Hey every body!
Thanks for stopping by to read my blog!! There's tons of different things to read...remember to comment so I know what you think. That always helps a writer know what is working and what isnt!!!
Thanks,
Giulia!
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
English 100, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Giulia Workshop- WORK
Giulia Baldo
03/19/10
English 100- Work
Flour
Working hard to press and mold, to shape and mix; making sure to leave no clumps, no bumps, nothing but smooth, thick mix. I lick the spoon and my taste-buds explodes at the overdoes of chocolate. The mix of cake batter and chocolate chips is just too much for my mouth and I have to wash it down quickly with milk. It reminds me of way my mom used to shower us with chocolate for Easter and Christmas. A delicious mix of white, milk and dark chocolate; a shower that caused our mouth to drool continuously.
A shopping experience that made us shake with anticipation, a shiver of delight. She would smile a gentle smile, look over the candy isle, tilt her head, pondering which to choose. Cosa Dici Giulia? Quale ti piace? How was I to know, how could I make such an important decision? Silently I would point at the milkie-ways, or the milk dud, caramel always favored. She would make a note and put a bar of each in our cart. Over flowing with food, she would push the cart through the super market, planning in advance what she would cook for dinner, which wine she would serve, the dishware she would set. Always working to make the dining experience, the first thing my father did when he got off work and got home, perfect.
Milk
A slow pore of milk, splashing into the bowl of cereal. Sweetening the taste of my honey nut cereal, adding to the tasty taste. The sweet, refreshing taste wets my appetite and pushes me to slurp up the remaining milk from the bowl. All three of us kids sitting all together, fighting over the cereal and who can fit the most Lucky Charms into our mouths. Never knowing that two of us were allergic and that the other would feel so left out that all three of us stopped eating it. Laughing as we changed to frosted flakes and raisin brand.
My mother no longer slaves away in the kitchen to please my father, instead she flips pancakes and whips waffles, only for her own and our pleasure. We enjoy the show, whistling and holding our breath as she throws a pancake into the air and catches it with the frying pan. The food is healthier, made with organic flour and eggs, the pounds of butter once used has been replaced with sugar, caramelized into a golden lace, beautiful but healthier. We know that breakfast is the last time we’ll see our mother for the day, then school will take us away as she whisks herself into her, to go to work. Selling furniture, she smiles at the customers and manages to convince them to buy when all they planned on was looking.
Once when I went to work with her for bring your daughter to work day, I was shocked at the transformation I saw, she grew into a women of confidence of self possession, able to smile a different smile, no less beautiful but more charged with energy instead of love. She thrived on working, her eyes twinkling selling, amours, dressers, beds, statues, couches, recliners, love seats. Children’s bedroom furniture, twin beds, a princess dresser set, white with pink roses decorating the top and the handles of each dresser drawer, a bronze iron rose.
Butter
I sneak into the kitchen and butter the toast, trying to be as quite as possible so that I don’t wake my sister’s guests who are sleeping over for my sister’s birthday. Reminding me of how I used to sneak into the kitchen when I was little and steal a whole stick of butter from the fridge and slowly eat the whole stick. I shudder as I think of how fattening it is, but it’s the most delicious taste, a sin I can’t resist. Nothing as good as my mother’s home baked bread toasted and covered with a thin layer of butter. I glance at the table and smile at the photos strewn around the aisle and the countertops. Photos that symbol my mother’s first step in taking control of her life, of choosing to do something she loves, more than work she now does pleasure. She is a professional photographer and she loves snapping the pictures of those who would be great. Men, women, children, babies. Little girls prancing in tiaras, women in nothing but fur and lace, men stripped of their t-shirt, baring their tattoos. All want to be models, actresses, actors, STARS. She nods, tells them to turn into the light, tilt their head, and smile.
Her passion has inspired me to also do want I want, now studying English I relish the taste of real food, making the college food I usually eat taste like cardboard in my mouth. I shudder at the memory and pretend that I won’t have to go back to eating it tomorrow when I return to school. I am starting on my dreams, making strides to follow my passions and becoming who I want to be.
Giulia Workshop- WORK
Giulia Baldo
03/19/10
English 100- Work
Flour
Working hard to press and mold, to shape and mix; making sure to leave no clumps, no bumps, nothing but smooth, thick mix. I lick the spoon and my taste-buds explodes at the overdoes of chocolate. The mix of cake batter and chocolate chips is just too much for my mouth and I have to wash it down quickly with milk. It reminds me of way my mom used to shower us with chocolate for Easter and Christmas. A delicious mix of white, milk and dark chocolate; a shower that caused our mouth to drool continuously.
A shopping experience that made us shake with anticipation, a shiver of delight. She would smile a gentle smile, look over the candy isle, tilt her head, pondering which to choose. Cosa Dici Giulia? Quale ti piace? How was I to know, how could I make such an important decision? Silently I would point at the milkie-ways, or the milk dud, caramel always favored. She would make a note and put a bar of each in our cart. Over flowing with food, she would push the cart through the super market, planning in advance what she would cook for dinner, which wine she would serve, the dishware she would set. Always working to make the dining experience, the first thing my father did when he got off work and got home, perfect.
