the prayer of just a kid

dearest dearest teacher sir
where do i go from here
i'm near the place where i fear
i can't hear what you're saying anymore
i refuse to believe that you believe in me
cuz i can't see how you view me
and i'm scared that i've bared
too much of my soul
maybe i'm really dull and i can't pull
my weight
underneath uniformity and conformity
i'm pushing, trying, seeking to be unique
in this small society
of stereotyping and backstabbing
i'm scared to be me
to be free to see what me can be
so dearest dearest teacher sir
please help me break out,
not doubt,
and not whisper but shout
that i'm comfortable
being vulnerable
and i'm who i wanna be

~Biggy Blue Eyes

a tissue for an issue

i have
a slight issue
someone grab me a tissue
i have writers block
who would have thought
but you see this ryhme
bah its lame
and im to blame
my brain on pause
this might cause a serious injury
but i could bite and hold on tight
hold that line and should
but oh no i cant
i have no chance
boy i have writers block
i cant toy with it
or annoy you with it
but who
maybe you
but please grab me a tissue
i have a slight issue

Alienation
Being different where they look the same in clothes and name
goes against the socialization in my public biased education
And now the different ones are so many that they too look the same
but they aren’t to blame cuz conformity tailgates originality so closely
that change is expected while style is forecasted and projected more than protected
And we all get aboard cuz the marginalized are strong but lonely
and we’d rather be weak than the Only
And I’ll take my outsiders in books bands and movies
but not as my neighbors
and homies I’ll stick with my phonies
cuz when we stand side by side it’s like camouflage from choice
My brand name is the voice that I pay for full price
But I don’t mind watchin the ones called unique as they pave the path that I soon will call mine


LLoyd

Remembrance

A tear falls and shatters the ice
A cry emerges and breaks the waves
A smile brings out the sun
A sound of laughter creates the tides
A moment of time creates a memory
Remember for it is all we ever truly have.

a beggar

For you...
the star winks
the cloud moves
the water drips
the grass waves

For you...
seagulls call
pearls form
satin slides
girls blush

For you...
I scream
I yearn
I fall
I dream

see me, hear me, want me, need me, love me
...please

The Perfect Woman

The Perfet Woman:

a woman thats not scared to show confidence,
shes got to walk with style.
a woman thats not afraid to show her curves,
dress up for her man,
and a woman thats not scared to stay in her sweats.
the perfect woman
a woman that never gives up,
she strives for success.
shes not afraid to be one of the guys.
that greets her man at the door with a beer,
that has dinner on the table when he gets home.
the woman that can take an adventure,
that woman that isn's afraid to be real.
a woman that understand his problems.
a woman that can get down and dirty.
that girl whos not afraid to show her youth.
that perfect woman.

Hero: Defined

define hero,

someone who saves you from heartbreak?

someone who fights for you?

someone who helps you put your walls up?

or someone who gets you back in the game?

a hero is definable.

because you are your own hero.

you protect your self.

while he breaks you apart.

knock on wood

an answer is what you want
it's what you'll get, sit back and
...are you ready to be bit?
show my colors,
red, green, blue, and white
i write i rant i rhyme
i shine like that vine you're sittin on
you may be ripe
but you ain't picked
maybe you just ain't the type
who can be squeezed into a wine
too sour, too sweet? or maybe
too good to repeat
i'm comin full force
my voice my heart my song
these words where they belong
back and forth like ping pong
a silly game, a joke, a hoax
a boxing match of words and rhythm,
give em a punch to watch for
try to knock me out, go ahead try
i'll get back up, stand up, head up
biggy blue eyes at your service
calm down, don't get nervous
you ain't never lost a bet, a match, a game
knock on wood, now, you about to be shamed

The Perfect Man:

The perfect man:

someone not exactly perfect
someone who can make a mistake
i want a guy that will try.
someone with a nice smile.
and a great personality.
he has to be independant.
and appreciate the litte things.
he doesn't have to do anything big to get to my heart.
a guy thats playful.
make me laugh.
he's got to be taller than me.
and a charmer.
someone who takes my breath away.
and looks into my eyes.
and must play golf
someone as crazy as me
someone who likes me for me
someone to take an adventure with.
someone to make me a better person.
someone to accept me.
someone to suprise me.
someone to understand.
someone to understand me.
<3>

are my feelings just so

The words I wish to speak,
They are turning into crap,
I am becoming bleak,
Is there something that I lack?
I’m wondering who you want me to be,
Am I not good enough?
I wish that you could see.
I just want to be tough.
Forget what you know,
For I am not going to be here for long.
My feelings are just so,
I want to be strong.
Should I stay or should I go?
Or are my feelings just so?

VINE RIPENED

T-Gil said More than ever be4.
call her TZA or Biggy Blue Eyes
whatever you name her
her rhymes just proclaim her
versatility maximum rhyme-ability,
shoot she she nearly jumped up and joined me
up here on my branch
they say I'm so fresh that they call me
VINE RIPENED
not even picked yet
never been bit yet
or lost a rhyme bet yet.
you may be the indian leg wrestling diva
but now your rhymes make me a believa
that girls can flow go and show
cuz remember
tell day is for losers
but show day is fo provers


peace to the
L-hood
the G-ranch
the C-knoll
the E-states
and even the kids
with chatfield L-plates

good night oakland

Lloyd

you asked me to rhyme

you challenged me so here i come
watch out boy
cuz these words i got
ain't never been done
you said it's on like 8 mile,
sit back and watch my style
form in front of you, like prayers in a pew
rhyme after rhyme, these lines spell "sublime"
forcing, falling, free-forming
yeah you called me out
so now it's my turn
this girl's verse
gonna make your face burn
red like the coals
burning in the train
that runs through your brain, screaming pain
as the rain falls, rolls, jolts through the sky
and you look up and ask "why God why"
put this to a beat, a bounce, a band
could play along and find my rhythm
so now these words are mine
you can't steal them
give them back, back-track and relax
show me something fierce, mean, real
seal this deal with another cliche
and tell me now, my fellow fine,
can i rhyme?

He Said Write A Rhyme or TZA can rhyme

He Said Write A Rhyme
so i put my head closer to the paper
pressed my pen on the word taker
and I watched the ink bleed
the refrain from my brain
but what i want is to make her
see the simplicity
taste the toasted synchronicity
and stop with this defeatist self pity
cuz every rhyme has a home even this one you're readin'
I just found it before you did
it was in KID TZA
this one was in her heart (she has a huge heart) above the lung
in your brain next to pain
on your tongue nearly swallowed
and i climbed down inside you
on ladder rung (wrung) of thievery
just to prove to you that you can (you can)
so please KID believe me
these words are not mine
they're yours
I just arranged them to rhyme
painted em brown
to look like mine
OK fine!
I stole em!
but you can't prove they were yours (yes officer, the T was crossed JUST like that and the P was real phat like That)
(just cuz you say you said em once)
and forget what I said bout them livin in you
they were in me --like breath and plasma
but in you
they were like death caused by asthma
cuz my words can't breathe in you
only me
so turn your back to me
cuz you need a heimlich maneuver to spit out my words
you chokin' rhymeless loser
I'll wipe off the spit and start rhyming that
shifty multisyllabic sequential stream of subconsciousness
that had you ridin the short bus
you ever thought bout bein' a mime?
Anyway
He Said Write A Rhyme

peas out
T Zout
Goodnight Oakland

Lloyd

Hey

I just wanted to say everyone's work is awesome.
Ren'ai~
~Reikan~

Just a moment of my time

I walked in and you ran away
I called and you were busy
I wrote and you never replied
I walked away and you didn't notice
I wanted a moment of your time and you never listened
I went home and found you smiling with roses
I laughed and hugged you
You smiled and said can I give a moment of my time to the girl who always gives me a moment
of hers?

me vs. you

me: "you're not good for me.....what is it about you that pulls me towards you, i swear it's like a magnetic force" you: "why am i not good for you" me: "because....you make me a completely different person" you: "and hey u dont make me the person i want to be either, i want to be a strong person but when im around you im so weak you know but the worst part is i like it. no no i love it" me: "see, i think this is what gets me about you...the way you talk to me...it kills me and i don't want to believe it because that opens the door for getting hurt...but i wanna believe it, wanna believe you" you: "shoot do u think i would spend this much time and effort just to lie to u" me: "i know you're not lying but sometimes i want you to be because then i don't have to feel anything" And so it goes, me vs. you in this epic battle, you trying to steal my heart and me trying not to lose control and fall again. My instincts tell me to push you away because "break my heart once, shame on you; break my heart twice, shame on me." But something, who knows what, wants me to trust you, to let you in, to just let go. This has gone on for so long and still I can't...can't...forget. you: "no wat i really wanted to say is that i want so bad to be the one that you can trust and believe and the one you love to believe and the one you love to hold and be with the one you call yours and the one who can call u mine" How do you do this to me?

