CWP Young Writers '09

Not Really a Guardian Angel (Co-written by Heather & Sara)

2010-05-15T19:06:00.005-04:00

My name is Elizabeth – well, it was Elizabeth, before she died. Now it’s Liza, just Liza.

* * *

It was on the night of my 9th birthday party that it changed for good. My friends had long gone, and my family and I sat around the fireplace. Lukas, my older brother, sat across from me as we played a game of cards. Father and Mama were quiet, and tension hung in the air as I waited for Mama to take me to bed.
All of a sudden, Mama excused herself to the foyer.
Lukas and I became silent and listened intently. “Where’s Mama going?” I murmured, putting my cards down.
“I don’t know, Elizabeth,” Lukas replied in a hushed whisper. “But she and Father have been awfully secretive lately. I don’t think they’re telling us everything.”
“Everything about what?” I asked, nearly shouting, before being quieted by Lukas.
“About Father being transferred,” Lukas whispered. “I don’t think everything is as safe as Mama and Father are making it out to be.”
“But, Luk-” My soft words were interrupted by a shrill scream.
An expression of fear appeared on Father’s face, and he ran out of the room in the direction of the front door. Lukas was soon to follow, and I found myself alone in the living room.
I made my way out of the room, slowly, steadily. One, two, three, four, five steps closer to the front door. When I reached it, my hand found its way to the doorknob, and my feet led me out onto the dimly illuminated street.
It was then that I saw Mama – her blouse soaked with blood, her eyelids closed, and the life draining from her face. I didn’t feel the tears run down my cheeks when the sudden realization hit me.
I was too young then to understand that some people didn’t support the war, and that some people would go to any length to destroy a general.
However, I wasn’t too young to realize that every time Father heard my name – Elizabeth – his heart broke; and every time I saw this happen, “Liza” began to grow on me more and more.

* * *

“Hello, fellow sailors.” A Sudanese man greeted our ship, and I was withdrawn from my previous thoughts.
“Hello,” my father greeted the three passengers on the small yellow raft.
I pursed my lips before turning to stare out across the endless sea. We must be near Sudan, I thought to myself.
Father had been transferred once again. The first transfer had been nearly six years ago, when Mama, Lukas, Father and I had moved from our quaint house in the suburbs of Germany to the bustling city of Berlin. More transfers had followed, and now we were sailing in the direction of Sudan, where what was hopefully going to be my father’s last mission as a militia general was going to take place.
He was a brave man, and I turned to take a good look at him. The years had left their mark on him – his beard was turning white, and his face became more wrinkled every day.
I smiled at him as he met my gaze. “Liza,” he called, “how do we fare?”
“Well, Father,” I replied simply, before once again spinning around to watch the small, inflatable boat pass us by.
But we did not fare well, for not even a minute later, I screamed as the ship collapsed under me and the deck burst into flames. I jumped into the air, fire stinging my legs, before plunging down into the deep, freezing water.
My arms and legs flailed helplessly, distancing me from The Coral Cruiser and its undertow. Once confident that there was a sufficient expanse between the sinking boat and me, I forced myself upward, emerging from the dark water.
Then everything went black.

* * *

“Abbas!” Osama’s voice broke my thoughts.
I was staring out across the sea from the small boat, anticipating the moment. “Yes, sir?”
“Stop staring into space and help Shia and me get ready,” he ordered.
I nodded respectfully and set to work. I helped Shia row while Osama readied the bombs.
“Hello, fellow sailors.” Keeping the bombs out of sight, Osama greeted the ship passing by and waved his hand in a friendly gesture.
“Hello,” the captain of the ship replied. Stretched across the length of the ship were the words The Coral Cruiser.
A teenage girl with beautiful blonde hair and blue-grey eyes stood at the edge of the ship, staring into the distance. Seeing her, I stopped rowing. I sat there and gazed at her, mesmerized. It appeared as though she was staring at our boat, but her eyes were focused on something distant.
“Abbas, get back to work!” shouted Shia.
My thoughts shattered, I began rowing again. Shia glared at me, noticing my sudden change of heart.
“Are we almost ready?” Shia questioned Osama.
“Yes,” Osama answered, “we’re ready.” He smirked and took the paddle from Shia. Then he gave the signal.
Just as The Coral Cruiser was cruising away, Shia pressed the detonator and I braced myself. The bomb exploded instantaneously and the small raft burst into flames. From the force of the explosion, fire spread onto The Coral Cruiser and it immediately became engulfed in flames.
The force of the detonation had pushed me off of the boat and into the churning water below. I struggled to stay above the surface.
Not more than a moment later, there was no evidence left of either boat above the water. Below the surface, however, the boats could be seen resting at the bottom of the sea.
I looked around frantically as I tried to stay at the surface. Underneath me laid the remnants of the two boats, but all I saw around me was rippling water and crashing waves.
Suddenly, the girl with blonde hair that I had seen earlier emerged from the water beneath, fighting to stay above the crashing waves. My stomach twisted in fear as I rushed to save her. I reached her just as her head was falling under the water. Her eyes were closed – she was unconscious.
Though my legs were beginning to tire, I hoisted the girl into my arms and pushed on. My legs strained with every exhausting kick as I carried the girl toward the shore that lay ahead.
I was panting heavily now, and, all of a sudden, my eyes blurred and my legs stopped moving. The weight of the girl crushing me, I fell under the water, too fatigued to fight. I felt my body hit the bottom and my eyes shut from the pain.

* * *

My eyelids were heavy, and I fought to open them. Frightened, my hands touched the starchy bed sheets beneath me, and the scent of pneumonia filled my nostrils.
And then the sudden realization hit me: The Coral Cruiser; that raft; the explosion. I racked my brain, trying to remember the “friendly” faces of the Sudanese sailors, but I drew a blank.
I sat straight up in my bed, finally opening my eyes. I thought about Lukas, who also had been on the cruise ship, and Father – where were they? Where was my family?
A nurse standing at the foot of my bed took pity on me. “You’re at the Ramstein hospital in Germany,” she explained, placing a tray of food in front of me. “Your ship was attacked by the terrorist group Al Qaeda. Don’t you remember, Elizabeth?”
I cringed at the sound of that name. Of course I remembered. How could I not? I thought. Seeing the concern in the nurse’s eyes, I simply nodded, ignoring the other thoughts that swam around in my mind.
She pursed her lips and I could tell she had something else to attend to.
“This boy was also recovered from the wreckage; we believe he was a sailor on your ship.” She gestured towards a boy on the bed beside mine, and then she made her way out of the white room.
I turned to look at him; I didn’t recall his face and he seemed too young to be working on a military boat anyway, considering he looked about my age. I tried to push away the troubling thought that he had not been on my boat. I’ll have to wait until he wakes up, I reminded myself.
Then I remembered him: the boy that had withdrawn me from the lapping water—my guardian angel.
I settled down in the bed again before slowly bringing the stale sandwich the nurse had left to my mouth.

* * *

I opened my eyes at the sound of a voice. My vision was beginning to clear; I could just make out the face of a teenage girl around my age.
“Thank you,” she started. “You saved my life.” The girl smiled and hugged me. My confusion forgotten, I sought comfort in the girl’s embrace. A moment passed and the girl pulled away, but her smile still lingered on her face.
“Where—”
The girl interrupted me. She silenced me with her hand and said, “Don’t speak. You need to rest.” Her words of assurance calmed me and I lay back further, more at ease.
“My name’s Abbas,” I told her in spite of her order to be quiet. “Where am I?”
The girl smiled sympathetically and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “You’re in the hospital,” she began. “Don’t you remember?”
And just then, a sudden wave of remembrance crashed over me. My face went pale as I remembered the boat, the bomb, and finally, saving the blonde-haired girl and falling to the bottom of the sea with her.
“I remember,” I said quietly. I glanced up at the girl and recalled staring at her on the boat before the bomb had been detonated. “Who are you?”
The girl paused, her gaze set on something in the distance. Her eyes clouded and she looked as though she was about to cry. Tears began to form in her blue eyes, but she held them back.
Taking a deep breath, she managed to say, “I’m Liza. You and I are the only survivors from The Coral Cruiser that was bombed.” It seemed as if the words pained her, as if they stuck in her throat.
A wave of guilt passed over me; I put my hand on her shoulder in an attempt to ease her sorrow.
Liza’s breath slowed and she murmured, “My father and brother were on the ship.” The tears that had been repressed reappeared now and Liza didn’t try to hold them back this time; they slid silently down her cheeks.
Without thinking, I hugged her tightly and she let herself relax in my arms. She closed her eyes and sighed, trying to stop the flow of tears. She laid her hand on top of mine and I stroked her blonde hair gently as she drifted to sleep. The bombing temporarily forgotten, I, too, succumbed to sleep.

* * *

Feeling someone nudge me lightly, I stirred from my deep slumber.
“Wake up,” whispered Liza.
Stifling a yawn, I muttered, “What is it?”
“We’re being discharged today.” A smile spread widely across Liza’s face. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, reminding me of the sea.
I hugged her close and sat up in the bed. Suddenly, the smile faded from Liza’s face and she turned solemn.
“I have to find them,” she mumbled to herself, almost indignantly.
“Who?” I questioned.
Tense silence ensued. Liza opened her mouth as though she was about to reply, but she choked on the words. I remembered the night before and how she had burst into tears when she’d mentioned her father’s and brother’s death. I laid a reassuring hand on Liza’s shoulder; she held back tears for the second time.
Slowly and thoughtfully, Liza proclaimed, “I have to find the cruel people who would take away two of the last people who love me.”

* * *

“Here are your clothes.”
Liza recognized the nurse who had been so friendly to her when she had first woken up in the hospital.
“Thanks,” Liza replied, taking the clothes that had been smoldered in the explosion. Liza stopped to examine her shirt, looking closely at the holes and discoloration that had resulted from the flames.
Abbas looked at his own clothes, which were in even worse condition than Liza’s; seeing that they were practically turned to ashes, he threw them away.
Abbas glanced at Liza to meet her look of determination. Breaking his gaze, she walked through the hospital doors, not waiting for Abbas to follow.

* * *

“What are you doing?” Abbas looked at Liza questioningly while she put her burnt clothes through some machine.
“Testing the residue on my clothes,” she answered, still intent on her work. “It will help me identify what type of bomb was detonated.”
Abbas watched her attentively as she tested the clothes. When the clothes came out of the machine, Liza began to work on the computer, using programs that Abbas did not recognize.
“Almost finished,” Liza mumbled seemingly to herself. A moment later, her face lit up. “Done.”
Abbas walked over to her to look at the computer screen. There was an alert box that said that the residue found on the clothes was most likely from a hydrogen bomb.
Abbas suddenly stopped breathing; he knew that Liza was smart, and he suspected that she would discover as soon as she could what terrorist group most often uses hydrogen bombs. She’s on my trail, but I can’t let her know that I was part of the bombing! He thought desperately.
As he snapped back into reality, Abbas noticed Liza’s face turn pale, her smile fading. “A hydrogen bomb,” whispered Liza. “Al Qaeda.”
Abbas flinched at the name, his thoughts of apprehension swiftly returning. “What are you going to do now?” Abbas managed to gasp.
Liza was silent for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she answered, “I’m going to find the terrorist group Al Qaeda and I’m going to arrest them.”

* * *

“Hello. I’d like to hire a private investigator.” Liza stood in the phone booth, awaiting a reply. Abbas watched her from outside the booth.
The automated response came: “Of course. One moment please.” Liza waited, her eyes fixed on something unseen. “What will the private investigator be examining?”
“The bombing of The Coral Cruiser. By analyzing the residue found on the clothing of one of the survivors, I’ve discovered the type of bomb that was detonated. I also figured out what terrorist group is behind the bombing; I just need the PI to track down the group,” Liza explained.
“Where should the private investigator meet you?”
“On Untersuchen Street in Ramstein.”
“We’ll send a private investigator immediately. Thank you and have a nice day.”
“Thanks.” Liza hung up the phone. She exited the phone booth and smiled at Abbas. “They’re sending a PI right away,” she told him.
Trying to hide his panic, Abbas smiled faintly. He and Liza sat down on a stone wall and waited together for the private investigator to arrive.
Seeing a black car resembling a limo drive up to her and Abbas, Liza stood up abruptly. She waved to let the PI know that she was the one who had called.
“Hello,” the man greeted them as he got out of the car.
“Hi.” After introducing Abbas and herself, Liza explained to the PI, who she later found out was named Adal, what she wanted him to do. “Can you do that for me?” she questioned.
“Of course. No problem,” Adal replied with a smirk.

* * *

Liza was ecstatic, and not afraid to show it.
She leaned back in her seat and watched the clouds whiz by the plane windows. Then she turned to examine Abbas’ face. She had always been smart when it had come to practical things – the sciences, mathematics – but when it came to people, she always found herself at a loss.
And Abbas was no exception. He sat next to her, ringing his hands, waiting for something Liza was uncertain of. She wanted him to open up, to confide in her; she wanted for him to trust her with whatever was on his mind, but he didn’t.
Liza bit her bottom lip. She didn’t know what made her so interested in Abbas. Perhaps it was the fact that, other than her, he was the only one left; or maybe it was how kind-hearted he was.
He has to be kind-hearted to let himself become so detached from all of the sorrow that has come about from the lives that were so unjustly taken in the bombing, she thought to herself.
Liza considered that maybe the other sailors weren’t his friends. Maybe he hadn’t cared that they had died, and maybe that’s why he sat there so silently; maybe that’s why he wasn’t as excited to finally catch the people who had killed them. She pondered all this as she gazed at Abbas.
Suddenly, she remembered what Adal had told her, and her previous thoughts were promptly forgotten.

* * *

Adal had approached her just this morning at her father’s home, where she and Abbas had been staying. At first, when she had heard the ring of the doorbell at six in the morning, she considered not answering; but for some reason she got up anyway and, upon opening the door, she found Adal standing in the drizzling rain.
“Do you have news?” she asked him, inviting him into the house.
“Yes. I have discovered the location of the Al Qaeda group – they are currently residing in Sudan,” Adal answered, a look of satisfaction on his face.
“That’s fantastic,” breathed Liza, a smile spreading across her face and her blue eyes gleaming.
Hearing Liza’s voice, Abbas awoke suddenly and made his way into the foyer where Liza and Adal stood talking. He hesitated for a moment, uncertain of whether or not he should greet Adal. His relationship with the PI was complicated, to say the least; ever since Liza had hired Adal to investigate the bombing of The Coral Cruiser, Abbas had found it hard not to resent him.
Trying to push away his burning resentment of the PI, Abbas forced himself to walk over and greet Adal. “Hi,” Abbas compelled himself to say.
“Abbas,” Adal began. “Nice to see you again.” Adal smiled, but Abbas just stared at him, once again attempting to hide his irritation.

Clearing her mind of the events of the morning, Liza gazed out the window again. Comfortable and excited, she awaited the plane’s arrival in Sudan.

* * *

“Shia, I’ve been alerted that the federals are on our trail,” Osama exclaimed to his loyal henchman.
“What federals? We’re the federals,” Shia chuckled.
“The German federals, you idiot!” Osama shouted.
Shia shrank back in embarrassment. “Sorry, sir,” he replied, his voice barely audible.
“Our only chance is to clear out. That means everything – bombs, transportation—“
“Where will we stay?” Shia interrupted.
“The other warehouse on the far side of the city,” the leader replied quickly.
All of a sudden, someone burst through the door of the old warehouse that Osama and Shia were residing in.
“Osama Bin Laden,” Adal started, “you are under arrest under the authority of the federal law enforcement of Germany.”
Rage burning in his eyes, Osama put his arms in the air in reluctant defeat. Adal swiftly put Osama in handcuffs, giving Shia the chance to slip away.
Before he was able to make it out of the warehouse unnoticed, Liza appeared in the doorway and grabbed Shia abruptly by the arm. She twisted his arm and brought him back over to Adal, who now had Osama in custody.
“Not so strong now,” she muttered indignantly.

* * *

Adal led Osama and Shia out of the warehouse, while Liza called the German federals and awaited their arrival. Abbas stood silently beside her, trying to hide his terror.
Not more than a moment later, Liza spotted several patrol cars heading toward them. She signaled them over while Abbas stood, frozen with fear.
Osama was pulled into one of the police cars. “This isn’t over! I have men all over the world who will carry out Allah’s will,” Osama shouted, referring to the Muslim God.
“Like whom?” one of the police officers taunted. “We’ve arrested all of your followers.”
“All but one.” Osama smirked. Noticing Abbas for the first time, he exclaimed, “Abbas! You traitor!”
“What?” Liza whipped around to look at Abbas, her eyes twinkling with confusion.
Abbas stared off into the distance looking lifeless, and he remained silent.
Liza’s eyes widened when she finally made the connection. “It can’t be,” she murmured. Her voice lacked the liveliness it had encompassed just a moment before. “You lied to me,” Liza whispered, regret brimming her voice. She turned away from Abbas to hide her tears.
“Liza,” Abbas managed to murmur.
But Liza just ignored him and turned away.

* * *

“Take him away,” she ordered.
The squad simply stared at her, but Liza just sat in silence, letting the tears that she had hoped wouldn’t come slide down her cheeks. They made small, dark circles on the stones underneath her feet. Her usually calm eyes now full of sorrow, Liza reflected on the past few events in silence.
I can’t believe he would do that to me, she thought regretfully. I trusted him.
Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Liza stood. A moment later, she looked up to see the policemen watching her. “Now,” whispered Liza, trying to wipe the endless fountain of tears from her face. She didn’t understand how she could cry anymore, but the tears just kept coming.
Liza watched as Abbas passed her, handcuffs binding his hands; she fought the urge to turn away. She wanted him to feel ashamed. She wanted him to feel guilty – to feel guilty for killing her father.
Abbas was guided to the head officer, who was now glaring at him. Lowering his head in shame, he stood in front of the officer.
Still glaring at him, the chief officer grabbed Abbas by his handcuffs and muttered angrily, “You, traitor, deserve to spend the rest of your life in prison. And that’s just what you’re gonna get.” Pushing Abbas back toward the officers who stood by the police cars, the head officer smirked.

* * *

Liza could feel Abbas’ gaze blazing on her skin. Taking a deep breath, she met his eyes.
Abbas fought to hold back tears of his own as he stared into her blue eyes. Temporarily escaping the police officers’ grasp, Abbas ambled over to his friend, if he could still call her that.
One of the officers charged at him, but the chief officer stopped him.
Abbas gazed deeply into Liza’s eyes, and he was once again reminded of the sea – the one that had engulfed him, the one that had taken her father – and he was forced to look away.
Regaining his composure, Abbas looked at Liza and, struggling with his handcuffs, put his hand to her face. She stared right into his eyes and he leaned in to kiss her. Their lips met gently and stayed together for just a moment, yet somehow it seemed like a lifetime.
Gingerly but unexpectedly, Liza pulled away. For only a moment longer did she stare at him, until she had to look away. For the final time that day, tears overflowed her sea-blue eyes.
At the same moment, Abbas was pulled away by one of the police officers and forced into a police car. Gazing back at Liza longingly, Abbas was driven away, leaving her behind.
She stared after him, and her heart throbbed with the grief of letting go of the one person whom she had truly loved. And then she was alone.