Milk
A slow pore of milk, splashing into the bowl of cereal. Sweetening the taste of my honey nut cereal, adding to the tasty taste. The sweet, refreshing taste wets my appetite and pushes me to slurp up the remaining milk from the bowl. All three of us kids sitting all together, fighting over the cereal and who can fit the most Lucky Charms into our mouths. Never knowing that two of us were allergic and that the other would feel so left out that all three of us stopped eating it. Laughing as we changed to frosted flakes and raisin brand.
My mother no longer slaves away in the kitchen to please my father, instead she flips pancakes and whips waffles, only for her own and our pleasure. We enjoy the show, whistling and holding our breath as she throws a pancake into the air and catches it with the frying pan. The food is healthier, made with organic flour and eggs, the pounds of butter once used has been replaced with sugar, caramelized into a golden lace, beautiful but healthier. We know that breakfast is the last time we’ll see our mother for the day, then school will take us away as she whisks herself into her, to go to work. Selling furniture, she smiles at the customers and manages to convince them to buy when all they planned on was looking.
Once when I went to work with her for bring your daughter to work day, I was shocked at the transformation I saw, she grew into a women of confidence of self possession, able to smile a different smile, no less beautiful but more charged with energy instead of love. She thrived on working, her eyes twinkling selling, amours, dressers, beds, statues, couches, recliners, love seats. Children’s bedroom furniture, twin beds, a princess dresser set, white with pink roses decorating the top and the handles of each dresser drawer, a bronze iron rose.
Butter
I sneak into the kitchen and butter the toast, trying to be as quite as possible so that I don’t wake my sister’s guests who are sleeping over for my sister’s birthday. Reminding me of how I used to sneak into the kitchen when I was little and steal a whole stick of butter from the fridge and slowly eat the whole stick. I shudder as I think of how fattening it is, but it’s the most delicious taste, a sin I can’t resist. Nothing as good as my mother’s home baked bread toasted and covered with a thin layer of butter. I glance at the table and smile at the photos strewn around the aisle and the countertops. Photos that symbol my mother’s first step in taking control of her life, of choosing to do something she loves, more than work she now does pleasure. She is a professional photographer and she loves snapping the pictures of those who would be great. Men, women, children, babies. Little girls prancing in tiaras, women in nothing but fur and lace, men stripped of their t-shirt, baring their tattoos. All want to be models, actresses, actors, STARS. She nods, tells them to turn into the light, tilt their head, and smile.
Her passion has inspired me to also do want I want, now studying English I relish the taste of real food, making the college food I usually eat taste like cardboard in my mouth. I shudder at the memory and pretend that I won’t have to go back to eating it tomorrow when I return to school. I am starting on my dreams, making strides to follow my passions and becoming who I want to be.
A Long Way From Home: For all our Brothers, Sons, Daughters, Sisters, Mothers and Fathers in the battle feild...
Broad back, strong shoulders,
neck held high,
in the muddy quicksand of doubt,
he stands strong.
Calling out to those who need him,
aware of the constant danger,
the falling rain,
shrowds him and his enemies.
He blends in with his surroundings,
a shadow of green and gray,
like a chameleon he waits patiently,
gun held high,
he takes aim.
A single shot rings out,
and the quietness surrounds him,
alone he feels lost,
yet strong he must stand,
his mission brings hope as well as death.
A bitter taiste upon his tongue,
the smell of burnt flesh,
blood stained leaves,
show the passage of the wounded,
are they friend or are they foe?
Following the bloody trail,
barely a sign of passing time,
minutes slip into hours,
hours into days,
a single ray of sun brakes the rain's veil,
he pauses on the hunt.
A glancce to the sky,
the sound of a flying metal bird reaches his ears,
the radio on his shoulder buzzes,
a friends voice calls him home.
"Come home, Im waiting" his wife has begged him,
"Be safe" his mother has written him,
tears mark their letters,
"I love you, Daddy" writes in crayon his three year old son,
gasping for breath they watched him walk away and into the war.
He lands on American soil,
his feet touch land and he is finally free,
he has fought the demons who would threaten his family,
he has fought and survived,
he is home his family gives thanks,
til he is called away again...
neck held high,
in the muddy quicksand of doubt,
he stands strong.
Calling out to those who need him,
aware of the constant danger,
the falling rain,
shrowds him and his enemies.
He blends in with his surroundings,
a shadow of green and gray,
like a chameleon he waits patiently,
gun held high,
he takes aim.
A single shot rings out,
and the quietness surrounds him,
alone he feels lost,
yet strong he must stand,
his mission brings hope as well as death.
A bitter taiste upon his tongue,
the smell of burnt flesh,
blood stained leaves,
show the passage of the wounded,
are they friend or are they foe?
Following the bloody trail,
barely a sign of passing time,
minutes slip into hours,
hours into days,
a single ray of sun brakes the rain's veil,
he pauses on the hunt.
A glancce to the sky,
the sound of a flying metal bird reaches his ears,
the radio on his shoulder buzzes,
a friends voice calls him home.