"B"

Blue Black Butterflies Bid Beauties Bon-voyage.

between memories and moving on

I think about you everyday. I hear your voice when I go to certin places. Sometimes I think I see you in a crowed. The day you died, realized I couldn't live with out you. I felt guilty because I never knew you were unhappy. Baby you had so much to live for. I remember getting mad at you because you got into the school of your dreams. I was scared I would never see you again. I knew I was being selfish. It's not fair you died too young. I vist you often, on our anniversy, christmas, your birthday, my birthday, the day we first met. I walk up that hill, for some reason I see you waiting for me. I kneel on the tall grass and run my fingers over your name. I talk to you, only telling you I need you and I miss you. I am caught between a memory and moving on. I wish it were me insted of you. It's been almost three years. It begins to rain. I am selfish and run to my car, not kissing you good-bye, or telling you I love you. I miss you more and more as each day passes. I never wanted to expierence like with out you. The one who taught me how to drive a stick, whistle, how to blow bubbles with my gum. Jeff baby I miss you more then life. Yet I cant bring myself to forgive you. For leaving me here-alone. I wish I could take it back-never meeting you, my heart wouldn't feel this pain. I saw your mom yesterday, she thinks about you too. She only dreams of how it was supposed to be. Your dad doesn't talk much. Then again he never really did. Like father-like son.

the past.

why can't people just leave the past alone?
its like they are vultures. they keep picking and picking until there is nothing left.
you try to not let it bother you, but it does.
not showing emotion on the outside, but on the inside, you're dying. screaming for everyone to shut up and leave it alone.
you can't open up. what will people think? how will they react?
they already treat you different.
have you ever walked into that room full of people and realize that they were all talking about you?
it's the hardest thing to walk around, pretending like nothing ever happened. to walk around, pretending like nothing is bothering you and then go home crying that you never want to go back to that place.
the stares, the whispers, the rumors.
you made my life a living hell, why keep going?
i've gone through the tornado, and now i'm dealing with the aftermath of the storm.
left alone to pick up the pieces, to rebuild myself.
i need you to to help me pick myself back up, to get my head back above the water, not to keep pushing me further down.
its time to move on.
i don't need you constantly reminding me of the past.
the past is past.

on pause for you

klajgadkglha'ighA:KhelpmeLGa'igh/'agh ag/'alkhfg/klahg<--------my mind, my heart in panic, in shock. i refuse to let my guard down again, i wont let me leave myself alone. reality was shoved in my face, the truth pushed to my attention. if i told you or someone how i felt, ha, i would be burned at the stake by my friends, and get tomatoes thrown at me by your friends. i know im losing my mind. my life has been put on pause for you. i want to tell you sorry for the way i have acted in the past. i want to be closer to you. i want you to want me to let me in. open your heart for me. put all other feelings or regrets or questions or doubts aside. im only sorry it took so long for me to change. let me in, tell me you are weak, show me you can be the person you really are, take me into your heart, demalish your walls, build me a room in you, iside of the person no one sees, the person you want me to see. open the door let me in.

Your pen is a 9 that pierces my mind and the humor a veil to hide the pain trail that trail we all leave behind but hey we face the opposite way and to use a cliche "at the end of the day" we're all the same except for the name So to you young Rabbit the ripper of rhyme with end rhyme sublime I salute your zest, your words that penetrate my student proof vest, the syllables so palpable they fizz to a smizzle Yeah you are the Gangsta of grin the NewPac the drop dead dreadlock wearin a padlock the thief of time who straddles the line between 8 mile and perfect white smile. Yeah, Rabbit rhymes.

Peace in the Middle East
Goodnight Oakland

Lloyd

The story you'd never know

This paper becomes a sanctuary, the one and only place he can go when he's been abandoned, left alone. The world turned its back on him and he spent so long trying to turn it back around until finally he got tired, gave up and just sat down to cry. Crying those bitter, angry, hateful tears that burn as they roll down his cheeks and give him the worst headache and runny nose, "but it's theraputic," he thinks, tells himself, makes himself believe. He swears, shouts those terrible words that don't mean a damn thing to anybody but him. It's been so long since anybody's loved him, how can he expect that of anyone when he hates himself? He spends so long in this place, this place that makes him hurt, where he gets lost in fake smiles and real tears, he's forgotten how to laugh. This pain that he can't share, this burden that becomes too heavy for his shoulders to support...What can he even do to make it go away? He questions, wonders, wishes he knew what to do.

No Bounds

Leyba, I was thinking of what you said in class today so this is my last rhyme for awhile and I will work on all the things you said...and being serious.

Take the worlds weight and stand up straight.
But wait, Im ahead of my time, writing the rhyme.
Hoping in my car to drive far.
Trying to get out the struggle that is my life, stand up and break out the siffe.
Heaven is overrated, but my killingspree's only be of tounge-tied mc's.
Not busting 9's only slaying with my rhymes.
Not popping crystal, only dropping dimes.
Hitting the books because I hear knowledge is power,
finding my feelings in Leyba's class, not wanting to be a lazy ass.
My contimplation be of giving into temptation.
But I dont want to quit, dont want to be societies pitt.
Trying to think what I want to be, going off my track and thinking of what I ought to be.
I wonder what got into me. Everyone fallowing the path eventually.
Dreaming back of things I regret, not worth mentioning, but hard to forget,
My concience will eat at me thinking of that nonsince.
The past can never be forgotten, but the future found,
and just remember success takes hardwork but there is,
No Bound.

they know each other

they know each other
yet they avert their eyes
they know each other
but they try to hide
they have a history
known only to them
they've shared thier deepest desires
only as secret friends.
if others saw them together
they would be shunned
so they put on their acts
and keep on ignoring
memories lost
moments gone
him as a jock
her as a goth
they keep on walking
pretending not to care
yet now there's this feeling
that hangs in the air
a reminder
of what they use to share.

Free Write

Maybe it isn't free. Maybe I charge. Maybe we all pay. Some of you gave beautiful words. Thank you. I realize I need to write. I haven't written anything more than lumps of sentences for weeks. I bought yet another pen in hopes of motivation. Hope--hope ain't gonna write. Today, before lunch, I was inspired. How many classes do I enter into that I leave inspired? Few. You made the room raw with your words and your willingness to wear your emotion. You hung words in the air like sky writers with golden smoke. Like TG said, "you shoved your way to the front of my mind." My pen bows to yours. Leave it all on the page.

Lloyd

"Shattered" (I'm bored, can you tell?)

Through a shattered world she walks alone
Mistrust lights her way
Walking through the light she is blind to the hatred of others
Fear guides her through the bleak forest of life
In her world betrayal is the key
Honor is lost to the knowledge of lies
Black and White she sees the darkness in them all
Her powers too great to handle
Sickness of those surrounding embeds itself in her mind
She knows not to run for darkness has seeped everywhere
In her heart she fears the truth behind the lies
Pain holds her grounded as she seeks recovery
Memories of a faded past haunt her sleep
Tears fall bringing rain
Disaster echoes through the cold sleepless night
Does darkness consume them all
So much black so little white
What horrors haunt her now
A white palace setting her free
A white prison holding her in reality
Freedom shattered
Hope is gone
The bindings holding her mirror the hatred in the darkness
From beloved solitude to feared companionship
Can she find a light in the darkness or is her soul forever shattered?

