog.”
“Oh, so sorry.” Shuffling noises. Barking.
“Calm down, poochie, it’s okay…”

What It's Like to Live in Greenwich, CT

Here's What It's Like:
pulling into the driveway
of a brand new house,
sandwiched between
mega mansion
and bungalow,
but you in your medium
sized house,
feel separated.
You admire the physical
glitz and glam
At first, it's mesmerizing,
the shops, the cars, the riches,
and then you live there for a while
soon realizing that glitz comes with a fee
a big one
but NOT monetarily
Your pride, and your dignity
destroyed in an instant
by the so called people around you
by the so called friends near you
Then comes the betrayal,
and by the time you want out,
It's already too late,
so your front gates are locked
and your driveway offers no escape
No limitless exits,
only one locked door
and one more locked
mind
That's what It's like to live in Greenwich.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Sound Bites

Just so you know, the first sound bite is a fictionalized account of something that allegedly happened. The rest is pretty much directly what happened. -Maria

Sound Bites

He examined me through the Froot Loop, his left eye squinting slightly as he watched with his right, yakking about putting gasoline in a boat the whole time. I didn’t, like, really get it or whatever, and it was totally weird that he was using the Froot Loop as a telescope, I mean, wtf is that all about? I don’t have a freakin’ boat, so I don’t need to freakin’ know how to freakin’ change freakin’ gasoline in a freakin’ boat!

Basically, I post everything "it" -- fashion, makeup, beauty, clothes, stores, books, celebrity gossip, TV, music ... etc. I am proud to have a mindless pop culture blog -- no haters please!

“Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye!” I wish they would pipe down a bit, as they are trying my patience. Why do they find the need to foul the air with their off-key voices?

Aw… that sounds like a Disney movie!

That’s scary but I think that at the end you should reveal what you are talking about… just a thought. :)

This time around you/ Hit a goose on the butt/ And made a par

Hehe, nice imagery. But the poor goose! :) Lol!

“How to Hug a Baby? What’s that?”
“Oh, it’s funny.”
“Squirrel Management Technique?”
“Oh, this is really funny.”

dont take it the wrong way i dont cut myself or anything i just really like the metaphor

“’Star Wars Galaxies- Chapter 6: Masters of the Wild’?”
“I don’t even know why I have that.”
“Aww, that’s a cute one. I hope they know their dog is mauling their child.”
“It’s hugging the baby, obviously!”

“Any time you have more questions, feel free to ask.”
“Okay, I’ll do that.”

“No, you’re not getting the picture one now that I finally got one!” [laughter]
“Omigod, what the heck?”
“Hi, Mackenzie.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Are you even doing anything?”
“Not really…”
“Mackensie?”

“Well, I don’t know how to spell her name!”
“We go together… wait, what?”
“I’m like so bored.”


“Ladies and gentlemen, headphones off, clean the peanut butter out of your ears, eyes up here.”

“Wow, that’s funny.”
I know… :)


“No, Parker, why do you want that? They cost like fifteen dollars!”

My Room

Always cluttered to its fullness,
Yet the bed is made.
It makes it look tidy.
It is my sanctuary,
Where I would forever stay.

Deadford, Connecticut

JessKatt.