"Come home, Im waiting" his wife has begged him,
"Be safe" his mother has written him,
tears mark their letters,
"I love you, Daddy" writes in crayon his three year old son,
gasping for breath they watched him walk away and into the war.
He lands on American soil,
his feet touch land and he is finally free,
he has fought the demons who would threaten his family,
he has fought and survived,
he is home his family gives thanks,
til he is called away again...
Life
Shades of blue wash away the dust from my window,
bringing new life to the dry, corse earth, washing aaway the cold of death,
bringing new hope for sping.
The rain has come again, teh fish in the pond rejoice,
and nibble at the fisherman's bait, the people will eat well tonight.
No more starving, on a single days old bread.
The water brings life to our community, it falls but once a year,
before it stops our feilds will be ready for planting and our buckets filled.
The desert we live in hates the water, it holds it away as long as it can. Hoping that the sun will beat us down til there is no hope left.
Blistering our skin, cracking our lips, bleeding as they break, a smile hurts more than a cigerette burn. With the rain, comes the cold, the reversal of the roles, the rain rules, we wait baited breath for the rain. Doing dances and saying prayers.
When it arrives we rejoice, for us rain means life!
bringing new life to the dry, corse earth, washing aaway the cold of death,
bringing new hope for sping.
The rain has come again, teh fish in the pond rejoice,
and nibble at the fisherman's bait, the people will eat well tonight.
No more starving, on a single days old bread.
The water brings life to our community, it falls but once a year,
before it stops our feilds will be ready for planting and our buckets filled.
The desert we live in hates the water, it holds it away as long as it can. Hoping that the sun will beat us down til there is no hope left.
Blistering our skin, cracking our lips, bleeding as they break, a smile hurts more than a cigerette burn. With the rain, comes the cold, the reversal of the roles, the rain rules, we wait baited breath for the rain. Doing dances and saying prayers.
When it arrives we rejoice, for us rain means life!
Tivo!
American Idol, play...
Ryan Seacrest introduction, fast forward...
Contestant (Casey) singing, play....
Judges comments, fast forward....
commericial, fast forward x 3....
oops show starting again, rewind...
contestant ( james) singing, play....
I am getting my excerise, my fingers are moving, my eyes are taking in the future of the world of music, and I feel nothing...like a blob, I dont even have to think about what I am watching....Thanks to Tivo I am a glutton, a blob with nothing to dobut fast forward, pause, rewind, and play...
Ryan Seacrest introduction, fast forward...
Contestant (Casey) singing, play....
Judges comments, fast forward....
commericial, fast forward x 3....
oops show starting again, rewind...
contestant ( james) singing, play....
I am getting my excerise, my fingers are moving, my eyes are taking in the future of the world of music, and I feel nothing...like a blob, I dont even have to think about what I am watching....Thanks to Tivo I am a glutton, a blob with nothing to dobut fast forward, pause, rewind, and play...
3/8/2011
A day like today, so beautiful and not. I am stuck inside. Listening to Bora and Liz discuss Thoreau and Weber; sinning and god. And I could care less. A voice rarely heard gives a quote, "pg 106..." others stare in shock, he actually spoke, we didnt know it could happen. Eyes glazed with bordum we nod and seem to deem his comment appropriate.
Today is so far interesting, I had some cool dreams and feel alive. Like the idea that school is almost over isnt all scary and that I really can make a difference in the world.
Maybe I am bored in class because I didnt read, but I think its more than disinterest, I think my mind is elsewhere. I feel as if I am about to loos my mind, I am running out of time and have no idea what I will do.
Images run through my mind, thousands of snippits, not fully formed ideas and thoughts break into my subconscious...what will I do?
I hate hearing our teacher preach, and tell us that our ideas are wrong. I mean f-you! The whole point of seminar is to share our opinions, as long as its backed up by the text, its never wrong....stay out of our discussion like your susposed to...
Today is so far interesting, I had some cool dreams and feel alive. Like the idea that school is almost over isnt all scary and that I really can make a difference in the world.
Maybe I am bored in class because I didnt read, but I think its more than disinterest, I think my mind is elsewhere. I feel as if I am about to loos my mind, I am running out of time and have no idea what I will do.
Images run through my mind, thousands of snippits, not fully formed ideas and thoughts break into my subconscious...what will I do?
I hate hearing our teacher preach, and tell us that our ideas are wrong. I mean f-you! The whole point of seminar is to share our opinions, as long as its backed up by the text, its never wrong....stay out of our discussion like your susposed to...
Hypocracy
Sinning is a given,
we all must do what we must,
sleeping = sloth,
eating = gluttony,
reproduction = lust,
standard of living = avarice,
wanting to better ourselves = pride,
envy and wrath float always under the surface of our facade,
Do we not need to sin to live?
Do we not need to eat, sleep to survive?
And if we withhold ourselves from these basic human instincts are we not sinning then aswell?
we all must do what we must,
sleeping = sloth,
eating = gluttony,
reproduction = lust,
standard of living = avarice,
wanting to better ourselves = pride,
envy and wrath float always under the surface of our facade,
Do we not need to sin to live?
Do we not need to eat, sleep to survive?