Gazette

Grasping the night
Attaining the desired freedom
Zealous beats remaining
Each note soothing
Tormenting the day
Touching my heart
Ever remaining in my mind.
*For Gazette*

D.E.G.

Death is a promise
Ignorance is a sin
Red blood is a soul

Eternity will fade
Night will come

Ghost of this dream
Rediscover this past
End this nightmare
You alone can feel this presence.

*For Dir En Grey*

Hospital Waiting Room - Setting *flashbacks*

White, cold, silent not a happy setting, yet there in that palace of life and death I wait. Not for the birth of a child or the death of an elder. No instead I wait for what could be the announcement of imprisonment for one I never trusted. *Blood, sirens, terror, screams, a knife* Sympathetic eyes look through me as I watch the police and doctors talk. I am silent, chills creep cowardly up my spine. *Green fields, laughter, love, bliss, beauty* Overlooked in the bustle of the E.R. I wait for her to come back out and laugh for me once again. Stretchers rush past. . .a car accident. The past how did I outrun it? *Dark, night, blanket, fear, a spider* People passing cower and walk faster, they sense my impatience. Time crawls past or so it seems for there is no time in my haunted world of Purgatory. *Friend, sister, mother, knife, field, spider*

Different Worlds

You were there beautiful, talented causing mischief. Time came, time went yet always you portrayed freedom. Haunting eyes captured the moment of your flight. Pain filled an empty chasm as you retreated to the shadows. No fear, no guilt, no love, no happiness. . .there is no emotion. Life is void of meaning since your escape to the new realm. Your arrival celebrated by all, you've returned to our sanctuary at last. Speeches, balls, and late nights fill your life. In rest I see tranquility; you have no worries, no fake smiles, no horrors of life, you are free. How life caused your freedom to be diminished. The dust hides the truth. Shy smiles hide behind submission. Love is doused by ashes. You don't see me, yet how could you? We live separate lives. We live in separate worlds. We live in a castle.
~Reikan~

fess up

the lies. the secrets. the truth. it fallows you. it sits on your shoulders. you know you have to confess. but you cant. you just cant. you believe that god will never forgive you. ever. as you drop to your knees, your sprit is crushed. there is nothing you can do about it. you know you dont deserve to be here. you know you are the worst person in the world. tears overwhelm your face your face. you turn pale, your eyes and you cheeks a bright red. as soon as you stop crying you begin to cry again. you cant stop. the make up from your eyes, is streaming down your face, just as if you got into a fight. your heart pounds harder every time they get closer to the truth, you feel like you are going to puke, you cant hold in your lies or your secrets. the truth has to come out. you choke on your words confessing the madness that you have created. your confessions. the last words you speak.

"Listen"

It weighs me down
He asks whats wrong
I try not to say
He pushes me; I tell him
He burdens himself
He tries to solve the problems
I see it hurt him yet he will not stop
I don't want him to take my burdens upon himself
How do I save him without destroying myself
I want to help him yet he never lets me
I try to listen but he asks me questions
How do I not answer
He is logical yet stubborn
I tell him but he never tells me
He is my best friend but he can't see why I want to help him
Others agree he burdens himself needlessly
How do I protect him from my harsh world
He calls me "Guide" but how do you guide one who won't follow
I want to save him from my insanity
I want to listen to him.

*Inspired by Geoff-Geoff*

I AM

I am 5 and a half and not 5
I am the moment before your eyes
I am the birds flying
I am the buffalo roaming
I am the glowing fireflies
I am the rocket ship exploding
I am the the fountain overflowing
I am the flame in a dance
I am the Indian in a trance
I am the battle call, the ancient war cry
I am the fateful goodbye
I am the I am the morning light
I am the screaming streaks of fright
I am the tears of fears
I am the gasping of air
I am the exhaling of trees
I am the mind at ease
I am the smoke in the breeze
I am the start of something new
I am the vision that are now in sight
I am the memories of what was
I am the hope of what is to be
I am the clarity of confusion
I am the worrior that is fearless
I am the beggining of an end.

what's in a name

Classy, yet more farm girlish. Easy to say, hard to spell. Named after my great great aunt. It’s my mom’s Def Leppard cd playing, her James Dean poster in her college dorm room, the clay figures, and finger paintings. It’s the sound of my dad’s welder and the smell of his smoker, it is his can of chew sitting in the middle of the dashboard, it’s the oil for tuning the cars. It goes perfect with my sisters name on our Christmas cards; “Merry Christmas, from the Ballews, Mark, Jodi, Maegan, and Amanda”. When said in anger and rage, it turns red, as if my entire name could be one word. When said in praise it simply turns a brilliant white. It’s the sounds of a rumbling car down the street, or a machine being operated on in a maintenance shop. Maegan, pronounced just like it looks, Mae-gan, simple. The only sweet part is my last name, Ballew. It’s a color, a bear, and a cat, sweet I know. My grandfather uses it as an excuse, and my dad uses it as if it were an action word like running or jumping. That or you can call me Sister Mary Clarence.

These tears form, but I won't cry

This pain tears at me, makes me want to hate you, gives me that lump in my throat that I recognize and now I know what's coming. All those memories of our childhood together - we never could get along. I stole your spotlight, like mom says. I'm sorry. Isn't that enough? I grew up not in your shadow, but under your foot, stepped on and hated, like mud on new tennis shoes. We had a love-hate relationship: I loved you and you hated me. Oh, how we fought. You'd think we were going to kill eachother, what with the bloody noses, black eyes, and kicking you where it counts. I swear I never meant to. And then you left me. Just up and left. I understand, yeah, I get it. You had to get away because you were too far gone. Going the wrong direction. In deep "crap." Okay, fine. All I saw was you walking out the door and then I'm gone, running away so that I'm the one leaving, not you. No. You're not abandoning me. You'll come back. No? There's this hole that started forming inside of me, kept getting bigger and bigger like when you gauged your ears. Just kept growing. How long until we talked again? A month, maybe two? How about a year, three months, and five days. I couldn't forgive you. You left me. And now what? I'm a senior and you haven't been here for a single dance, a date, even to hide those dozen roses left on the porch because you're being protective. It's time I can't recover. It's time I want back. I don't even know you anymore. Now I'm your baby sister that you love and you're jealous that my boyfriend spends more time with me in one month than you have the past six years? I say I'm over it and I want to see you, just to talk. But what do you say to somebody you don't know? I miss you....

when i look at myself i'm paper

paper thin. comes in contact with an assortment of things. they write all over it. all over me. put their ideas, their beliefs, their thoughts into my head. when they're done they sign their name. mark their seal of approval and move on to the next victim. forget what they've left behind. forget who they've altered. who they've changed forever. another one comes along. erases the marks that may remain. turns me back into a blank slate. now i'm nothing. no thoughts, opinions, nothing to look at, nothing thats interesting. some one else dangerously approaches, i shy away... afraid of whats to come, who i'll become next. but they're stronger. stronger than this frail sickly being who can't find her voice. not able to just screech ENOUGH. i've had it. i want my own mind. i don't want to be transparent. i don't want to be erased. rewritten until supposedly made perfect. but i am. i'm paper.

five hundred words to get there...

half the day is gone, he is determined to do this, this one last thing before he must go, leave this earth, leave her forever. he cant find the words to tell her, why he is leaving, the sadness he carrys on his heart. to her, he never seemed unhappy, those blue-berry eyes always staring at her, no matter what, the smile that could light up the darkest of nights. his last five hundred words, beating around the bush, trying to tell her everything running through his mind. "sorry baby girl", four hundred and counting. "tell me why", a raging waterfal of tears overwhelms her face. she blames herself, every mistake, every fight, three hundred and counting, two hundered. he leaves, she doesnt yet say good-bye, she cant bring herself to the horrible truth. his last words, "baby girl, i love you". driving to check on him, no one home, no one in sight, but she sees the car, oh that car, so many memories, late night rides, water gun fights. one more place to check, there he is. there he is. her knees hit the pavement like a hammer driving a nail. all she has left is the memories.