Friendships

2010-04-08T19:29:00.003-04:00

The two girls seemed to share a brain. And they loved every minute of it. They liked the same music, they often said things in unison. They didn't look alike at all, though. One girl was tall, the other very short. Both had brown eyes and curly hair, but one's hair was a dirty blond while the other's was dark brown. One was timid around other people. The other was not. For about three years the girls loved their time together. One rarely had playdates, while the other seemed to have a friend over once a week. Sometimes people came between them; they felt jealous when they each aquired new friends. But it always worked out in the end. Yet going off to high school, the two girls suddenly realized . . . they were going their different ways. They weren't going to the same high school, and this tore them apart. They were always sad together for their last year, not enjoying the time together, but fearing the future. They wanted to shop for new friends who would be going to the same high school, but they knew it would be rude to do that to their BFFL, Best Friend For Life. Yet it would be hard to be BFFLs when they would hardly see each other. They tried to keep up their friendship, but it was difficult. Throughout high school, their personalities were slightly altared. They were much different people as seniors than they had been as eighth graders. But during every summer they still met up a few times, and they realized that old friends could still mix. It didn't have to be a painful goodbye . . . . they texted and e-mailed all the time. Technology aided them in keeping their friendship. When they saw each other during the summer in high school, they didn't feel awkward like they had nothing to talk about. They made more memories to talk about the next time they were together. One day in their friendship was equivalent to a year in some girl's. And they both knew just how to act on their last day as seniors in high school; they knew how to say goodbye to their friends.
"We'll still be friends," they both told their high school buddies, "We talk all the time now, and that will change when we get new friends in college. But no matter what, every summer, we can meet up or see each other. It'll be almost like a reunion so we can have fun and make memories." They told their friends about their current friendship; how they had actually kept in touch.
"I had promised her I would never forget her because we were such good friends, and I tell that to you now, knowing I can keep this promise," the brunette said after telling her good friend the story of her friend from pre-school to eighth grade. And her high school friends believed her. Some of them didn't bother to keep in touch. They didn't want to remember their past the way the two friends did. They weren't ashamed of it. Why would they be ashamed of good grades, fun, and a great friendship? The bigger question is: Why would they elect to forget such good things. And every year those two friends still stuck together a few times each summer. When they got out of college, they were both majoring in the same field. They didn't get a job at the same place or anything crazy like that, but they talked all the time. They e-mailed each other at work, called each other, and went out to lunch once a month or so. Maybe this doesn't happen so much in real life, but why would you want to forget your friends? Even if you're busy, you don't need to talk to them once a day or once a week or even once a month. Friends are really special people, and even if you have a lot of them, you really need to cherish them. Since I have such a sweet tooth, I compare friends to dessert. Maybe like a warm chocolate lava cake. Friends are amazing, and they aren't irreplacable. Friends are the people you turn to every day for advice. They're also the people who will listen to your problems, even if you're asking for sympathy or fishing for compliments.

Spring

2010-04-08T19:20:00.002-04:00

Tonight the sky is striped
blue and pink
like puffy cotton candy
I want to pull down from the sky.

The air is warm and inviting,
the sunset is beautiful,
something my Science teacher would
describe as a "decrepit event",
something never to be repeated
in the exact same way again.

The pink petals from
a newly bloomed tree
float onto the grass,
decorating it with pink spots.

Down the street by the brook,
the bland bushes and plants
are now bright yellow
with buds and flowers.

Bees buzz around,
excitement is in the air
as the temperature escalates,
climbing into the 80s
for the first time this year.

None of the students in school
seem to notice this beauty
because it's hot
with windows wide open,
no air conditioning to speak of.

All they think about
when we're sitting in sticky desks
is, "There's two more months of this!"
And I certainly don't blame them.

Regarding Your Jeans

2010-03-10T22:59:00.002-05:00

I tried to stop myself, I really did try

but the water was so inviting

and the air was so humid

and I knew they were your jeans

that you had bought just

two weeks ago from our

favorite store

and I think most of the

saltwater smell will come out

in the wash. I’m sorry.

Next time

you should jump in with me.

Calf Pasture

2010-03-10T22:58:00.000-05:00

I am eight, and my family

Is on the pier at
The beach. I see the swells

Of Long Island Sound, the

Seagulls emerging from air

And land and sea in a raucous

Chorus. I smell the air wafting

From the cold seawater, and the

Distinctive must of the pier’s old

Weatherbeaten wood. My dad is

Pointing out the islands, and

Grandma is correcting him with

Kind amusement and telling us

Of her own adventures at

Different beaches, in different

Times. And her white glasses

Mimic her white hair as she

Laughs, her purple-weined hand

Clutching a cane, and I

Smile now, in the remembering,

Even though she won’t swim

With us ever again.

Tuesday

2010-01-12T23:37:00.002-05:00

Tuesday evening, around 5:45 pm:

I’m screwing up.

No, really; you don’t understand how bad this is.

My brain is about to implode, collapse in on itself like

One of those fancy chocolates from a box someone gave you on a holiday--

That one chocolate that you expect to have a hard center

But instead smashes under slight pressure,

Saccharine filling oozing out in pain and defeat,

The fragile shell surrounding my volatile psyche breaking apart

Into splinters of cocoa butter and shriveled efforts curling up into the fetal position.

I’m waiting for this to be over.

My voice teacher told me the other day,

“Keep the energy spinning, let it vibrate.”

Well, my energy right now is spinning

Like the engine of my mother’s car,

Eating itself to death because of a cap left carelessly unscrewed--

My energy is dying, along with most of my desire to do anything but what is required from me

But I can’t even do That much,

So all my self-sabotaging thoughts converge on me,

Circling me like we’re about to start some cheesy tango

In an overdramatic, nationally televised dance competition

And they intend to dance me till these fingers hurt,

Till the pressure building up in my temples explodes and my

Thoughts and fears drip down all over long black stage curtains and fellow musicians,

The ones who know what they’re doing,

The ones who have no reason to feel scrutinized or embarrassed or ashamed.

I want to reach higher levels of musical ability, but how can I do that when

Exhaustion and frustration butter the rungs of the ladder going up to the little control panel where I turn on the “mental processing” switch?

My fingers and my brain have ceased communications,

Old friends who suddenly stop talking over some trivial disagreement

And cannot seem to resolve their tiff until years later when it’s too late to matter anymore.

I can no longer sing through my fingers;

They cannot speak intelligently, with all their information locked away

In a coat closet corner of my brain.

They do not traverse the black hills and ivory valleys like the frequent fliers they are;

These travellers somehow develop vertigo,

And I have little to no control over where they decide to wander off to in their

Drunken, unthinking stupor.

The mental haze settles in the back of my eyes,

Rendering them next to useless in trying to read or fake the next tricky chord changes.

What is wrong with me? Why didn’t I do this

Yesterday, last weekend, ages ago?

I’m a disappointment to myself,

To the people around me who thought we would sound better but

Aren’t sure why we don’t.

My prior arrogance embarrasses me, makes me regretful.

I just need to get through this moment, and the next two hours of moments like this one.

Maybe just once,

I’ll play something decently enough

So I don’t stay completely grim for the whole rehearsal.

But then I just have to rely on muscle memory and luck.

I just need to pull myself through the swamp reeds

To the promised land of water and shelter on the other side of the river.

Falling Off the Horse/Not what I wanted to Say

2010-01-12T20:01:00.001-05:00

You question me, and all of a sudden

Without my consent

Without my desire my voice

Slips out of my control

And the words I’m shouting

In my head--

Strong words, confident words--

Are trapped behind my voicebox like...

Like fumbling actors looking in vain

For their lines, like...

Like tall men awkwardly trying to

Tip-toe through a labyrinth

Full of broken glass; all of them

Hesitant, no matter how much

They wish to save

The play or run

Through the maze with

Heads held high and proud

And so even though I struggle and

Fight to keep the frightened horses

In check, the reins

Slip, the rider cries out and falls, and I,

Left on the ground far from my

Destination and without a horse, am

Left with no control

No control! None at all!

And that frustration alone,

More than anything else,

Forces the words stumblingly,

Haltingly out from where they are

Clenched between my teeth

In an ugly drip-drip of words

Slowly calcifying in brittle stalactite spears,

Easily crushed in the careless vibrations of your

Voice, telling me louder, louder! I can’t hear you!

Crushed to the marrow-yellow dust of my weak words

And even more mortifying I can hear the

Agonizing onerous pace of my

Struggling speech, dragged out to tortuously

Slow proportions-- god, a child of two could

Express herself better than I at

This moment-- that makes you relent,

Because you think

I’m going to cry.

2009-12-13T19:42:00.002-05:00

Emma stood stirring the apples in the pot while her mother peeled them. Emma didn't want to be stuck inside making applesauce and apple cobbler, although the food was good. She didn't think that one night of good food was worth all the stirring and peeling, stirring and peeling. Emma's mother did, though.
"Emma, I'll be right back. If there's anything, I'll be upstairs looking for that old wooden spoon. It stirs much better," Emma's mom said."Just holler if you need me." Emma nodded absent-mindedly. She stared out the glass window at the snow. It was cold, but Emma longed to be outside anyway. Her mother had said when she asked, "There is absolutely now way you can go outside in this weather. We have to make a nice dinner for your father and brother. Don't even think about sneaking out, either. You'll catch a cold." But as Emma stood in the kitchen alone, she knew that she could sneak outside and be back in before her mother could find the spoon. That spoon had been lost for ages, and it was unlikely her mother would find it. Her mother was also an independant person who never gave up, and she would sit upstairs for an hour looking for that spoon.
Emma peered up the creaky wooden stairs and saw no sign of her mother. She crept slowly to the door and went outside where the snow was softly falling.

It's Not That Easy

2009-12-13T19:39:00.003-05:00

Being me isn't that easy,
waking up every morning to face new troubles,
to pursue a dream that feels impossible.

Being yourself isn't that easy,
feeling like you're a nobody
in crowded middle school halls.

Feeling left out of a friendship
isn't that easy;
it feels like someone just
slapped you in the face.

Whether it's picking out clothes
or picking out your friends,
everybody knows it's not easy.
Nothing is.

A Tree is A Metaphor for Life

2009-12-13T19:31:00.001-05:00

A Tree is a Metaphor for Life
This was an essay I had to write for Language Arts comparing a tree to life.

A growing tree is like a young child; it is full of life and love, it is strong and beautiful, it grows, and it changes. Trees give humans more air to breathe, but they also provide beautiful sights in all the different seasons. Like humans, some trees are big, some are small, some are short, and some are tall, but each one is beautiful and unique. A tree is a symbol for all people because it can stay firmly planted in the ground while storms are pushing on its trunk and blowing off its branches. To people, this means that during troubled times in our own life, we can hold our ground and not change our opinions or move where we are standing because someone else wants us to. Like a young child, a young tree can grow stronger and larger each day.
Trees are beautiful and amazing to look at in any season. In the fall, many trees are full of bright red, orange, yellow, brown, and green leaves that look like scenes from paintings. Evergreen trees, which are incredibly special and beautiful because we use them as a symbol at Christmas, stay green during all the seasons. In the winter, the branches can become covered with snow and remind a person of their favorite Christmas song. Trees do not hibernate like bears, but they simply get through the winter and wait for a warm season to come. In the spring, some trees grow little flowers, and their leaves begin to return. In the summer, the leaves are green again and the sun shines brightly on them in the warm air. Some trees will stand through the summer lightning storms, the winter blizzards, and the chilly whipping fall wind, but other trees will fall. Humans have to know when they should stand strong and hold their ground and when they should back down like a fallen tree.
Trees are strong and wonderful, yet many people regard them as nothing. They often have it hard in the winter. They do not wear coat to protect their trunk from the wind and snow, nor do they wear a hat to keep their leaves from dancing, fluttering, or falling off the branches. The bare branches do not stay warm because gloves warm them. Humans have all these wonderful items of clothing to keep them warm all winter, and so that snow does not seep inside their clothing and make them cold. Although trees do not have to deal with the everyday stress humans have to endure, especially during the holiday season, trees deal with more physical issues, so trees can be just as strong as any grown adult.
Young trees and seedlings need sunlight, water, and care to grow; the same way a young child needs care from a parent or guardian, love, water, and food. Someone may plant a seed, so that a beautiful tree might one day grow there, and that person might care for the tree. The tree gets care from nature around it because it needs sunlight to make its food for the leaves, and it needs rain to get water, which helps it grow. Both young trees and young children need all of these to survive, but the tree does not need human care. Young trees grow up mostly on their own, but most children would not have the skills to raise themselves.
Any tree is beautiful, strong, incredible, and it grows, changes, and it is a symbol for all people to stand firm in the ground, even when wind is whipping at your trunk in an attempt to blow you over. Unless they are planted in a nursery or have special human care, many young trees raise themselves from small seeds. Some reach great heights, growing thick trunks and long branches over a period of time. Many children grow up and become tall, accomplished adults who can pull themselves through any storm that comes in their path. Trees are a symbol for love, but most of all, trees are a symbol for life.

Thank You For All You've Been

2009-10-29T19:06:00.002-04:00

I guess i never fully appreciated
The person that you were
I was to caught up
In a silly love triangle
Between
You
Me
And my heart
My stupid heart
That made me fall
So madly in love with you
Even though
Deep down
I knew it couldn't last forever
But now that your gone
I realized how lucky i was
To have been able
To call you mine
And I want to thank you
For the special memories
That might cause me
Heartache for a while
But will end up
Meaning a lot to me
In the future

Prices Payed

2009-10-28T06:47:00.001-04:00

Now that you are gone
There is nothing more
For me to live for
You were everything to me
You weren't just a friend
You were something more
Someone I truly loved
And now your gone
Just like that
And the memories
I have of you
Haunt me like a waking dream
Silence suffocates me
As I lie away at night
Waiting for the tears
That won't come
I let you into my heart
To freely
And now I play the price
For loving you to much

Truth & Lies

2009-10-26T20:58:00.001-04:00

This is all so
Confusing
Crazy
Heavy-heartening
One minute
You seem to love me
The next
You don't
I wish you would tell me
What was bothering you
Or at least the truth
Don't lie to me
I hate that
I can see right through you
I can read you
Like an open book
I know there is something
You're not telling me
Something that would put
All the pieces
Of the puzzle together
Then at last
I could rest in peace
And happiness
And joy
I won't hate you
Or think bad of you
If you just tell me the truth
You're crushing me
Suffocating me
Making my love for you
Fade
So please
If you love me
Don't lie
Just tell me the truth

County Galway, Wisconsin

2009-10-21T19:15:00.002-04:00

[A short story for my creative writing class. Any criticism appreciated.]

Horace sat alone at the kitchen table, reading his newest volume of Irish history. He didn’t notice that his mug of hot cider had melted the thin plastic of the tablecloth again. Silently turning the pages, Horace lost himself in the mysteries of the old country. By degrees, he lost all sense of self. He forgot he was a sixty-three year old man in Wisconsin; in his mind he was a strong young man in Ireland. He forgot he worked in a sad gray office building all day; in his mind he was a historical researcher for National Geographic, being paid to explore the weird old ruins on Ireland’s rugged west coast, near the choppy shores of the North Atlantic.

Holding the heavy book, Horace fell into a half-sleep. Suddenly, he wasn’t pretending anymore—he truly believed he was an explorer in Ireland. In his half-conscious stupor, Horace went over to the closet to put on some hiking boots. Opening the door, he hardly blinked as various odds and ends clattered out into the hall behind him. He put on two mismatching hiking boots and a bright yellow raincoat over his rumpled plaid shirt. With a gray fedora on his graying head and an old umbrella in hand, he ventured forth.

Outside, it was snowing for about the fortieth time that winter. “How curious! Snow, at this time of year!” Horace shouted madly to himself, his gray mustache positively quivering with excitement. “And in the county Galway! Won’t Penny be surprised to hear this!” He twirled dizzily in the wind.

Horace meandered across the gritty sand toward the shoreline of Lake Michigan. “The sea! The sea! I must be in Galway Bay!” he cried, swaying a bit in the gale. His poor umbrella struggled valiantly, suddenly turning inside out. “Oysters, I must dig for oysters!” Horace poked rather limply at the snowy sand with the broken umbrella.

A Coast Guard officer was patrolling the perimeter of the shore. She frowned. What was this man doing out here, in the cold? Surely he’d heard the news of the imminent blizzard. “Hey, what are you doing?” she called out.

“Digging for oysters!” Horace cried, triumphantly displaying his catch.

The officer looked at Horace’s fist dubiously. It was clutching a bunch of rocks, dead plant matter, and sand. “Oh really?” She reached for the walkie-talkie on her hip.

Suddenly, Horace lurched over, snatching the device. “An artifact!” he crowed. “Good work, little lady! But this is only the beginning. We have so much left to find!” And with that, he turned around abruptly and galloped into the frigid water, now swirling with snow.

The officer kicked off her heavy boots and dove in after him. One way or another, Horace landed face-up on the Wisconsin beach. Soon enough he was in a screaming ambulance, tearing down the slippery streets.

He gasped desperately for breath. He came out of his trance. Someone was pushing on his ribcage. His lungs were on fire.

Horace frowned, struggling to focus on the hazy figures swarming above him in the dry, warm darkness. “Where am I?” he asked feebly.

The officer stopped giving CPR and smirked. “County Galway Hospital.”

Never to be Forgotten

2009-10-04T21:56:00.001-04:00

You were my everything;
a smile in sadness,
the tear shed in strife.
You were my own;
a blackberry thief,
and protector of our castle.
An explorer of the world,
lover of the rain.
The risen gates
have opened for you,
a beautiful legend
in your own right.
Always beside me,
even now,
never to be forgotten.
I'll love you forever;
my companion,
my listener,
my best friend.

Shaken Road

2009-10-04T21:54:00.000-04:00

Hold onto my hand,

I'll show you the way.
They've left us here
why should we stay?
Give me a reason
and I'll follow you back home.

The road keeps shaking,
we could fall through.
Can you feel the spaces,
the hollow souls we knew?
The broken people,
we stepped over them.

We've hit a wall,
there's no place to go.
You ask who I am,
why pretend you don't know?
Don't hide behind questions,
we can face this together.

i dont know...

2009-09-30T23:19:00.001-04:00

I want to laugh...

I want to scream!

That feeling inside me...

Like I'm bursting at the seams!

