Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Scream into the darkness

Scream into the darkness,
Roar into the thunder,
Flash into the lightning,
Die into the dirt,
Cry into the rain,
Fly into the wind,
Soon, all will be well.

A poem dedicated to Katelyn and her abuse problem...

After hearing about the kind of abuse Katelyn goes through I decided to write a poem for her. I just want to let her know that, as an online friend, I am willing to be helpful and supportive of her. Good luck, and I hope you are able to come to a good resolution soon.

Untitled
Cold and alone
I lie on this floor,
Nearly begging for death,
Crying out for no more.

The pain is so bad,
Bruises growing and growing,
It’s so difficult
To keep them from showing.

All this hurt inside
And for what?
His own pleasure,
His personal smut.

Oh, father, why?
I am your child.
Why treat me this way
And not tender and mild?

What did I do wrong?
Nothing, I know.
But nothing can stop it;
This pain’s gonna show.

In my spare time
I pick up a pen,
Grab some paper
And write about then.

There’s nothing I can do
To get away from this hell.
I’m at his beck and call
By the sound of a bell.

I wish I could tell
Someone of this misery;
A best friend, a real lover,
About the abuse in my history.
Some good Samaritan must have posted a sign at the end of the road warning potential passers by that imposing upon a heartbroken young man’s reflection could be dangerous. It was a crisp, bright beginning of what was sure to be another humid Alabama summer from where I sat. Wispy white cirruses that resembled thick clouds of chalk dust drifted slowly across a never-ending slate of bright blue, guided by a steady breeze that washed over me with the tenderness of a loving caress. The only company I entertained was the timeless −and in some ways comforting− sound of a rocking chair creaking back and forth over wooden parch slats. If someone had taken a snapshot of the moment, they might fancy it picture perfect, but they would be wrong, for the photograph would be incomplete without her perched beside me, a laughing smile on her face.

One of the things I remember most about her was the way she blindly went about the world, watching things turn to gold at the touch of her fingertips with childlike surprise. Perhaps she had starved on regret and doubt and despair upon seeing everything she once treasured unable to respond to her pleas for assurance that she wasn’t all alone in the world. Her curse, however, was not so much a choice as it was an unfortunate spell cast upon her by a sorceress named Fate. She mentioned to me at one point in time that she had always wanted to leave her mark on the world. Her Midas touch left an impression on me at the least, so possibly that much could satisfy her. Maybe if she had been willing to look more on the bright side of things…no, she had finally found a way to escape from her prison of rolling hills and endless blue skies. There was nothing I could do now to change that.

It seems so easy now to admit that I loved her, but it didn’t seem fair to cement my feelings for her in the past. I still love her, just as I still can’t remove her image from my mind. The scene replayed over and over before my eyes: her, walking dejectedly down the sunlit hallway, running away from everything. Me, choking on the same words that slipped so easily off her tongue. Her, closing one of life’s many doors with one last look back. Maybe she thought a man of gold was incapable of returning her love. Maybe that was why she finally gave up trying.

I wondered why I loved her so much, or if there was ever anything to love about her in the first place. I had watched her get drunk from bottles of sorrow on countless occasions. I’d had to deal with her hangovers of lingering heartbreak at the most inopportune times. I tried to help her get over her addiction to everything that had happened in the past, but she always refused to let it go. There didn’t seem to be much to envy about her, and yet I couldn’t help but
do it. She was perfection in its most warped and twisted of forms.

There was a day when I found myself walking alone to the river, only to find myself standing just beyond the threshold of trees, watching a family picnic on the bank. The young girl, a pretty little red head in a flowery sun dress, crept up behind who I could only assume was her older brother, stealthily removing a bright blue cap from atop his head. He chased her around the shoreline a little bit until he had successfully wrested from her the plastic beads wrapped around her tiny wrist. Trailing behind him as he walked away, the girl would wave the hat in air tauntingly while trying to figure out a way to recover what was hers without sacrificing her steal. That’s how she and I were. She had captured my old, care-free lifestyle, while I had taken possession of her fragile heart. It was always a power struggle, both of us wanting to keep what we had taken control of while striving to regain what was rightfully ours. Or maybe, like the boy and his sister, we were impressionable and easily convinced by a wise third party to compromise.