Letter

I watched as you walked away, the tears betrayed my mind. How did I ever fight you? You held my heart in the palm of your hand. I lost the battle, I let you claim me as yours. I knew I would never have your heart yet I gave mine freely. I made a mistake and paid for it. How did you win a battle that never even began? Why did I let you walk away? Why did I cry tears I knew wouldn't bring you back? Why do I write a letter you will never read? Why do I feel a flame re-kindling when you doused it? Why did I let you in, when I knew I would watch you walk away?

~My questions unanswered~

Reikan

Dont Scream, Emo Kid! or Don't Scream Emo Kid

Don't scream emo kid
about the words that just fell from your head that I was only try'n to talk about not toss em out and make you say I don't take constructive criticism well in public and I laughed and shivered inside cuz my words about your words made words come out of your mouth to stop me from changin your emotions and I never saw the internal commotion comin cuz I'm just the first responder to words versus emo kid collisions. I can't sew my thoughts to your words unless I have permission So this collision I leave alone as I leave alone and wander home and think about my collision with your beautiful fragility. I assumed (ass) you trusted me and maybe you (amazing) will and maybe your hair hangs in your face for a reason I ain't see'n and it's ironic how your wispy bangs make me blind and if emo means you feel and love and care and flush red with emotion then I am emo and I do scream and I scream to you and with you and at you and we all feel the feelings of the wheel at once and it's a rush to be alive.

Your words splashed on me

the Room

where everything thats anything is thrown out the window
where all thats left isnt whos who but who can express
where all our heartaches dont vanish but are announced
where the paper is our refuge and the pen (not pencil) is our sword
where we connect through our words not through our actions
where we try to change the lives of those sitting in rickety desks nearby
where we do change the lives of those nearby but never seem to notice
where we become humans
with tears
with anger
with stomach aching laughter
where we learn to kick a**

My Dearest Peaches,

I long to see your beatiful figure. Your eyes are but brightly colored planets in the darkness that is my heart. I crave you flowing locks of blonde bueaty more than ever now. My dreams are fantasies of us under the moonlite sky spending an eternity together. Oh peaches, my sweet peaches, when I bite into you I just want more. Your fuzzy exterior that makes me all warm inside. Juices flowing and tasting of pure exstasy in my mouth. So much it's hard to swallow, and not want another bite. My longing for you is making me crazy, come home to me my sweet daisy. Without you my soal is filled with dark coal. Please come back to me and light that candle, because the butterflies in my stomach are to much to handle. That taste gives me a tingle, even more than when we dress up and you call me Chris Cringle. Im enfatuated with your pits, and if you don't come home soon it will be tough to stop throwing these fits. At night as I lay awake I think about you and you orangish glow, waiting for you to come home so we can put on a show.

Yours Forever,
Chris Cringle

Quote of the Month
"You would think after 3 years they would have paper with them but no, no paper only visine."

I wish you could all see...

the smile on my face right now. I love all your writing. I'm inspired. All the thoughts that have settled in my head will soon make their way to paper...

simply life

Playing footsie with you. Seeing and smiling and giggling like a little girl. Poking and tickling and holding hands. Talking mushy and flirting like shy little fourth-graders, gazing into the sunset over mountains and green hillsides with purple flowers and yellow daisies. Beautiful flowing dresses and formal tuxes, dancing nights away and sleeping in til 12. Boyfriends and girlfriends and little kiddies telling you how you look. Asian food and stomach aches, the heat of all the bodies rising like the sun. Blue skies and yellow-red-orange leaves falling, drifting downwards, pulled by gravity and pushed by the wind. Barbeques and making apple crisps, Sunday dinners with ice cream and cookies. Piano movers and clang-clanging of the keys and the sing-song of a rhythmic melody. Free-style ballet dancers and nannies taking you to Coney Island a week before it opens. Little conversations of 3-year-olds that make you smile and amaze you because they're so smart. Cousins and brothers and sisters and camping in a not-so-camping atmosphere. Riding the rtd and going to baseball games with the best friends you never knew you had. Living life and loving yourself.

when push comes to shove

I do not know if I will ever find the courage in this life to give voice to these many thoughts and ideas which swirl around in my mind like so many thousands of pebbles on a beach being kicked and moved and changed. For every tear you cry in a lifetime, there will be a smile and a happy day to counteract and erase it. Every time you hear somebody say It's never going to get better, know in your heart and soul that it will, it must. If your glass is always half full, there will be more to drink and some left over for your neighbor. Should you choose for your glass to be half empty, chances are, you will die of thirst like you were in the desert with great pools of water all around but from which you refuse to drink because you cannot move from that place where you are comfortable, safe. Take risks, get hurt, and try again. Failure comes not from falling down, but from staying down. It's okay to cry, but cry those bittersweet tears knowing that you will one day conquer the world. Spend more time with yourself, get to know you so that when you are challenged by somebody who does not know you; does not know themselves, you will be the one to call a bluff and than you will never doubt you. You are you and the only thing that can and will ever change that is you.

"Goddess"

The dreamers dream
The singers sing
The cowboys roam
But what do I do
I do everything for I am
the Goddess who shows you the way.

How do I....

I don't know where to start, I'm not sure how this goes, so maybe just...hello? Hello there and how are you? and all the other small talk that people do. Well it seems we're past that now, so what to do, do I tell you how I'm in love with you? Or is it too soon, would you be scared? If I don't tell you am I lying? To myself, maybe, just not to tell but I guess it's okay because I wouldn't want to chase you away with these words and thoughts that swirl through my head like a whirlwind that never ceases, never ends. Day and night I think of you, not in a weird or crazy way but maybe would it seem like that to you? I only want to see your smile, smell your cologne, try to describe all the colors and emotions that cascade through your eyes those eyes that show me your soul, betray your words of maybe this and probably that and I'm not sure but maybe not. I could sit next to you and be content, and maybe? just maybe we could hold hands. Not just for now but for tomorrow and the next tomorrow and every one to come, could you be with me? Or would you only see what I am not and who you wish I could be? Will I fade away like an old snapshot of someone who once was but now has moved on? Do these questions and wonderings make me seem so insecure that you're not sure if I'm what you want because maybe I wouldn't ask if you would only tell. Or show. Show and tell. Like that famous day in kindergarten when everyone ooh's and aah's and you feel like the coolest kid around like you've had your 5 minutes of fame, and the world can't take it away. You can't take away how I want to hold you, know you, love you. Are we fading away? I'm not sure now what to do, so maybe, again.....hello?

Love is...

this is a poem that i had published two years ago.

Love is... Looking into a person's eyes and seeing their soul,
Longing to talk with them to take away the pain,
Offering them your everything, hoping they'll understand,
Wishing for that day, clinging to the few hopes that still remain.

And love is…
Wanting nothing but the best for them,
And crying yourself to sleep knowing it might not be,
Longing to open wide your heart to them,
In hopes that one day they'll understand and see.

Love is...
Those words you whisper as you lay yourself to sleep,
And smiling as you think of them, knowing they're by your side,
Those lonely tears that fall from your eyes,
Knowing there is no longer anywhere to hide.

And Love is…
Confessing every feeling that lays buried deep within,
And fully knowing no words could describe how you truly feel,
The pain and hurt you feel, knowing it means nothing,
To you, these deep emotions I hold, will never truly be real.

