Knowing all is not enough
With blood on our hands we cry for god
Then punish others for wars worse than ours
Having more than most in this world
We cry for money, we cry for food
We scorn others for unhealthy habits
Yet our expanding waistlines are our
Biggest hypocrytical statment
Get a grip, we're not that great.
For health, we have to write a goal to accomplish by the end of the year. I've decided that mine is to write a novel that's over 100 pages long. Problem: I don't know what my story should be about. Any ideas? Should I use "Carpe Tenebras"?
My friends, it brings me bliss to say that my novel is nearly done. This piece of it is to go near the beginning. I like the dovetailing in it. Enjoy!
The innkeeper’s door was ajar. Crosshatching winds swept the corridors and stupefied him with the clutch and wile of their chords. Still, he did not rise to attend it. Still he set about his duties. His lantern had snuffed itself. Glancing out the window, he saw that the sundial’s fractured face lay blank. A closed door alienates the weary traveler. A closed door pinches off your livelihood at the hub.
His inn was set miles from any appreciable township. The clutch of narrow buildings and knobbled streets delineating the nearest village gave way rapidly into arable fields and seditious roads. His clientèle was a motley lot. Any man who could navigate the legerdemain of country roads was sure to have a tale worth telling. Read more »
You have a secret.
Can you tell me?
Can you whisper into my ear
The secret you cannot say
The words you cannot speak?
Why are you hiding?
Why are you keeping
This from me?
I want you
To want to tell me
To kiss me when you leave
To miss me when I'm gone
I want so much
For you to love me back.
She's being held back
The gold in her eyes
Dying with the days..
She's being held back
with the calories of toast
She's being held back
From the world
She used to swear was hers
The pale in her face
Isn't her natural color
Aren't naturally that gone
Her drive for life
Left on the road
The day he left her looking a ghost
Her motive for this skeletal game
To be loved by all she hates
She's being held back
By the 1%
She accidently became...
Someone call her please
Cause she's definetley out of reach.
So I've gone back to the world I love.
Where money is plastic, and kitchens the size of dwarfs.
So I've left this pessimistic place,
I should call home.
I left it for..
Kids who think a tongue out means war
Where vegtables are gross
and You are proud to say 'i love mom'
I've gone back to a place
Where boys have cooties
Finger painting is considered art
And a fluff sandwhich always mean you've had a hard day
Dreaming up a storm, reading stories
That have five pictures to a word
And playing is always fun
I've gone back..
is where we
and let everything play out all over again.
I dug this up yesterday afternoon, written by a third grade me...
Snow is falling on the ground
making not a single sound
falling soft on my face
making dances full of grace
Have you ever read a really good book? Every now and then I do and I can't put it down. I fell like I'm the person inside of the book, and everything is happening to me. Now for this to happen is a real treat for me because I really don't like to read that much so when this happens to me I like to read that book. Take for enstance the Eragon books I'm on the second one called Eldest. So far i have read 80 so pages, and I'm really starting to like it. I like it when there is a person who takes the time to make a listening part to it so that you can fallow along in the book, but you can also hear the persons voice. If you have a book that you think is a good one please let me know I keep checking this pice. Thanks JVaughan
OhMyGawwwdd! Did you like, ohmygod see, that omg like, girl!
Yes that was the deep conversation I over heard today in the hallway, and for some reason it struck me. How could someone have such a limited vocabulary that they had to use "oh my god" in three separate ways instead of something more intelligent. Yes, I am a culprit of using that favorite term, but I try to stray from it, or at least use something more appropriate like "oh my goodness". I guess it's just our culture, to have the younger generations mold themselves. But can anyone really imagine an America of straight haired preps who are more worried about their miniscule hip fat then the economy? Our country needs a culture face lift, and I don't mean injecting botox into all women over 30. Read more »
There are others
I don't want them.
(I whispered that
the night I held you.)
inches away as
(close enough to hold, but
always too far
and all I can think
I would never have
ignored your cries.
I would have stayed
You would think that being a kid in a 2-D world wouldn't be so bad, except for the fact that life here is flat. The trees in the confined dome that I live in are flat, and scince they are paper thin, with have no means of support they are a little floppy and sad. When I look out into the "real world" outside the dome, I can see their trees are so much diffrent than ours. Their's have colors on the leaves, little pigments like auburn and chartruse, copper and gold. Ours stay green all year. You can see every little ridge, and vein that makes this one living thing so extraordinarly defined. As I write this, a leaf is falling down from the tree that I was just explaining. It twirls and dances in the wind on it's downward decline. I reach out to catch it, but my hand hits the solid chunk of plastic seperating us from eachother's worlds. Then I realize that there is no going back for me. I will never again be back in the world I can only faintly remember. Read more »
This keeps saying like "user warning" and something about duplicate entries and then there's a bunch of html. I have NO idea what it means... Is there something wrong with my username?