“Zach?” she questioned, her voice shaky and uncertain. As she stood there nervously on the steps of my front porch, it seemed so strange to me that the last time I had seen her was in the hospital waiting room cradling herself and whispering unconvincingly to the floor that everything would be alright.

“You okay?” I ventured to ask, being the first response that popped into my head. I could have smacked myself for being so stupid, of course she wasn’t okay. It was obvious in her red, puffy eyes and the way she was squeezing the usefulness out of the pack of pocket tissues in her hands. It was in the way her bottom lip quivered as she spotted the article with her best friend’s face smiling brightly back at her in black and white newsprint on my lap. In truth, I wasn’t at all fine either, but it seemed to make sense that out of the two of us, I should be the strong, supportive one.

She shook her head silently no and shut her eyes tightly, visibly trying to hold back a fresh wave of tears, a fight she was going to lose miserably. I stood and crossed to where she slumped on the railing, wrapping her in what I hoped would be a comforting hug. My shoulder was quickly dampened by her tears and my body gently shook with her choking sobs. I suddenly became aware of her arms snaking around my waist −something very uncharacteristic of her−, but I tried my best to shrug it off and focus on calming her down.

“I miss her so much,” she croaked hoarsely.

“I do too,” I agreed, slowly being overcome by the sadness I had tried to put away after the funeral.

“I love you Zach,” she whispered rather unexpectedly, catching me by surprise. I tried to figure out all the possible thoughts scrambling around in her mind, only to find I had many of my own to deal with before trying to analyze anyone else’s.

Add up an entire school year plus four very different people and it equals up to a roller coaster of emotion, deception, and confrontation. In the words of Forrest Gump, “shit happens”, and there’s really nothing you can do about it, but you can always try and make the best out of your situation. So I guess, looking back on it, I learned more about myself because of the people I met, and they all have an overdue thank you.

“I love you too,” I decided.

The beginning of a poem I'm working on...

Tell me if it's worth continuing. It's kind of about my family situation. Well, my dad at least.



She's in a bad situation-
she shouldn't be here,
with all the chaos,
she's so full of fear,
of what tomorrow may bring.
They think she's weak for crying,
but in reality,
she's so strong for living,
through each damn day.
She did nothing wrong,
yet she's being horribly punished.
She doesn't deserve this.
the thought of "someday" keeps her going,
along with bravery and courage,
that one day, she'll be free.
One day she'll be okay.
One day she'll be free.
But not today,
and tomorrow doesn't look good either.
She's running from her past,
but she's too scared to run into the future.
She's so scared,
yet so brave.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

A build-up of things I haven't been posting...

'Ello guys! I haven't posted anything in a while, so I have a bit of a build-up. Hehe... Anyways, these are things that are unedited, unproofread, etc. They're small blurbs of writing that were made for no particular purpose. Yeah... well, here they are.

Oh yeah, and none of them have titles.

#1

Toast turns to wet sand in my mouth.
I am torn,
Two different paths,
Yet only one the true way.

It’s something that cannot be done,
Cannot be accomplished.
Something deep in your heart,
Deep in your soul,
Through the sadness and calmness,
The breathlessness and reluctance,
Lies the only path ready to take.

I’m scared, I’m afraid,
What am I going to do?
Should I hurt one to love another?
Should I love one to hurt another?
Heavy mist hazes decisions,
Yet running away seems so much clearer.

I go with haste, I don’t turn back,
I make my choice, deciding what is and isn’t right.
The one who was loved now faces the gallows,
The one who was hated now praised,
And the one in the middle now regretful.

#2

I awoke
Bright and early.
Gave her a poke,
In the head, so curly.

But she didn’t move,
Didn’t make a sound.
Didn’t dance with a groove,
She just lay on the ground.

I called her name,
But what a shame,
Am I to blame?
Or is this a game?