And if we withhold ourselves from these basic human instincts are we not sinning then aswell?
A Fallen Tree
From a butterfly to a sparrow,
a swallow to a swan,
times flies by us,
swooping and diving,
spinning around in freedom.
Every dew drop falls from the sky,
clinging to the sharp blades of grass,
rustling in the wind,
twinkling stars shine down to guide the way,
a stairway to heaven and the land beyond.
Departure and arrival,
believing in the greater good,
knowing your actions are influenced,
by one whose intentions are biased.
A single sound resounds through the silence,
a tenor clear and true,
vibrating the air,
like the tree which falls,
will it be heard if no one is listening?
a swallow to a swan,
times flies by us,
swooping and diving,
spinning around in freedom.
Every dew drop falls from the sky,
clinging to the sharp blades of grass,
rustling in the wind,
twinkling stars shine down to guide the way,
a stairway to heaven and the land beyond.
Departure and arrival,
believing in the greater good,
knowing your actions are influenced,
by one whose intentions are biased.
A single sound resounds through the silence,
a tenor clear and true,
vibrating the air,
like the tree which falls,
will it be heard if no one is listening?
The Boy
Gold curls, shinning under florescent classroom lights, strong jawed, low voice, scruffy and charming.
Where I used to find you repulsive due to gossip, I know think about you constantly. Green eyes stare me down and I wish you were really looking at me and not through me.
See me! Look at me!
luscious red lips, so well shaped, full and ripe, I would touch them, lick them, nibble them.
You are my ambrosia, addicting me to your presence, I melt when you enter the room. Dripping wet, I flush and stammer around you.
I wonder if you are taken, off limits, is there some one out there who claims you?
If I made a move, would I be rebuffed?
Held at arms length?
I wish I could see you outside of class.
I bet that with a drink or two, we could hit it off again like old times.
If no one was under your arm, I would fill that empty space and calmly fuse you to my side.
To talk about the time that had gone by, the fake tale about your unattractive and kreepy actions, and the reasons for my believing them.
Is this the God's way of showing me I have changed?
Or the Devil's way of laughing in my face?
I am centered around you, when you walk into the classroom, I freeze.
My breath comes faster and my brain sail out the room.
I admire your intelligence and am annoyed at your quietness, I wish you would speak up, louder so I can hear you from across the room.
I sit in class pretending to think about Saint Emmanuel or Darwin and instead am really thinking only of you. I wonder if youll ever be mine...
Where I used to find you repulsive due to gossip, I know think about you constantly. Green eyes stare me down and I wish you were really looking at me and not through me.
See me! Look at me!
luscious red lips, so well shaped, full and ripe, I would touch them, lick them, nibble them.
You are my ambrosia, addicting me to your presence, I melt when you enter the room. Dripping wet, I flush and stammer around you.
I wonder if you are taken, off limits, is there some one out there who claims you?
If I made a move, would I be rebuffed?
Held at arms length?
I wish I could see you outside of class.
I bet that with a drink or two, we could hit it off again like old times.
If no one was under your arm, I would fill that empty space and calmly fuse you to my side.
To talk about the time that had gone by, the fake tale about your unattractive and kreepy actions, and the reasons for my believing them.
Is this the God's way of showing me I have changed?
Or the Devil's way of laughing in my face?
I am centered around you, when you walk into the classroom, I freeze.
My breath comes faster and my brain sail out the room.
I admire your intelligence and am annoyed at your quietness, I wish you would speak up, louder so I can hear you from across the room.
I sit in class pretending to think about Saint Emmanuel or Darwin and instead am really thinking only of you. I wonder if youll ever be mine...
For Laura, in response to her Ex
Its a little late for explainations, you cant change what youve done.
I dont want to be with you! Stop tearing me down, I am not your punching bag!
You took my love and tainted it with your cruelity.
No more pain, I cant stand it anymore!
Just stop talking, forget my number and leave me out of your hate.
You live in a world of rage, where nothing can penitrate the darkness in your soul.
You took something so beautiful and turned it into anger, you broke me.
Are you happy now?
Do you feel powerful?
Better than me?
You know nothing about me, after this I have changed.
There is little good that came from my experiance with you, but this one thing is true:
I will never let a guy treat me like that again.
I am no longer weak, I will not let love blind me to the vileness within your heart.
My next love will be better, a equal relationship of understanding and mutual respect. My bank account will be safe and my heart will be cherished not torn apart.
So reap what youve sown, and live in your own little cave of hurt and pain... Cause Im not yours anymore!!!
I dont want to be with you! Stop tearing me down, I am not your punching bag!
You took my love and tainted it with your cruelity.
No more pain, I cant stand it anymore!
Just stop talking, forget my number and leave me out of your hate.
You live in a world of rage, where nothing can penitrate the darkness in your soul.
You took something so beautiful and turned it into anger, you broke me.
Are you happy now?
Do you feel powerful?
Better than me?
You know nothing about me, after this I have changed.
There is little good that came from my experiance with you, but this one thing is true:
I will never let a guy treat me like that again.
I am no longer weak, I will not let love blind me to the vileness within your heart.