Sitting in a dark room, at the topmost floor of her large house in Bedford, Connecticut, Bella sat, staring out the window as the sky, visible only through gaps in the huge oak trees, went from a bright blue, to a pink, and finally fading to a inky navy.
Unwilling to go downstairs and endure the silence of her huge, empty house, she remained there, barely blinking, watching the stars twinkle and wink at her. She ran her fingers though her honey brown hair, holding onto a couple pieces and twirled it around fore and middle fingers. Then, something soft intertwined itself around her ankles. She looked down and saw her jet black cat, Shakespeare, with his tail up in the air, rubbing his back on Bella’s leg.
Bella patted her lap, and the cat leapt up on it. After making himself comfortable with his head rested against her lower stomach, Bella scratched behind the cat’s ears. As she listened to the cat purr, still absentmindedly scratching him, her thoughts wondered off, and she stared out the window.
She was snapped back to reality when there was a crash and with a hiss, the cat jumped off Bella’s legs and scampered off. Caught off guard, this noise really frightened her. She jumped up, and walked quickly to the door, and slowly opened it.
“Hello?” she called, as her own voice echo off the walls of the upstairs rooms.
Bella walked out of the room, and down the wide hallway, peering into each room she passed. Then, she heard something that made her heart skip a beat.
Someone was crying in the room two doors ahead. Debating with herself whether or not to go and look, the crying grew louder, more hysterical.
Then, in another heart stopping second, the crying stopped. White faced, and wide-eyed, leaning on the wall for support, Bella’s heart was racing a million beats a minute. Suddenly, in the distances, she heard her cell phone ring tone.
She turned around and raced down the marble staircase, to the 2nd floor, turned a sharp right, and flung the door open to her room. And on the huge circular bed, padded with black and purple sheets, her phone was singing.
“Hello?” Bella said in an exasperated voice.
“Hi, Honey.” Her mother’s voice sounded irritated, and a little upset. “Look, me and your dad won’t be home tonight. For some reason, all flights home from here are delayed.”
Bella felt a pang of fear in the pit of her stomach.
“H-how long t-till you get home?” As she said these words, scared and upset, she heard her mother exhale in an annoyed way.
“I don’t know. Alright? Whenever these idiots at this airport decided that it’s fine to fly in clear weather, okay?!” said the mother, half yelling, in a forceful, irritated tone.
Bella forgot about her fear for a second, and was immediately angry with her mother for being so short with her when it was her, Bella, that was stuck in this house for 4 days straight, in the silence, while her parents were on a “business trip” in France.
“Whatever, mom, call me when you’re on your way home from your ‘business trip,’” she added extra emphasis and angry tone to these two words, “with Dad, and decided not to neglect your only daughter and actually be a mom for once.” She concluded, and shut her phone with a loud snap.
She threw her phone hard across the room, where it hit a wall covered in magazine cuttings , and fell to the floor with a thud. Bella flung herself around, and landed on her bed gently, with her face in the pillows. She let out a long scream, but it was muffled in the fabric of the black, furry pillow. She threw her head fiercely from side to side.
Finally, after a couple minutes of this, and her anger was almost drained, she flipped herself over on her bed. Her eyes traveled around her ceiling, then down the wall where her cell phone had hit, then darted to the door, where she saw it.
Almost, but not completely, transparent and a dark grey, like morning mist, drifting slowly past the half-open door, the ghostly figure floated down the hallway, staring blankly ahead, though Bella could have sworn she saw the head turn and look at her, for a fraction of a second.
Half petrified, half mesmerized, Bella got up from the bed, and walked like a sleepwalker to the door, pushed it open the rest of the way, and turned to face the hallway in full just as the figure’s long dark grey hair disappear into the room at the very end of the hallway, the library.
She walked a little more quickly past more rooms, the bathroom, the 2nd guest bedroom, a closet, holding that which Bella hadn’t a clue. Finally, she reached the door to the library, which stood totally open, revealing the ceiling-to-floor book shelves that were packed to capacity with books that varied from Fictional tales of Giants and Magic, to Dictionaries, to The Biography of Helen Keller. She looked around at the tables, which were completely empty, except for one book that lay closed on a chair.
Whether it took her seconds, or centuries to reach that book, she didn’t know. She was focused on it, though her mind was soaring with questions and suspicions.
What book is it?
Should I touch it?
Did that… that thing leave it?
She was standing over it, looking down on it, scared. Then, she put her hand out, and brushed the tip of her figures against its blank, leather cover, that bore no title. When nothing happened, she picked it up. It was very heavy, so she set it down on the table. Sitting in the now bookless chair, she carefully flicked through the pages.
Blank… Completely blank…thought Bella.
What made her keep flicking through the pages, she didn’t know, but she continued. She’d looked through half of the book before she saw a page that had writing on it. Having only glanced at it, she accidentally passed it. Slowly, she turned back the pages until she found the single page that had writing.

Fear not, for you dwell in the house where I once lived a life worse than your’s.
I plead for you to understand that it is I who you heard sobbing in the upstairs room,
Having been mine, I spend many days in that rooms, doing just as you were today.
Starring out the window, wishing for something new, something different than today,
So, I am here to give you something different, a chance at what you want most dearly,
Leave now, pack and flee, and never look back, for you will find nothing but despair here.
Flee, and never look back.

And with that, the letter burst into cold flames, leaving Bella stunned, but not scared.
Flee and never look back, it said, never look back. And so she did, never looking back.