Imploding, and choking...

hoping and wishing...

stopping.

and sitting.

and breathing.

and then...

realization.

the feelings, the stress.

i am alive.

but im proud of this.

you

2009-09-30T23:18:00.000-04:00

did you know?

that sometimes i'll think about you,

the way you talk,

that sense of humor,

but also,

how you care about so much.

except...

im not the person that'll wait on your calls...

i get pissed if you forget,

but i'll forget too.

i sometimes just think that we can be the best of friends,

it'll be great, i'll be happy...

but then i remember this.

i remember that feeling in my stomach,

where i know i never want to be anywhere else...

that knowledge that for once...

my head is a gooey mess.

i remember the fact...

that i love you as such a good friend,

but when i see you... every once and a while...

i wish that you knew what i meant.

untitled

2009-09-30T23:17:00.000-04:00

its weird...

when i mention this. i freeze.

i want to say don't laugh. i'll cry.

don't mention it, don't worry.

but i know. i want to hear this...

i want to know what people think,

i want verification, some safety net...

but that can't just happen.

i want to hear, "this imagery is perfect!"

or "that flows just right...."

but critique is life.

if i learn. i grow.

so i just have to keep telling people,

that this is me.

MY blogggg

2009-09-30T13:41:00.001-04:00

i'm copying maddie and i want you ppl to comment on my blog 2 cuz i like NVR get any comments anymore.

It's http://dostuffwritestuffbynoodle.blogspot.com/

Thank You!
Noodle

my blogg

2009-09-24T19:23:00.001-04:00

hey please check out my blog! its got a lot of the stuff i put on here, but it has moree :) please comment on my poems, and idkkk. the link is there, and the other blog links i have are good too :)

http://maddie-live-laugh-love-write.blogspot.com/

Do You Think I'm Sexy?

2009-09-17T22:21:00.010-04:00

“Do you think I’m sexy?”
I stared at the guy, startled and skeptical. Too surprised to speak, I gazed at him without saying a word. That was the first thing this stranger said to me. Not “hi,” or “hey,” but “do you think I’m sexy?”
My first inclination was to roll my eyes, so, of course, that’s exactly what I did.
This rude tendency stemmed from when I was much younger and would constantly roll my eyes at my teachers. Needless to say, I still hadn’t broken the habit.
After seeing my reaction, the guy’s smug expression changed suddenly – the smirk had been wiped clean off his face – but his charming, blue eyes still betrayed his cockiness. He looked back at my brother, Justin, and served the ping-pong ball he had been holding, his expression now seemingly unchanged.
In spite of myself, I couldn’t resist his obvious charm.
I stared at him for a moment longer, not wanting to take my eyes off him. Then I turned around abruptly and walked back to the bathroom door. My eyes stared blankly ahead as I contemplated what had just happened. Who is that guy? I wondered.
Turning around again, and without thinking, I approached the guy slowly. When I reached him, he stopped playing and glanced down at me from a good six inches above.
The silence hadn’t even set in before he said, “Hi, I’m Danny,” with an irresistible grin.
I tried to repress a smile. “I’m Heather.”
“Yeah, I know. I think we met at Camp Jewell once.”
I suppressed a gasp and immediately went back into my mind to memories of camp, which had taken up several summers of my life. All of a sudden, a vague recognition clicked and I was left speechless.
“I remember,” I said quietly after a moment.
An awkward silence ensued, so I returned to my post at the bathroom door, left to drown in my thoughts. Why can’t I stop staring at him? I asked myself. Why is his charm working on me?
I was stuck on that last thought when my friend, Kenzie, emerged from the bathroom. She was studying my absorbed expression when I suddenly snapped back into reality. I quickly glanced up at her, my face betraying the sudden change in my disposition.
Without waiting for me to explain, she whispered, “Who is that?” as she motioned towards the guy.
I paused before responding. “One of Justin’s friends, I guess.”
Kenzie pursed her lips. I could tell she wanted to know more. “What’s his name?” she asked absentmindedly, not seeming to care what the answer was.
“Danny,” I said, trying to sound indifferent.
I glanced back at him and he grinned that same compelling grin. I didn’t yet realize how much I would long to see that grin again.

* * *

Kenzie had long gone by the time I came downstairs to find Justin and Danny playing Guitar Hero. I walked into the room hesitantly.
“Watcha doin’?” I tried to make my voice sound casual.
“Playing Guitar Hero.”
I detected a slight edge in my brother’s tone of voice. Subconsciously, I rolled my eyes, further proof that I still hadn’t conquered that tendency. I stood there awkwardly for a while, watching them play.
“Can I play?” I questioned my brother finally.
“After Danny leaves.”
I sighed, dreading it either way.

Before I knew it, I heard the familiar ring of the doorbell echo throughout the house. I looked up in surprise as I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. My mom rounded the corner and approached us while an unfamiliar woman trailed behind her. I watched intently as the woman greeted my brother and Danny.
“Come on, Danny. It’s time to go,” the woman said.
“Hold on,” Danny replied, not bothering to look up from the TV.
I listened as he and Justin played Miss Murder, one of my favorite songs from that game. The catchy tune rung in my ears as I stared at Danny. Though I didn’t know it yet, I would later associate that song with him forever.
Soon the song ended though, and then he was out the door with just a quick “later” to my brother.
And I was left sitting downstairs, alone. I was still lost in thought. I hadn’t had time to assess Danny as a guy, not to mention as a person. Confusion and uncertainty wrapped around my mind like snakes refusing to let go of their prey until they have squeezed the life out of it.
Reluctantly, I headed back upstairs, unsure of what to make of Danny and of the day.

* * *

It was a normal school day... or so I thought it was.
It was my free period and I decided to get some homework done, so I made my way to the library.
It was then my day became unusual and perpetually unforgettable.
As I entered the library, my eyes were immediately drawn to that familiar blue hat; I stared at Danny in astonishment as he stood talking to my brother at one of the computers.
It was a tough feat trying to approach Danny quickly without seeming too eager. Somehow, though, I suppose I managed to do so.
“Hey,” Danny greeted as he got up suddenly and hugged me.
I could feel the blood immediately rush to my cheeks; I couldn’t help but blush as his arms wrapped around me unexpectedly.
My heart was racing and it wasn’t until he finally broke away that I realized I had been holding my breath. I tried to steady myself as blood pounded in my ears and I fought to catch my breath.
All this happened within seconds, and before I knew it, I was once again staring up at Danny and his distinctive blue hat. I found myself speechless, and he didn’t say anything either, although his smile said more than words ever could.
That was the first time.

* * *

As I made my way through the crowded hallway on my way to room 3042, my heart suddenly began to race with excitement. Straight ahead of me was Danny; in a crowd of people, I saw only him.
I smiled as I noticed his signature blue hat and felt my heart skip a beat. In spite of my fluttering heart, I tried to seem casual as I passed him by. But, to my satisfaction, Danny just wouldn’t let me walk by unnoticed.
“Hey, Heather,” he called out.
I turned around just in time to see that irresistible grin form on his flawless face. It took all my willpower to hold back a smile as I stared into his turquoise eyes.
I could feel every beat of my heart as Danny took me into an embrace. Once again, blood rushed to my cheeks involuntarily; I blushed even more with embarrassment when he pulled away and noticed my rosy cheeks.
“Hi, Danny,” I finally murmured, my breath taken away.
After a split second of silence, I turned around in the hallway awkwardly and rushed to catch up with a friend who had been walking with me so as to appear nonchalant.
My friend didn’t need to say anything; her face said it all. I didn’t say a word either. I just smiled.
I looked back right before going into my classroom and my heart skipped a beat for the second time that day as I gazed at Danny, awestruck and, for once, happy.

* * *

Sadly, though, time goes on, and time changes people, as it did Danny and me. And so, as the year went on, our encounters began to dwindle until they soon became completely nonexistent. And I suppose Danny moved on, which, in turn, forced me to do so as well. And so I did. We both moved on with our lives, never quite together, but we changed, probably for the better, for having once been in each others’ lives.

Two Worlds Collide

2009-09-16T21:59:00.000-04:00

The waves crashed upon the shore, while gray clouds loomed in the distance. Breathing deeply, I tried to calm myself. Mother Nature and I felt the same; frustrated. I wondered what angered her. I'm sure her reason was legit. The human race was killing her planet, her baby. It was like having a sick child, and the doctors gave them medicine that made them worse. They had the medicine and technology to make your child get better, but they're too ignorant to use them. I ran to the end of the boardwalk, the clouds closing in. Thunder rumbled in the distance, showing Mother Nature was almost ready to blow. I looked up at the gloomy sky. It was amazing how Earth and humans could be so related and yet so different. "Why would he do that?" I asked out loud, as if Mother Nature stood right next to me. "He said he cared about me. He loved me. I was his one and only." Thunder boomed, agreeing with me. "Why would he behind my back to her? What makes her any better than me? Is she prettier? Smarter?' Lighting flashed in the distance, revealing how close the storm was. All was silent for a few moments, then thunder and lightning put on a show, going one after another; Mother Nature venting.“I remember he asked me if 10 years from now I would be in love with him just as much as I am now.” Smiling at the memory, I continued, “I’d given him the corniest answer. I’d said, ‘No, I would be 10 times more in love with you than I am right now.’ He had smiled. I asked him the same question and his answer…it was ‘I’ll let you know. It’s a surprise.’” As I finished, I felt an ache in my chest. I recognized the feeling, my heart breaking. “God, I’m such an idiot. What guy would love me? I’m nothing, he’s right to go to her…” A flash of lightning crossed the sky.“But I still love him.” I whispered.Just as the tears overflowed out of my eyes, the rain came pouring down. It soaked through my clothes, to my bones, in a matter of seconds.My hands grabbed the railing of the boardwalk as I continued to cry. Mother Nature and I were comforting each other. Her tears mixed with mine, falling onto the wood and sand, diving into the ocean causing a ripple effect. We felt each others pain, knew that only time could heal our wounds.As the tears and rain subsided, a voice called my name in the distance. It was him. I looked up at the sky, silently asking Mother Nature what to do. A loud rumble of thunder shook the Earth. He’s not worth it, a voice said in my mind. I smiled to the sky and whispered, “Thank you.”Mother Nature was right. He just wasn’t worth my time and effort. There were other fish in the sea, and I’d swim the whole ocean until I found the one who treated me the way I wanted to be treated. I walked the boardwalk back to the beach, past the first boy who ever broke my heart. I left the beach and walked home. As I opened the door and trotted up the stairs to shower, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. It then dawned on me, not once did I regret anything that happened today. The ache in my heart would heal with time. I would be okay.

Tobias Fulner and the Art of Persuasion

2009-09-13T22:49:00.001-04:00

(Disclaimer: this is a farce, and a poorly written one at that. Do you think I can save it in any form? This was written for my self-imposed Tobias Fulner writing challenge. Ladies, I'm waiting for your entries!)

Tobias Fulner was a very young man who believed in the power of the art of persuasion. Every day he would lift his head off of the pillow, stretch, yawn, and persuade himself that the world needed him to get up. And so he did.

Tobias was not a good student in the classical sense of things. He did not like to do homework or yardwork or woodwork or anything he deemed "immoral", a word he used so often it appeared to have less to do with morals than the principle of the thing. His parents deemed him an unruly child and made up their minds to send him to military school.

Little to their knowledge, Tobias, being a believer in the power of the art of persuasion, soon surpassed their wildest dreams and had quickly become an integral part of the Premier's inner circle of military advisors. Unfortunately for his country, Tobias knew nothing of military strategy. All he had was a gift for persuasion and a spunky, lopsided sort of charm.

Therefore, to the chagrin of all the other advisors, the country entered a war in a far corner of the globe. However, this war did not last very long, as Mr. Fulner quickly persuaded the other side to simply give up.

The next day, there was a ticker-tape parade in celebration of the heroic Tobias Fulner. All the children stood outside of their gloomy apartments and cheered for this bemused, funny-looking man who had a way with children and convincing adults to do things.

Later, spurred by the attentions of the local media, Tobias grew interested in the prospect of power, based on things other than persuasion. He had grown tired of continuously having to convince other people to do things. So, he decided one morning as he persuaded himself to get out of bed, he would do his last big job of persuasion. He would persuade the country to replace him as their leader.

So he got in front of the television cameras and the bloggers' screens and made his case. It was quite persuasive, and soon people began to question why he wasn't their leader in the first place. So the whole country mutinied and installed Premier Fulner. Actually, it wasn't a real mutiny per se, as the original premier was persuaded to give up his post too.

Satisfied, Tobias sank into a deep slumber in the cushy bed of the Premier's Palace, which had been built for him by an especially sympathetic crew of architects and construction workers. He woke up automatically the next morning when rays of sunshine tickled his retinas. But, having given up persuasion forever, he could not convince himself to get out of bed.

Days passed, with no signs of Premier Fulner reaching the outside world. Tobias was bedridden. The population became uneasy. They were unused to functioning without a leader for such a long period of time. On the twelfth day of the Premier's self-imposed exile, the people revolted. They installed a new Premier in his place.

The men from the moving company moved Fulner's bed out of the palace, into a small clearing in the nearby woods. Still Tobias would not stir. As it was, Tobias Fulner could not convince himself to do anything anymore. As is usual with these sorts of things, Tobias Fulner died.

At his funeral, no one quite knew what to say. He was buried under a large statue of a charging horse, in a plot he had persuaded the cemetery owner to give to him for free.

Once Upon a Time

2009-09-08T22:37:00.001-04:00

There was a time
when we knew to forget;
grasping winds in open palms,
holding onto lost memories.
Our smiles
always brighter than the sun,
our laughter
echoing in the wind.
Our path was hidden,
and we lit the dark,
fighting off dragons with
cardboard swords.
We were princesses and fairies,
and famous for a day,
no stopping us.
Living while we could,
invincible all the same.
We dared to dream,
to believe in possibilities.

My Hearts Desires

2009-09-02T20:16:00.001-04:00

What do you call this feeling
The feeling of pure joy
Whenever I'm near you
The feeling that a part of me is missing
Whenever I'm not
How my heart seems to race
At the sound of your name
And all i ever think about
Is you and your perfect smile
What do you call this feeling
I think it's called love

The Neverending Friendship

2009-09-02T19:57:00.001-04:00

The simple things
That made me smile
And appreciate the person you were
Even more
A hug when I needed one
Encouragement throughout it all
Our friendship is like a rainbow:
Red like an apple, sweet to the core.
Orange, like an eternal flame, never dying out.
Yellow like the sun that brightens the day.
Green like a plant that keeps on growing.
Blue like the water that is so pure.
Purple like a flower that is ready to bloom.
It may stop growing
Or keep flowering
But it all depends on how hard it works to stay alive
I hope we continue to nurture the flower
That is our beautiful friendship
So that, like the eternal flame
It will last forever

that feeling...

2009-08-29T01:53:00.001-04:00

that feeling...

when everything explodes.

when your eyes well up,

and your throat closes.

that feeling....

where you want to whisper their name.

when you need a friend,

and a hug more than anything.

that feeling....

when you know they've won.

when you can feel your life slipping,

and it slides right out of your hands

that feeling...

when you know it went wrong.

when you feel like losing hope,

and you know it's all done.

that feeling.

falling

2009-08-29T00:43:00.003-04:00

i wanted to fall,

to finally let myself feel that bliss.

but once i fell,

i realized, you see me as just this.

you see me as a listener.

i great friend, a good person.

but what if i told you,

that i fell... hard.

that i fell for the first time,

that i let myself do this.

what would you say?

if you knew that you were my first REAL crush.

what would you say?

if you knew that i never let myself fall

what would you say?

if i said i wished for anything but this.

- UnTitled :) / Give it One People :]

2009-08-28T21:22:00.001-04:00

I look up

as a tear rolls slowly

down my cheek

I think about better days

and wonder if I'll feel that way again

you look at me

with those eyes I know so well

always serious, so deep and insightful

as though you're always in control

But not today

not now

Now you look so scared

like for once you don't have the answer

I gaze at you

looking deep into those blue eyes

Hoping to understand

why you've said those things you did

I wonder for a moment

if this is all a dream

if I shall wake in the morning

and be relieved

you look at me

with a confusion I have never seen

slowly pull me towards you

and wipe the tears from my cheek

Memories For My Father

2009-08-17T14:32:00.001-04:00

I miss your smile
your laugh echoing as I ran,
trying to catch rays of sun
between my fingertips.
Your feet shaking the ground,
trying to run,
to catch me if I would fall.
The moments
when the world was ours
for the taking,
dancing in the rain,
falling under the wind,
coloring the sky.
Your hollow heartbeat
never supporting me as I grew,
always
your little girl.

miss

2009-08-11T00:26:00.001-04:00

i miss those days.

the ones with lightning bugs and old glass jars

when i played snake on my mom's nokia cell phone

and little kids still would wear overalls.

i miss those times when disney was classic

the times when TV shows didn't let kissing be a normal occurrence

and the movies were classics

animations a new creation.

i miss those nights

when stars were gazed upon

when the music genre loved was pop!

and i didn't feel safe without a night light to sleep.

i miss the times

where life could stay simple

where technology didn't seem insane

where i always loved my family

and drama wasn't so insane/

i miss the heart

in people

the smiles people used to wear

i miss hope and chance

i miss the imagination i once had.

i miss a lot....

but the generations now miss more.

My Wish

2009-07-24T09:58:00.002-04:00

My wish is to live a life without sadness
My wish is to die without a sin in my heart
My wish is to live knowing that someone cares about me
My wish is to know what life has in stored for me
My wish is to live with a life full of joy
My wish is to have meaning in my life
My wish is to die with a smile on my face
My wish is to not see my parents die before my very eyes
My wish is to see a smile on everyone’s face before I die My wish is for someone to make my wish come true.

Alone

2009-07-24T09:42:00.001-04:00

Chapter 1: Jason Lainez
He is a child, 14 years of age at best. He comes home feeling only anger and rage. Jason Lainez hates his father because he believes it was this man’s fault that his mother died. Every day it is the same routine. Rage, argument between father and son, silence… It has been one month since the death of his mother… The cause of her death was unknown. Yet, he blames his father…always. His father is Chad Lainez.
Jason went to Madison High school. School was basically an excuse to get away from his father. He really never paid any attention to the teacher or didn’t even care about what was happening around him. To him it was like a reconnaissance mission in the army; you would get in, acquire what little knowledge you wanted to, and get out as fast as possible. His best friend was Robert Matthews. Robert was a rich child that had everything a kid could ever want, however, his parents were no fools and sent him to school where he would not be spoiled and would be disciplined. Evidently, he was a very nice guy, once you got to know him.
“So how are things with your dad?” Robert asked as they walked down the campus.
“Who cares?” Jason responded.
“But isn’t he basically, the only one you got left? Kuz’ I mean after what happened with your mom-”
“Shut Up! I told you already that I DIDN’T CARE!”
“Sorry man”
“Whatever” Jason said as he walked to class.
Jason would then spend the rest of the time in class listening to music in his iPod nano. So the teacher would not notice, he would slip the headphones through his sleeves and place the head of it on the palm of his hand. He would then lean into the head on his hand so it would look as if he was just leaning on his hand. This was the last class of the day so Jason cared less about it than usual. The bus ride home was one of those long ones where you really don’t want to get home. He didn’t know why but he had a funny feeling that something wasn’t right. As if something bad was going to happen. He looked up at the sky. There were white clouds all over with no sun to shine or blue sky to please. Was it going to rain?