My next love will be better, a equal relationship of understanding and mutual respect. My bank account will be safe and my heart will be cherished not torn apart.
So reap what youve sown, and live in your own little cave of hurt and pain... Cause Im not yours anymore!!!
Winter Rose
The spreading gloom calls out to us to be your muse and mistress.
From tree, lake and pond we come, the children of the sea.
Mistress and muse ou be to us, spreading your message, to follow you through the years.
They have taught us how to live in the night, away from all those who would keep us in their greedy sight.
The flowers bloom about us, with cries of joy and love, we shower you with petals.
A golden dove is caught and cooked for your meal, its partner cries out into the night, as the red dusk reaches its wings.
Tinged with dust, a green pear is presented to you, one bite and the juice flows out. Like a stream of sugar.
As the midnight hour ends, our night of merriment has commenced and starts to draw to a close.
Alone you stand, forgotten til next you call the children of the winter rose.
From tree, lake and pond we come, the children of the sea.
Mistress and muse ou be to us, spreading your message, to follow you through the years.
They have taught us how to live in the night, away from all those who would keep us in their greedy sight.
The flowers bloom about us, with cries of joy and love, we shower you with petals.
A golden dove is caught and cooked for your meal, its partner cries out into the night, as the red dusk reaches its wings.
Tinged with dust, a green pear is presented to you, one bite and the juice flows out. Like a stream of sugar.
As the midnight hour ends, our night of merriment has commenced and starts to draw to a close.
Alone you stand, forgotten til next you call the children of the winter rose.
The Book Worm and Oh My
The Book Worm
Slipping into the pages, yellow with age, the book worm finds himself hungry, always hungry. He crawls onto the page and takes a bite. A whole is left in the sentence, on the page, "Ignorance is ____"...he crawls to the top of the page and disagreeing with what he reads, he takes another bite out of the page, "____ spreads awareness and ______ soreads fear"... satisfied he leaves the book behind. The boy who comes much latter to read the book, is stumped by the puzzle, soon though he decides to add his own words into the blanks, filling the wholes and learning much more than if he had just read the book with its original words.
Oh My
Smash Crackle Pop
Goes the boy drumming
on his metal pot
Blam Bash Crack
crashes the boy into
the cook and the maid
whove been caught in
the pantry closet.
Slipping into the pages, yellow with age, the book worm finds himself hungry, always hungry. He crawls onto the page and takes a bite. A whole is left in the sentence, on the page, "Ignorance is ____"...he crawls to the top of the page and disagreeing with what he reads, he takes another bite out of the page, "____ spreads awareness and ______ soreads fear"... satisfied he leaves the book behind. The boy who comes much latter to read the book, is stumped by the puzzle, soon though he decides to add his own words into the blanks, filling the wholes and learning much more than if he had just read the book with its original words.
Oh My
Smash Crackle Pop
Goes the boy drumming
on his metal pot
Blam Bash Crack
crashes the boy into
the cook and the maid
whove been caught in
the pantry closet.
Look at me
Can you see me? Not my skin, my hair or my IQ...But me, the person with the shell.
The soul who feels, who lives. Who want to be given a chance to be seen, unjudged, not covered with biases and stereotypes.
I could say, feel and act and no one would judge my actions, by their idea of what is right, what is standard. No more wishing to be seen as who I really am but finally visiable.
Free. Free to speak my mind, share my thoughts, act like a fool and feel no regret. No gossip and predisposd ideas attached to me.
I will be me and I will be seen. If only you would really look, not through me, not at my outside but at me, my soul. At who I am, who I want to be and who we could be together...
The soul who feels, who lives. Who want to be given a chance to be seen, unjudged, not covered with biases and stereotypes.
I could say, feel and act and no one would judge my actions, by their idea of what is right, what is standard. No more wishing to be seen as who I really am but finally visiable.
Free. Free to speak my mind, share my thoughts, act like a fool and feel no regret. No gossip and predisposd ideas attached to me.
I will be me and I will be seen. If only you would really look, not through me, not at my outside but at me, my soul. At who I am, who I want to be and who we could be together...
Wanting
I want because I do not have
I want what I do not have
I want what you have
I wnt you
I want to be close to you
I want to be you
I want more than I need
I want because it is stonger than I would like
I want because I can
I want because I am envious
I want because I am not satisfied
I want more
I want is one of the first things we learn to say
I want means give it to me now
I want means get it for me or else
I want, I want, I want....
I want what I do not have
I want what you have
I wnt you
I want to be close to you
I want to be you
I want more than I need
I want because it is stonger than I would like
I want because I can
I want because I am envious
I want because I am not satisfied
I want more
I want is one of the first things we learn to say
I want means give it to me now
I want means get it for me or else
I want, I want, I want....
Rain
Soft rain, harsh rain, hail rain, pounding rain, dew drop rain, puddles of rain.
Flooding rain, rainy day blues and rainy day snooze.
Raining men, money and cats and dogs.
Waking up to rain, sleeping in the rain, rainy day sundays and rainy day mondays.
Singing in the rain, playing in the rain, thunder rain, storming rain.