Love is…
Willing to give all you have for one small chance
Staking your life on its uncertainty,
Laying your heart open freely before their searching eyes,
Loosing this deep powerful feelings ...letting your soul free.

Shut Up & Write

I'm excited to begin this next step in writing. Take time to explore and read some of the writing by previous writers. You can post fiction, non fiction, poetry, journal entries, thinking on the page, artwork, opinion writing, lyrics, prose, and comments. Avoid posting about religion, politics, illegal behavior, and anything you wouldn't share with your mom, dad, or police. Don't post links or ask for feedback on your writing. Your peers will give you feedback as they wish. Don't come here for validation. Come here to express yourself and explore the ideas of your peers. Challenge yourself. Use big words. Use shiny words. Be bold. We can write about anything in a tactful way (except the above mentioned). Write about your experiences, your passion, your fears, love, friendship, society, and the countless other cool topics.

Shut Up & Write

Lloyd

Senior pic

Pensive & wistful

For all the Leybas out there!!!

" I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs, and I will shout it from the rooftops. To put it another way, they're like dandelions. If your have one on your lawn, it looks pretty and unique. If you fail to root it out, however, you find five the next day... fifty the day after that... and then, my brothers and sisters, your lawn is totaly, completely, and profligately covered with dandelions. By then you see them for the weeds they really are, but by then it's-- GASP-- too late."

---Your homie Stephen King

It's been a while

I just want to say that this class was the funnest writing class i've had.

Where my peeps at?

Like I said... where my peeps at!? I need some writing entertainment... some creative, soul touching writing man. Essays are getting old. Even though, I admit, some are good.

Stalking my memory

His soft mutter
screamed uncertainty in my ears,
Despite his unobtrusive tone.
Startled by my stare,
his legs crossed paths of confusion out the door.

Gawking at his cheap rubber shoes,
Invaded my conscience with tar.
The cloudy image of
His tousled brown hair,
Revealing only his painful eyes.
Twisting reality for sympathy,
Alleviating tension
By placing
Our hearts and his swords between our spoken word.
Flattery was his intent,
Though nailed me with sorrow.
Puzzled and distressed,
Humans wore masks,
And I was complete
With everything …
He lacked.
And his internal attack,
Punctured my guilt.
My kind words and nods,
Slaughtered his
Last hope.

… his mutter reminded me,
To remember -means you forgot.
Though he stuck with me
Because I never could relate to his pain.

CaitlynCaitlynCaitlyn

CaitlynCaitlynCaitlynCaitlynCaitlynCaitlyn
LeybaDumbLeybaDumbLeybaDumb
SoSorrySoSorrySoSorry
ShameSadShameSad
NeverAgainEver
ISwear
Sigh
I

BooksCoffeePens

I left some title ideas under Molly's post. How much time has to pass before you guys stop calling me Leyba?

Any books?

Leyba, Caitlyn, Sara (Leah I talk to you all the time... I'll ask in person)

Have any of you read any great books lately? I have not had the time to read lately (damn work...) but I finally picked up a book I started in February on vacation. It's been a while- but I would like to start reading a lot again, I miss it. Any reccomendations?

My pen is dusty

Hey. I'm so pleased to find you writing here. Man, I love that. I'm not surprised at all to see who is writing and reading here. I love you people. VanZant, sell everything you own and buy paper. Caitlin, I feel like a stalker when I read your words. Molly, you dress secrets in sheer clothing. Leah, show em what you got! I'm reading but not writing much and I am motivated after reading you guys. Shut up and write.

lloyd

no name game

She asked if we've all felt the knocking urge
to shed off our concerns
and reveal our spirit.
We all want to,
There is no need to wait.
Stand up and dance.
Now is our time.
But this girl remained nailed to her seat,
dissimilar to the crowd
because she knew the ones who danced,
stood in twos for a reason,
and those who need to release the poison of uncertainty,
sit and shave off their intentions,
perpetuating the tradition of conformity,
while pounding on their tattered souls,
by simply sitting down.
While the guy in green races around,
dancing his spirit into seizures,
because he loves the adrenaline;
The people dancing in twos
do not lend him one eye.
And the girl sits while her mind is dancing
around her missing identity.
She wanted to dance solo,
but her thoughts drowned the song.
Thinking is her addiction.

Thinking Tree
Lloyd Dobler

Finn's
Lloyd Dobler

Will you sign my annual?

Dear Graduates,
without you I'm not a teacher. I need students to be a teacher. Now, I just work room security with my freshman for two weeks. I am leaving this BLOG up forever, four-ever-4-e-v-e-r! Shut up and write.
Love Lloyd

Finn's Day
My tree
follow

Jenn baby you're not alone

This is a depressing one I wrote a few months ago. Gross.

I function from my heart beat,
Though it chokes when I hurt.
I grasp for comfort,
Knowing otherwise I lost control.
It bleeds red, black, and rust,
Though never loses supply.
I need fresh air,
My body needs a cleanse,
Of all the manipulation and knots
I hold in my chest, my gut, my head,
Of all the things you’ve turned on me.
You always say its me.
But I’m stuck in a cycle,
Its no longer you,
But my fear of my future.
I don’t want to be happy,
I want to stay here.
One more fall will break me down,
After all I’ve been through.
No longer can I try to lift,
The burden I received from you.
Instead I gave up, and I will waste away
In this cycle.

Amazing how much changes in a few short months. Geez.

Oh goodness .. One last tear jerker from the queen of depressing. woohoo

Im sick off my own drugs
And life hurts in a silly sort of way
Why does love come in pretty bottles
Were all thirsty for freedom.

Trapped in a world we fall together
all of us broken and used
but we lay comfortable untouchable
Lay underneath my misery

Let me place it on your shoulders
Cause it wont leave me be
and i haven't eaten today
Im not worthy

My stomach is sick
From the life all that Ive felt
I hate feeling
Ill probably stop doing that.


want to hear another sad story
The sad girl writes it all
She doesn't want to know what's wrong with her
She just wants to be wrong

memoir woot woot!