I gave her a shove
With the tip of my shoe,
When above flew a dove,
In the sky so blue.

I looked back at my friend,
But she was nowhere in sight,
So death wasn’t the end,
Though she gave me a fright.

#3

I’m fighting the world, as it is me.
All of the odds never in my favor.
I take the time to look beyond the shores,
A gentle caress of the setting sunlight
On the azure horizon.
How I miss that careless life,
Though how I crave to wander freely.
I chose to let go of responsibility
And join them on the other side.
What has become of humanity?
The answer is simple: insanity.

-End-

I KNOW, I'VE ACTUALLY BEEN WRITING POETRY! Why, I wonder? -ponders-

Okay, I also decided to post a part of my novel I've been working on. Note that I have not proofread or edited this certain portion yet, so it probably has alot of mistakes.

Excerpt from my novel, Blood and Sails:

Julianna.

Her eyes shot open, though she could still see nothing but the cold, dark blackness before her. She suddenly felt another presence, one different from the empty one she felt before. It was a warm one, a gentle yet strong one, ripping through the darkness.

Julianna Edwards.

She knew that voice. An unforgettable voice, one that no one who has ever heard it even once could ever forget.

“Luca…?” she forcibly whispered into the darkness. It hurt to talk, as if with every breath she took and word she spoke an enormous pressure consumed her, sapping her strength, causing her to crumble. She screamed, unable to hear her own blood-curling yells.

Julianna, tell me where you are.

She screamed and screamed an unheard cry. She tried to move, she tried to thrash around, but the darkness consumed her and all her senses. Where she was, what she was doing, it was all unknown.

Julianna, are you all right?

She stopped screaming; Luca was speaking to her. What was this power she had never known about? Reading minds? No, it was more than that. He was in her mind, in her consciousness, talking to her. Another one of their mysterious powers? It must have been. Julianna felt ecstatic; Luca was there with her, talking to her, keeping her safe.

Julianna, what are you feeling?

“Cold…” she replied, a sound barely escaping her lips. Suddenly, the pain returned, a force pressing down on her, smothering her, constricting her into a confined area. “Pain… Luca, please…”

Julianna, where are you?

“Pain, Luca! It hurts! Luca! LUCA!” Julianna started into hysterics, her screaming becoming louder and louder. “Help me! Please! LUCA!”

Julianna.

“Luca! It hurts! It hurts! Luca!”

Julianna we’ll--.

“Luca! Luca! Please! Don’t leave me here like this! The pain! Luca!”

“Julianna!”

She stopped screaming. She felt as if her heard stopped beating. This time, she heard his voice loud, clear and crisp, different from before. He was no longer in her mind, but there, standing before her. She became still, wiping tears from her face. She looked into his eyes as he stood there, a sad look on his beautiful, flawless face. Captain Luca Riley stepped closer to her, but she still couldn’t move, or make a single sound.

“Julianna. Please, just listen.”

He stepped closer to her, now so close their bodies were almost touching. He lifted a hand to her cheek, gently wiping away a tear.

“My poor Julianna, please do not weep,” he said in his usual poetic tone. “Soon we shall both be out of this retched place. You could not listen through your crying, so I came down here myself.”
“Where… exactly are we?” Julianna asked, regaining her ability to speak.

Luca did not answer. Instead, he looked intently into her eyes. He began to murmur under his breath, a secret incantation of which she could not understand. He closed his eyes, the darkness around them becoming lighter and lighter. Soon there was not darkness, but a bright, white light, blinding them. Luca did not move, and in fact seemed as if he did not even notice the sudden change.

Everything became white, and Luca was no longer in sight. She felt nothing, not even cold, not even darkness. All she could see was the white around her, not even her own palm in front of her face.

Suddenly, she hit her head very hard on something very, very solid.

“Julianna! Julianna!”