Enigma

strange, mysterious, late at night,
sitting...reading...not making a sound,
you think someone is watching...
you hear tapping-howling-whistling...
you realize, it's the wind.

UNTITLED (need help finishing!)

Untitled

Bright-eyed and innocent
We were so deceived

You fell asleep with him in mind for ten months
You woke up with him in mind for ten months
Did you really think this was his first time?
Did you really think you’d make it, with everything that happened?
You’ve only got yourself to blame
You were the canary, he was the coalmine
But you didn’t realize
He breaks hearts as easily as razors do wrists

What it's like living in fairield ct

What It’s Like Living In Fairfield, CT

Here’s what it’s like: let’s say you’re driving home
From a good game of golf,
This time around you
Hit a goose on the butt
And made a par
Your dad gave you five bucks for hitting the goose
And three for the par
Eight bucks in total
Not a bad for one days work
You’re looking out the window, humming with the radio
Trees flash by and colors jump out at you as you pass houses
The car screeches to a halt at a red light
You see an old lady getting her car filled up with gas
And a mom trying to wrestle her 2 year old son
Into a car seat, then it zooms out of sight
As you drive away

True story

Darkness

I can see nothing
Not the next person
The darkness resides everywhere
I can not leave

First impressions

Stupidity shines through, first
impressions last a lifetime,
taking longer to get
lost, never ending shame

The Woods

The Darkness lurked behind me
Behind the trees and leaves
Animals run wild and free
I crash through the wilderness
Away from Life or Death
Away from life or death
I crash through the wilderness
Animals run wild and free
Behind the trees and leaves
The Darkness lurked behind me.

Respect for women..

All along women have been objectified and one step behind men in government, politics, and rights. Today is not much different. Women may have the right to vote and have a place in politics, however they do not have equal pay in many positions and are still objectified as much if not more so then before.
We live in the modern world of female advancement and the modern working women. This woman is educated in the same manner that her male counterpart is and yet is making on average twenty percent less then he is. How is this possible? Women are supposed to have equal rights and pay. Sexual discrimination is illegal and women have a strong voice in politics. The government has not passed enough legislation to have this be a reality and protect its female population. Wage isn’t the only problem with which government has turned its back on.
The way women are objectified in society is a also a problem that we must deal with, pornography and other such forms should be eradicated because even though some women might, place themselves in those situations they are making a mockery of the female race.
This also has connotations that men are above women and implies that they are allowed to get away with more. Even words like “slut” among others have the same meaning as “pimp” yet are considered worse. Why can’t both be negative? They can both lead to the same thing and mean promiscuous. Yet when a male is called a “pimp” is almost like a sigh of accomplishment.
This also brings up how men treat women as object and feel that they can disrespect them. Even as a sixteen year old girl I cannot jog down a street, or walk home from work with out eyes moving off the road and onto the sidewalks, sometimes even a beep or two. It makes you feel horrible as if you, yourself have done something wrong. A lot of men, not all by no means am I condemning the whole male species, have disrespected women in some or all forms of this and its despicable.
Women have to get angry about this and show men that they are better, shoot a dirty look, demand higher pay and look down on the way that men treat them. Otherwise we will go back in time not forward and female advancement will reverse.
As I looked in the bathroom mirror
A dreadful scene met my eyes
My hair was screwed
My eyes were droopy
I had just woken up

I had just woken up
My eyes were droopy
My hair was screwed
A dreadful scene met my eyes
As I looked in the bathroom mirror

Life is (not) Beautiful

Life is (not) Beautiful

Whoever said that life is beautiful did not know what it was like
To be her.
Everyday at school they shout at her. “Skank!” they shout.
“Whore!” they shout.
“Bitch!” they shout.
She does not know
What she did wrong.
So she smiles back at them.
She says, “Haha, very funny.”
They laugh at her.
She does not know why.
She goes home.
Her mom says, “How was school?”
She smiles and says, “Fine.”
She is too used to it by now to be sad, anyway
It has happened for years, and years.
She does not know when it started
But she hopes it will end
Soon
Even though she knows that it won’t.
After she has finished her homework,
She takes a shower and she cries in the shower
She does not realize she is crying
She just thinks it is hot water
She is so used to it by now
Then she comes out of the shower
She takes out the razor from her drawer
Every day
But then she puts it back
She has to live
To prove
Them wrong.