Chapter 2: The Fire
At night he stands on the roof of his small house. He looks up at the twilight in the sky. There is only a sphere in the distance that illuminates the way.
“All those stories you told me with happy families, happily ever afters’ ….and love are fake aren’t they mom?” Jason gently speaks as salty rivers of extreme sadness and despair begin to drip down his face. “WHY!? Why did you have to leave me mom? I-I…need you.” He then buries his face in his hands.
All of a sudden his father comes and sits next to him.
“I’m sorry son. I know you think that this is all my fault but… I miss your mother too. It wasn’t my fault. I love y-“
“No, you DON’T!” He was cut short. “Now leave me alone.”
He leaves his father and walks into the mysterious darkness that is night. Jason comes home a few hours later unaware of the time. But now he is not mad, sad, or happy. He does not know what to feel, all he can do is stare up in awe. Fiery flames of hate that he had been holding deep inside were gone now…no wait…they were right in front of his very eyes. Jason felt as if the devil had decided to make an inferno of his home. Thoughts raced across his mind, however, they were going so fast he could not even see straight. Was he going to faint? His world was spinning or was it just him? But before his sight went pitch black a familiar sound brought him back. But wait…it was a cry for help.
“Dad” he said aloud.
Jason quickly began kicking the door to the fiery inferno that once was his home. The door hinges had become loose due to the fire and he was able to break the door down. He ran to the center of the room until he realized that his oxygen supply was running low. He could not breathe. He began coughing louder and louder. He got in a crouching position and decided to move forward past the debris. By this point his head was beginning to ache again. Thoughts of losing his father were making him suffocate. Jason was beginning to lose hope until he saw his father. He was on the floor trapped by debris that had fallen from the wall. Chad could not move and the flames could burn him easily due to the fact that all of the debris was inflammable. Jason quickly scurried to his father’s side and started pulling out the debris that had fallen on top of his father.
“I’m sorry dad” Jason said as he pulled out a large piece of wood that had landed on his father’s ankle. “I know that it wasn’t your fault that mom died.” Tears began to drip down his face. “I’m sorry I blamed you…I-I… I just needed someone to blame, to let out my frustration and sorrow. Plus… I did not want anyone to know how scared I was to lose you too. I’m sorry dad... please don’t die….please… I need you!”
“Its okay (cough) son” Chad spoke with the little amount of air he had left. He then fainted on the floor.
“Dad! Dad, please wake up! Dad” Jason said with a face sodden of tears.
Just when Jason was about to go by his father’s side and hug him, the wood from the roof above him gave out and wood of all shapes and sizes covered in flames fell on top of him. Jason was trapped under the flames.
“Oh no” he thought. “That dizzy feeling again.”
The room was spinning quicker and quicker.
“Get him out of here! Move! Move!” this came from a masculine voice. However, by this point Jason was too confused and dizzy to see what was happening. Everything went dark after that.
Jason awoke in a hospital room. What had happened? He could not remember what happened after his father fainted. His father!! Where was his father!? This is when he first tried to move his body to look around. This is also when he first felt the excruciating pain that was running all through his body. Even moving his neck around seemed to hurt. To him, this would be one of those who, when, where, what, why situations, but he was in such a deep state of panic that he could not think straight. Jason looked at his body. It was scarred and burned. It reminded him of a night his dad and he watched a horror movie about zombies. The rooting flesh of the ugly undead seemed to remind him of his own flesh at its current state. However, his entire body was not burned; it was just his left arm, part of his chest and left stomach, and a bit on his left leg.
“It’s a good thing I’m a righty” Jason thought to himself, and maybe even giggled a little. “No. This was no time to be laughing; I have to find my father!”
He then notices all the needles and pads on his chest giving him oxygen and basically keeping him alive. He grabs them and uses all the strength he has on his right arm and hand to remove them. You would think that it would be painful, but no. It was like removing a bandage. Quick and painless, at least that’s what he felt in the moment. He arose from the hospital bed. Yet, he could not walk straight. He was basically limping. Was it his burned leg? Or the throbbing pain in his head?
“No! I have to-” he stops and falls on the white marble floor of the hospital recovery room in which he is being kept. “Keep going!”
People around him are scared. Frightened by what he might do. But Jason was so determined to find his father; he did not even notice the nervous bystanders. This is when the pain got into another level. The pain from the removed needles and pads didn’t help either. He knew he could not go any farther. But he had to try. One step is all it took… Jason collapsed on the floor.
“Call a nurse!” he heard someone say.
“He might go into a coma!” another one said.
“Help!--” yelled a bystander.
He could not hear the rest.

Chapter 3: Saving Grace
“Honey? Honey? Wake up, sugar.”
“M-mom? I-is that you? Said Jason still suffering from unclear vision and with a slight touch of nausea.
Eventually, his vision cleared and he was able to see that there was an African-American woman standing in front of him. She had caramel skin and eyes that looked as if they had been made like fresh golden brown chocolate. She was not fat. Yet, she was not skeleton-skinny either. She looked very healthy. She was wearing a nurse’s gown so he concluded that she was a nurse. He sat straight on the bed he was placed in, wincing at the pain in his chest. He had white bandages wrapped around his body, probably to heal his wounds.
“Who are you?” Jason asked.
“My name is Gloria” she answered.
“Oh, hello Gloria.”
“The firefighters got to you in time and it started raining right after the fire started, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were close friends with lady luck.”
This was the first time Jason noticed the room. It was all white. White walls, floors, etc., a typical hospital room. It had a big window on the wall facing the city. The view was beautiful, especially since the sun was just starting to come out. He also noticed how it was still raining outside.
“Lucky huh?” he repeated in his head. “Then why did my dad-”
It hit him again like lightning.
“H-hey! Where is my-” Jason said as he was almost jumped to his feet and winced.
“Easy! Your body is still healing from the wounds. Lay back down. You know, you were lucky that I got to you in time. Not only was your body burned but also extremely exhausted. This forced your body to shut down in the recovery room back there. You could have been really hurt! Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Never mind that! Where is my father!?”
“Your father?”
“Yes! He was trapped under a bunch of wooden debris in the fire with me!”
“Honey, are you sure he was in there? Because if he was…. his body was never found.”
These words were a shotgun shell to the heart. Jason did not know what to think, let alone say. His world was crumbling. Would he be put in an orphanage? For the first time since his mother died, he truly felt alone. But this time…he really was.
To be continued…

The Good In Man

2009-07-24T09:39:00.000-04:00

I sat in the dimly lit room, gray walls surrounding me and the suspect. The small lamp made a small ray of light that kept the room from going completely dark, making the scene more dramatic than it already needed to be. The clock read three minutes to seven, and I had half an hour to get this over with.
The man sitting in front of me just stared down at the desk, amazed at the plain color the surface of the table held. His eyes were constantly observing everything about the room, as if he was deciding whether or not to stay here. I don’t know where we get psychos like this. It was because of people like him that atheists have an actual point against religion. If God is all loving, how could he make people like this?
A knock on the door was heard and the suspect quickly turned his head. I looked over as the door opened and one of the secretaries comes in. She had a nice face, but it was easily forgettable, which is why I couldn’t remember her name. She dropped a file on the desk and walked out, as if too afraid to say anything in front of either of us.
I picked up the file, and saw only a legally purchased gun at a nearby store. No criminal history, no other problems.
Except for the shoot out.
“Do you know what you did?”
“Can we get a nicer place to talk?”
Jackass. He shot five people, and all he could think about was the condition of the room he was in.
“No. Do you know what you did?”
“Of course I do.”
“What did you-“
“I shot five people, ok?” he responded coldly. His face had changed from interested to annoyance.
“Why?”
“I wanted to test something out.”
Test? “As in an experiment?” I asked.
He brightened up a bit, “Yeah, kinda like a…um, what do ya call those things…um…”
“Social experiment-“
“That’s it!” he exclaimed. He smiled, proud that he had figured out what he was talking about.
Now I was interested, “What were you trying to find out?”
His smile grew. I had gotten his interest, talking about something he enjoyed. Something he was actually interested in.
He leaned in on the table, the silence first being disturbed by the movement of the table, then by his voice, “You ever realize how mean people are to each other?”
The prime example of this stared e straight in the eye, intrigue oozing out of his eyes.
I responded, “They’re not that bad. I-“
He fell back into his chair, “Please, you can’t walk anywhere nowadays without someone stepping on your foot or sneezing on you, and then not even say they’re sorry. No, people are shit.”
I hoped that the guys outside of the room were listening to this, taking note of this nut.
He continued on his little rant, “Like the other day, I was at my job. Down on fifth and Madison. You know, the clothing store?”
I had no idea, but lied to keep things going, “Yeah. I go there all the time.”
He smirked, “It’s a women’s store.”
I lied again, “For my wife.”
He opened his mouth to make a silent “oh.” Then he leaned back in his chair, “Well, in any case, I got fired yesterday for no good reason. Guy doesn’t even say ‘nice to know ya’ or um… ‘We’ll see if we can do something for ya’!”
“So you shot those people because you lost your job?”
He chuckled, “No no. I began wondering why people are so mean. But then I realized, people will help each other in times of crisis. So, I went down to Time Square, pulled out the gun, and started shooting.”
My faced scrunched in confusion, “But why?”
He responded calm and steady, “To see how many people needed to die before someone stopped me.”
I froze, an unknown fear creeping up the back of my spine,
“And it took five people before anybody even came close to me. They all just kept running away, screaming and whatnot. But by the time that fifth person was shot, someone started running towards me,” he smiled, the way a man smiles when he thinks of a great time in college, “That was a good guy-“
I got up and stormed towards the door, pushing it open and yelling at the guys standing next to the window, “Take him away. I’m done here.”
I opened the door to the main office and escaped that enclosed world of darkness. When I finally reached me desk, a note was there saying that four of the five victims had died. The fifth had been taken to the hospital in time by an unknown citizen.
I threw the note into the trash, hoping that psycho would never find out he was right.

untitled

2009-07-23T09:43:00.003-04:00

Her soft strawberry blonde hair rested on her delicate shoulders in the park where she waited. Leila, my Leila, was smart girl, strong willed, and her happiness means everything to me; I only wish that she knew that I loved her. My name is Carter, and as I see her eyes light up to see me, I smile with a bouquet of flowers behind my back. I walk up saying, "Hey Leila, you know..." She responds with "Yea? Carter..." it quickly escaped her mouth, as if she wanted to say something, and needed me to finish. "I love you, always have, always will..." I say as I slowly bring out her favorite flowers... lilacs. Leila disregards the flowers, and hands me a note and mumbles goodbye. No louder than a whisper. I look closer at her then, I see the tears. I see the newly opened bottle of sleeping pills... empty. Her eyes go blank, body falls limp. I look at the letter. It says,

"I love you Carter, always have, always will."

Love

2009-07-23T09:42:00.001-04:00

Love is the idea that you can't live without them.
That they are the dam to your river...
The life when you're no longer living.
The hopefuls when you're hopeless.
Your loves sew you up,
Or rip you down
In the end.

my beloved dog, Sophie

2009-07-23T09:37:00.002-04:00

As my dog runs I feel as if she is more than a dog, she is an angel. As her thin but long tongue hangs out of her cute little mouth, she smiles. Her smile is worth a million words. It always makes my day. I swear it must be magic. I swear that it is true. Every time I look at her, I lose the definition of “ewwwwww”.

The Beginning of the End

2009-07-23T09:34:00.001-04:00

Prologue

“What the hell?!” she screamed in her mind but in reality it all sort of blended together and came out as a faint “wayeyey?”. She figured her eyes were open but could not see a thing. She tried every possible move to try to escape the ropes around her wrists and ankles. As a CIA agent, Sarah Wrangler was trained well by escape artists. She had always been able to escape ropes before but these were different knots. No ordinary criminal could accomplish knots such as these. She tried to feel around the small space she was crammed into for anything that could help her escape the ropes. She failed to find anything sharp or any elbow room for that matter. She tried to feel for any pocketknives or such on her belt but realized she had been stripped of her clothing and was now in some sort of gown. As she was just trying to stay calm, she was exposed to light.

She saw a man walking towards her. He was just less than six feet with dark brown hair and brown eyes. He was very well dressed wearing a navy blue blazer and tan chinos. He had on black penny loafers with pennies in them. He also had his hair combed to the right a little bit and was smoking a cigar. He picked her up and put something over her face. She looked back and saw that she had just been in a trunk of a car. That was all she could remember.

Chapter 1: Who

“Ring, Ring” the phones were going crazy down at the CIA building. The kidnapping of Sarah Wrangler was such an odd case because she wasn’t even working on a case. Why would anybody choose to take her out of all people? They had been investigating many drug cartels and sex slave warehouses lately so many have been shut down. Well that puts those out of the question.

John Marksman was Sarah’s best friend. They had been partners when they worked for the LAPD only a few years back. They still remained friends when they started working in the field for the CIA though. John’s heart was broken because he had wanted to be more than friends with Sarah for quite some time now. He would find her. He knew he could. But all he could do is pray. He could pray for her to be strong. He knew she could handle anything.

To be continued…

ST.PETERSBURG RUSSIA... a hard life for street children

2009-07-22T11:27:00.002-04:00

In St.Petersburg, Russia after the Soviet Union collapsed, it has lead to many great things, on the other hand it has lead to family turmoil and increasing alcohol use. When I went to visit St.Petersburg I met Yuri (12) and Max (13) begging me for money and food I gave them some of both. Since I knew how to speak Russian I started to get to know them, I found out that they have been living on the street for eight months and they both smoke most street children in St.Petersburg smoke. Do drugs or drink alcohol, and some even sniff glue to decrease their hunger. I went to go visit their abandoned house, they lived in the attic on the top of an eight story building, and in the winter they live in the basement. I also found out that they met each other by begging for food and money on the streets. For dinner they usually eat dry macaroni or dry pasta because they have no were to cook it. When Yuri and Max aren't living in their attic/basement with their kittens they rescued from a lady who was going to drown them they live in a computer game warehouse, sometimes they'll take the money from the computer games to get food and supplies. Max and Yuri live on the streets for different reasons, Max's mother was dead and his father was never home, Yuri lives on the streets because his alcoholic step-father beet him when he got drunk for little things like not taking out the garbage or washing the dishes. Yuri saw his mom three months ago and he told her he wasn't going home, then she threatened to tell the police, then he said you either live with me or my step-father... but she didn't care enough and walked away. Sometimes he cries when he thinks about his mom.

In St.Petersburg alone their are 16,000 street children including the total one million living in Russia today.

Also to make money they go to metro stations, but their are some of the most dangerous criminals there, they go their to beg, get drugs, and collect bottles and give them to people for money. They hate coming here but they have to every day, Max says its really scary when someone you don't know approaches you and you don't know them, like this man with a knife they told me about and they chased them and finally they got away, when I think about this i cry.

They don't like talking to social workers because there are a lot of social workers and a lot of people who pretend to be one, they don't talk to them because the impersonators can work for rapists or maniacs, and even if they are good what can they do for them, send them to orphanages which is not wanted by them because it needs inmprovement in education, care, and how they raise them because 10% of the orphans end up commiting suicide by the age of 18. Then most street children don't like police officers who are supposed to be helping them. Yuri and Max personally know three good police men, the rest they run away from because the papers keep piling up and by that he means that the number of times you stole something or bought drugs, and they again might send them to orphanages, government shelters, or even prison depending on how old you are and what you have done.

This is how hard it is for only two of the street children in St.Petersburg Russia!

The Day The Earth Stood Still

2009-07-22T11:22:00.000-04:00

It was four o’clock in the evening when I heard the news.
I stood in the crowd of cheering and applauding parents, various family members, and significant others. I searched for her in the sea of black caps and gowns. The valedictorian was making her speech in front of the class, the special student wearing the exactly the same clothes. No identity. She didn’t matter. Only my daughter’s success did. So what if this girl could juggle theatre, soccer, student government, and a 4.0 GPA? Schools only gave this title to make them look better, using her in their discreet competition.
Where is she? My wife placed her hand on my shoulder, knowing my eyes were unsuccessful in finding our daughter.
“She’s there,” she told me with a smile.
I chuckled, “I know she’s there. I just want to see her.”
I looked around, still unable to find her. Last name: Johnson. She wouldn’t be up front, more in the middle somewhere. Or would she?
I leaned back on my portion of the bleacher, “Damn it. Couldn’t they have been each a little different from each other in some way?”
The valedictorian was still speaking on the stage. Must have been five minutes since she started. What could she say that any of us didn’t already know?
“…And with the lessons we’ve learned here, I can say with confidence that our class is ready to go off and start our own lives. Each class we took here means something, and each friend we made will be in our hearts for the rest of our lives.”
“Oh shut up!” I blurted out loud.
“Jack!” Janet yelled at me.
“What? She’s been up there for the past seven minutes! Enough already. What more does she need? She’s going to Princeton anyways, her ego should be satisfied.”
She moved her lips to say something, but just leaned back, ignoring my worst quality. When I didn’t like something, I just said it. No holding back, no sensitivity. Just said what I thought. Probably how I got my job at the Times. Easy to say what you think when you don’t care about…
“And now we shall ask the graduating class to rise. We shall begin giving out the diplomas.”
Finally! Alright, just have to wait for everyone “A-I” and then I can cheer. High honors student for four years, active member of the writing club, a published poet and worker at the local Starbucks: Amanda Johnson.
“Chris Davidson!”
Applied and was accepted to the Hofstra University, the perfect school for her, as she had put it. And I couldn’t agree more. Not only was it close to home, but it was far enough for her to have to board there. Don’t get me wrong, I love my daughter. But her life is now her life. She needs to live on her own, plan her own schedule every day, and cook her own meals.
I’ll miss all of that.
“David House!”
Almost there, sweety. You’re so close. Daddy’s proud of you.
My cell phone rang, and for some reason I actually picked it up.
“What is it?”
“Jack, this is Frank.”
I didn’t care that I just rudely yelled at my boss. I told him how important this day was. I told him that I was taking the day off. I told him not to call me.
“Frank, I really don’t care now.”
“Michael Jackson is dead. Come into work as soon as you can so that I can give you your next assignment.”
I stood there. This isn’t possible. How can he be dead? He wasn’t even sick, he was going to do a concert in a few days. Since when did he-
“Jack! There she is!”
I turned around to see me daughter walking off the stage, diploma in hand, smiling to the crowd for me. I didn’t see it. When hand made contact with paper. I’d missed it.
I closed the phone in my hand and began to wonder where to start looking.

Mirror, Mirror...Reflect my poem!

2009-07-22T11:20:00.000-04:00

As the fire burned indefinitely,
Hell broke loose in the kitchen room.
Hate spewing from both their mouths,
Fighting again over something so trivial and unimportant.
They did this every night, disturbing my peace
Which is hard to find these days.
My peace, as fragile as the snow outside our window
Falling at a rate that would destroy it.