New rain, first rain, never ending rain.
Acid rain, rainy day, rainy night, raining day and night.
Rain, rain, rain....
No matter how you look at it no rain is the same.
Flooding rain, rainy day blues and rainy day snooze.
Raining men, money and cats and dogs.
Waking up to rain, sleeping in the rain, rainy day sundays and rainy day mondays.
Singing in the rain, playing in the rain, thunder rain, storming rain.
New rain, first rain, never ending rain.
Acid rain, rainy day, rainy night, raining day and night.
Rain, rain, rain....
No matter how you look at it no rain is the same.
Blindness
Colors streak by. Reds blend into purple and burst into balloons of blue and yellow. Like splashes from a waterfall greens jump through the air, and pinks sizzle like a burning fire. Burning my eyes, they flash and spring about, like colors dancing on the wind. Melting into one another they never stop, not one but thousands. Zigzags and dots and starbursts of color that play hide and seak in my mind. Eyes closes, blind to the world, yet I see. I live in a world of feeling, every step I take makes the colors rocket around my brain, shooting off like hundreds of fireworks bursting into beautiful shapes. My world is far more real than the one you see. You call me blind, but oh how I disagree.
Who am I?
Am I a dancer, a painter, a mathmatician or maybe an austronaut? Am I white, black or inbetween? Do I bleed a different color than you? Is my blood blue? Do I see a different world when we look through the same eyes? Is my heart not as vulnerable as yours, open to love and so very easy to break? Does it not beat harder when I am angry, scared or flushed and in love? Can it not be hurt, broken and bruised? Who am I? Maybe a better question is who are you?
What am I?
I am white, black, clear.
I am cold and burning to the touch.
I can taiste good and like nothing at all.
I can save your life and take it too, often I turn you blue.
I sometimes turn you pink, red with goosebumped flesh.
I can be thick and thin.
I am dangerous and everywhere.
In and outside your home I lay.
I can be carved and yet I often slip out of your hands.
I float and crack.
I can cover the entire earth.
Can you guess what I am?
I am cold and burning to the touch.
I can taiste good and like nothing at all.
I can save your life and take it too, often I turn you blue.
I sometimes turn you pink, red with goosebumped flesh.
I can be thick and thin.
I am dangerous and everywhere.
In and outside your home I lay.
I can be carved and yet I often slip out of your hands.
I float and crack.
I can cover the entire earth.
Can you guess what I am?
Crushed
When I feel frushed by my school load, my the pressure starts to get to me, and I start to shake and feel as if Im about to break, I think of the future, of the infinate past. I see a glimmer of what could be, the reason for all this work, and I am renewed. A deep breath, makes the load a little less heavy, and a possitive attitude makes the wishes of my dreams seem closer than ever.
Trials of...
Trails of love, death, and weeping away our sorrows.
A time of distrust and hate, where they rage against fate.
We praise our Father as our Lord, yet he is a man who withholds his voice, and keeps himself away from the world. Alone, without God, we are still strong. In our belief we are united, together we stand.
A time of distrust and hate, where they rage against fate.
We praise our Father as our Lord, yet he is a man who withholds his voice, and keeps himself away from the world. Alone, without God, we are still strong. In our belief we are united, together we stand.
Happiness
Crazy, insane, loopy, foolish, unhinged, wild, unbalanced, unstable, oblivious to the real world, yet all the time smiles.
Cows Go Wild
Time goes by, like a sweeping tidlewave of emotion.
It sweeps you up, rising over your head, drowning you scream.
It leaves you stranded, alone on a deserted island.
A river of doubt flows through this land, and you are constantly drinking from it.
Memories of little trucks, seen through the white washed window of my room, constantly zooming by on their way to everywhere. Black night swoops in, covering the insland like a blanket filled with fear. Fear of spiders, scorpions, snakes, and other critters that climb on your body leaving death in their wake.
Sun shining on a once again deserted island, the cows will eat the grass that will grow over your bones, and after a while they will forget about you and all that was your past.
It sweeps you up, rising over your head, drowning you scream.
It leaves you stranded, alone on a deserted island.
A river of doubt flows through this land, and you are constantly drinking from it.
Memories of little trucks, seen through the white washed window of my room, constantly zooming by on their way to everywhere. Black night swoops in, covering the insland like a blanket filled with fear. Fear of spiders, scorpions, snakes, and other critters that climb on your body leaving death in their wake.
Sun shining on a once again deserted island, the cows will eat the grass that will grow over your bones, and after a while they will forget about you and all that was your past.
Mariage
Left, right, tuna delight.
Drinking sherry, often makes her merry.
A razzberry cake that took hours to make,
bright colored doves and a wedding ring that fits her tight like a glove,
Proud down the aisle we walk, listening to the whispers of our guest's talk.
A single tear slides down her cheek as she cries,
she knows his true tale, knows how he lies.
Her friends tell her not to mope, tell her their is always hope.
Like every other new wife, she must now be happy with her new life.
Love has been burried in fright, her love for him has taken flight.
Finally she sees the light, a wants to never be again in his sight.
Quickly she boards the ferry, to where she remembers, golden, red feilds of cherry.