The voice was different this time. It wasn’t Luca’s, but instead Vincent’s. She felt his warmth as he embraced her, feeling a tear fall on her face that wasn’t hers.
“Oh, Julianna, I thought for sure you were…”

Julianna finally opened her eyes, her vision becoming clearer as she saw the rest of the crew on the Anastasi coming toward her. She looked around, but saw no sight of who she was looking for.
“Vincent… where’s Captain Riley?”

Vincent stopped talking, the rest of the crew growing silent. He let go over her, stepping away and looking in a different direction, like the rest of the crew, who were all averting her eyes.
“He gave himself up… to save you.”

Even before Vincent had spoken, she already knew what happened. She knew that Luca would do that for her, and the thought made her sick to her stomach. The wind blew, howling through the cold night.

Don’t worry, Julianna, I will always be right here with you. Don’t be afraid.

Tears started flowing down Julianna’s cheeks. How could this have happened? Why would Captain Riley give up everything he had, his entire crew, his ship, just for her, a girl he had barely met? It made no sense to her, but still… she couldn’t help but feel guild. Tears streamed from her eyes as she buried her eyes into Vincent’s coat. She began sobbing, and he held her tightly in his arms, trying to comfort her.

“Don’t worry, shhh, don’t worry,” Vincent said, his beautiful voice smooth and soft. “He did it because he wanted to, it was his choice, please, Julianna, don’t cry…”

She remembered the words Luca had spoken to her only moments before, though it seemed an eternity ago. My poor Julianna, please do not weep, he had said. She stopped crying, taking deep and ragged breaths. She would not cry. He did not want her to, and so she would not.

“Come, Julianna, you need rest,” Vincent said her, then, looking up to the rest of the crew, added, “We all do, for the sun will be rising soon.”

He tried to help her up, but she wouldn’t budge. She sat there, sitting on the floor with a tear stained face. “A captain. Who is the new captain.”

Vincent looked at her, and then to the crew, who were all looking to him. Silas looked down to him, shrugging. “I vote for you, mate.”

“All in favor of Captain Vincent Bursnell?” Julianna said, an air of authority around her, still looking intently at the floorboards.

“Aye!” the crew shouted in unison.

“Well then,” Julianna said, not sounding surprised as she looked up slowly, putting her hand out in front of her for Vincent to take. “Captain.”

He smiled, taking her hand and pulling her up, but she did not as he suspected. She began walking towards the crew’s quarters, turning back just before disappearing through the door. “I shall be turning in now. I think the rest of you would be wise to do the same.” She raised an arm slowly, pointing to the rising sun on the horizon.

The crew looked to Vincent for orders, and he wasted no time giving them. “Make haste for the lower decks!”

“Aye!” the crew shouted, scrambling around the deck. Vincent caught Julianna giving him a slight wink just before she disappeared through the doorway.

-End-

Any opinions and constructive criticism is appreciated. COPYRIGHT ME, YOU STEAL AND I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL MESS YOU UP SO BAD YOU HAVE ANY FINGERS TO TYPE WITH OR EYES TO READ WITH, GOT IT?

Saturday, June 2, 2007

A little bit of a slam-like poem I wrote...

It has a strange rhyme scheme. It's a regular verse, except the first line has nothing to do with the rhyme scheme...You'll see what I mean. There's about 20 more verses to this that I didn't post for personal reasons, but these will give you a little taste of it.

You and I are so alike,
Nothing to gain,
And nothing to lose,
You can drink away the night with me,
But bring your own FUCKING booze.

In the reflection,
It is not myself,
That I see,
It's a collection of past memories,
That just won't let me be.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

(Small font so as to save space--copy and paste if hard to read)
Suggested Titles Are Appreciated

Charles expertly jumped off the porch of his house and ran across the lawn to the sidewalk. As usual there were cars zooming up and down the busy street of Sonora. It wasn’t exactly a big street; everyone just seemed to like driving on it. Charles had lived on Sonora long enough to handle it, but everyone still treated him like he was some insane kid that was always on the verge of jumping out in front of the cars.

His babysitter, Clair, stepped out of the house and shut the door. “Get away from the street,” she said as she took the stairs down to the driveway.