Life is (not) Beautiful

Life is (not) Beautiful

Whoever said that life is beautiful did not know what it was like
To be her.
Everyday at school they shout at her. “Skank!” they shout.
“Whore!” they shout.
“Bitch!” they shout.
She does not know
What she did wrong.
So she smiles back at them.
She says, “Haha, very funny.”
They laugh at her.
She does not know why.
She goes home.
Her mom says, “How was school?”
She smiles and says, “Fine.”
She is too used to it by now to be sad, anyway
It has happened for years, and years.
She does not know when it started
But she hopes it will end
Soon
Even though she knows that it won’t.
After she has finished her homework,
She takes a shower and she cries in the shower
She does not realize she is crying
She just thinks it is hot water
She is so used to it by now
Then she comes out of the shower
She takes out the razor from her drawer
Every day
But then she puts it back
She has to live
To prove
Them wrong.

Mornin'

As I looked in the bathroom mirror
A dreadful scene met my eyes
My hair was screwed
My eyes were droopy
I had just woken up

Update- PLEASE HELP!!!

Late Night Movies

Late night TV movies have an endearing enigma about them. They’re usually not the greatest movies, but that’s the fun of it. It’s the whole experience of sitting in your uncle’s slightly chilly kitchen, staring glassy-eyed at the flat screen in all its glory, wondering how it got to be so late and why you’re still up.
Then you remember that it’s all your uncle’s fault. He had said to you, “Did you ever see Dragnet? It’s based off this old TV show with the same name.” And so you all sat down to watch the last two thirds of it, waiting for relatives to arrive for the reunion that is going to be taking place tomorrow. You haven’t seen these people since last July, so you’re really excited.
At some point in the last half hour of the movie, you hear a “Yoo-hoo!” from the door to the garage, You hurry to open it, and your cousins from Delaware spill into the room, their blond hair all messed up from sitting in traffic on the Tappan Zee Bridge at 10 PM. The dad is holding their daughter. She is half-asleep. The mom is holding their son. He is fully asleep. Both kids are dressed in their kiddy pajamas with dinosaurs or flowers or something, and you show the parents the way up to the room where much-wanted beds are waiting. They tuck in the kids in the polka-dot sheets and wander back downstairs.
You break out the boxes of portion-sized cereal and talk over the sound of the commercials and the rustling of the translucent plastic. You catch up from when you saw them from last year’s reunion as you watch Tom Hanks put on some random goatskin leggings and jump into a snake pit.
Your uncle always shows you movies impossibly late at night and falls asleep every time. But that’s the fun of it. Your parents are back in your hometown, so for one night you can basically do anything you want. And that suits you just fine, even if you do end up seeing the bad parts of Air Force One at 2 AM, because that’s the whole point.
When the movie is, at some length, over, it’s just you and your sister in the kitchen, drawing portions of faces on squares of white paper. The rest of the relatives have given up- first your cousins, after Dragnet was over, and then your uncle. Even though he’s seen Air Force One before, he jokingly asked you to tell him how it ends. Of course, the good guys won, but not without some serious losses. You don’t watch many horror movies late at night, but this movie came very close to that category (except with politicians instead of birds or body-snatchers).
Your sister turns to you and says tiredly, “You know we really should be getting to bed now…”
You roll your eyes and yawn. “I know…” but you just can’t seem to tear yourself away.
Finally, after watching a particularly bad commercial about a product that is apparently a miracle at cleaning cars but looks like a rip-off, you force yourselves to turn off the TV and get up. Then you have to tiptoe upstairs as quietly as possible, because that’s the other important thing about late night movies- sneaking upstairs afterwards. And not getting caught.

Friends

You want them, you
Got them, forever more
They’re always there when
You need them. Friends

Butterfly

Soft, delicate wings fluttering by
Yellows, blacks, oranges mixed together
It lands on a flower
It sticks out its tongue
The butterfly drinks its fill

The butterfly drinks its fill
It sticks out its tongue
It lands on a flower
Yellows, blacks, oranges mixed together
Sort, delicate wings fluttering by

Lake

water rushed by my boat
I drift along the shore
weeds, fish, turtles, birds, butterfly
share the lake with me
as the sun above watches

Snow White (more added)

Skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony."- Snow White




The beat of my pounding feet disturbed the fall leaves. They floated back to the ground, annoyed, in my wake. The beat of my feet melded with the phantom beat of my heart; combined they made a disturbing melody. My mind, which I spent decades on organizing, had reverted to anarchy. Thoughts of my coven, and Will ran through my head, racing for top billing. Who would be the star in my dying thought? Would it matter? They would never find out, all they would find would be my headless body…
**
Black ebony lined the circular window in the South tower. There was a thick crack that ran from top left to the bottom of the window. Jack Frost blew in the cruel cold and beautiful snow of Germany. The fragile woman rocked in the creaky broken chair, humming an obscure tune. She was dressed in a thin white gown with useless frills adorning the collar and bottom. The Queen was multitasking between fondly rubbing her stomach and embroidering a tiny baby dress. Unfortunately, she had accidentally left her pinkie finger in the path of the needle. As soon as the needle broke her skin, blood started to leak out. A drop fell on the snow that lined the window. There was a strict contrast between the blood, the pristine snow, and ebony window. It made a smile grace the Queen’s lips, and with the slightly bloody needle she stitched the letters of her unborn baby…
S. W.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Essay Draft..need help!

When the leaders of the Catholic Church say that faith in today’s world is at an all-time low, and continues to sink, they are sadly mistaken. Belief and worship is at an all-time high! However, this belief and worship has nothing to do with the Church. As the multitudes of people turn away from the Catholic Church because of a lack in faith, they think that they are freeing themselves from a binding belief. Little do these people know that they are throwing themselves full-force into fly traps of secular and shallow beliefs and worship.
As a great man once said; “He who believes in nothing, believes in everything.” Without the help and guidance of the Church, many of these people are willing to believe anything they hear from the media, friends, popular culture, and anything they come in contact with. Flooded by these pop-culture beliefs, the “rebel” takes them all in because now he is supposedly free of all constraint. However, he does not know that these “anything goes” beliefs and practices are constraining him more than he thought the Church could ever do.
But there is no safety-net anymore. All it takes is one person to take control of his life to completely extinguish free will. At this point, he wonders what has happened to his freedom. There is no use in explaining what has happened, because as St. Thomas Aquinas said “To one who has faith, no explanation is necessary. To one without faith, no explanation is possible.”
The only explanation possible is meant for those not totally blinded by their new “freedom,” is that he, the “rebel,” saw faith as a constraint rather than a pathway to freedom. Through the eyes of the Church, the “rebel” needs to come back because “There is but one Church in which men find salvation, just as outside the ark of Noah it was not possible for anyone to be saved” (St. Thomas Aquinas). Now all we have to do is figure out how we all can get back.

NEED A TITLE AND CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM

An icy blue pool of depths unknown

An old creaky wooden dock

With boats awaiting you

To take them somewhere

They’d never been before

A cool breeze

Wrapping you up

And taking you away

Delivering you to a place

Unreachable from anywhere else

The small narrow street

That you walk down

It’s like walking back in time

Back to when

You came here as a child

And felt the same breeze as you walked

To the deserted beach

Where you then fell silently

To the depths of the ocean

My head is littered with thoughts that I want to escape me they cloud my judgment don’t allow my real feelings to shine through
My head is littered with events and feelings that aren’t suppose to be there like throwing trash in the recycle bin. The thoughts that are buried under all of this the ideas that I want to shine through


Im a little stuck on a topic so if anyone has any ideas aside from feedback on this piece I would be very greatful anything is good and I really like controversial topics but ones that hit home

Minds full of question marks are the best kind

By: JessKatt



Dreamer Girl, take it back.
Fictional, figurative tales of exaggerated realties
Places of no technicalities
Where the impossible is the impossibilities
And everyday means new abnormalities
Dreamer, dreamer, take it back.

Blessed are those who believe,
Those who turn the everyday into everything
Those who believe,
Those unlikely,
Blessed are those who believe.

Your words speak louder than actions, darling
Twist this nothing into something
Your imagination will fix everything
What are those question marks doing?
They’re teaching, my dear boy, they’re teaching

Golden girl,
You’ve got the wrong mind, and the right idea
Make something of the hysteria
Make something of the hysteria

Blessed are those who believe,
Those who turn the everyday into everything
Those who believe,
Those unlikely,
Blessed are those who believe.

My First Loss

It was Sunday midnight in May when I first got the call,
The horrible, yet expected, message,
Which confirmed it all.