It was the fifth grade, in the first weeks of school. That summer it had been brought to my attention that I had grown…but not in a good way. I had been transformed from the stick child that used to terrorize the neighborhood with his best friends, to a slightly taller, more round child who still shared the same traits as before, but that is hard to explain to the minds of other 10-year-old children. Each Mulvany hits this stage, just before puberty. We gain weight, mostly in our stomachs and face, which is very noticeable when just weeks prior I was able to hid myself behind a light post in a game of hide and go seek. What made this period hard in my life was that before this situation, I had always thought I was lucky to fall into the group of friends I did coming into elementary school not knowing a single kid from my neighborhood. I had gone to a different pre-school and kindergarten and when first grade rolled around at Governors Ranch Elementary, I didn’t know a soul. The kids who took me into their group the first day of school, who invited me to sleepovers and birthday parties, taught me swear words, and introduced me to my favorite sport, basketball, were now the same kids leading the verbal onslaught against me. I had gained weight, and now I was different. They would call me loser, and even at one point began throwing rocks at me when I thought I was safe from the world in my back yard .I was lost. I was alone. I had other friends, or more so acquaintances, but it wasn’t the same. The friends who had befriended me five years ago now had left me alone to rot. This was the first, but not that last time that I felt lost.
I remember sometimes having dreams where I would slice off the fat with a knife, and under that I would have my regular body and things would be ok. It was silly but I think I heard someone say it on a talk show and after that, it wouldn’t leave my mind. I was distraught and had no direction in which to turn to. My Dad never really knew about the situation because we weren’t close at the time, but my Mom was always there. She would pick me up once or twice a week and take me out to lunch so I wouldn’t have to go to recess with all the kids. It meant more to me then she will probably ever Know. But times moved on. I spent the rest of that year learning a new talent, a talent which maybe I learned from the kids tormenting me, but I learned how to isolate myself from the insults, by insulting other kids. I found kids mentally weaker than me and brought them down to make myself feel better. This went on until the end of fifth grade, and into the beginning of sixth.
This was the first hardship in my life, and though it took many years, I learned from it. I learned humility, and how much affect a persons words can truly have, being on both ends of spectrum. I learned that for no reason in life should some one ever compromise their beliefs, and I learned that true friends are hard to find. Furthermore, to this day, I still am self-conscious. I worry about how I look everyday, obviously, not how I dress, but how I present myself. As a result, from hating every minute of being fat, I now run and work out every day. I think it’s ironic that after going through that stage, that now my main talent in life is running, but I’m grateful for it. Finally, I can’t cry. I refused to let myself cry when I was little. When I would be made fun of and I would lock myself in my room. I learned to bottle up most emotions, and keep them locked away until I could let them out productively, and even now I still use the same method. I guess I feel that if I do let them out I am just giving into weakness, and that’s something I’m not ok with. Fifth grade came and went, but not with out leaving a few scars on the way.
I faced another hardship in the summer before eighth grade. This one was a bit different. It started when I met two kids at ken caryl who were always labeled different because of what they were into. They were both very into punk rock and skateboarding, and opened my eyes to a world I had never seen before. I remember when one of those kids loaned me two of her CD’s to burn, they were The Ataris and Unwritten Law. Just hearing this music I had never heard before was relieving. Hearing people growing up just like me, facing the same everyday problems of a teenage kid trying to find themselves, was indescribable. I knew that day that I had changed, I had found a new path through life. That summer I morphed. Instead of wearing clothes sporting major clothing labels, I wore things sporting band names who will never know a major label. Instead of riding my bike, I found my new way of transportation, a skateboard. And finally, instead of being that quiet kid in the group who never really had an opinion about anything, nor took a stand, I became opinionated, a true individual. I realized how unhappy I had been just trying to fit in, and realized how much better it was to do, and dress how I wanted. This new streak of not caring was exactly what I needed, but the only down side, was my friends did not endure the same epiphany I did. See at Ken Caryl, “Skaters,” had always been looked down on. Kids who dressed differently than the people in teen magazines, and who chose to skateboard instead of play organized sports, were never popular. Closed-minded kids would always pick on the individuals who decided to do something different with their life. When summer came along, I once again found myself alone. My friends were uncomfortable with the new Chris, but from the first hardship, I knew that I would not be happy either, being someone I was not, even if it meant having friends. I spent the first two weeks of summer alone. I skateboarded a lot, but it was hard when there was no one to skate with. Nevertheless, shortly after the two weeks, something I did not expect happened. I was lonely and was hoping for a miracle, and I guess my prayers were answered. My friends began coming back, and wanting to hang out again, but it wasn’t just the same kids I was used to hanging out with. They had brought new kids, kids I had never hung out with, and along with these other kids, they brought a new love of skateboarding also. They began to love skateboarding as much as I did, and we began hanging out everyday just as we had used to.
The rest of the summer, and the rest of my 8th grade year was like a dream. My friends and I spent every day doing what we wanted. Listening to new music, skateboarding, and just having a good time. Us skateboarding around the neighborhood also made us role models to younger kids. Instead of seeing the Circle Field packed with kids wearing khaki shorts and collard shirts playing some random sport, there were kids skateboarding on park benches. These kids had never been exposed to skateboarding, and just like in my life, they were changed as well. I had started something much bigger then myself, and all it took was sticking to what I believed in. My friends and I had a great middle school experience, while many kids did not. We found ourselves, and who we were, a long time before many other kids did. We made it quote unquote cool to be different. Of course, there were still kids who did not like us, but at the time, it made no difference. You can’t win over everyone, but that year changed my life, and made me into to who I am today. I love punk rock, along with music in general. I love to skateboard. I love to wear clothes that feel comfortable, but probably would not gain me the acceptance into a country club, and I love to flaunt my beliefs. I know everyone has an opinion, and everyone has beliefs, but I have mine as well. I think it’s great to hear about other peoples beliefs, but I will always stay true to mine. Meeting the world of skateboarding and punk rock changed my life.
Life seemed to be all up after that, I went in to high school, and of course felt insecure once again, but quickly over came that when I made varsity cross-country. The two hard ships in my life had started to pay off, but the third and most difficult of all was yet to come.
I knew something was wrong, but it was not until it was spit in my face that I truly realized what had happened. It was the summer before this year, and ever since the day I started my two jobs, and started spending more time working and less with my friends, that something had changed. It was four in the morning when what was wrong was brought to my attention. I had just finished watching a movie with my sister when I saw the message on my computer screen. It came as such a shock because I knew the screen name by heart. This was one member of my four best friends, one of the kids who I had devoted every free hour to over the past four years, but this was not a normal message. “ Chris I hate you, and so does everyone else. I hope you die, and tomorrow would be a better day if you were dead.” What does one even say to a message like that. I was dumbfounded. Who was this person, and what had they done with the kid who I had spent everyday with for four years. I tried calling him, and my other friends the next day, but they did not answer. I knew that this was real. I kept trying to call, and even on one event ended up hanging out with them, but only to find out that they truly did hate me, but to this day still not knowing the reason why. My friends, though a different group from the ones I had previously had the outs with in seventh grade, had walked out on me. At the time I thought it must be me and that I am destined to die alone. I was abandoned the summer before my senior year. Luckily, I had a job, so I devoted the rest of my summer to working as a lifeguard, and training for the upcoming cross-country season. I met new friends at the pool, and patched things up with my best friend to date who also had been disowned by our former group of friends, but the summer still ended on a melancholy note.
I’ve moved on from this situation, as I did form the previous two, as a man who is stronger, and has more knowledge. The friends who I had lost last summer and I still do not talk. I don’t know why they began to hate me, but I have no desire to find out. I look back and realize that last summer was terrible, but it was also the best thing that could have happened to me. They will remain nameless, but the kids who I used to call my friends and I had come to a fork in the road. My former friends chose a different path than mine. I chose to succeed in school and work hard to be accepted into a private university, instead of wasting my intelligence. I chose to continue with sports, and break previous records, which had stood at this school for many years, while my friends decided their talents were not worth as much as having what they called fun. Finally, I decided to grow up, and realize that life has only begun, and that it does not end in high school. That a few nights of studying, instead of a seven-day party schedule, is not a waste of life, but a gateway to opportunity. I prevailed, instead of withering in the face of hardship.
It is hard to loose a loved one, I know because I have lost them before, but what was the harder for me was seeing the kids whom I still loved walking down the halls, as if I were a ghost, because they did not care for me anymore.

A hint of your cologne,
is fresh air.
Its the warm water refreshing my senses,
as I prepare for bed.
The moment of my day, which stands higher than the rest,
where I lay down,
When I take my last deep breath,
and the blood settles with my head.
I think of all the things you said,
which made me smile, laugh, or think.
My head is heavy with comfort,
and I know I will sleep through the night.
And when I jolt up in the mornimg,
I expect to brush aside the noises:
of loud breathing, eating, drills, and congested streets,
and let your calm demeanor life my spirit.
I know you will bring me back to earth,
and prove to me that love and admiration alike,
are not found in dreams,
but in the final moments of my day,
where I reflect on this life and smile at your existance.

The colors of my pain

This one is about myself for a change... Deceiving vision through
kaleidoscope eyes.
I see all future in line,
Scattered history.
All morals grounded,
No concrete concept is visible.
Archives of knowledge,
makes my life whole.
Though my locking jaw
And burning eyes deceive me.
My feet are bruised:
The universal truth of attraction.
Preventing me to move forward.
SoI sit in purgatory,
Victimizing my fate...
How typical of me.
Shades of another paradigm,
Yet this is all my life.
Why if one person paints black,
Do my eyes still excrete rust.
Your lack of life
Is not what I’m worth.
And fields of positive force
Pull from all corners.
Though my stubborn feet remain nailed
To my sacrifice
Of avoiding intuition.
Though its all behind me,
It can’t push me forward,
Without the power to heal.
While my life is waiting,
My past is knocking
To re-create itself.
And I must avoid temptation,
To love myself.
So why do I cry when they win,
Why do I attempt to lose
And always succeed.
How does hypocrisy get them ahead?
Why the questions
When the answer is
lack of courage.