Falling from a rate that would destroy it,
My peace, as fragile as the snow outside our window
Which is hard to find these days.
They did this every night, disturbing my peace;
Fighting again over something so trivial and unimportant.
Hate spewing from both their mouths,
Hell broke loose in the kitchen room,
As the fire burned indefinitely.

Everyone is Different (MIRROR POEM)

2009-07-22T10:45:00.003-04:00

Everyone is different:
All are of great variety,
Some faces are moving closer and others farther away,
They all have separate thoughts,
Each has a unique pace,
Many people are able to walk on that sidewalk…
My observations mean just as much as theirs.

My observations mean just as much as theirs:
Many people are able to walk on that sidewalk,
Each has a unique pace,
They all have separate thoughts,
Some faces are moving closer and others farther away,
All are of great variety …
Everyone is different.

Music

2009-07-22T10:30:00.000-04:00

Music can course through your veins in a way that nothing else can. Music provokes emotions, and there is a constant about music, anyone that can hear, enjoys some form. You can sing at the top of your lungs, or you can listen to something as you drift to sleep. Music never stops playing, there is always someone listening or playing some beat, so maybe that is why it’s so beloved. I love the fact that music can just engross me, when I am in my room, just lying around, and I hear a lyric start to play, and I listen. I really and truly listen. The lyrics that play may be so energetic that you can’t help but to get up and dance. They may be so melancholy, that you just want to cry. Whether it is for a mistake made, or hearing how much love there can be in a person. You don’t hear of that love much anymore, which is part of the reason that country music appeals to me so much. It gives me, almost a security blanket… I know what they’re singing about, and it’s nice to be able to pick out every lyric sung. The best feeling in the world, next to being near the people you love, and laughing so hard you cry, is to sing with a huge group of people. People with different backgrounds, different histories, different ranges of being off-key, can join together, and sing… sing like there is no end of the world, but if there is, it’s okay to leave now.

music

2009-07-21T21:51:00.001-04:00

I'd forgotten about

closing my eyes,

music blaring loud,

and the ability to listen...

to hear the beating of the drums,

the strums of the guitar,

and to hear those lyrics

and take them to heart.

I'd forgotten about the real reason music existed

I Wish I'd Been There

2009-07-21T11:17:00.000-04:00

I Wish I’d been there the night you called and I wasn’t home.

I Wish I’d been there the next morning when you decided to celebrate Memorial Day
With Vodka.

I Wish I’d been there the moment you wanted that adrenaline rush.

I Wish I’d been there the when you got in that damn car drunk.

I Wish I’d been there when you laughed too hard and lost control of the stupid wheel.

I Wish I’d been there when you crashed in that huge tree with nothing left in your heart.

I Wish I’d been there when they drove you to the hospital.

I Wish I’d been there when the blood in your brain took over your precious life.

I Wish I’d been there even when they pronounced you dead.

I Just Wish I’d been there more than I was.

Rest In Paradise Lucas Ananias’
We Love You Kid.
March 9, 1993 – May 25, 2009
Damn Vodka.

Famous First Lines

2009-07-21T11:15:00.000-04:00

In the heat of the night
They forgot about the children
All four of them
Lucy, Paul, Daniel and Penelope
Abandoned
Left to fend for themselves
Alone
In the dark and decrepid house
They had once called home
The furniture lay in ruins
The picture frames all cracked and torn
And the four children
Huddled together on the floor
Forgotten
In the heat of the night

You Think You Know

2009-07-21T11:10:00.001-04:00

You can't fill empty spaces

that lay within my heart.
Can you hear the tears
that are tearing us apart?
You think you know me,
it's hard for me to tell.

You've broken my fingers,
I can't extend my hand.
If you want me to save you,
I won't do it on command.
You think you know me,
but your words aren't mine.

Your voice is a stranger,
who did you used to be?
If you look in the mirror,
you won't see me.
You think you know me,
we're too different to tell.

You used to hold me,
now I stand alone.
You think you've saved me
from the world I'm not shown.
You think you know me?
I don't even know who I am.

As Long

2009-07-21T11:09:00.000-04:00

As long as I knew,

you were raiding my heart.
Somewhere along the road,
we started to fall apart.
On the corner of first
and nowhere street.

Searing tears fall,
you've burned my heart black.
I waited far too long
for you to come back.
All I needed was a call
that never came.

A light burns fast
when the candle is drowned.
One tear escapes,
and we can't be found.
As long as you loved me,
I was there.

Over My Heart

2009-07-21T11:08:00.002-04:00

You've broken me,
and I'm still bleeding.
Hand over my heart,
just to see if it's beating.
I can't bear to look
and see what I've become.

Hold out a hand,
and take a shard.
A cracked image
of who you are.
I saw myself in you
before we disappeared.

Paint an apology
that I can frame.
Maybe then we'll know
who was to blame.
If you've found yourself,
help me to learn how.

2009-07-20T23:59:00.002-04:00

I've hoped more times than you've counted

wished more than you could hear

I've had these great ideas

unable to force them out of my heart.

I've wanted to say what I could,

but with you looking at me,

I couldn't say it.

Maybe the choked up feeling in my throat,

the never mind mumbled and face going bright

Maybe the realization that I'm not in your eyes

Had me shove down those words

I'm longing to say.

What it's Like living in Hingham, Mass

2009-07-20T12:46:00.001-04:00

Here's what it's like:
Let's say you've just jumped out
Of a hot, crowded car
To the sound of hello's
And the warm embrace of your cousins
You traipse into the house, carrying your bags
You drop everything on the bedroom floor
And change into your bathing suit
You hop into a car
Even more crowded than before
And speed away to the refreshing coolness
Of the country club pool
You play and joke around
And beg the parents
To order the traditional spicy fries
That we get every year
After indulging ourselves
We head to the beach and wait
For the sun to set and to be awed
By the magnificent fireworks held there
Oooing and ahhing
At each burst of color
After what could pass as a good night sleep
You dress up in red, white, and blue
And drag beach chairs to the annual
4th of July parade
You hoot and holler at each passing float
Your pockets bulging from all the candy you were thrown
As you mill around after
Waiting for the crowd to disperse
You swap candy and take family photos
You walk down the block
Where the smell of your uncles bbq
Drifts lazily on the wind
You crush your cousins in badminton
And are rewarded with ice creams from the Red Store
Two houses over
Each day is another adventure
Crashing through the waves at Hingham Harbor one day
Climbing and exploring Fort Revere the next
That's what it's like living in Hingham

2009-07-20T12:30:00.002-04:00

I hoped so often
that my life was hope
i couldnt live in the moment
i only just prayed
so now at my deathbed
when asked about my life
I said it's hoping and wishing
but help it come true.

I Was a Person (final)

2009-07-20T11:19:00.004-04:00

There was no way for you to help.
I always needed you.
I sent all the signs.
Almost begging on my knees.
I was pleading, and changing
In a way you couldn't dream!
I was hoping that one last shout, would change how you see.
I was wrong, that much is evident.
I hoped you could believe in me,
I knew I was not worth your time.
You just were not here…
You ran so many charities,
You helped so many other people!
But the one you forgot was me.
I was past the point of redemption.
Maybe you knew that;
Maybe you immersed yourself in all that good, to make up for all my bad.
I love you.
You loved me…
I was a person.
Before you forgot…

Before you forgot!
I was a person.
You loved me.
I love you…
Maybe you immersed yourself in all that good, to make up for all my bad.
Maybe you knew that
I was past the point of redemption.
But the one you forgot was me…
You helped so many other people;
You ran so many charities…
You just were not here!
I knew I was not worth your time;
I hoped you could believe in me.
I was wrong, that much is evident.
I was hoping that one last shout would change how you see
In a way you couldn't dream…
I was pleading and changing,
Almost begging on my knees,
I sent all the signs!
I always needed you…
There was no way for you to help.

The golden dream

2009-07-20T10:41:00.001-04:00

Day by day, dream-by-dream, I’ve been waiting for this moment. Ever since I was three or four years old I have wanted this. What exactly you ask. Well I have wanted to be a world famous acrobat. Not the one on the tightropes and the trapeze, the one with two people supporting me, lifting me into the air, and creating impossible pyramids with our own bodies. Yes, doing this all with elegance, grace, beauty, and balance. I wanted to go to the Acrobatic World Championships, but before that I would have to pass city, state, regional, and the national competitions. I did, with the help of my coach Tatiana Alexeeva, world famous acrobat from Russia, and my team Elena Kirilova, and Natalia Federova. they were also f rom Russia we were headed to Switzerland, where the Acrobatic Gymnastics Championships would be held. We would perform in numerous places such as the S. Jackson Tower in Zurich, which was the largest city and the heart of Switzerland, Geneva, which was built on Lake Geneva, Basel which was known for its large commerce centers, Lucerne, Ticino, and the Federal capital Bern. By the way I’m Giulianna Drew.Wall we were on the Air Tran plane, I was looking at the Acrobatic Gymnastics Championships program. I saw whom we were up against. From Italy there was Isabella Chavanni, Giovanna Eliano, and Analise Forchione. They ranked in 4th place we ranked in 2nd. Italy was one of the bordering countries, so was Germany, France, Liechtenstein, and Austria. From Germany there was Heidi Petite, Greta Ronald, and Adalia Anders. From France there was Nicole Mandessuer, Yvonne Levassuer, and Mary E. Levassuer. From Russia there was Ekaterina Stroyanova, Yanna Cholaeva. They ranked in first place. From China there was, Lei Ming, Yue Ming, and Jia Li. They ranked in 3rd place. I had a headache from the stress level that ran through my veins. Before we got onto the plane I had grabbed some brochures on sports, mountains, lakes, and rivers. The major mountain range is the Alps. Apparently the Swiss people enjoy skiing, bobsledding, tobogganing, and mountain walking/climbing. In the summer they enjoy camping and shooting. We were now landing, so listening to my iPod and looking at the brochures really took away the time. After we left the airport, we rented a Lamborghini, and headed for the grocery store then to the Zic Zac Rock Hotel in Zurich. In the car I looked at some more brochures. There was one with lakes and rivers. The major river s were the Rhein, The Aare, and the Rhone. They were mainly used for transportation, exporting, and importing. Then there were seven lakes, Lake Geneva, Lake Maggiore, Lake Lucerne, Lake Biel, Lake Neuchate, and Lake Zurich. Since there were no seas bordering the country, I will swim at the lakes.As I stepped out of the car, it was windy, partly cloudy, and about 80 degrees. Thank God it was summer I hated the cold. We went into the market and picked up the m ostly grown vegetables and fruits, which were apples, grapes, strawberries, cheese, peppers, broccoli, and some meets. We went to the cashier. He was telling us about the beautiful summers, and that the temperatures rarely dropped under 41 degrees in the winter. I guess he knew we were foreign. He continued after he paused to catch a breath. The climate was Mediterranean, and it affects the vegetation, so that it’s harder to grow crops in the winter. In conclusion the vegetation changes with the weather. We got back into the car, again I was silent just staring out the window, we passed Lake Zurich, there were many people playing on the sands on the shore, and many people were swimming. The lake was very close to the hotel. I was happy about that because I loved to swim. The only thing that stood in their way of being neighbors was a farm. There were cattle, horses, pigs, sheep, and chickens. Those were the mostly breed animals in Switzerland. Then across from the farm there was a vegetation farm. There were fruits, vegetables, bread cerea ls, milk, and eggs. Then finally we were pulling into the hotel.The service here was wonderful. We were in our hotel room in no more than four minutes. The vacation home was an ocean/ sea themed. We all had our own rooms and this time it was my turn for the master bedroom. There was a white bed with blue pillows in the design of waves. All of the furniture was cherry. On the nightstand there was a lamp with a sea shelled pattern shade. There was a plasma screen TV. Then there was a door next to the antique chair in the corner. I opened it and it was a mini sundeck with a hot tub. I could enjoy that luxury often, then I looked beyond the ground and there was a view of a lake that the hotel surrounded. There was a boat sailing across it. After I went back inside, I put all my clothes away, and hung up all my leotards with care. Then I washed my face, and changed my clothes. As I walked into the kitchen Tatiana and Elena were making fondue. They were always good at making foreign foods. I went to Natalia’s room to ask her if she would practice the bonus routine. Or do some contortion, which were both good at. She said sure and we asked Tatiana for the keys, and she suggested that Elena came with us, which she ended up doing. We slipped into our practice leotards.When we got to the gym there was no one there. It was a huge floor with blue carpeting. We started the routine. Elena and Natalia were facing each other. I grabbed their hands, and with their spare hands they grabbed my feet. I was cradled in the air for a couple of seconds then before I knew it I was flying. I did three summersaults before coming down. Then we did some fancy choreography moves, and came to the corner where the tapes made a 90-degree angle. Elena longed and bent her back forward. Natalia grasped her lower back, and gracefully flung her legs over Elena’s head. Elena grabbed Natalia’s thighs; Natalia let go of Elena’s back so she was holding herself up in a lying down position. I climbed up on top of Natalia, and grabbed her kneecaps. I was holding myself up with my arms. My legs were in straddle position. Then from there at a moderate speed I brought myself up into a handstand with the full extension of a straddle split. I came down still holding myself up on top of her kneecaps. Then my legs went in back of me going through a=2 0split. I was in a push up position, but the only thing that was different was that my feet and legs were in the air. After holding that position we came down and did some more choreography. I did a front limber and I was thrown into the air again. I did a double pike backwards which was when my legs are pressed against my stomach. Then we did some more choreography. We ran and did a back flip to the left corner. Then I went onto Elena’s shoulders, and then Natalia stood on her thigh. Then her left leg came up so that she was doing a split. I grabbed the sole of her foot and I was holding myself up in that straddle position again. Then I went into the push up position again and as I did that Natalia was no longer standing on Elena’s thigh. She was in a lying down position again but still with her left leg up. Then finally we came down and did some more choreography and then the routine was over. Then we left the gym and went back to the hotel room. When we got there we ate the Fondue, which was a traditional Swiss dish, so was fish, zug, cheese soup, ratsherentopf, rice, noodles, and risotto. The fondue was good, and I ate it pretty fast, and after I did I looked at the time and it was 10:00 pm. Tatiana told Natalia, Elena, and I to go to bed. When I got into my room I pretended to go to bed, but I just looked at more brochures. I liked he lakes the best so that’s the one I chose to look at. We could go to any20lake or river because there were no important shorelines and soon I fell asleep before I could look at anything else. When I woke up Tatiana said that we were going out to eat, so I got dressed and wore a pair of my sweats that I brought, and I wore my acrobatic gymnastics sweatshirt.This morning we took a cab. I learned that there was five major ethnic groups- Italian, German, French, Romansh, and Swiss German. As I looked outside the window, there was a lot of banking, insurance, tourism, and pharmaceutical jobs. The economy of this country was strong, and it appeared that way as well. At breakfast I heard two people talking about the currency, I took note on this, they said that it was Swiss Franc, which is one of the most stable currencies in the world. Finally, the waitress came over, and as Natalia always did (when we were in other countries) she would ask questions. She asked what natural resources we would find here, and that question was answered with iron ore, and coal. Then Natalia asked how she adapted to her economy, and she said that you make the best of things, find work and deal with it. Then we got to order our food I took a risotto. Then our food was delivered I ate my food slowly to enjoy the taste of it. Then we paid=2 0our check with some Euros and we left.After breakfast, we went to an art museum in Zurich, and it was very close by. Then finally I saw a painting that caught my intension, it was strange, and Paul Klee called it Possibility on the Lake. It originated from Switzerland. We got bored very soon so we left. Then we went to a music center so Tatiana could get some ideas for the music we used for our routines. There were many contributions from Ernest Ansermet, Lys Assia, and Edwin Fisher. They were all famous to Switzerland. Then finally, we got to leave.When we returned to the hotel we grabbed our main leotards to perform our dynamics routine in Lucerne. When we got there, I put on my shiny red leotard with roses running down the sides of my stomach. Our hair was pulled back tightly into a bun wrapped with a dark red scrunchy. Elena and Natalia’s hair was decorated with black sparkles because they had beach blonde hair. My hair was decorated with light sparkles because my hair was a shiny golden brown. Then our names were stated loudly. Giulianna Drew, Elena Kirilova, and Natalia Federova my hair was decorated with light sparkles because my hair was a shiny golden brown. We went on stage and we all put our hands in the middle to start the routine. The music started it was a Mexican/Irish song. We did some choreography then I stepped onto their hands then placed my hands on their heads. I was thrown into the air; I did a double back flip and a twist (also known as a branny) and then came down. The crowd screamed as we did some more choreography. Then Elena and Natalia were facing each other. I jumped on to their hands and towered proudly above them. I was thrown into the air again; I did a double pike, My stomach hit their hands and I was lifted again I just twisted sideways, my stomach hit their hands again, and I was lifted into the air to jump off. I did that by touching my feet to my head. Then some more choreography, then all of us ran and did a back flip one by one. Then we did some more choreography and the music had just changed to Irish. Then I stepped onto their hands again, and my hands were on their heads, I did two back flip, I came down and my legs were wrapped around her stomach. I came back up doing a split over their shoulders. Then I was falling backwards (on purpose) and I put my h ands on the floor. I got up and the music changed back to Mexican. Then another back flip. When we landed we were in another corner. Natalia and Elena were facing each other. I was on the right side of them not looking their way. I dove backwards, I was lifted into the air, and I went into an ash wrap position, which is where your legs are in straddle but against my stomach. I landed on their shoulders and my split went more than full extension we did some more choreography was over.Then we left for Ticino to perform our balance routine. That’s where everything was Italian; they spoke Italian and even had some Italian cultures. On our way there we saw some trains, cars, boats, plains, and cable cars. Those were there main ways of getting around. In Ticino we were performing our balance routine. Our costumes were red and the music was Egyptian. There was not much choreography at the beginning, but when we did our first pyramid we blew the crowd away. Elena did a backbend, then Natalia stood on top of her thighs, she put her hands down and lifted one foot into the air. I climbed up to hold myself up in the air in that straddle position, I did a handstand with the full extension of the split, I came down still holding myself up. I came back up and my legs went over my head. Then we came down and there was some more choreography. We ran and did a back flip and it was time for another pyramid. We were in a corner again as we were in the beginning. Elena did another backbend. Natalia put her hands on the top of Elena’s kneecaps, and she held herself up with her arms, then her right leg came up, and disgustingly, her knee bent backwards. Then I stepped onto Elena’s stomach, and I put my hands on Natalia’s foot. Elena’s right hand pulled Natalia’s right leg back and then her left arm was raised. Then I was holding myself up on Natalia’s foot in straddle position. I did a handstand, came down, and came back up. My legs came over my head again. Then we came down (by the way that was called a counter balance pyramid) and did some more choreography. Then another pyramid came. Elena and Natalia put their hands on the ground, gettin g ready for a handstand. One foot came up from both of them. Then I placed my hands on their feet and I was lifted. Then two other feet came up I grabbed onto those to. I was holding myself up again in straddle position. I came up into the push up position again, and then my legs came over my head and they touched my hands. That was the handstand pyramid. Then after 10 long seconds we finally came down and did about seven more seconds of choreography and then the routine was done.We heard the loudest scream we ever heard. After we left Ticino we went to go buy what Switzerland was known throughout the world for, Swiss cheese, and Swiss chocolate.Then my mom called, “Oh great,” I thought to myself. When she did, it was my fault she called I asked her to keep in touch with the new in Switzerland and nothing was happening. Then we said bye and we hung up.Then we went to Basel to perform our bonus routine. When we were done we went to Geneva to perform our balance routine. Then to Zurich to perform our dynamics routine and combined routine. The combined routine was amazing. We did very little choreography in the beginning. I stepped onto their hands and put my hands on their heads. I was lifted into the air, I did a double branny which is so difficult and so impressive. Then there was more choreography. Elena and Natalia then faced each other; I jumped onto their hands and I was lifted into the air and did a double pike, came down and I was lifted into the air and did a rolling twist. Then there was more choreography then we did the counter balance pyramid. When we came down we all ran and did a back flip. Then we did some more choreography. Elena and Natalia were facing each other. I wasn’t facing them. I dove backwards for the ash wrap position dynamic. Then I put my feet on their hands and my hands on their heads and did a back flip looking like a fish. Then we did the handstand pyramid. There was again little choreography and then the routine was done. Then finally we were able to return to the hotel. On the way we passed the St.Gottharard Pass. It is one of the world’s largest tunnels. Then a flag of Switzerland was very close to the hotel. It was a red field with a bold equilateral white cross in the middle. There were many people gathered around it. Oh yes, it was the National Swiss Holiday, August 1st. Shweiser Psalm was sung which was the National Anthem. The official name was said and that was Confederation Helvetica. Then the population was spoken and it was 7.45 million people. Then the administrative region number was said and that was 26 cantons. Then they spoke about how in 2003 they joined the U.S. in the war with Iraq. We had no more interest in that so we left and went to bed.When we woke up it was competition day. We were dressed for the dynamics routine. We went to Bern and waited. We were last to perform for that round. We were finally called on and we preformed the routine and we received a score of 28.900. Then it was the bonus round. We were third to go on. We preformed and got a score of 28.340. Then it was the combined routine we received a score of a perfect 30. Then it was the balance routine. It was a big advantage because we also received a perfect 30 on that.We came in 1st place for the women’s trio. We won the gold medal and rejoiced with tears and hugged each other constantly. We left Switzerland with honor and being the 1st Americans to come in 1st place in the Acrobatic Gymnastics World Championships. We ended up in the news. This was the best day of my life and I will never forget it.

