| MDY's Words of Un-Wisdom | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 8 2009, 10:15 PM (150 Views) | |
MDY
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Jan 8 2009, 10:15 PM Post #1 |
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Since coming here has turned me into a novice writer, I figured I'd post for you guys some of my crap. Poetry Here’s that girl with a look in her eye and grace in her step Covering me in delight as her rhythm lulls me into a trance Every move flowing from our pulse and flesh intertwine Soft words of kindness faintly woven with illusory thread Happily distracting me from any notion of hopeful chance She swiftly drifts away but will forever stay a memory Here’s that girl with the beautiful blond hair and curves Who flew in from nowhere offering miraculous comfort Expecting nothing back spare a dance or kind gesture Moment by moment closer to being in one another’s arms Gone just as quickly before a word or notion came her way She didn’t quite realize what exactly she had done Here’s that girl who rarely speaks, dejected and forlorn Moods reflect in what she wears, whether a shirt or a frown Walking through hallways without a sound or a care Thinks she doesn’t look right or doesn’t want to look wrong She caught my eye more than any other girl could try If she’d only take a precious second to stop and smile *Look upon these streets of solemn purpose You will find what wants to be found Walk with me down that cool, dark road Search and you may stumble upon a memory Hear the menacing footsteps behind you Turn around and see only a reflection As your dreams float away into the night Chase them until you fall to the ground Shed a tear for what may never return When the whole world is lost, I’ll find you Take my hand and walk with me again Edited by MDY, Jan 8 2009, 10:22 PM.
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MDY
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Jan 8 2009, 10:19 PM Post #2 |
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Here's a story I had to do for a project: Under the light of the moon, a peaceful marsh bears life to thick reeds that define the landscape. Bordering the field on one side, trees block all light beyond the woods. Accents of red and yellow are reflected off the leaves as a dull gold. A road brushes along the opposite side, separating the marsh from a section of buildings in the distance. The eerie sounds of a nighttime civilization echo from points unknown. In the middle of the marsh, a bullfrog hops onto a rocky section of land. He lets out a mighty croak and hops again, landing on a cold metal surface. Without warning, out of the shadows, a giant hand grabs and lifts him out of his world. He flails his arms and legs, trying desperately to break free. Yet suddenly he already is free, flying through the air above the reeds that used to tower over him. The last sound he hears before being impaled on a decaying log is the high-pitched laughter of his murderer. “Poor frog ” shouts out a young brown-haired boy, running along the railroad tracks that cut through the marsh. He comes up and pushes the culprit, another boy who is noticeably older, yet about the same height and with black hair. Despite his age, the boy with black hair is more slender and frail than his friend, so he falls down easily and lands on the metal rail. “Ow ” exclaims the older boy, “You’re an idiot That hurt ” He gathers himself and starts to get up, clinging to his thigh. A black shirt he’s wearing is now torn a little on the bottom, and his baggy jean shorts are dusted with dirt. The younger boy helps him up. “At least I didn’t pick you up and throw you,” he retorts. They begin walking further along the track, heading from the open marsh field into a section of woods. “It’s just a frog, Drew. There’s probably hundreds of them around here.” Drew doesn’t respond at first, but instead picks up a discarded can of spray paint. Nothing comes out when he tries to use it, so he throws it off into the bushes. “Well, aren’t there a couple thousand people in this city? That doesn’t make it any better when one of us dies…” said Drew after a long silence. He droops his head down and kicks a rock. The older boy quickly picks up on what he’s upset about. “So where are we going? These tracks don’t end for miles,” he says, trying to change the subject. They cross underneath a small concrete bridge for pedestrians. Several more empty spray paint cans litter the area underneath, obviously used for the graffiti all over the bridge’s underside. “I dunno,” replies Drew with a sigh, “there’s no point in going back now.” He starts checking each can to see if one has any paint left. Seemingly tired, the black-haired boy sits on a rock and watches Drew. One of the cans sprays black paint when he pushes the top, but it is slightly broken and gets the paint all over Drew’s hand. “Damnit This sucks ” he yells, chucking the can to the ground. After cursing a little more, he tries to wipe his hand off on some leaves. “I have an idea,” says his friend, “why don’t we go see this guy I know? I think we can get to his neighborhood this way.” “Why bother?” Drew snaps back at him. “Hey, I’m trying to help you out here. Let’s go see my friend Josh. He’s funny, and he’ll probably give us some food,” he says with enthusiasm. “I am hungry,” replies Drew, finally giving in. He lets out another sigh and follows his friend. A noise like rocks shuffling behind