An old friend

Buried us both,
in the midst of pain.
All thoughts and laughs and our appeal,
a coward's call for help.
Then disguise,
and hermit in your shadow,
of all the things you've gathered,
and raveled into hell.
The place you spoke of with dread,
with pale cheeks and stern lips.
The dark you most deserve,
where memories are dreaded,
and future is as far as headlights expose.
Self-inflicted mistakes pump throughout your lifeless limbs,
and keep you human.
Veiled and mysterious,
but all too clear.
You are now your pain,
and your shadow is you.
No intention to care.
Face the dark which trails you,
which guides you.
Dark can't survive,
in the presence of light.

it's 3:10 a.m. and my Words are up

I have words. To express myself I have words. There are more words. More than words are my ideas that become words. My words are gifts to ... My thoughts are now words. My feelings are alive in words. My actions are thoughts that feel that become words. My words name it. Words are pictures of the brave. Words are names for it. Words are meanings for the unknowing. Words make it simple for the simple. Words are the providence of wisdom and the rhyme of the plain. Words are the interruptions on the white space.
One word weeps
while wistful wants
and waiting whiles away
what was
Once
was no words.

Not So Spring Break

Here I am on the 2nd night of spring break, at home, sick, and blogging! Hah! I watched "What the bleep do we know" and I think that it was so fascinating! I think if you're bored during this break, rent it. Enjoy your break! We really deserved this... especially period 5 after all the hard work we've done.

Witnessing a conversation

dropping an ear, ignoring existence, viewing the world of constant repitition. rivalry of experimenting verse tradition. a magnified eye to simplify the picture. a repetition of sound to detail conversation. a novel of questions, without a true incentive. an effort to get your foot in the door, with personal information. to know their deep ends of motivation, only to reap benefits. identifying nature through reputation. misleading judgment by simple instructions. conflicting status with spirit, and each has their own addition.

An older piece. Eh...

I walked in the dry cold, a cold found in Fall. A cold that runs too deep. Like the days I'd follow you home. I'd question if I should be there, I'd wonder if I care. I'd feel the cold of uncertainty, travel throughout my body. I'd shiver. I'd endure the warmth beside me, as I pressed my cold nose against your face, the overwhelming heat made me close my eyes. I lie. Only to myself. I love the walls around me, your hand's friction on my arms. You kept me warm. I'd leave. The cold never failed to burn. You weren't meant to keep me warm. You kept me pleased and deceived.

the electric kool-aid post

Well leyba here I am posting...
so ha!

I do miss creative writing, it was a sweet class.
I hardly write anymore, let alone write creatively.

yup thats about it for the random post



except for this......
i highly recommend you click on this
its sweet
i mean come on....
would scuba josh lie?!?!

http://jotohe.hp.infoseek.co.jp/num20xxxxxx.swf

Romance... Isn't welcome here.

Im waiting here because I want to save you.
I want to let you inside my head and let you devour me like chocolate cake so you can remember what it felt like to eat it with your hands. I want to love you when the music isn't playing anymore. I want to find you in a sandbox.

I don't know anything about you stranger, except what your lips look like when they are cold and cracked. They mirror me like they know what they are doing. I cant love you but I wish I could. I'm on empty.

You aren't nothing, but I see the way you look at empty vases. Can't always wish there were flowers in them. I want to let you cut me open and examine my insides for a consensus on why my heart aches when our foreheads aren't close and our eyes aren't broken... Stuck on one another like we'd forgotten them there.

But I can't cause sometimes I remember.

Experiments With Truth

As I leave this room I enter
the sorting halls dividing walls
separate lots beautiful people spots
I mingle with the other tribes
whose vibes are humming not with
mine they move in pods and weave
through clique group circle loners
defensive headphones protective cell
phones start wait stop period tones
they move without contact behind
the fit-in mask and cool act
upholding image and reputation
holding breath daylong
during chameleon drills speaking
of individuality at the altar
of conformity
I
wait to
enter this room

what Mr. Bishop was really drawing on the board 2nd hour

The scene is set almost as if taken straight from a picture. A perfect picture which you would see gracing the cover of an outdoor magazine, or a post card which you would send to a homesick friend. The small, humble town is backed by an endless mountain range. Each mountain is capped with a hint of snowing, further enhancing the perfect scene. The slight sound of a jet engine blends graciously with the sweet sound of an early spring day. The only noise that breaks the mold of the wholesome town is the sound of horn, honking at a dog crossing the street. The car is traveling very fast, and seems to also be out of the ordinary along with the noise it expelled. The town seems happy, happy but with a secret.
Mr. Domend walks slowly from one house to another, making sure to stay within the limits of the sidewalk. God forbid the hauntingly green grace would feel the embrace of a shoe-covered foot. God forbid perfection is corrupted. The town seems to have transformed from a wholesome feeling, to a tragic almost homely feel. The picture seems to be to perfect to be true, and everyone seems to have a secret. Shari Grace waters the only yellow spot in her yard. It’s hidden, to the side of the house. Back behind the juniper bushes; back where no one can see. It’s strange how only two days after the disappearance of her husband, a yellow spot, no more then 6 feet by 6 feet appears, diluting the substance to which all thought to be perfect. But other discrepancies are appearing. The once wholesome neighborhood has now been invaded with by an evil secret, which no one intends to look into. The picture is to perfect to be true, but all those within, refuse to let this information out.
The members of the community follow along with their day to day lives. Donnie and Marc stand on the corner, continuing their daily routine of passing the ball. The wind is blowing slightly, and the sun bakes the earth to the perfect temperature. All seems well in this picture, but the truth is hidden within the souls of each and every person who lives there. They know the truth. They know exactly where Mr. Grace disappeared to, but they know damn well that this problem is far more breathtaking then anything they have ever encountered.
From a distance, the picture looks perfect. The wholesome town is placed graciously in front of the never-ending snow-capped mountains. The peaceful bliss of an early spring day enthralls the hearts of all who are blessed to have found such a wholesome place to live. The picture seems perfect, but what they don’t know, is that this picture is truly worth a thousand words, but no one will ever be brave enough to tell it.

I could tell you all about yourself...

I could tell you all about yourself... I can tell you don't know yourself, and I can tell you're afraid to dig. I can tell it is a fear of the vast emptiness and what you may discover. There is a part of you that is a victim. You'd rather have your life take you for a ride, than have control over it. But when you have control I can tell it is too hot for you to handle. It burns you everytime. I can tell you yearn for that kind of reality check. But in no way do you learn from it. I can tell you like the negative attention. I can tell it hurts you too. I can tell you want to grow, but you have difficulty letting go. I can tell you all about yourself, things you may not know. I can see beyond your fascade, I can argue for your sake, but I can't honor your lies, for what they're worth is too much. I can tell that you're not as dangerous as the cautions you display. I can tell you want to have someone tell you all about yourself, for it gives you a start on knowing how to mask the truth. I know you all too well.

Leah is here

testing

What the hell is this...

http://victorywon.com/item.php?iid=266

What the hell is this? Someone I knew had this card...can't believe that they were handing this out.

Conformity sets me free from the burden of individuality

Dude, I'm not a follower--I'm just like drafting off you.

deep thoughts by jack handey

something to look at if you're bored:
http://www.cco.net/~jpete/deepthou.htm

my favorite deep thought:
One thing kids like is to be tricked. For instance, I was going to take my little nephew to Disneyland, but instead I drove him to an old burned-out warehouse. "Oh, no," I said. "Disneyland burned down." He cried and cried, but I think that deep down, he thought it was a pretty good joke. I started to drive over to the real Disneyland, but it was getting pretty late.

