More on Cheney life

The crowded pavement pulls me in,
my thoughts unheard silenced again.

Fake smiles and laughter plague this place
I blend in well, mask on my face.

This lie that here we can truly be
the selves we are, not what they see.

The lie that images isn't everything,
attacks and threatens the soul's well being.

It took some thought and introspection,
to identify the lie in their reflections.

To see what they all seem to be hiding
behind made up eyes, their thought's time biding.

I find that here in this place as i sit alone
I recall the time when i too, started off on my own.

This is my new poem/song thingy. Please read and comment on it, i submitted it to poetry.com and i hope they like it and you do too...

I want more than I can take
You tell me to be still, to sit, just wait
I know that you have more in store for me
So I am here again down on bended knee

Is there someone out there?
As lost and alone tonight
As I am in here
Crying as I write
Will someone close their eyes
As every night I do
Bow their head and ask of You:

Chorus
Please help me live just one more lonely day
I didn’t find the one I was searching for
Is someone dreaming of me as I pray
I trust in you so there has got to be more

Let me have hope that tomorrow will be
Worth every breath you put inside me
I know that you need me to hold on tight
To faith so please help me survive tonight

Chorus
Please help me live just one more lonely day
I didn’t find the one I was searching for
Is someone dreaming of me as I pray
I trust in you so there has got to be more

I pray you can find someone someday for me
as I am not ready to die this lonely
cold and on my own
I cry to you, I`m all alone
so please,

Chorus
Please help me live just one more lonely day
I didn’t find the one I was searching for
Is someone dreaming of me as I pray
I trust in you so there has got to be more

Tribute to Thebes

Upon raised plains you’ve built your walls
As protection when a stranger calls
Upon your Acropolis you stall
Until the day your defenses fall
Though inside Kadmus your ruler waits
Not even Cithaeron can stop the fates
As over and over again Sparta baits
Chances grow slim to escape dire straits
Pindar’s light tone carries you through
As Sparta makes fools- again out of you
When up from the slums brave and true
Rises Epaminondas granting freedoms anew
With this freedom your cities grow
The arts and culture start to flow
Creative thinkers rise from below
Reinventing literature as they steal the show
Aeschylus in tribute to your seven will
Portray a battle stirred by feelings ill
Where family loyalty wins out still
Versus your rulers’ intent to kill
Of course with aid from Sophocles
Your city is brought down to her knees
when a neighbor in Delphi who always sees
warns of the disaster of your monarchies
Ode to you Thebes though curses you hold
Tragic tales fill your streets misfortunes untold
Blessings to Thebes in hopes to you fate is less cold
As your future awaits and your history unfold

So the atmosphere outside sucks ass
and I finally just got out of class.

Its time to do the daily run around
here and there all over Cheney town.

The weather outside only sucks because I
am not on a mountain top flying by.

Instead of an exhilarating rush
I am here trudging through the mush.

Frosty

Frosty the snowman
was a holly jolly mate.

He came to life
to find a wife,
but found some kids
he came to hate.

Frosty the snowman
thought these kids
at first were cool.

But when the sun came out,
in joy they'd scream and shout
as he become a watery pool.

There must have been some evil force
the children could not see,
for when they turned to walk away
an evil voice cried out in glee.

I'm Frosty the hitman,
fuck you its time to die!
and he had some fun
as the kids began to cry.

Oh no! It's Frosty the hitman
scary mo-fo made of snow,
he is here in town
to take us down
with his .45 and ammo.

I think my snowman needs to have a red and green scarf, a button nose, and two eyes made of coal. He also needs a "Lincoln" style top hat and a broom. That way the snow stays out of his eyes as he flies by on a whim. GO FROSTY GO!

I think all of this snow is incredibly beautiful. Makes me want to build a snowman!

Swimming, sweating, softly seducing
Thrusting, Throbbing, thighs tighten
Clit, Climax, cum and cuddling
Wash up, Wipe Away the shame and the tears
Repeat each night as regret floods
and drowns you through the years

We dont always get the simple life
Not every cinderella gets to be
studly prince charming's wife

Sadly for some happily ever after
remains a dream away
forever lacking joy love and laughter
as in harsh reality they must stay

Now knowing this who are you to judge those
who misfortune upon their shoulders bore;
With names cold and cruel like " sluts " and " ho's "
and the ever venomous label " whore "

INTREPID FOX

INTREPID FOX

Writing from the inside out

every word without reason.