“Charles crinkled his nose in exasperation. “Hurry up,” he said, “you’re so slow—did you lock the door?”

“Yes I did, and would you please be kind enough, my lord, to give me one more second so as to turn on the sprinklers?”

Charles waved his hand impatiently. Clair bowed and retreated up the driveway and to the back yard snickering. Charles couldn’t see the point in watering the lawn when it was mostly weeds, and the grass that was there was dead crabgrass. Recently there had been a dandelion swarm, and all of the cactuses and other plants that littered the porch had been bombarded with the small, fluffy, airborne seeds. There were still some stuck in the cactuses. Now, the dandelions had been replaced by tall, hairy things that branched out like tiny trees and spread faster than gossip at school.

The sprinklers came on and Clair reappeared from the backyard. “Common,” she said, dodging, unsuccessfully, between sprinklers, “I’ve been dying to get some mint-banana ice cream.”

Charles followed Clair up Sonora, taking two and a half steps for every one of hers, and trying to figure out how someone could want ice cream on such a cold day. They crossed an alley and turned left into a small parking lot surrounded by even smaller stores. There was a donut shop, a liquor store, a movie rental store and a family owned grocery store.

They stepped through the door into the grocery store, passing right under a large sign that read “Bread and Goodies.” Charles dashed straight to the “Goodies” section and began peering suspiciously at each piece of candy.

Clair waited until he chose a worthy item, then got her ice cream and went to the counter to pay. “This one’s on me,” she said, pulling some wrinkled bills from her back pocket.

By the time they got back home Charles’ Sugar Daddies and Clair’s ice cream were nowhere to be seen. Clair went around back to turn the sprinklers off while Charles waited on the swinging bench next to the door. A man in a ruffled black suit, carrying a dirty, stained suitcase in one hand and a white cane in the other, came walking down the street. He had a long untidy beard that was tucked into the top of his shirt. Charles waved at him. The man smiled back and nodded politely.

The sprinklers went off and a second later Clair came up the stairs holding a five foot long black cobra. The tail was bouncing up and down with each step. “You’ve got to stop leaving this thing out,” she said, “It could really scare someone.”

Charles laughed and took the rubber snake from Clair’s hand, “Did the little snake scare you?” he said mockingly.

“Not me,” she said, sticking her nose up, “I just don’t want one of the old people in back to see it and have a heart attack, or something.” She mimicked the neighbor coming outside, seeing the snake and grabbing his chest frantically. “Just go put it away, munchkin.”

Charles laughed himself off the porch and ran to the backyard. The back yard was better than the front. There were a wide variety of exotic weeds covering it, and a humongous avocado tree in the corner. Charles found it amazing that the weeds could grow to be so tall and plentiful even when gardeners mowed them down every Sunday. Farther back was the duplex where their nice old neighbors lived.

Charles was halfway to his toy box when he herd Clair shout from the porch, “Oh no! I can’t believe it!”

He dropped his snake and hurried to see what happened. Clair was at the door fidgeting with the handle and peering through the window.

“What’s wrong?” Charles asked.

“I don’t have the keys—I must have left them inside—”

“I thought you said you locked the door.”

“I did” she said, “but just the bottom lock—from inside.” She jiggled the handle one last time, checked her watch and groaned. “Your mom doesn’t get back for three more hours—what are we going to do—she’s going to kill me!”

“Hi, I’m a Christian!”

Charles whirled around and saw a tall black man standing on the sidewalk in front of the house. He was holding a small black suitcase in his left hand and he was grinning at him and Clair.

“You look like you could use some help,” said the man.

Charles looked at Clair, who was frowning, and then back at the man. He was now coming across the wet lawn, slipping a little with every other step. “What seems to be the problem,” he said still grinning.

“Well...” Charles said, feeling a little uncomfortable, “we kind of got locked out of my house—”

“Is that all,” interrupted the man, “well I’ll have you back in there in a jiffy! All we have to do is find an unlocked window.”

Clair perked up, “There might be one in back,” she said.

“Let’s go see then!”