MASH

Like OMG!
http://www.playmash.com/

Dirty or not?

I hold her in my arms. One hand grasps lightly around her neck, while the other is resting on the curve of her mid section. When I have her in my arms, I feel relaxed. She is my way to extract myself from the world. I know every inch of her body. I slide my hands up and down her, listening to the noises that come from my fingers finding that perfect position. She is in tune. Each soft exertion sounds different from the first. The lower down my hands travel, the higher the sound that escapes from her “o” shaped opening. Both my hands become in synchronization, and I begin to work up my speed. With each stroke, I begin to cover more ground. I go from using only one finger to four, and my right hand begins following the lead of my left. I continue to strum harder and faster. The more energy I use, the louder she becomes. I know my hands have not missed a spot, because of the beautiful sounds she continues to make. My hands now reach their maximum speed, and the sound she expels shows for it. The sound produced is magnificent, and my arms become weak. I keep the pace for as long as I can, and as I begin to slow, the level of her noise begins to decrease. I finally stop, and begin fingering each string one by one, instead of playing the full chord. My guitar is my way of existence, and my key to nirvana.

reply to the dating ad

I wanted to contact, to say I saw you ad,
I read every word, and I am really glad,
I saw you like to read, but I’m not square,
But I do respect literature, so that is good to hear.
I like to party, and I like to dance,
But I’m also a sucker for a sweet romance.
Late nights are defiantly a plus,
But I’m also a morning person, so I hope it wouldn’t cause a fuss,
In the early hours I would make you breakfast in bed,
Just in hopes that next time you see, I would be in your head,
The only problem seems to be cooking, with that I don’t’ know where to start,
But I promise that the lack of cooking skills, will not stop from me using words to warm your heart
And maybe tonight if its not to late,
I could take you out, on our first date.

A hint of bias, but not bitter...

pools of red, as if bleeding hearts are worn on their sleeves. poisoned promises and bitter hopes that the day will bring peace. buried unhappiness and unaswered questions. proposals and pains on the brink of the surface. unhealthy obsessions and safety needles covered by generic mottos, candy of sorrow feeding the wounds of emptiness. but red is the uniform and they all wear smiles that will dissapear tomorrow. and their red shirts will be buried with their dirty clothes from otherdays. but none of this matters, for today they are wearing red, for roses and sweet nothings are the uniform today and this day vunerability stains the air, and I smile to myself. for today the salty lonliness of singles' wash away their dreams, but pain does not consume me. i watch men and women alike, flood these doors and with void expressions, gaze at the variety of floral arrangements, and I am thankful that helium and cavities are not what satisfy me. my heart is tucked safely in my chest, while they unite in red and pink, and wear their heart on their sleeves.

Oh man

Ok hate me all you want but i would like to take a moment to share my disapointment with you all about the senior quote. Jenns got nothing against star wars but im going to be sending out 85 announcements with a quote from Yoda in them? Guess i should have gotten up for the senior meeting... :)

Just a taste

A paragraph from my story. Just a taste of it i guess. Anyone who wants to hear more let me know. Not a lot of background but at least its a post.
Angela she called herself I Think I will call her “Vacant.”
I was driving until I finally pulled over in a framilar driveway. It was my friend Pauls house. I hadn’t seen it in so long that the paint seemed to be chipping in new places and his dog and I were on burgalar terms again. Angela had consumed my life… Paul had been affected greatly. We ended up parting ways in a somewhat less dramatic episode; where I can remember him turning his back and saying see ya later… That was 11 months ago. My dark jeans stuck to my seat as I willingly leapt from my truck. It was peculiar how I was expecting a warm hello and a couple rounds of our favorite video games. As if no time had passed since that day I had seen him by the lockers. I knocked hard remembering that his doorbell never worked and recalling the wasted minutes I spent on his front porch until I figured that out each day. Paul answered the door in a dirty t-shirt with a glass of milk in his right hand. I smiled so big that I thought my face would fall off. And this is Paul. He simply let me in, sat me down and played 4 hours of video games with me. Not ever asking where id been or why I wasn’t around anymore. Just telling me he was glad I was back. Paul was a simple man. This was real love.

anybody in 6th or 7th hour or whatever hour it is

hey anybody in the later hour of creative writing who has their want ad and would wanna post here should that woudl be awesome cuz then i could do our third hour homework!

Molly says I don't blog enough...

I've been keeping pretty recent on the blogger here... just haven't been posting much. I never really know what to say when someone else posts work. to be honest, I dont read a good majority of it. I have a disliking for reading, and i'm not a very poetic person, so i never see the metaphorical meanings people always have. this is where leyba is thinking... "i'm telling you mike, you're bitter about everything" which is probably true. no particular reason, probably just wanting to be out of high school, even though i know not a lot is going to change in college as far as some of the people i'm around. i might come up with some "bitter with life" poems or something fun... we'll see how motivated i am.

Need a Sweethearts Date?
Lloyd Dobler

The writers of period 5
Lloyd Dobler

Oedipus likes his mom

The whole culture thing can be so messy. Sorry about the time you will never recover. I am willing to give you two hours of mine if that helps--how bout 5th and 6th tomorrow--I just wanna help a brother metrosexual out! Nice shoes!

Oedipus Rex... more like I want 2 hours of my life back

I don't know if it was offered in Creative Writing to go to Oedipus Rex for extra credit, but Humanities went, well some of us. It was awful, and I have an appreciation for the arts. I love the symphony, and most plays, but that was such a waste of my time and my mom's money. Luckily I was in good company, and we all hated it just the same. I WISH I HAD MORE HANDS JUST SO I COULD GIVE THEM... ACTORS?... 4 THUMBS DOWN!

sorry this one is kinda melancholy but intersting

The cool breeze of an Autam afternoon flows through her hair, and the sun shines off it like a blazing wild fire. She sits quietly, basking in the comforting warm afternoon air, waiting to catch the 3:30 train back to school. Her ears are plugged with the sound of music, blocking all the noises of spring that are abundant in the outside world. She wears a smile because of song that plays. It is Layla, by Eric Clapton. She loves hearing the words "you got me on my knee's," as a result of her own name. She likes being in a postion of hierachy, where instead of yearing for attention, she is the one being yearned for. Layla has not experianced this in the span of her life.
She is surrounded by people. Sitting across from her is a teenage mother, or mabye that is her little brother, but the bags under her eyes seem to point more in the direction of a caring mom. But this sight is not foriegn to her. The scare three years ago makes it easy to relate, but i guess some people just have better luck.
Flash! With out warning, a lightning storm of past memoreis flash through her head. Flash! She remebers the car pull to the side walk, it pulls so close that it nearly knocks her off her bike. Flash, flash! The smell of the car when she was the tender age of six flows through her nostrils. That musty smell, that she now knows was a mix of liqour and cigeretts. She could describe every awful detail of that day. The black leather interior of the car. The sereing pain she endured, which to this day has never been matched. The look of the man. His every shape and form. The mole on the top of his left shoulder. The cut about his eye. She begins to shake as a result of the hate that flows through her. Any hint of that man, or that act in which he forced her into enflames her.
Flash! The storm takes her to her Sophomore year in high school. She remembers the boy, and the feel of she soft silk sheets rubbing against her bare back. How she was looking for comfort in all the wrong places. How she felt embraced in his arms, even though she was fully aware that everytime his lips spit the words " i love you," was nothing more then an exertion of tension during the height of passion. It was not the boy she cared about, she could give a damn whose arms she was in, but the attention she was getting from the opposite sex. She had never had it before, and felt it was nessecary to have, even if it ment attaining it by any means nesscary. This was her escape, her way to acceptance.
flash! the final thought. She remebers pushing open the door, walking to the desk, and hearing her test result come as positive. The first time since the last that she felt lost. He, he was no where to be found. What should she do? Where would she go? Who would she... ding ding. The 3:30, right on time.