Vexing orders of transition

mixing instability with sense.

Crafting madness from within

as a tour guide from its realm.

In touch without touching

reigning Mayor of Nowhere.

Simulating a life without life

happy enough to be counted.

Confessions of “Not finished yet”

found in mystic places of light.

That which lay there, calls to us all
enticing the self, not so small
Inside the box, outside the box
what will you do, intrepid fox.

Snow Boots, or Lack Thereof.

Just letting you all know, Vans aren't good shoes for traipsing through snow or across campus. Especially if you're like me, and you skate in them, because they get torn up. I have two pairs, and both of them have holes in the heels. They leak.

See, there was hardly any snow last winter, so I thought this year wouldn't be so bad either. I thought, "Oh, I won't need to buy any snow boots. We probably won't have another bad winter like 2 years ago. Nah, we won't get 4 feet of snow again."

Well, 1 foot is still pretty sucky. And my feet are cold. :/

Oh teh Snows!

Now, I have to apologize in advance for my use of less constructive language in an effort to try and write something that is the truth. Haha, almost lied right there too! But the fact of the matter is that there is snow outside. You and I all know what that is. Unfortunately, my girlfriend, who happens to be in Hawaii for break does not quite understand what I mean when I say there's snow outside. This is where I aplogize for the first time. "I'm sorry for writing about you for my creative writing class. It was pretty funny though!"

Yeah, so I attempt to tell her over the course of a few phone calls and text:
"There's quite a bit of snow outside. Should I maybe trek over and take care of your driveway since your out of town, enjoying the sunshine while the rest of us freeze our asses off?"

"No, it'll be fine. You're probably still sick anyway."

Needless to say I don't really find a strong correlation between my health and the level of snow in their driveway, but I was never the greatest at math and science or is this a fallacy? Damn! Now pardon me for saying that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't irk me so much if she wasn't away enjoying the sunshine and not being cold and having to come out to Eastern while other schools are closed, but no! She does not, so my pity and understanding flies out the window faster than you can say:

"Bah Humbug!" I've had to listen to this everyday at work and unfortunately for me, it didn't change our influx of crotchety or bitchy customers. Tis the season you know. Season for more snow too.

"Are you sure you guys don't need me to shovel? It's snowed a few more times since you've been gone."

"No, you're still sick, we'll be fine."

"You'll be buried in if I don't go and take care of it."

"We don't mind be buried in. Go get some rest."

I can't recall the rest of the conversation. Maybe it was the mindless amounts of swearing I did after I hung up the phone in an attempt to find the cameras that she was watching me through. Or maybe it was the squirrels. Damn! It's snowing again!

(Yay snow!)

Ties

Tie a knit up ribbon

Press it to my heart

And whisper heavy

Heavy thoughts push me down

“Hey Lady

What’s that frown?”

That? It’s nothing.

Though, nothing

Seems like a lot

To always think about

To worry down

To thread

About this time last year

You asked for a kiss

And that question

Seems less kind

In retrospect.

It's Cold

9:36 am
eastern Washington university

temperatures are reaching sub zero. Those who enter the union building are thankful for some warmth or maybe it's the promise of something warmer than out there. We cam see outside, the wind seems to be freezing everything out there. It can't get much worse.

1:40 pm
most forms of transportation has failed. Buses no longer can reach the few who remain at the campus. Everything is isolated. The only communication between buildings is by phone. Hope they remembered their chargers. Food stores are holding up and everything seems to be holding as far as the boilers go.

11:43 pm
we haven't heard from Kingston hall or the phase in a long time. From here it looks as if the glass windows have shattered from brittlness. God save them. Some of the windows here are starting to crack. We don't have that much time to think of a plan. Better think of one fast.

Harry Potter!!!

Would anyone but me post a blog with this title? Hahaha. So I realized I need to post more blogs and decided why not do it on something I'm extremely obsessed with; obsession to the point of madness some might say. So the movie was AMAZING! And without giving it away to those who haven't seen it, or haven't (dare I say it) read the book, it was THE BEST Harry Potter movie of them all. I can't wait til the the last one comes out. Just wish it would come faster than July. So that's this post, might as well end this now before I say something that makes everyone think I'm creepy/weird. Haha. I'll end on this note, Harry Potter is epic and the movie was amazing (fangirl moment) Ok, BYE!