them catches Drew’s attention, and he quickly looks back and says, “Matt, did you hear that?” Matt stops and looks behind them, then replies, “No, and I don’t see anything either. Nobody ever comes out here. It was probably just an animal. Now come on.” “I heard something,” Drew assured Matt, and reluctantly began walking again. Matt shook his head and walked alongside him. “You know, it’s illegal to be out here,” said Drew again with a pause, “What if it’s a cop?” “What’re they gonna do, tell us to leave?” says Matt, with a slightly nervous laugh. Another noise, this time like the rustling of leaves, catches both of their attention. Drew stops to look while Matt looks back, but doesn’t stop walking, “C’mon, it’s not that much further. It’s too damn cold out here.” Drew insists on scanning the area carefully. “You’re not as screwed as me if you get caught,” he says, “my parents would have me locked up in my room for a month.” Ignoring Drew now, Matt bends over and picks up the skull of some kind of large rodent. “Hey, check this out,” blurts out Matt, walking over to him with the skull in hand. Drew looks at it and temporarily forgets about his nervous plight. “Whoa… You think it was a big mole or something?” wonders Drew while examining it. He tries to snatch it out of his hand, but Matt pulls back his arm. “I found it, so I’m keeping it,” states Matt. “C’mon, I just wanna loo-” Drew starts to reply, but the sound of a glass bottle breaking right next to them makes him jump. A bearded homeless man with noticeably worn jeans and a heavy winter coat on comes running at them from the woods. “Which one o’ you little bastards took mah bag?” shouts the homeless man, slurring his words and stumbling drunkenly. Drew shouts and begins to run, noticing that Matt is already sprinting ten feet ahead of him. Before long, they are completely out of sight. The homeless man laughs to himself and starts walking back toward the bridge. A cool draft sweeps through the marsh, further scattering the fallen leaves. “A’fore long, it’ll be Turkey Day,” he notes with a smile, pulling a tightly rolled and covered sleeping bag out of a hidden section of bushes next to the bridge. Deep, dark clouds have begun to roll in, far above the marsh, hiding the moon as a silhouette of masked light. An elegant snowfall sweeps down on the area, gradually covering the ground in a soft white coating. The contrasting density of snowflakes in the sky above creates an illusion of the moon falling to pieces and scattering over the earth. Coming to a stop, Matt and Drew catch their breath, now nearing a small field leading away from the railroad. “I could’ve been murdered,” suggests Drew between gasps. “He was just some old guy who thought we took his stuff. I’d be mad if I had no house and had to live out in this freezing cold,” Matt replies, shivering and tired from running. “You were just as scared as I was, unless you wouldn’t mind going back ” he defends. Matt says nothing and starts walking into the field, heading toward a housing development off in the distance. Drew reluctantly follows, muttering, “I wish I never came out here.” The night turns gray with the snow now falling more relentlessly. Lack of visibility as the night draws later renders the street lights ahead their only guiding landmark. Upon making it to the doorstep of their friend’s house, Matt discovers that nobody is home. Drew loses his temper and kicks an overturned recycling bucket, proceeding to yell, “This is all your fault ” “You’re the one who wanted to run away. If you weren’t such a screw-up, we wouldn’t even be out here in the first place ” Matt scolded him. This must’ve been the last straw, as Matt took a fist right between the eyes from Drew. They threw one another to the ground, kicking and struggling in the snow-covered street. It didn’t take long before both of them were exhausted. Suddenly the headlights of a car turning onto the street blind Drew for a second, allowing Matt to tackle him to the ground. The car stops in the middle of the road and the voice of a woman causes both of them to stop, “What are you doing? This is no weather to be out in ” She was Matt’s mother, and when she got them in her sight, there was nothing either one of them could do. Before either of them could try and run away, they were inside the car. Nobody said a word as they drove back down the road with the storm in full-force. His mother was furious with having to do what she had done after realizing her son was gone. Drew looked out the window as they drove by the marsh. He never said anything, but he was perfectly glad just being warm and out of harm’s way. Matt tried to tell his mother about what happened, but she wouldn’t hear any of it. They rounded a corner and the marsh was gone from their view. The sound of a crowing rooster jostles awake an old man leaning against a tree. Although the distant horizon sizzles with the heated air, he is dressed in light robes which don’t seem to stifle him. Long and thin grey hair on his head and a slight, frizzled beard make his true face barely distinguishable. Sitting there for a second, the man fumbles for a pouch tucked away in his robes, only to check if it’s still there. He gets up and says to himself, “wonder how I got here,” then hobbles on down the grassy hill, being one of many in a vast array of bright green mountains stretching off in all directions. The sun hangs in the sky with thin clouds painted around it. Other