The freedom of the rescued, a like finally renewed.
Drinking sherry, often makes her merry.
A razzberry cake that took hours to make,
bright colored doves and a wedding ring that fits her tight like a glove,
Proud down the aisle we walk, listening to the whispers of our guest's talk.
A single tear slides down her cheek as she cries,
she knows his true tale, knows how he lies.
Her friends tell her not to mope, tell her their is always hope.
Like every other new wife, she must now be happy with her new life.
Love has been burried in fright, her love for him has taken flight.
Finally she sees the light, a wants to never be again in his sight.
Quickly she boards the ferry, to where she remembers, golden, red feilds of cherry.
The freedom of the rescued, a like finally renewed.
Lost Love, Becomes Obsession
Could you fly away? Would you if you could? I would chain you to the ground, clip your wings. Care for you, feed you your favorites everyday. I would make you mine.
So we could be together, alone together, just you and I forever.
So we could be together, alone together, just you and I forever.
Apocolypse
Death, destruction, loss of hope.
All faith, like a balloon struck by lightening, has disolved into nothing.
A puddle of mud, sucked up into the sky,
rains down upon the barren land like tears falling from blooded eyes.
Alone, shadows all that hints at life.
The ticking clock stricks the end, all is quiet, nothing stirs,
like the moon glistening on the bay, this world is unreal,
empty and filled with nothing but the memories of another life.
All faith, like a balloon struck by lightening, has disolved into nothing.
A puddle of mud, sucked up into the sky,
rains down upon the barren land like tears falling from blooded eyes.
Alone, shadows all that hints at life.
The ticking clock stricks the end, all is quiet, nothing stirs,
like the moon glistening on the bay, this world is unreal,
empty and filled with nothing but the memories of another life.
Love
Lights streaming past my window, colors blinding me for a moment, so fast they shoot by, the stars falling from the sky, they dazzle and glitter, like a twinkle in my eye.
Open eyed dreaming
I dream, awake, eyes open I stare off into space. Another world, soldeirs and knights, of fire breathing snakes and dragons that live in caves of ice. Captured princes, waiting to be rescued by the damsell, so not in distress. Tame the dragon, fly from the tower, prince safely in tow, they fight the witches curse and battle the evil, to keep death at bay. I dream of scattered crows, of black feathers glistening rainbow under the hot shine of the sun, falling softly towards the ground, yet as it touches the dirt, flowers spring up, blooming orchids, blossoming lilies, tigers roam this land, unicorns are black and their eyes glow red with hatred, not innocent or pure they feed on the pain of others to survive. I dream of stars that laugh at the folly of man and dance at weddings, leaving a shooting trail of sparks as they twirl and spin. Of soft breezes that transform into screaming gales of wind when threatened. Eyes glazed to the world around me, not hearing the chatter of those around me, dreaming of the sexual freedom of the niads and the lustful gazes of the satyrs. Of the nymphs who shriek and laugh as they run away playfully from the cupids, ignoring their lakes filled with fishes and unknown treasures. Dreams fill my mind and I thirst for more. Yet I am pulled brutally back into myself, the bell has rung. I grab my school bag and exit the classroom, the real world awaits me...
Addiction
Like osession, I crave you.
I yearn for you, I live for you.
My breath is your breath, every beat of my heart you own.
A smile from you is like a line of coke to a junkie.
I shiver and shake, my longing is uncontrolable.
I live in your shadow, watching you, always only you.
I need you. I want you. I wish to be in you,
to wear your skin, like a coat it would keep me warm.
To see through your eyes, to smell your hair and
touch your soft skin. When I dont see you,
I am pained, my withdrawal leads me to do bad, bad things.
Wracked with pain, I slice her up, she shouldnt have been,
near you, looking at you is my job, my place.
You are mine!
Soon, soon, I will take you,
My love, my life, my addiction.
I yearn for you, I live for you.
My breath is your breath, every beat of my heart you own.
A smile from you is like a line of coke to a junkie.
I shiver and shake, my longing is uncontrolable.
I live in your shadow, watching you, always only you.
I need you. I want you. I wish to be in you,
to wear your skin, like a coat it would keep me warm.
To see through your eyes, to smell your hair and
touch your soft skin. When I dont see you,
I am pained, my withdrawal leads me to do bad, bad things.
Wracked with pain, I slice her up, she shouldnt have been,
near you, looking at you is my job, my place.
You are mine!
Soon, soon, I will take you,
My love, my life, my addiction.
Doubt
My mind is full of questions,
I believe in all things,
truth, anger,
fear,
hope,
death,
a blooming,
blossoming,
flower of,
all things,
beautiful.
I believe,
in the rain,
in the sun,
in the wind.
In the sins,
that spin,
the earth,
around.
Yet I,
question,
everything,
all that is,
between me,
and the,
ground.
I believe in all things,
truth, anger,
fear,
hope,
death,
a blooming,
blossoming,
flower of,
all things,
beautiful.
I believe,
in the rain,
in the sun,
in the wind.
In the sins,
that spin,
the earth,
around.
Yet I,
question,
everything,
all that is,
between me,
and the,
ground.