They followed him up the drive way and into the backyard, “All we have to do is find an unlocked window,” the man was mumbling.

They turned the corner of the house and the man gave a yelp of surprise. “WATCH OUT!” he yelled, “A SNAKE!” he shoved his hand in his pocket and a second later a knife was spinning through the air directly at Charles’ rubber snake. “Got it!”

The man bent down to examine the snake which now had a pocket knife sticking out of its head. “Why this is just a fake one!” the man said laughing. He removed the knife from its head and picked the snake up. “It looks so real—I’ll buy it from you—is five dollars ok?”

Charles was stunned by what had just happened but at the mention of money his attention snapped back to the man. “Uh, yea, I guess,” he said.

“Great!” the man said, “After I get you back into your house, ok?”

“Sure.”

The man walked over to the nearest window and set his suitcase down.

“What exactly are you going to do?” Clair asked. She sounded worried, and Charles didn’t blame her; it’s not every day you meet a knife throwing, overly excited, black, Christian man.

“I’m just going to check the windows,” the man said. He opened his suitcase and pulled out a flat head screwdriver. He pried off the screen from the first window and tried to open it. It didn’t work. He tried the other two but they wouldn’t open either. He then went around the house trying every window, but none of them would open.

“Well, I’m sorry, kids,” he said, “your on your own now—I’m sorry I couldn’t help” He put the screwdriver back into the suitcase and picked it up. “I’ll be going now. Bye!”

“Wait,” Charles said, “Do you still want to buy my snake?”

The man patted his pockets searchingly; “Sorry but I don’t have any money on me.”

“Ok,” Charles said, a little disappointed.

“Again, sorry I couldn’t help!”

“That’s ok, thanks for trying,” Clair said, looking a little confused.

The man turned and walked down the driveway, and continued down the street and out of sight. Clair watched him go still looking confused but she also looked like she was about to laugh. “Common,” she said, “let’s just wait on the porch until you’re mom gets back.”

They sat on the swing talking and laughing about what had happened until Charles’ mom turned into the driveway and got out of the car. Charles jumped off the porch and ran up to her. “Mom you’re never going to guess what happened—we met a Christian!”

Monday, May 28, 2007

A small piece from one of my longer works.

As I walked by my dad, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
"Where have you really been?" He demanded.
"At Kayla's house."
"I know pot when I smell it."
"I don't smoke, Dad."
"That's what your real mom said. But you were born a crack baby and left to die if it wasn't for me. Now go take a shower and don't you ever bring that crap into this house again. And give me your bag."
I didn't say anything back. I handed him my bag, and watched him search it. He held it upside down and dumped all the contents on the floor. He kicked my things around the kitchen and then grabbed my wallet. He opened it, looked inside, took out twenty dollars, and dropped it on the floor. He then handed me my empty purse.
"Don't you even think about leaving the kitchen like this! Clean up this mess!" He screamed.
I was too scared to say anything, so I just did as I was told and picked up the items he had scattered throughout the room. All I could think of to comfort myself was "thank god he's sober. It would have been so much worse if he were drunk." But I didn't dare to say that out loud. I learned what the consequences of that would be the hard way, and I don't need to learn it again. I just picked up my stuff and left the room. Then I went upstairs, took a shower, and went into my room for the rest of the night.

Re: Writing Playlists

I agree with Katelyn, listening to music really does help when writing. Personally, I try to keep it to songs I'm used to, and pretty much know, so that I don't have to concentrate on what they're saying. And, being a fan of everything Japanese, it also helps if you can't understand what they're saying. XD

So this is my little list of what I listen to while I'm writing (and right now, actually).

Title- Artist (Where it's from)
God Diva- Ali Project (Downloadable from Gendou.com)
Alones- Aqua Timez (Downloadable from Gendou.com)
Best Damn Thing (Entire Album)- Avril Lavigne (They sell it at Target. ^^)
Kresnik- Eguchi Takahito (Downloadable from Gendou.com)
You Gonna Feel- Hav (Downloadable from Gendou.com)
Requiem ~ Inori- Lisa (Downloadable from Gendou.com)

That's all on THAT playlist. Of course I have other playlists too. XP

Also Guild Members, we NEED poems/articles/stories/art/etc. for our newspaper! EVERYTHING is accepted so PLEASE submit! Submit your work to me by emailing me at ShikamaruRocks@yahoo.com. Thanks!