Threads

2009-07-20T10:19:00.002-04:00

loops and knots
twist and tangle
to make the road
map we call life.
it intertwines with
those we love
leaving a pattern filled
with love, hate, tears and triumphs.
we have a say in how these
patterns shall change
but the best patterns
are from the people
you least expected.

the feeling

2009-07-19T22:02:00.001-04:00

this no longer feels right

the pressing of the fingers

the clickity-clack of the keys

the knowledge that someone came in

and now what i had is gone.

Moving On

2009-07-19T20:21:00.002-04:00

Take a look behind you,
maybe you'll see me.
You've already left me here,
do you know who I used to be?
I'm waiting for the moment
when two hearts beat as one.

When I push you away,
I need you the most.
If I wanted you near,
would you pull me close?
I'll let you know
when I lose my breathe again.

There's a chance that now
we're completely alone.
There is no innocence
in the world we are shown.
I'm forever blind,
and I can't find myself.

I've left you behind,
you're not visible anymore.
I've forgotten you,
who were you before?
Let me move on
so you can know how it feels.

Different

2009-07-17T10:28:00.006-04:00

They were taken
Beaten
Slaved
Because they were different

They were mocked
Deprived
Pierced
Because they were different

They were hung
Pursued
Hated
Because they were different

Because of their skin
Because of their eyes
Because of their hair
They had nothing

But they had worth
They had strength
They had courage
They had will
They fought
For life
For equality
For freedom
For liberty
For justice
For me
For you
For us

Building of Hate

2009-07-17T10:28:00.002-04:00

Down the block and around the corner from anywhere, there is a building filled with working people. People that do errands, people that fill paper work, people that sit around brainstorming. Each of these people hate one another. They hate the way the secretary snarls at them when they schedule an appointment, they hate nicknames that the boss gives to each and every one of them, and they especially hate the impending jobs that they must do. All of them are soaked in hatred, drenched in their own misery of the people that they must deal with everyday.

Sure, some days are better than others. Karen’s birthday party was fun, aside from Dave who kept hitting on Jill. Nobody likes him.

Yes, the hatred continued to flow throughout the building, just the way that blood pumps through a heart.

But there is one person that has yet to be hated. This person is Bob. Bob comes in every day and cleans up the garbage, unclogs the toilets, and makes small talk with all the people in the building. No one hates Bob, mostly because there is nothing to hate about him. He works hard at a job for a low wage, but never has a frown on his face. His wife died last year of cancer, but he never once missed a day of work, except when he was sick.

“For the safety of your workers,” he told the boss, “I must stay home today.”

Bob worked hard for the people, and they appreciated it.

But when Bob’s age came into play, and he eventually passed away, something mysterious happened. No one remembered him. They didn’t remember his small talk, they didn’t remember his chit-chat. They didn’t even remember his heroic unclogging of the woman’s toilets.

Instead, they kept on hating each other, and hating the work that they were forced to do. They didn’t even like the ride home in their cars to their homes, where their spouse and children await their return. And when they laid in bed, they’re last thought was,

“I really don’t want to go to work tomorrow.”

Jeff!!!

2009-07-17T10:28:00.000-04:00

Interesting guy...he wants me to type something for the blog. but i will post my master piece when i finish it...Thanks!!

Being a Christian

2009-07-17T10:27:00.004-04:00

Jesus is a big piece of my life, even though I sometimes do not act like it. I pray before I go to sleep every night. When you are constantly surrounded by people who act as if they don’t have a religion it is very hard to act like you have a religion. For example Sally a 13 year old girl has friends who do not speak of God but she is a strong Christian. She feels uncomfortable discussing anything with her friends because she knows that they won’t listen. Being a Christian is more than just going to church every Sunday and bible study every single Wednesday. It is about how you apply God to your everyday life. It is hard when you’re young because you love to listen to music and there are many more distractions. Jesus helps us when times are tough. It may not feel like it but it takes time. God gave us free will to do what we want. And how we use it is up to us.
If I could change anything I wouldn’t have mistakes that I made in the past. Psalm 91 tells us that for he will command his angels concerning you, to guard you in all your ways. So that right there shows me how Jesus loves us. Faith is the key to having a religion. And I say this because in order to practice the things according to your religion you have to strongly believe in it. I strongly believe in God because of the things that he has done for me. When I pray most of things I ask for they happen because I believe that God is always there for us and I out all my trust in him. In the middle of confustion or in the middle of trouble it’s always best to trust God.
I have learned that if you’re not following Jesus then you’re not going the right way at all.

My Flute

2009-07-17T10:27:00.002-04:00

The tears I cry
Are filled with memories of you
And you didn’t care
You left me on that hill and you said you don’t understand
I was broke inside and you didn’t care
I got mu flute and started to play
The notes filled with emotions they blew into the wind
And reached you
Yet you didn’t care

There

2009-07-17T10:15:00.003-04:00

There to keep you from too much pain

Forever someone who will remain a friend

Never going to let you ruin your life

Going to keep life a lovely surprise

To understand and be there when you need me

Let you learn from mistakes, but not let you go too far

You are wonderful, never forget that

Go make your life meaningful… I can’t help with everything

Memories

2009-07-17T10:15:00.001-04:00

Memories

To look back, to hold onto

something that you've already left.

Memories are what hold bonds

sometimes stronger than anything else alive.

They allow empathy, but they can

also be so negative. These are

what trigger someone to live

as though they are experiencing

a traumatic moment that never

will seem to end. The problem is

that time never stands still.

If you hide out, chances are

that the world will move on

without you.

Memories

they hold together our world,

they keep people alive

without the memories

our world would never

have grown.

You Can't Choreograph Life

2009-07-17T10:14:00.002-04:00

"You can't choreograph life.
the kids that made history
look just like you.
curiosity is what you ought to have.
Some pictures are worth a thousand words
others are worth so much more
they inspire you, move you
The proudest moment America ever had
was to elect a black man
for his policies."

I Remember

2009-07-17T10:14:00.001-04:00

I remember
crispy leaves falling apart beneath my feet
smoke in the distance leaving a warm homey feel
the air rushing to me, cold enough that
any drowse i felt disappeared.

I remember
the muted sound of footprints approaching
and the sound of laughter filling the house

I remember
walking inside hearing my name shouted loud
and being greeted with bright eyes, rosy
cheeks and smiles that let you know your loved.

I remember
the soft cotton called snow gently blanketing
the world

I remember the place I love to call home.

Put Yourself In a Picture

2009-07-17T10:13:00.005-04:00

A cool night is being replaced, the sun making its way up the sky, removing those night chills, leaving a warmth blanketing the new day. I feel the water, smooth glass lapping and running though me, long ago I lost the fight against the water. This water dug a grove though me, boats now frequenting a spot that used to be mine; but I cannot fight them and I will not win, I have no control, I just am.

I know that I am beautiful, that my jagged edges were long ago admired. That with the water, I was the rough edge of a smooth surface. Most of all I realized that everyone has placed me with the water, yes we are here, but the water has never been constant. Like many people's experiences here, water is as fleeting as a summer romance.

The sun is now high in the sky, I can feel how dry my rocks are, despite the green rooted in me. The water is particularly cool, the mist spitting against the jagged rocks, leaving a salty smell that I find so endearing.

Need help w/ title NOW!!!

2009-07-17T10:13:00.004-04:00

A moonlit night
Your hand in mine
Each passing moment
Something to be cherished
And when all else fails
Thoses memories will be what I hold onto
My lifeline
My hope
But right now
All that matters is you
You are a part of me
Something I can't let go of
My heartbeat seems to call your name
Each breath wispers "I love you"
Like an angel sent from heaven
You watch over me
You pull me into your arms
And your embrace surrounds me
Love seems to roll off you in waves
Each new wave brings about
Even deeper feelings for you
All these feelings
Memories
Are worth the world to me
And I would like to show you
How much they mean to me
As we walk
Hand in hand
Into the moonlight

I Was A Person

2009-07-17T10:13:00.003-04:00

There was no way for you to help
Although I always needed you
You were not here
You ran so many charities,
You helped so many other people
But the one you forgot was me.
I was passed the point of redemption
Maybe you knew that
Maybe you immersed yourself in all that good, to make up for all my bad.
I was a person
Before you forgot

Before you forgot
I was a person
Maybe you immersed yourself in all that good, to make up for all my bad.
Maybe you knew that
I was passed the point of redemption
But the one you forgot was me.
You helped so many other people
You ran so many charities,
You were not here
Although I always needed you
There was no way for you to help.

Coming Back

2009-07-17T10:13:00.001-04:00

There is something different

Coming back that next year.

You expect all the fun,

Yet you wish that it’d never change.

There always new people,

New experiences and adventures.

But each year, there are less and less.

I can picture the tables I’d walk up to in the morning

The soft green grass, and the big twisting tree.

Each year I have come back to new people,

I have just hoped, that I’ll lose this place in my heart.

If my life were a sport...

2009-07-17T10:12:00.002-04:00

If my life were a game
It would be the game of tennis
Each game a challenge
A win a small victory
A loss something you learn from
I either try to improve
Or am satisfied with my game
Sometimes I'll get what I want
A clean, powerful, winning shot
Or I will miss my mark and the ball will go flying
Some people say that tennis is a "love" game
Well every day
I am surrounded by people that love and care about me
As you go through life
You can try to solve your problems
That your opponent is constantly hitting at you
Alone
Like a singles match
Or
You can open your arms
And accept the help of others
Like a doubles match
You either play by the rules
Or choose to cheat
If my life were a game
It would be the game of tennis
Sometimes you win
Sometimes you lose
But thats just the way life is

Theatre

2009-07-17T10:12:00.001-04:00

Anticipation…

The curtain rustles as someone tries to take the tiniest peek into the audience

Laughter and shouting can be heard out there

In here, there is a deafness, a mute on our voices

We jump and giggle and pray that we don’t forget cues

But we are anxious and scared, knowing that what we’ve worked for is here.

Theatre can look easy, with an eye-capturing ease.

But backstage there is adrenaline…

Backstage is where the fun is.

2009-07-09T13:14:00.001-04:00

Mommy Hugs

2009-07-09T11:29:00.001-04:00

I rush to you, Mommy,
wrapping my arms around you tightly.
I feel warm and happy,
I breathe in your sweet, perfumey smell,
and I hear nothing as I touch your soft freckled skin.
Your tired blue eyes stare lovingly at me;
how could I not love you back?Your hug assures me that
everything will be okay,
nothing can tear this moment apart.
Love holds us tighter than tape or staples,
and your big, wonderful hug comforts me,
helping me narrowly escape my worst fears
as you gently rub my back.
You give me that special Mommy hug.

You give me that special Mommy hug
as you gently rub my back,
helping me narrowly escape my worst fears,
and your big, wonderful hug comforts me.
Love holds us tighter than tape or staples,
nothing can tear this moment apart.
Everything will be okay,
your hug assures me.
How could I not love you back?
Your tired blue eyes staring lovingly at me
and I hear nothing as I touch your soft freckled skin,
I breathe in your sweet, perfumey smell;
I feel warm and happy.
Wrapping my arms around you tightly,
I rush to you, Mommy.

Of Machines and Men

2009-07-09T11:26:00.003-04:00

Another fan-fic short story I wrote, this one more liek a different version of the final battle of the 2007 Transformers movie. Requires a little background knowledge. Written mainly for fun, as I wanted to see what it would be like to write from the point of view of a sentient machine.

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Of Machines and Men
By Tristan

Megatron landed in front of the assembled Decepticons that Starscream and Devastator had gathered. Megatron stood over Starscream, and the second-in-command bowed reproachfully.

“Lord Megatron, your armies await your commands.”

The Decepticon leader waved off his devious air commander with the sweep of a huge metal arm.

“Decepticons,” he growled, “The All Spark is in Mission City, defended by these pitiful insects and a single Autobot scout. The other autonomous bots will arrive soon. We will go now, destroy them, and take the Energon Cube for ourselves!”

“Starscream, you and Blackout eliminate any human reinforcements. Barricade, kill the humans; Devastator and Bonecrusher, take out the Autobots.” Megatron growled, the robotic approximate to anticipation running through his system. “I will kill Optimus Prime before I seize the Cube.”

Bumblebee scanned a brand-new concept Camaro before returning, in his new vehicle form, to where Sam and Mikaela waited with the downsized All Spark in their hands. All around them, soldiers of Captain Lennox or Sector Seven scrambled to build up a defense.

Bumblebee received a transmission from Optimus Prime. His leader was arriving with the rest of the Autobot force. They had landed and gained new alternate modes. The scout could only hope it would be in time.

Four vehicles went hurtling toward the street, just as an alien jet, F-22 Raptor, and an MH-53M Pave Low helicopter soared through the sky. On the ground, a Saleen S281 Extreme police car, M1 Abrams tank, and Buffalo H Mine-Protected vehicle became rolling towards them.

Technical sergeant Epps immediately began trying to communicate to the air forces following using a radio Lennox can taken from a pawn shop. He got no response. As four cars behind them transformed into huge alien robots, the answer was revealed to them.

“Those are Decepticons!” bellowed the massive Optimus Prime, transforming from a Peterbilt 379 semi-truck to his natural form. As he did so, the Cybertronian jet swooped lower, heading towards him.

Optimus drew an ion blaster from his back, activating his targeting and weapon systems, and fired, striking the transformed Megatron and sending the Decepticon leader hurtling towards him. The Autobot leaped up, grabbing the plane and sending both leaders crashing into a nearby building.

While Starscream and Blackout hovered higher, avoiding the fight, the tank that was Devastator opened fire with its turret, sending shells crashing towards the humans’ position.

“Jazz, take Ratchet and protect the humans!” barked Ironhide. The Autobot weapons specialist changed from his GMC Topkick C4500 pickup truck to a hulking, armed and armored robot mode with huge cannons on his wrists. Charging towards Devastator, he was hit by a flying car as the Buffalo rolled forward, tossing cars aside with its giant fork. Ironhide watched the carnage with fury, lunging forward as the vehicle transformed into Bonecrusher. The Decepticon hurled himself at his enemy, tackling him to the ground and swinging his powerful hands at the robot beneath him.

Jazz drew his shield and fired blasts of blue plasma from the Gatling gun mounted on it. Ratchet fired his own large, machine gun carbine he held in his right hand. Together, the two Autobots drew the attention of Devastator, who began unleashing missiles in their direction. Jazz launched himself forward, changing to a Pontiac Solstice GXP and swerving around the projectiles hurled at him. Transforming, he dove and landed on top of the Abrams tank, prompting Devastator to transform and grab him, flinging Optimus’ first lieutenant into a building before Ratchet’s ceaseless fire tore off one of his shoulder-mounted missile racks. Angrily, the Decepticon soldier fired the Gatling gun on his wrist, forcing Ratchet and humans shooting sabot rounds at him to take cover.

Starscream and Blackout watched the battle with dissatisfaction. Megatron had engaged Optimus Prime, Barricade had slipped through a side street and was bearing down on the humans, Devastator was fighting Ratchet, the humans and Jazz at the same time, and Bonecrusher was engaged in combat with Ironhide. However, until something changed, the Decepticons were outgunned.

Blackout was thinking along similar lines as Starscream. Sending a burst of sonic transmission, he requested permission to deploy Scorponok. The Decepticon air commander approved.

A huge metal scorpion-shape was launched form below Blackout’s cargo hold, plummeting toward the battle, hitting the pavement and burrowing underground.

“He will take out Ratchet,” said Blackout, satisfied. Starscream concurred.

“The human air force is almost here. Let’s destroy them utterly.”

Optimus Prime saw Megatron charge and fire his energy rifle again. The Decepticon leader was knocked off his feet. Growling angrily, he fired his own pulse blast at Optimus, sending the Autobot flying. Megatron took advantage of the opportunity to grab his opponent, driving his enormous metal fist into his face and slamming him into the ground. Optimus saw Megatorn’s claw raising over his chest, knew what his enemy would do, and rolled over, using his foe’s potential energy to fling him into the nearest building, calculating the projector to leave his upper body trapped. Ready to finish the despot off, Otpimus extended an energy blade from his arm and prepared for the killing strike.

Megatron tore himself free not a moment too soon. Seeing Optimus swing the blade down towards him, he fired his arm blaster again, the energy blowing Prime over. Snarling, the Decepticon leader extended a flail from where his right hand was normally located and sent the head whistling through the air above Optimus’ head before bringing it down.