You do this to me.
You make me feel so stupid.
How dare you.
I must warn you not to read this if you haven't read Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, or Breaking Dawn. There's going to be more of it. It's only little tidbits of Bella and Edward.
Now that all of the drama was over- James, Victoria, Laurent, newborn vampires, the Volturi- we had forever.
We, meaning me and Edward, of course.
I heard the piano playing and immediately squealed as I realized who it was. Edward had an amazing ability to play the piano (more so then any other talent) he had.
"Edward!" I gasped. "That's so beautiful. Please play it again." He shook his head very slowly, and watched me frown. Edward grabbed me with lightning speed, and took me to the piano.
"Here," said his velvet voice. I never could forget how his voice had a trilling edge to it. "I'll show you." Read more »
(Ok, so this is something of a new direction for me to take my writing in. I would love feedback.)
“Earl! Where the hell is my oatmeal?” Rose said, her voice containing the essential components of both a shout and croak.
“It’s on its way, Missus Emerson,” Earl called from the tiny kitchen around the corner, concluding his thought with a cavernous burp.
“Don’t you burp like that, Earl. It’s rude,” she croak-shouted through tobacco-ravaged lungs. After a few moments of silence, she figured out that he had chosen not to grace her with a response, and in a few more he entered with a steaming bowl perched atop a breakfast tray clutched in oven-mitted hands. He set it down on the night table next to the antique lamp and glass of lukewarm water that seemed to always be half empty. Read more »
I close you off because, well...
I can't stand the pain that you bring.
Ironically, I open up to the others that bring worse.
I'm going to write something
called "My Blog"
just to confuse myself
because it's fun
She tries to convince herself
it wasn't about him
she tries to convince herself
that wasn't cheating.
but all of her "I"s
What am I supposed to say
i don't like it?
would that make me seem more real?
as the saying
does that mean
I wish the
Could be an actual
where I could get lost.
Today, more than ever, things are easily preserved for all eternity. The Internet is easy to add to, and since nothing can be erased completely from the Web, it acts as a digital formaldehyde for every little story and poem and picture out there. So now, more than ever, one must consider the question: how do I want to be remembered?
When you finally go to see Elvis, chances are somebody will remember your work. It is likely that they actually have some of your work, and if you have been fairly successful, it is probable that many people have your work in one form or another.
So how do you want to be remembered?
Do you want to become part of the literary canon, on par with Hawthorne, Poe, Blake, Lewis, the whole bunch?
Do you want thousands of high schoolers across the country writing book reports about your most famous work?
Do you want to be a hometown hero, a local author little known outside a select community, but idolized within it? Read more »
Listen, If I were your sacrificial lamb, I should have been dead a LONG time ago.
But hey, guess what? I'm not.
With your endless probing of your inner fury trying to jostle with mine, I got it.
I'm not sticking around like year old gum underneath a table, or the zit on your face.
Are you calling my cynical? Because,
I agree with your pointing finger of accusation.
My blood bleeds for itself, not for yours, or anyone else.
My hearts beats for itself, not for yours, or anyone else.
My brain functions for itself, not for yours, or anyone else.
My insecurities are for myself, not for you, especially you.
Impale those lies you call "promises" into yourself.
You actually care.
She leaps into his arms,
He holds her while she cries,
They fight, and scream, and laugh, and kiss,
But they both survive.
I want to be the girl.
I want to be the girl who you have to chase after, the one who doesn't melt like butter in your hands.
I want to be the girl who leaves you standing in the night, wishing for a kiss. Not the other way around.
I want to be the girl, the one who your suave and bravado doesn't affect. I want to be the one who you have to be friends with first.
I want to be the girl who is the first to break your heart. After you have broken so many, I want to be the one who you first shed tears over.
I want to be the girl who makes you whole. I want to be the one who heals you when you are broken.
I want to be the girl who is happy to be with you, because of the person I know you can be, and not because of the person you are most of the time.
I want to be the girl, the one who you aren't afraid to tell your friends you really do like, and aren't just fooling around with.
I want to be the girl, and I don't know how.
I want to be the girl, and I don't know why. Read more »
It's is so adorable
incredibly cute you are.
In my class for school, we had to read the Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald. As I was reading this book, and doing all of the worksheets connected with it, I realized that colors are very important in the book. One of the most famous examples is of Nick seeing the green light at the end of Daisy's dock. Another example is describing Daisy with the color white, which shows her Naïve outlook and her purity.