Sunday, May 27, 2007

Writing Playlists

I don't know about you guys, but I make certain playlists I listen to while I write, and I don't know if this is related, but I've experianced writer's block less often while doing this. I make sure there isn't more than one song from a certain artist. I usually go from upbeat, to a softer, slower song, and then back upbeat again. I'll go from hardcore metal rock, to a slow, peaceful song. I make sure that I haven't added any of my current song obessessions, and I love adding songs I haven't listened to in a while. I mix song meanings. The fact that none of the songs have the same theme seems to keep me from going in the wrong direction with whatever I'm writing. Right now mine is:

Edge of the Earth, by 30 Seconds to Mars
Far From the Nuthouse, By Anorexic Beauty Queen
The Fourth Drink Instinct, By Cute is What we Aim For
Jinx, By Green Day
Unwell, By Matchbox Twenty
Nixon, By Merit
The Pornographer's Daughter, By Northstar
Lovers into Ghosts, By The Pink Spiders
Friends Dont Let Friends Dial Drunk, By The Plain White T's
In Fate's Hands, By The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
Rumors Of My Demise Have Been Greatly Exaggerated, By The Rise Against
Drops of Jupiter, By Train

And of course, I edit it with time. Once you get too used to the order of the songs, it's time to edit the playlist. I don't know if anyone else will find this helpful, but it has made a difference for me.

So this is the first draft of this...

Summer comes and goes,
As love learns to grow,
But by the time summer ends,
we weren't even friends.

I thought it was love at first sight,
I though I loved you with all my might,
But I was blind,
I was too kind.

You broke my heart,
I thought we'd never be apart,
But then you said goodbye
And left me there to cry.

I thought we were something,
More than a summer fling,
But you didn't see it that way,
The sun was in your eyes that day.

I could've sworn it was love,
You fit on me like a glove,
It all happened so fast,
I thought it would last.

You were just a summer fling,
Noting important, nothing big.
I thought it was love,
and I thought it was last.


I need some harsh, constructive criticism here. I haven't edited this at all yet. All opinions and thoughts are welcome. :)

-Katelyn

Saturday, May 26, 2007

Yo

Hey everyone, this is destroy_my_sweater from the guild. You guys can call me Amber or Ina-kun if you wish! This is just a test to see if posting here works. I really like this guild so far, so... yeah. =D

Anyways, for those of you participating in ScriptFrenzy (ScriptFrenzy.org) THERE'S ONLY SIX DAYS LEFT!! -starts freaking out-

So, yeah... that's all. OH! Here's a little thing I wrote out of pure boredom. (It's not that good since I wrote quickly):

Running Through Nature

My heart beating, faster and faster, my footsteps echoing through the moist morning air. The sun was rising, a slight semicircle on the dark horizon. I splashed through something wet, my socks soaking. But I keep going. My blood boiling and my mind racing as I run faster and faster in the dim light of the morning sky. I could hear birds calling to one another, flapping in the trees as they awoke, returning to their crying hatchlings. A squirrel scuttling up a tree, a rabbit poking around in the damp grass. The world was waking up; nature was starting yet another cycle of the day. And I kept on running.

~Ina-kun

Friday, May 25, 2007

How to get started!

Welcome to the writing for life guild blog. This will be used to post your work and give/receive constructive criticism or feedback.

So, how do we create this blog community?
1. Create an account with www.blogspot.com
2. Make sure you email Katelyn (quakerxxoats@aol.com) with the EMAIL address you used to create your account.
3. I'll enter your email to the "members" list.
4. You'll get a confirmation email. Do whatever that tells you.

Congratulations! You can now post on the blog and make comments!