Never finished...

It's interesting how when you write the first draft of your poem or your story and then you try to change it, revise it, and nothing sounds quite right or perfect as the first draft. The words are never exactly right anymore... And once I write something I can never finish it. Can never find the right ending or continuation to the poem, to the story.

I guess when you write, you are in the moment. And it's hard to get that exact same moment back.
Anyway this is few poems I really want to finish, but can't just yet.

Give me strings
to hold me in place,
then with them
I will make you a cello.
I will play melancholy
until you come back,
Melancholy will play on forever...


To loose yourself --
not in books or quiet moments.
To loose yourself
as of -- no more knowing.
And I thought with time,
I would.
But the time lied,
as the time only could.


Cinderella has her story
She has it together,
But somehow I'm not her
But that doesn't matter.
What Prince Charming
doesn't know -- can't hurt him.
If the shoe, fit the wicked sis
then that would be a different story.

Booooo

My computer, she dies :(

Dear Mystery Midnight Caller

Dear Mystery Midnight Caller
at number 509 290 0658,
you think that you hurt me when you hate?
LMAO.

All you do when you say, use, or abuse my name

is prove to everyone else- just how much I've got game

you think your words will hurt my incredibly large ego

when in comparison to me on the chart- you don't show

thanks for the reminder that I am pretty and cool

I appreciate your hate you silly little fool

it means that whoever you are, I have you trippin'

which is fine with me cuz i aint slippin'

from my seat as queen on top of the world

so do your worst- I'm this century's super girl

Inspired by His favorite song by Cute is what we aim for

Her green eyes
attempts at my demise
Natural disasters as she lies

Those fucking green eyes
fake tears and fake cries
she draws you in with sobs and sighs

Fucking Green Eyed
bitch oh how she tried
to devastate what was mine
Fuck your green eyed
Insecure and childish side
It's only a matter of time

no worries dear
as all is well
never fear
as we'll meet in hell

and on that day
just wait and see
You WILL pay
for hell hath no fury like me

Broadripple is Burning

I thought I'd share with you my favorite song at the moment. :) It's called Broadripple is Burning, by Margot and the Nuclear So and So's.

I kinda like that my name is in the title of a band. :)



What do you think of it?

Dorothy....

There really is no place like home.

........................

I don't know why I only post poems. Maybe its easier for me to fit in a glimpse of the world into a poem than a prose. Or maybe I just suck at prose, I honestly do. But here another silly creation with lack of structure, as they say. I don't know if any of my works will ever reach past "in revision" stage, but all I can do is hope that one day -- something brilliant will come out.

10/5/10

The yellow leaves,
as if snowflakes falling
they don't care much for dying
they don't care much for flying
they don't care much for me, trying --

to make something out of nothing
to hold on to something
to own anything.

The careless, carefree creations
lifting my mood
leaving me breathless
touching all my senses
and I'm helpless.

A little something I whipped up.

Nineteen Ninety:
On a May day
I am born
into this world.

Nineteen Ninety-Five:
An accident brings
change to my life.
Glasses become identity.

Nineteen Ninety-Eight:
A new town.
A new school.
Many new problems.

Two-Thousand and One:
Shock to my system.
An unfamiliar school.
A life-changing experience.

Two-Thousand and Four:
High-School begins.
Back to the norm.
Nervousness kicks in.

Two-Thousand and Eight:
I finally made it.
My sanity intact.
What happens next?

Two-Thousand and Ten:
A new town.
A new school.
Same old me.

Who's Excited?

Soo who else (besides me) is really fricking excited for Harry Potter next week? :)

todayyyyyy

today is depressing. the end.

Snow pile

She could not see past the white. It filled her mouth and nose, its static silence deafening in her ears. It smothered and drowned her and-which way was up? She writhed back and forth, her goggles had fallen around her neck and the icy snow cut like shrapnel. She remembered a sleepover she had been to. All the little girls had fallen asleep so when she tried to get up to use the restroom but couldn’t find her way out of her sleeping bag, the suffocating flannel wrapped around her arms and legs , the opening rolled under her body during some dream, no one could hear her crying for help.
She’d thought she was going to die then, cocooned in the slither of that nylon tube, but her thrashing woke the girl sleeping beside her, and she was pulled out, gasping and sobbing. But this time, there was no one to pull her from the freezing pile. There was only the white, and the pounding of blood in her ears.
-This was from a dream I had last night. I guess I was feeling claustrophobic under all my blankets haha

Where time is running?