Prime sliced it off with his blade and lunged, winding back to drive the sword through is enemy’s chest. Megatron backhanded the Autobot and shot him again. Growling, he reached for Prime’s spark.

Without warning, a police car rocketed behind the wall of rubble the humans and Ratchet were using as cover and transformed into the robot designated Barricade. Ratchet saw him, but a bladed tail emerged from the ground behind him, forcing him to turn and fire at the subterrarian Scorponok. Barricade procured a flail, and Bumblebee changed into his robot form only to be struck dead-on and hurled away from Sam and Mikaela. The All Spark dropped to the ground.

Ratchet had turned on Barricade were Scorponok exploded from beneath him and drove his tail between the other ‘bot’s shoulder blades. As the mechanical Scorpion tried to pull in underground in a spinning flurry of movement. Ratchet whirled around and flipped over, saw blades on his wrists activating and slicing the tip of the bestial Decepticon’s tail off. Screeching, the monstrosity disappeared beneath the ground once more.

Bumblebee got back up and saw Barricade bearing down on him, as a small form shot out of the Decepticon’s chest and scrambled towards Sam and Mikaela. The small Decepticon spy known as Frenzy saw the two humans hastily picking up the Cube and fired several shurikens from his chest. Mikaela saw the projectiles coming and pulled Sam to the ground, barely avoiding the deadly spinning discs.

Ratchet’s buzz saws swept around, decapitating the unlucky Frenzy before the Decepticon could react. However, Scorponok took advantage of the opening to leap from the ground and grab Ratchet’s arms in his pincers, holding the Autobot still.

Blackout transformed and alit atop a building. Despite his mission to destroy the air force, ratchet was helpless, and the Decepticon couldn’t resist an opportunity to finish him off.

Blackout charged up an energy blaster on his left arm, aimed, and fired.

Starscream saw Blackout fire at Ratchet and swung around, flying towards the air force. Hopefully, they could destroy Megatron’s stupid pet while he killed those that were shooting at him.

The Decepticon unleashed missiles from his F-22, shooting down one of the other Raptors without warning. The humans reacted with shock before they concluded the other plane was an enemy alien, by then, Starscream had already unfolded himself from the bottom of the jet and pounced on another vehicle, tearing it to bits before firing with wrist machine guns at the rest.

Ratchet saw a burst of blue energy hurtling towards him from Blackout’s direction and turned quickly, swinging Scorponok in front of the blast. The bestial Decepticon screeched angrily and released him, retreating below the pavement.

Blackout furiously opened fire, maddened by the loss of his symbiont. Ratchet took cover from the bullets streaming from his right arm.

Bumblebee grabbed Barricade’s flail as the Decepticon spy swung it and grabbed hold, tugging the unfortunate towards his swinging fist. Barricade hit the ground hard, and Bumblebee stomped down on his arm before bringing his plasma cannon up and shooting him in the face. Barricade rolled over, and Bumblebee fired again, this time hitting him in the chest. Leaving Barricade’s mangled form behind, he walked over to where Sam and Mikaela were huddled. Music blared from his speakers.

“Time to get out of here,” Sam said.

Captain Lennox ran over. “Two Blackhawk’s are going to meet you at the top of that building! You have to get the Cube there now and get it out of here!”

“I-I have to run through that?” he asked, dizzy, and not because of the extreme height of the building. He was looking at Ironhide, Bonecrusher, Devastator, and Jazz’s fight that was ripping up the street.

“C’mon, kid, you’ve gotta do this!” Lennox pushed Sam forward. Ratchet staggered over. “I’ll protect you,” he said. Scorponok’s tail had done him a lot of damage. Bumblebee also walked over, extending missile launchers from his shoulders in a clear show of protection.

Sam nodded bleakly and sprinted for the building.

Jazz leapt back at Devastator, firing incessantly. The huge Decepticon lumbered towards him, Gatling gun blazing. Jazz caught it on his shield and returned fire. Furious, Devastator hurled missiles at the small Autobot from his shoulder launcher. Jazz was blown off his feet.

Nearby, Ironhide had gotten Bonecrusher off him and was blasting the Decepticon without letting up, adding missiles whenever his opponent got too close. He knew his only chance was to engage the big Decepticon at a range.

Bonecrusher finally hurled himself forward, his tail lashing out and snapping at Ironhide. The weapons specialist was forced to dodge, and Bonecrusher grabbed him and threw him at Devastator, who pounded the battered Ironhide into the ground.

Jazz saw Devastator raise his foot to step on his comrade. Jazz let loose without abandon, his ferocious attack driving Devastator away. Ironhide dragged himself to his feet and sent plasma streaking at the Decepticon, sending him staggering back.

Jazz was joining in the attack, but he didn’t see Bonecrusher approaching behind him until a bladed tail speared him through the midsection. Internal circuits failed, alarms went off like crazy, and Jazz’s body resisted the disruption of its working. It failed.

Bonecrusher whipped his tail back, growling in hatred, and smashed Jazz into a wall before letting him drop to the ground. Ironhide had just finished battering Devastator to the ground when he saw Bonecrusher standing over the badly damaged Jazz. Smashing a cannon into the ground and hitting the fallen Devastator with a wave of energy that removed an arm, Ironhide sprinted towards his fallen comrade.

“No, Jazz!”

Bonecrusher reached down into Jazz’s chest with his clawed hand and tore out the glowing, sparkling piece of circuitry that was the Autobot’s spark and life force. Jazz gasped and then crumpled, limp and unmoving.

Ironhide stared at the Decepticon with barely contained fury. “You will die for that,” the Autobot said menacingly. “And you will die painfully.”

Optimus rolled away from Megatron’s grasping claws and fired again. This time, Megatron spun around and shot the Autobot leader with another pulse blast. The Decepticon advanced on him.

“Let’s finish this now, brother,” he hissed, activating a powerful weapon within his arms. Armor plates slid backwards, revealing technology beneath. Slamming his forearms together, Megatron extended a long fusion cannon. Optimus was nailed by the bolt and hurled into a building, stunned.

Megatron considered killing the despicable Autobot then and there, although the All Spark was infinitely more important. A quick look around the battle showed him only two damaged Autobots and a fleeing human kept him for ultimate power.

The leader of the Decepticons transformed into jet mode and launched forwards, zeroing in on Sam Witwiky as he sprinted towards a building.

“Starscream,” Megatron transmitted. Abandoning his attack of the human aircraft, his second-in-command swooped towards him.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Kill the Autobots guarding the boy,” said Megatron. “I will retrieve the All Spark.”

Diving lower, the Decepticon leader hurtled towards his only purpose in life.

Blackout was being pummeled by human sabot rounds, and he was not enjoying it. Firing a missile down at the pitiful resistance, he transformed into a helicopter and flew towards Ratchet, eager to extract a painful revenge on the Autobot.

Bumblebee saw him coming and fired his plasma cannon. Blackout transformed into reverse, landing as a robot and sending a pulse of energy through the ground to knock the smaller Autobot off his feet.

Ratchet opened fire, and the humans behind him concentrated their weapons. The Decepticon staggered around, high-heat blasts tearing through his exoskeletal armor.

Megatron landed directly in front of Witwiky before the boy could turn to reach the building. Bumblebee saw him and hurled himself from where he lay, firing plasma and missiles at the Decepticon leader. Bumblebee was hit by a blast from the armored titan’s arm and smashed into the ground. Before he could rise, the Raptor/Starscream fired two missiles, striking the Autobot’s feet and sending him flying, his legs destroyed.

“No! Bumblebee!” yelled Sam, running towards his protector. Megatron advanced, blocking him from going either direction. “Give me the All Spark, boy! GIVE ME THE CUBE!”

A shot from Optimus Prime’s blaster spun the Decepticon leader around and hurled him into a building. Prime thundered into the fray, extending his energy blade as Blackout swung his propeller blades towards him and stabbing the Decepticon in the chest. Leaving the heap of metal to collapse motionless to the ground, Megatron turned around, vengeance in his eyes.

“I will TEAR YOU APART, Brother!”

Optimus kicked Blackout’s body aside challengingly. “Then do so, you thoughtless tyrant!”

Megatron lunged forward, as Sam Witwiky darted up a staircase to the roof of a tall white building.

Starscream saw his leader ignoring the Cube to wreak his vengeance on Optimus Prime and was not surprised. Megatron had always been and straightforward, if brutal, leader, but he was not the strategist Starscream was. Only his commander had that cerebral processing capability, and now Starscream knew he was going to be rewarded.

Neglecting to inform the enraged Megatron of the development, he flew towards the building where the Witwiky human would no doubt emerge from.

Then, the All Spark would be his.

Bonecrusher had no hesitation in resuming his battle with Ironhide. Charging towards the Autobot, a missile collided painfully with his face. Ironhide swung around behind him and hammered his torso into the ground. Bonecrusher struggled to free himself, his tail lashing out and slashing at Ironhide’s chest. The weapons specialist grabbed it and pulled, but Bonecrusher used the energy to rise and throw off his annoying foe.

As Bonecrusher rushed him again, Ironhide fired both cannons, blasting him in the chest. Badly damaged, the Decepticon nonetheless swept his arm at Ironhide. The Autobot coolly grabbed it and put a plasma burst through it, leaving the limb sparking on the ground. An exertion of mechanical strength flung Bonecrusher across the street.

The Decepticon rose to find a cannon pointed at his face. His body was in critical condition, his spark damaged, arm lost, tail almost pulled out. An automatic diagnostic took all this into account before Ironhide coldly fired, the blast blowing in Bonecrusher’s face and leaving the ruined machine crumpled in a worthless heap.

“That was for Jazz,” growled the Autobot, before turning his attention to the rest of the battle.

Devastator, wounded, was being pummeled by the human’s weapons – and it was barely doping them any good. Without any Autobot reinforcement, the beings had no chance of distracting the Decepticon long enough for them to concentrate a flurry of firepower.

Then Epps finally got a call from an F-22 Raptor.

“We have survived alien attack, repeated, survived alien attack! Awaiting target!”

“You sure as hell got one!”

Lennox tossed his Sergeant a laser point. Epps understood. “Laze targets and bring the rain!”

The Captain sprinted to a black motorcycle, abandoned by its owner in the battle. Grabbing a sabot launcher, he gunned the engine and rolled towards Devastator.
The F-22s flew down towards Devastator, unleashing their deadly payload. Lennox leapt from the bike and fired. The missiles struck the Decepticon in the chest, the explosion blowing pieces off his armor. His spark extinguished, Devastator’s corpse toppled over as Lennox printed away. “Yeah! We got him! Where’s the kid!”

San Witwiky had just lit the flare. The helicopter was coming down, and the teenager had never been more relieved.

He ran towards the edge of the building, the man inside the chopper reaching out to take the Cube.

Then the world exploded.

Sam regained consciousness thirty seconds later. A second ‘copter was retreating, and Starscream transformed and landed in front of the young human. Idly, the Decepticon fired another rocket from the rack he had altered his left hand into and annihilated the other copter.

“Give me the All Spark, human. I have no reason to kill you, and unlike my erstwhile ‘leader’, I do not appreciate destruction for destruction’s sake. You will live. I will spare you and your close associates when we conquer this world. I will kill Megatron. Just give me the Energon Cube!”

Sam stared up at the huge robot standing over him and gulped. His breath coming in ragged gasps, the teen started backing away. Starscream advanced.

“Don’t flee. Neither you nor the Autobot will gain anything by me killing you this instant and taking the Cube for myself.”

Sam wanted to give Starscream the damn Cube. Get rid of it. What had it done for him?

Then he saw Mikaela helping prop Bumblebee’s torso on a tow truck with chains, and he realized he had gained two friends – or more than that. A protector, and, he hoped, a –

“Time’s up,” snarled Starscream, and reached for him.

“NEVER!” screamed Sam, and jumped.

Ironhide spotted Sam atop the building, being the only Autobot able to do so. Ratchet was damaged, Bumblebee crippled, and Optimus Prime fighting Megatron. Running in the direction, he quickly calculated the human planned to leap off the edge, presumably to delay Starscream’s attempt to take possession of the All Spark. However, the impact of hitting the ground would severely damage the boy’s skeletal system, as well as impeding vital bodily structures, making it a very small likelihood Witwiky would survive the experience.

Ironhide opened fire, plasma blasts bombarding the already startled Starscream. The angered Decepticon commander sent a rapid stream of bullets crashing into Ironhide’s chest, surprising the Autobot. Apparently, Starscream had improved Earth technology contained within his local mode.

The Autobot’s prediction programs allowed him to dodge the next burst of firepower and return the blast. Starscream launched a missile at the distraction before leaping off the side of the building and falling after Sam. His own weight allowed inertia to accumulate and he passed the human just before they reached the ground. Starscream lashed out. “You refused my mercy, larvae!”

Ironhide slammed into him, shouldering him off to the side and knocking him into the building. The larger Decepticon bounced off the wall before crashing into the ground. Ironhide grabbed Sam, trying to avoid inflicting structural damage, and landed hard on his back.

Sam rolled out of the Autobot warrior’s hand as the massive robot shook himself back conscious. “Ironhide! C’mon, buddy, wake up and help me…”

Machine gun fire from Starscream’s wrist left the weapon’s specialist on the ground. Stalking towards Sam, he raised his arm and fire again, this time to kill the puny human.

…only for a plasma blasts to strike him on the chest. Driving the tow truck backwards with Bumblebee firing, Mikaela shouted to her companion. “Sam! Get in!”

The teenaged human scrambled towards the truck, while plasma bursts and small missiles streaked towards the enraged Starscream. The Decepticon, snarling his hatred of the small Autobot, fired a larger missile of his own at the vehicle.

“No!”

Ratchet leapt in the way, the warhead blasting the Autobot across the street and leaving him sprawled, sparking, on top of an SUV. Starscream advanced.

“This is your last chance. Give me the All Spark now.”

Optimus Prime was fighting the good fight, and he was losing. The ferocious blows he and Megatron were landing would have killed most other beings in the universe. Determined to stop Megatron as he was, the other Transformers fought with feral strength that Prime could not match.

Hurling his enemy away from him, Megatron glanced around the battlefield and saw Starscream heading for the All Spark.

“Time for End Spark, Prime,” he growled, and blasted the Autobot leader before transforming into his jet mode and rocketing towards the All Spark.

Optimus pulled himself up wearily, staggering a little. Seeing where Megatron was heading, he drew his energy rifle and fired, sending the Cybertronian jet into a spiral that landed it near the tow truck. Frantically, Prime raced forward.

“Run, Sam!”

Starscream saw his leader and fired his wrist guns at Bumblebee, the determined Autobot returned fire, but Starscream was inflicting heavy damaged as he moved steadily closer. The scout could not hold out much linger. Sensing this, Mikaela began to back up the truck.

Starscream lashed out – and felt his blow connect with the powerful armor of Optimus Prime. The Autobot leader struck the Decepticon with such force he was flung off his feet. Optimus spun around and shot the transforming Megatron, sending the huge Decepticon stumbling backwards.

“Sam, flee now!”

Sam leapt from the truck and headed for a side street, but Megatron stopped him, his massive bulk blocking the way.

“THE CUBE!”

“Ahhhh!” Sam turned in the other direction as Optimus Prime jumped over his head. Prime crashed into Megatron and the two colossi rolled over and over, raining blows on one another.

Optimus was batted aside. “THE ALL SPARK IS MINE, BOY!”

Lennox’s men raced up. “Open fire! Raptors, concentrate on the big bad guy!”

The hail of sabot round from human guns and sabot warhead-tipped missiles slowed Megatron down, enraging the powerful Decepticon. Batting down one of the Raptors, he aimed an arm cannon at the pitiful humans with their externally held heat weapons.

“Get back!”

Optimus Prime leapt in front, his sword slicing off his foe’s hand. Aghast, Megatron brutally backhanded Prime and kicked him. “Once I have the Energon, I will kill you and devour you Spark, Brother.”

Megatron loomed over Sam. “It is over. You will die and I will take the Cube.”

Optimus never gave up. Hurtling at the Decepticon, he slammed him to the ground and turned to Sam.

“Push the cube into my chest! My Spark will destroy it!”

“But what about you?” asked Sam, raising the Cube slowly above his head.

“Just do it now!”

Sam cautiously thrust the Cube up as Megatron hurled himself forward. “NOOOOOOOOOO! It is MINE!”

Optimus was kneed in the face and fell over backward. Megatron grabbed at Sam, claws outstretched. “It is -”

Sam continued his upward motion with the All Spark, driving it into Megatron’s Spark. There was a blinding flash of light and explosion of power and the energy of the Cube was blasted into Megatron’s body, which shook and convulsed, overloaded with energy. It’s thrashing ending when the power finished raving the Decepticon’s systems, the titan collapsed, his crumpled form crashing to the earth and lying still.

“Oh my god…” gasped Sam weakly, falling to his knees from relief and exhaustion.

“Sam!”

Mikaela had abandoned the tow truck and raced over to him. “Oh, Sam, you’re alive, you’re al-”
Bumblebee watched the spectacle curiously as the two humans pressed their lips together and embraced each other passionately.

Optimus got to his feet. Ironhide and Ratchet, both still alive, managed to climb back up also, despite the damage inflicted against them.

“Sam Witwiky, you my life, the lives of all Autobots, and everyone on your planet.”

Sam looked up at him, still holding Mikaela. “Yeah. Thanks, I guess.”

“It is I who owe you thanks.”

Lennox climbed over. “Good job, kid. Way to stick it to them.”

Watching the proceedings from above, Starscream turned and rocketed into space, an F-22 leaving the atmosphere. He would be back, with more Decepticons. The death of Megatron only accelerated his plans, if the loss of the All Spark slowed them.
But he would be back. For revenge.

Hockey poem

2009-07-09T11:24:00.003-04:00

Here's a mirror poem I wrote. I'm not a poet, so you can see how good it is.
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Hockey Cycle
Tristan

Before the puck flies off my stick,
Figures made of different colors swirl around my vision,
Drenched in sweat, I look for a chance
To release the puck,
My stick flexes, snaps up,
Grabbing the object my mind targets
And sends a black disc of rubber spinning,
A body strikes me;
Goes spinning off to the side,
And someone who looks just like me to everyone else
Throws the puck back to me.
My teammate crosses in front of me and
I see the back of the net

I see the back of the net
My teammate crosses in front of me and
Throws the puck back to me
And someone who looks just like me to everyone else
Goes spinning off to the side
A body strikes me
And sends a black disc of rubber spinning.
Grabbing the object my mind targets,
My stick flexes, snaps up,
To release the puck
Drenched in sweat, I look for a chance:
Figures made of different colors swirl around my vision,
Before the puck flies off my stick

Swimming

2009-07-09T11:02:00.000-04:00

Adrenaline and pain
run through my nervous veins,
I slice through the water with every stroke,
If you tell me I’m winning I’ll know it’s a joke.
I try to grin;
I try to win;
I fail at both.
I swim a faster stroke.
Some people swim
just to get slim,
I swim because I want to win,
and improve, not lose.
Adrenaline and pain
speed like a race car through my nervous veins
I slice through the cold water with my every stroke,
Now that I’m winning there’s no joke.