I dropped the phone.
I started to cry,
But I knew in my heart that it was time.

As we watched the progression
Of the unbearable disconnection
To the world he knew so well,
None of us knew what to do.
He was under a failing spell.

My father beheld glistening eyes,
A sight I had never seen.
As I looked around,
I heard the sounds,
of everyone tearing near me.

As I sat there, memories started to fill my head;
The stories which you told, and the Passover dinners you lead.
And they made me forget the sight of you on that bed.

You are missed to an incredible amount,
And as you are looking from above,
Just remember, that we all remember,
And you are very loved.

There is No God: What it's like to be an atheist


The world is a strange place. In America, Christianity is the most common religion. There are Buddhists, Muslims, and others. And there are Atheists. I am one of these persons. Atheists are not a common group of people, and are sometimes even shunned by other religions. Pretty much all religions involve gods and spirits, so a group of people who believe there are no gods or spirits, would understandably seem scary and satanic. But I don't think this gives people the right to treat atheists unfairly. When you think about it, it's just as bad as racism against black people.

If Christianity is such a great and fine religion, why are they so opposed to those different from them? It is human nature to be against the unknown, but shunning them is so primitive.

In my experience, if I tell someone I don't believe in god, (and they are Christian), they say "oh, you're going to hell," or, "Whoa, you're in trouble now!"

This really annoys me. If you believe in God, I have no problem, but if you insist he exists to someone and try to change their beliefs, I do have a problem. If I am atheist, don't tell me something is going to happen, that would only happen if there was a god. It doesn't make sense, so to me, you're just acing like I believe in God.

I predict that in the future, atheism will be much more widespread. Tis is because more and more science is proving things about the past: evolution, the big bang; all of these are explaining how the world started, without there being a god.

Need Title and Advice

First, a wink of color

First, a wink of color

Then, a splash of pink

Next, a hint of yellow, purple, orange, green,

While I sit next to the window,

Each splash of color

Drips

Drips

Drips

And the sky turns to blue

Followed by a slew of green

Coloring trees

Grass, plants

Next comes the fading

The sky splashes colors of its own

In purples

Oranges

Reds

Pinks

And everything settles as it is washed over with gray

I No Longer Believe (work in progress)

I no longer believe that “Prince Charming” exists. He’s merely a false hope supplied to fill the void left by all the unchanged “frogs” of the world. However, this pessimism has a reason; to tell all the “frogs” to shape up! It’s not that underneath every “frog-façade” hides a jerk. There have to be some “Prince Charmings” in disguise…right?

Essay beginning (need help)

What I Believe In

(Not Banning Books)

Why should we ban books? Why should we be the ones who decide what a book contains is too inappropriate for anyone to read? In my opinion, everyone should be able to read whatever they want, because each book offers certain values and important ideas. Banning books like Harry Potter, and To Kill A Mockingbird are only to shelter a child, an act that can’t take place for very long. Banning books is a practice that should be ended immediately.

Parents only have one main concern; their children. In retrospect, you can understand why parents would have the desire to shelter their children from harmful language, and images, but what they don’t understand is that in an attempt to protect their own child, they are ailing the minds of thousands of other children. If a parent does not want a child to read a book, they can tell them so, or they can go to the teacher and ask for a different assignment if they don’t wish for their child to partake in that specific reading. But to completely remove a book from an educational setting for the well being of a child is ridiculous. Parents must understand that they can only shelter their child for so long.

September Rain

September rain falls on the house
As I close the old screen door,
The chaos fades behind me
With each muddy step.

Sensing the ocean’s spray,
I know that I am close to peace.
It is not Nirvana I seek,
But to be filled with those watery words,
Filtering the noise from my troubled mind.

Everyone

Everyone’s different,
Yet all are the same.
Unsure of one thing,
Sure of the next.

Everyone’s strong,
Yet all are weak
Judging one,
Defending the next

Everyone has power,
Yet all do wrong,
ordering around one
then being ordered next.

Everyone’s different,
Yet all are the same,
What people realize,
Is we can stop this.

My Problem

Why is it every time I talk,
It’s little bit too loud
And people always tell me,
Let’s play the quiet game,
Don’t lose

Why is it I speak too fast,
And my whistle is so loud.
When people ignore me,
I keep talking, unaware.