Just a little poem I wrote a while back. Still in works :)) (it might always be)

Where Time is running?

The time is running away from me
Sipping between my fingers
If you would ask me where it went,
I could not find an answer.
The time is rushing with no stops,
No red lights and no intersections.
What have I been doing all this time?
Dare you to ask me that question.
There is not ending, no begining
The now has changed, it never lasts.
If only I could capture time and keep it
Then I could answer you that question.

Moving Picture

The sky is alive. Can't you see it? Can't you see the white swirling clouds, constantly moving, constantly morphing into new shapes, new images, new creatures in the blue abyss?

The sky is filled with life. Buzzing insects, birds soaring without care or fear, dandelion seeds floating through the air like lifeboats.

The sky is a picture. It is an infinite canvas spread out over the whole Earth. The sky is God's canvas, and He paints a new picture every day.

Explosive Thoughts

Because I'm too much of a chicken at the moment, I'll just post this here where some of you can read it. If I feel less like poultry by next Thursday we'll see what happens.

I lost my mind, thinking I'd left them behind. My brothers. Only to discover to my dismay that my mind shipped out with them only to leave this shell behind. Like pencil on paper, I feel erased, a waiting canvas but there is no artist here. So while I bid my time waiting for delicate touches and strokes that life brings, only they learn how to wash it away and listen my brothers: I'm sorry. Sorry for the things you must do, sorry for the love you may lose. I am sorry for the bitterness you may now carry for me.
Bitterness is all I feel while my time hasn't come, left behind, incomplete only with the company of our sisters. There is much love to be true and strength they say is me too. But strength do I have without my brothers?
While they dodge IED's, I have to suffer at home with a different kind. I sit and write with an improved educational device and find that there is only slight comfort in the words I pull from the mind that left me. Where are my brothers to read such words? Despite words of individuals ensuring destruction, I write to fill this mindless shell with the colored art of my words until it cannot be contained and the explosion of freedom and expression engulfs, overwhelms, and makes me whole again. I am sorry, my brothers. Those will not be the last words given on a dying breath, shuddered with the soul's release. Brothers. Sisters. I have found I am amazed by incapacitating emotional devices. Both my own and works of others that would make and break us ensure that my wait to join you is not in vain.

New Beginnings

It always fascinates me when I think I'm certain of a direction on the "road of life," and a detour sign appears. This time I really had to slam on my brakes because it was so unexpected. My pathway to a collge degree has to be altered. I am disappointed and frustrated, but not defeated. In living my life I have learned that a well maneuvered detour can eventually take me to my original destination. The inconvenience and extra delay is not always pleasant, but often the ultimate outcome is even better. I am anxious to explore the possibilities. A new adventure is waiting for me! I am ready for the challenge!

Cipher

What is a letter?
What is a word?
Such strange things, these symbols
That men hold high with meaning.
How can these marks on paper
Determine the fate of nations?

How can the order of letters change all meaning?
How can "war" become "raw"?
Are they related at all?
Does their arrangement truly
Determine their identity?
Does meaning arise only from order?

Such a riddle are words.
Masterpieces endure through history
As black scribbles in books.
Yet for the uneducated man
Those works are as meaningless as a stain.
What are these paradoxes of order and chaos?

Does a word become a word
When it is spoken or when it is written?
Do letters arise from the mouth?
Are words only born on paper?
What are these ciphers
These enigmas of the ages?

What is a letter?
What is a word?

New Perspectives

I don't know about you guys, but when I write, I have to remind myself that there are four other senses than sight. I think that it can be easy to lose yourself in the visual details of a scene or character. Especially smell; wouldn't it be great to know the seductress in astory smells like cloves and melted caramel, or a villian that reeks of leather washed in ammonia? I've been following a site lately, http://www.blackphoenixalchemylab.com/welcome.html that not only imagines what famous characters might smell like, but then formulates a perfume that you can purchase.

Would you like to smell like Mike Mignola's Hellboy, "Aftershave, candy wrappers, brimstone, and cat"? Or maybe Lady Macbeth, "The essence of ambition, covetousness and manipulation: sweet Bordeaux wine, blood red currant, thyme and wild berries. "

Not all of the blends are based on literary characters, and perfume might not be your thing, but the site offers a unique take on the written word.