2009-07-09T10:54:00.002-04:00

All I know is a door into the dark.
The feeling of fear engulfs me.
My only option is to run,
To run my heart out.
As fast as I go, it isn't enough.
Demonds claw at my heels,
Pulling me back.
I feel I've lost all hope.
but then , I see his face.
It's different,
the same as the day he said good-bye.
I fall to my knees in bitter defeat.
I beg him not to go again,
but he withers away to the dark abyss
Like ashes in the wind.
My heart goes with him.
I know I shoul dcry
Yet the tears will not fall.
Im left to sit, sitff as stone.
Like a lifeless ceramic doll on a shelf.
Wallas of fire surround me,
closing in each second.
I ris ein anger and run.
I run to my fate.
My skin meets the flames but I pay it no mind.
I run to the light,
Bursting through the glass.
As I tumble to the ground, I cry.
I cry for myself.
I'm finally free.

I love you

2009-07-09T10:47:00.002-04:00

I tell you that I love you
Because you are always there for me.
Being away from you burns a hole in my heart,
and I sit and wish you were here.
You've taught my heart what it means to love.
standing in your arms, I am safe, and
You sealed your promise with a kiss.
Life would be terrible without you.
You're everything to me.

You're everything to me.
Life would be a terrible place without you.
You sealed your promise with a kiss.
Standing in your arms, I'm safe, and
You've taught my heart what it means to love,
And I sit and wish you were here.
Being away from you burns a hole in my heart.
Because you are always there for me,
I tell you I love you.

Ever since birth

2009-07-09T10:42:00.004-04:00

Ever since birth, I dreamed about heaven on earth\ but still murdaz occur, and I still wonder watz the cure\so let me find out\so much stress make me wanna blow my mind out\it feel like my soul locked up and my hearts on time out\

meanwhile niggaz dyin, mommas cryin and da government still lyin\my head hurtin kuz all I hear is shots firen and police sirens\

ride or die has always been da question of my life\but through my strife\seems like all I ever had waz my gun and my knife\yea I had ruff life\

to you, but to me its nice\or maybe its mean\spend all my time chasin dis green\it seems obscene, naw meen , but its all I kno\money ho’s and clothes\aint really got no home\ so where do I go…

I don’t know, I juss feel like I aint got no soul\but only got one goal and that’s to survive\ im from da hood so you kno 5hit real\I’ma hustla just tryna get a quick meal\ datz why I grip steel\and spit krillz\i jus lookin for a diploma and a record deal\ I kno my methods ill\but still,

im jus doin wat I gotta do\kuz in da fridge there aint a lotta food\but still I carry da tool\even in skool\kuz niggaz get killed ova da color blue\and da sad part is itz so true\

so you know wat I’ma do\spit krack ova these pro tools\becaus momma raised no fool\

im from drinkin 50 cent sodas and thinkin bout ridin high in range rovas\ Im from cigarette butts and handcuffs where grown men stand up and tell little boys man up\Im from sky scrapers and apartment buildings where people get high like the apartments ceilings\Im from chicks wit fat butts and dudes wit they gats tucked sayin if anyone act up they get clapped up\Im from weed and greed and workin for weed and seed,just tryna survive and have everything I need\Im from mom yellin at me and tellin me its time to go to skool\ But I didn’t want to, kuz I felt like I was to cool.

Ron-G a.k.a Ronnie robinson

2009-07-09T10:42:00.003-04:00

what is it about you that keeps me coming bakc? why is that when you say my name i come running fats? nothing compares to the wya that i satre, when you are near? i don't know how to explain but i dont know what to do if i dont see you. it just isnt the same. i need to hear your voice as much as possible. where evere you go ill follow you. if you left it would cause my death. just the thought brings me to tears so please stay here

I Was Never the Girl For You...Forgiveness Was Never 'My Thing'

2009-07-09T10:39:00.000-04:00

I was never the girl for you—
Sorry,
I just didn’t understand why you would think I’d still be yours after hearing her flirtatious laugh, seeing your shining, green eyes,
After seeing the way you held her waist,
I was sick—
I never understood how you thought I could be faithful after seeing that.
Do you like putting on shows? In a crowded, dimly lit hall where every piranha could gobble up every ounce of gossip they can get their slimy hands on--
Forgiveness really was never my thing.

Forgiveness really was never my thing.
Do you like putting on shows? In a crowded, dimly lit hall where every piranha could gobble up every ounce of gossip they can get their slimy hands on--
I never understood how you thought I could be faithful after seeing that.
I was sick,
After seeing the way you held her waist,
I just didn’t understand why you would think I’d still be yours after hearing her flirtatious laugh, seeing your shining, green eyes,
Sorry--
I was never the girl for you.

The Unspeakable

2009-07-09T10:27:00.001-04:00

Seven-year-old Julia didn't know what she was getting herself into when she plopped on my bed. I was just about to finish the book that had been taking me months to read when she said, "Emily, I want to talk to Dad about getting a dog."
With a look of disbelief, I replied, "Well, good luck with that."
"But, it's been a year since we brought it up with him, and I'm going to turn 8 soon. I'm asking for one for my birthday."
"What are you asking for for your birthday?" Tom, our brother came into the room.
"She's going to ask for a dog," I told him.
"Are you serious? We've been working Dad for months, and with one of your little girl pouts, you think Dad will just change his mind and say 'Yes, I think we should get a dog. What a great idea?'"
"Well, without your help, how can we ever expect to get a dog?" Julia retorted.
"We don't and that's the way it's going to stay. Don't mess with the flow of things, you haven't been around as long as Em and me. Trust us when we say, don't do it."
Tom stormed out of the room. He was so much like Dad. The both of them had thick heads. Anytime you tried to air an idea, it bounced off the walls of their skull and came back at you full force. The women in the house were the only ones with open minds. We accepted criticism. We considered ideas before making judgments.
What did their thick heads have to do with getting a dog? Well, We had a yellow Labrador, Sandy. We got her in 1998 and she passed away in 2009. Admittedly, she wasn't the brightest dog. She chewed the wall, barked non-stop, and was persuaded that the broken barking collar worked. Here came the thick heads. Dad thought that the next dog would be just like Sandy. Honestly, that's probably not going to happen. Sandy was unique, one of her kind. Just like people, dogs aren't always the same.

"What's his problem? I thought he wanted a dog," Julia asked after Tom walked out.

"He does, it's just that...He..."I stumbled with what to say. Julia may be seven, but she's seven going on twenty-seven. "He doesn't think that it's fair that just because you ask for a dog, that it suddenly opens dad's eyes and that we get a dog. Mom, Tom, and I tried for months to get Dad to say yes. The countless schemes we made. We were even going to have Aunt Brenda buy you one last year and have her take the blame. You know how she doesn't care what Dad thinks."

Julia smiled, seeing the scheme play out in her head. "I just don't understand why Dad is so negative."

"It's like this, he hated Sandy. The dog before her, Kurby, was just an amazing dog. When Mom and Dad put her down Dad was really depressed. Mom got Sandy thinking that Dad would warm up to her but he never did. So, we're afraid that if we get another dog, then Dad will treat it really badly."

"Oh, well that makes sense. But maybe Dad will change his mind," Julia suggested.

"I don't know, maybe, but really I don't think so. Dad isn't the type person to just change his mind fast, but you never know. Miracles happen...sometimes." Julia laughed. "I'm not going to tell you don't go for it, but just don't expect a yes."

"Okay, thanks Emily."

"No problem, now get out of my room, I'm reading."
As she got off the bed she said, "Fine, I'm going." As she walked out of the room I picked up my book.
Reading the same line for at least five minutes, I realized that I couldn't finish the book now. All that was on my mind was thinking about having a little canine companion yip and lay next to me on the bed. Just thinking about it made a sense of excitement grow in me. Don't even start, I thought. Life's troubles aren't always easy, but somehow you manage to get through them. Just like wanting a puppy. It seems easy, but under the surface, there's always one cause that can start a war. Thank God I'm not the one starting it. With this thought, I was able to pick up my book, recline on the bed, and finish my book.

This Time is Different

2009-07-09T10:26:00.004-04:00

I thought
I was in love.
I felt the butterflies people always get.
My heart stops
when I talk to him.
I can't go a minute
without thinking about him.
And still, they tell me, I can't
know what love truly is.
But this time,
I just know
it's gotta be love.

Secret

2009-07-09T10:26:00.002-04:00

I wanted to say I always loved you,
and I yearned to reach out for your hands
hanging freely in the dusty hallway air.
That feeling of burning desire, it was
too much at times to think about.
Your grinning visage, your brassy laugh dancing away could be
something that lifted my spirits on the darkest day, and
there were months filled with hope and hopelessness; you were
never aware of my presence, yet
I always knew you were there.

I always knew you were there:
never aware of my presence, yet
there were months filled with hope and hopelessness.You were
something that lifted my spirits on the darkest day, and
your grinning visage, your brassy laugh dancing away could be
too much at times to think about.
That feeling of burning desire, it was
hanging freely in the dusty hallway air,
and I yearned to reach out for your hands –
I wanted to say I always loved you.

The Crazy Woman

2009-07-09T10:25:00.002-04:00

She was out of her mind.
It was great! I promise you.
My eighth grade science teacher
Was a one-of-a-kind.
She taught us with great skill
And definite profession.
But if you disrupted class she
Chased you around the room
To throw chalk at you.

Each class was exciting because
She did something different.
One day we had a battle royal
Of Periodic Table flashcards.
We even made castaway raft
Models to see which group prevailed.
She was out of her mind
But the best of the best.

My Name

2009-07-09T10:25:00.001-04:00

My name is who I am

And reflects how people view me.

`My name is supposed to be a reflection of me

I have nothing to reflect on.

My name is my body

I am it’s shadow.

Who am I?

I have a name but

No identity.

Murder

2009-07-09T10:24:00.000-04:00

I watched somebody die today.
A girl, about fourteen.
Maybe almost fifteen.
She was beautiful but wouldn’t believe it.
Dirty-blonde hair, hazel eyes.
She had so much potential.

I just watched her die.
Everything finally got to her.
There was nothing I could do.
Nothing would change her mind.
She finally had enough. She had to let go.

I let her die.
No attempts to help her.
She suffered by herself.
No one else tired.
Why should I be blamed?
I only killed her.

Fireworks

2009-07-09T10:23:00.001-04:00

Bright splashes of color
dance across the dark night sky
with surprising energy
in a shower of vivid lights.

Tonight is the perfect night
to stay awake
because a warm night in July
is suddenly sparkling with new excitement.

Golden fireworks that look
like weeping willow trees
explode into the sky
and slowly disappear.

Other fireworks twinkle
softly, gently, yet still loudly
like bright yellow stars
that line the now smoke-filled sky.

The rest of the fireworks
have their own funky, unique designs,
some shoot up high and explode,
blinding lights erupt,
and reflect in our wide eyes.

There are bangs and clashes and crazy flashes
that send babies crying
and brave toddlers running
to their mothers.

Fireworks are free and exhilarating,
making even adults suck in their breath
so nervously,
cracking their knuckles as they wait for the next one.

Noises help people stay awake,
but sleeping tonight
would be a big mistake.

Best Memory

2009-07-09T10:20:00.004-04:00

It’s the year 2000.
My grandpa is wearing a classic pair of
Beige pants and a striped-collared shirt
That buttons up to his neck.
My grandpa’s kitchen
Is surrounded by walls
The color of peach.
It’s small
And crowded.
I sit in a stool in the corner.
Because I am only five,
I don’t realize the
Horrid taste of tuna fish
Entering my mouth.
He fed me, with a spoon
Too big for such a little girl.
Silly Grandpa.
I think about him, as I
Touch the chords and tubes
Coming out of his nose, and connect
To a big, bulky machine. It’s from
The hospital.
Because I am only
Five, I think that’s he’s playing
dress-up. I move to sit
on his lap. I grab
the spoon, fill It with
tuna, and stuff it
Into my mouth.
He smiles.
Because I am only five,
I can’t help but
Laugh.
I wonder where we’ll be
Next year.

Out on the Open Sea

2009-07-09T10:20:00.002-04:00

Out on the open sea,
Seagulls fly above me.
A cool breeze brings shivers.
Whether it’s on a cruise, fishing trip, or sailboat,
Each holds the thrill anyone can experience.

Each holds the thrill anyone can experience,
Whether it’s on a cruise, fishing trip, or sailboat,
A cool breeze brings shivers.
Seagulls fly above me,
Out on the open sea.

Forgiveness

2009-07-09T10:18:00.003-04:00

Forgiveness:
one of the most important
qualities.
But when
do we forgive?
Who deserves
a second chance?
And who doesn't?
Why do we feel badly
for someone whose hurt us?
How many times
must we pardon people who leave scars
on our hearts?
How do we know
if people have really
changed?
The truth
is we don't.
All I know
is that you must forgive
the ones you love,
no matter how much
they've hurt you.

I Am From...

2009-07-09T10:17:00.002-04:00

I am from my mother’s garden
Filled with a rainbow of colors
With the crooked white arbor
Over-looking the pebble clad path.

I’m from the cool waters of
Richardson Lake at South Arm Campground,
Where there are more trees than people
And where my Grandfather’s boat
Pulls Jake and I on the racing tube
With a yellow rope –
From the paths through the eerie woods,
Up to the “Magic Log” that today
Will be a base camp for
Our game of manhunt.

I am from the room at the
Top of the stairs with the eight foot
Lavender walls and a cloudy ceiling –
From the welcoming white home on
Fairview Avenue set back three feet
From the road with the two humungous
Red Japanese Maples and an American flag
Waving proudly in the breeze.

I am from the old football field
At the top of Hog Hill with the
Worn dirt patch in the middle
Where the Saint Joseph's JV Soccer team practices.

I'm from the family of musicians and scientists.
The family of believers and farmers who can't
Seem to find common gorund.

I'm form the mortifying tan couch
In the room with the burgandy walls
Where I watched the Dallas Cowboys race to vitory -
From where I have grown to become a daddy's girl
And a diehard Dallas fan -
From where I slept as an infant
In the arms of my father.

I Am From

2009-07-09T10:16:00.004-04:00

I am from the smells of coconut lime and brown sugar and fig.
Bath & Body Works products that last for hours at a time.
I am from the taste of dark chocolate cake,
My father makes it every now and then as a treat.
I am from the voices of Ana, Hector, and older relatives.
I’m the new generation for spreading our traditions and beliefs.
I am from the sound of music,
From classical, to country, to r&b and pop.
My voice is my own instrument.

I am from the feelings of hope, love, and fear.
When will all violence end, and the peace begin?
I am from the colors of the rainbow from red to black,
Full of colors inside and out.
I am from the suburban houses and lonely streets,
All you can hear are the mimicking of crickets and tires spinning.
I am from the one and only person I know I can learn to trust,
HE is always there, day and night.

I am from “GIRLS! COME CLEAN THE DISHES!”
It’s like a broken record that never ends.
I am from the loss of a grandfather, a piece of me that’s missing.
The face may be gone, but the memories are treasured forever.
I am from fighting with my five-year-old friends for crayons or toys,
The little things we argued about made us stronger friends.
I am from dominos in the middle of the night,
Playing for money with the ones I treasure the most.

I am from Christmas Eve at grandma’s house with my entire family
As everyone goes to sleep, our party is just beginning.
I am from my trophies and ribbons,
From soccer to basketball to swimming.
I am from Martha, Dario, Christina, and Dino.
They’ve taught me a lot about growing up and making smart decisions.
I am like a summer sunset,
Gleaming in the ocean, until the break of night.

Oopsies! (co-written by Heather & Sara)

2009-07-09T10:16:00.003-04:00

I have stolen
the stop sign
from the corner
of the road

and which
you will
probably need
later

Forgive me
it was so red
and so shiny

Highway poem

2009-07-09T10:16:00.001-04:00

Highway

I am patched and rough and old,
but mostly overused
and underappreciated.

I have many hills
that cars slip and slide down
every icy winter.

Today pretty trees surround me,
but I don’t care that the season is fall,
it is winter I worry most about.

In winter, the cold nips
at my old rough skin
that workers try to patch it.

But I should have been repaved
many years ago,
not patched up like an old quilt.

I am not at all like an old quilt
that can still keep people warm for many years,
once the holes are patched up.

Every time a car coasts down my hills
or climbs steadily up them,
I feel a sharp pain that doesn’t go away.

I do have pretty warning green signs
and dotted white lines,
but I’m no longer fine.

One day I may crumble
as cars make my rough skin rumble
and I try to hold on for the peoples’ sake.

For now I am okay,
because everything is mostly my way,
I’m the old highway.

Evergreen

2009-07-09T10:15:00.001-04:00

When I'm alone,
It's never silent.
Instead an evergreen echo sounds of labyrinthine dreams.

Confined, I can hear the laments of
Words that don't know how to fashion metaphors.
And thoughts that can't explain
My tendency to lose myself.

But for the moment, I am invulnerable.
Experience can't grasp me here,
Sheltered in the walls of my sylvan bastion;
Wedged in with screeching imaginations,
That leave skin moist with hope,
And stain minds with desire.
Blessed is this place, for ethereal dreams
are ravaged by reality.

But I am not content;
Plagued by temptations
That force themselves upon me,
Entangling their whimsical notions
Within my fingertips.
And their voices cannot be muffled,
When no one wants them quiet.

Never am I alone in this clamor,
Until I can decipher this maze,
But the sanctuary of actuality is mythical,
And I am left chilled
By the thought of leaving my labyrinth.

In Mommy's Garden

2009-07-09T10:15:00.000-04:00

It is 1995. My mother
Prances throughout her garden.
She pulls and she plants
A whirlwind of colors.

An early summer warmth
Curls itself around my petite frame.
Because I am barely one,
I innocently bounce in my
Hydraulic entertainment.

Mommy hauls bags of
Cedar rich mulch and fresh fertilizer.
She never needed the man power,
She could do it herself.

My father keeps a watchful eye
Planted on me as I fly
Around the small patio area.
Lucky lays beside me in the sun.

Mommy’s garden makes me smile.
Because I am barely one,
I carelessly gobble the small
Tomatoes form the plant.
The garden brings a type of serenity,
A safe haven for a feeble infant.
The colors make mommy beautiful
And because I am barely one,
I think she is an angel.

2009-07-09T10:14:00.000-04:00

The Sorrow

The dark is where the sorrow lurks
The sorrow of losing a loved one,
Of losing someone who cared

The sorrow of death,
Of a loss
The sorrow of love

The sorrow we are forced to live with
The sorrow of knowing you could have made a difference

The sorrow of life
The sorrow of failure

The sorrow lurks in all of us
The sorrow that we have to live
The sorrow