Why is it I laugh so loud,
And can be so clumsy.
If I laugh at myself too,
Am I laughing with them?

Why am I not in charge,
of what comes out of my mouth,
talking before thinking,
instead of the other way around

Why am I this way,
Does it make sense?
Please read this to yourself,
Because I’ve probably read too fast.

I No Longer Believe

I no longer believe
life is always happy
but full of tears
that washed away the love

I no longer believe
others can always understand
what it’s like to feel alone
whenever other are around me

I no longer believe
he can always be there for me
but more be there to let me down
when I'm always alone

I no longer believe
that he will always care for me
when I still care for him

Friday, July 20, 2007

He betrayed Dumbledore
Or did he

He cursed Harry with his evilness
Since his first year

His slick black hair and hooked nose
Are very ugly

One word says it all
Snape

One Day I Finally Knew

One day I finally knew
How it felt to understand loss
To know what it was like
To be alone from those
I held close.

One day I finally knew
That no one seems to understand
Me, as who I truly am.

One day I finally knew
That my life has changed for ever
And what’s the sense
Of looking at the past.

Dance

“Your head will collapse / But there's nothing in it”

Choking on my flood of emotions,
I look at you.
It starts somewhere deep and bubbles up,
Its goal achieved:
I can’t talk.
I stare and know that you don’t
Understand.
You can’t
Understand
Because I can’t tell it to you like this.

Words are a fake out.
They fit into neat boxes,
Sitting quietly, with a meaning,
Not a feeling.
I can’t tell you in words,
That would demean you.
I can’t tell it to you like this.

Then I leave, and begin
A process, a translation,
Not for you to understand me,
That would be too easy;
Rather for the satisfaction
Of communication.

You reluctantly sit
And listen to my unspoken words
Poured out of me willingly.
The flood reaches you,
And you run from the honesty,
Supplied to fill your empty head.

Splash


First, a wink of color

Then, a splash of pink

Next, a hint of yellow, purple, orange, green,

While I sit next to the window,

Each splash of color

Drips

Drips

Drips

And the sky turns to blue

Followed by a slew of green

Coloring trees

Grass, plants

Next comes the fading

The sky splashes colors of its own

In purples

Oranges

Reds

Pinks

And everything settles

it is washed over with gray

Awkwardness vs. Violence

Why is it easier to read a scene where a really likeable character dies than an awkward one? It’s the same with watching TV. At an embarrassing moment, you flip the channel and wait for it to be over. When there’s a massacre on the screen, we have no reaction. Are human beings so odd that we are more disturbed by awkwardness than violence?
Admit it. The last time you watched a movie you groaned or squirmed at an uncomfortable moment, but at the scene with all the people getting shot, you didn’t even look away.
Is it because we haven’t seen a massacre? Is it because we can connect better with someone who is embarrassed? I guess we find it easier to put ourselves in the shoes of someone in an uncomfortable silence than being killed. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think anybody totally expects to be killed.
In fact, comparing many stories I have read, it is more heartbreaking when someone dies of cancer or another disease or just old age than by murder.

I need a much better title. Help, please?

Snow White...

“ Skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony."-Snow White


The beat of my pounding feet disturbed the fall leaves. They floated back to the ground, annoyed, in my wake. The beat of my feet melded with the phantom beat of my heart; combined they made a disturbing melody. My mind, which I spent decades on organizing, had reverted to anarchy. Thoughts of the coven, and Will ran through my head, racing for top billing. Who would be the star in my dying thought? Would it matter? They would never find out, all they would find would be my headless body…



That's just the beginning. Remember the story of Snow White, girl that's pale, red lips, got stuck in a coffin for 3 years... definatly a vampire. So that's the plot of the story, explain her life with flash backs then present. So?

The first time

The first time I thought I was in love was magical
The first time my heart beat a little harder
The first time I was really excited
The first time I thought this could go somewhere

My thoughts rushed to that hint of blue
The heat that comes from him after he’s been out
I didn’t think it could be this perfect
The connection we made
The nights out
Even those in and the waiting was not a problem
With a voice that could sing any song

I’ll never forget him
I’ll never forget how he made me feel
When I just had to get away
The one who took me to a different place
So I could escape all that I was feeling

The first time that I actually felt something
The first time that someone had a place inside my heart
The same place I shared in his
The first time I laid eyes on my first car.