One
At last with a love like yours I can be whole.
Together we smile at the world, with eyes wide open I see you,
I touch you, I love you.
With on glimpse of light, the shadows recead.
The four horsemen are defeated, turned away as Death shrieks in dismay.
His plan has failed, pushed back.
The hourglass has stopped, frozen in time.
A light spreads through out, the shadows flee in fear.
Our love, stronger than the doubt, together we are strong, as one we are whole.
Together we smile at the world, with eyes wide open I see you,
I touch you, I love you.
With on glimpse of light, the shadows recead.
The four horsemen are defeated, turned away as Death shrieks in dismay.
His plan has failed, pushed back.
The hourglass has stopped, frozen in time.
A light spreads through out, the shadows flee in fear.
Our love, stronger than the doubt, together we are strong, as one we are whole.
Razorblade
HAHAHAHAHAHHA!
Like a razor against my skin, a dagger in my soul.
Blood spilling against the white tub, the memory of their laughter, the gleam of ridicule in their eyes.
Dribbling into the water, creating a swirl and a design, in the red of my blood and clean, clear water of the tub.
I am death.
I am the charriott, he drives the horse, he smashes the window to enter and I lay still watching hiim.
Hooded he stands over me, eyes black and soulless, he whispers softly in my ear, that the pain has only begun, the laughter only getting started.
I close my eyes, exhausted, no strength and my head falls to side.
I am death.
I am dead.
Like a razor against my skin, a dagger in my soul.
Blood spilling against the white tub, the memory of their laughter, the gleam of ridicule in their eyes.
Dribbling into the water, creating a swirl and a design, in the red of my blood and clean, clear water of the tub.
I am death.
I am the charriott, he drives the horse, he smashes the window to enter and I lay still watching hiim.
Hooded he stands over me, eyes black and soulless, he whispers softly in my ear, that the pain has only begun, the laughter only getting started.
I close my eyes, exhausted, no strength and my head falls to side.
I am death.
I am dead.
Sex and Love
White, ivory, peach.
Soft, smooth, ripe.
Like a golden pear, waiting to be pressed against the rose of lush lips.
Touching me softly, caressing my skin, a hot breath ruffles my hair.
A tingle, a shiver up my spine.
Breasts flushed, heaving with desire, I gance through the red haze of lust at the object of my affection.
Different; skin a caramal galze, dark chocolate melted agaisnt my flesh, sizzling between us like a magnent, pulling us together.
We cannot resist, nor do we want to, as one we move, the sheets, silk satin against my back, moving like a river snake, slithering up and down my body, goosebumps left in its wake.
Large hands follow, undressing me slowly, I am naked to his eyes, fully dressed or not, he sees me, even if for just this moment.
Together we rock, like a ship rolling on the ocean in a hurricane, we swim under the covers.
The pillows like clouds oress against us, sweat glistens on our skin, invisiable, except to the touch, it coats us with our enthusiasm, our passion, our urgency to love.
Laying against him, I hear the beat, like a gentle drum beating a staccato rythm, like an African dancer arms lifted to the air, jumping and swinging to the beat, I listen.
It beats under me, telling me to cherish the moment, the second, the hour, we have lived.
One experiance, true to our nature, of sex and love.
Soft, smooth, ripe.
Like a golden pear, waiting to be pressed against the rose of lush lips.
Touching me softly, caressing my skin, a hot breath ruffles my hair.
A tingle, a shiver up my spine.
Breasts flushed, heaving with desire, I gance through the red haze of lust at the object of my affection.
Different; skin a caramal galze, dark chocolate melted agaisnt my flesh, sizzling between us like a magnent, pulling us together.
We cannot resist, nor do we want to, as one we move, the sheets, silk satin against my back, moving like a river snake, slithering up and down my body, goosebumps left in its wake.
Large hands follow, undressing me slowly, I am naked to his eyes, fully dressed or not, he sees me, even if for just this moment.
Together we rock, like a ship rolling on the ocean in a hurricane, we swim under the covers.
The pillows like clouds oress against us, sweat glistens on our skin, invisiable, except to the touch, it coats us with our enthusiasm, our passion, our urgency to love.
Laying against him, I hear the beat, like a gentle drum beating a staccato rythm, like an African dancer arms lifted to the air, jumping and swinging to the beat, I listen.
It beats under me, telling me to cherish the moment, the second, the hour, we have lived.
One experiance, true to our nature, of sex and love.
live for yourself
Sometimes I breath, every single day, I believe in our yesterday.
Feeling relief about our everything, explain the truth, about the rain, the tears falling down my face.
Time seems to be fading fast, memories shooting past, and all my life I've been waiting for for you, wondering about you and me.
Life goes on, every single breath, that I take makes me shake, like Im gonna break, I stand alone.
Alone.
Alone.
Feeling relief about our everything, explain the truth, about the rain, the tears falling down my face.
Time seems to be fading fast, memories shooting past, and all my life I've been waiting for for you, wondering about you and me.
Life goes on, every single breath, that I take makes me shake, like Im gonna break, I stand alone.
Alone.
Alone.
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