than a long dirt road and a river flowing off to the west, there are only numerous trees and wildlife. Turning around a large section of brush, out of the blue and ahead of him is a small ranch-like house built with natural wood without paint or varnish. “Hey, now that’s something new,” he once again thinks aloud. As his eyes widen and pace quickens, almost every thought that comes to him is recited. “I wonder, what if there are people? I haven’t seen a single person in so many years...” When the old man goes to knock on the door, he discovers that there is no door, but instead a simple cloth made from straw hung from the inside of the doorway. After looking for a window and finding nothing still, he begins to stumble in when he is startled. Brushing the cloth to the side is a tan and slender woman with red hair, who to his surprise is much younger than him and dressed in the same kind of cloth. She seems shocked to see him, and utters something indistinguishable. The man catches his breath and slowly gathers together his words, “Am I going deaf, or do you even speak English?” His assumption was correct, as she did not understand him, but instead continued to speak in a detached but distinct dialect. Behind her an infant crawling on the floor catches the old man’s eye, and he points at the child and says, “You are a mother?” At this, she becomes defensive and pushes his arm away, then puts her hand on her heart and angrily yells at him. Without thinking twice, the old man pulls out his pouch and holds it out to the woman with a faint smile. Detecting the hint of friendliness, she stops yelling and looks at it. He gently grabs her wrist with one hand and with the other he empties out the pouch’s contents into her hand. Palming a small assortment of simple rocks with a few gems, her face turns from confusion into awe. “A gift from me to you,” the man says to her assuredly, turning around to walk away. Before he can even take two steps, she puts her hand on his shoulder and walks up to him, once again trying to say something. Her crystal clear blue eyes momentarily stare into his own pair of glazed-over brown. Concern for one another’s well being shone through the language barrier. “You remind me of someone I knew long ago,” he begins speaking almost to himself again, then points at the gift, “but apart from those, I’m afraid I have nothing to give you.” Starting to make another step, he soon realized that he had no choice in the matter, as she easily overpowered his frail form and dragged him into her home. Upon placing him in a pile of hey, she realized that he old man had fallen asleep. She decided it was best to leave him for the night so he could rest. Very early in the morning, the woman tries to wake the old man as to feed him. Soon she discovered that he was never going to wake up. His heart was no longer beating. Never having encountered death before, she was taken aback and simply stared at him. It pained her to leave her home, but she decided to take her child and move on to look for new places for them to live. She left the rocks on his chest before leaving, and gave the gems to the infant. Unbeknownst to his mother, the child found an old silver watch up his sleeve with the name “Drew” printed on it. Even though the clock was broken, it would eventually help them to understand the world around them in a way not too different than our own. |
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| Lich King King King King King King King King King King King Juice | Jan 9 2009, 06:43 PM Post #3 |
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BANANNA?
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I didn't read it, but there's a lot of words, so it must be good! |
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SZM
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Jan 9 2009, 09:09 PM Post #4 |
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GRATE Aether!
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Actually yes I recommend using double spaces for paragraphs, people who just use tabs and single spaces or whatever are generally communists and it makes for walls of text on the interblogs. |
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| Warlyte | Jan 9 2009, 09:13 PM Post #5 |
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Capsule J2
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Hey I'm insulted by that. Stuff just doesn't translate too well onto the Internet. And to me it's more important to have it in a book format. They need to make a STANDARD between the two mediums. |
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| Lich King King King King King King King King King King King Juice | Jan 9 2009, 09:19 PM Post #6 |
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BANANNA?
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INTERNETBOOKS?!!?!?!?? |
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SZM
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Jan 9 2009, 09:29 PM Post #7 |
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GRATE Aether!
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Well I keep forgetting what double spacing actually means, so ignore me. I was just saying out of the two popular paragraph changing things, a new line and tab vs. a visible space between them, I far prefer the latter both online and in books. |
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SZM

8:01 PM Jul 10