Mitch

[size=1] Again, read the rules. Or at least scan through them. Double posting isn't allowed. Instead of double posting, you can edit your old post and add whatever new text is needed in the post. And if you want to also push the post back up, all that you have to do is copy your old post and whatever new text you want to add. Then delete your first older post, then paste your old post and your new one together, and abra kadabra, there you go. As for your writing, it needs some work. I only read the first chapter-thing, but from what I see, you need to work on your verb tenses, spelling, grammar, and especially the constant repetition of "he." Here's a good general rule to follow: Name that dog. Name the character. Eh. Yeah. I don't want to be too mean, and I'm not trying to be. If you enjoy writing, then do it. Don't let anything anyone says stop you, including me. If you keep at something you're sure to get better at it. I've taken the liberty of combining your two posts. I hope that in good accord you won't do it again.[/size]

[size=1]a loner by shore goes with his fish and wanders alone as the sun rises[/size]

[size=1][b][u]washed in brains[/b][/u] Keeping the wolves at their caves They all howl about the moon And walking around their traps They bleed into their rags sherpas are slaves little mountains with little names but they're giants as they say Climbing a mountain that's snake & ladders And they said the deaf are dead That they howl about the moon so we're damnaged gods human men that kiss our laws and say our tax cuts are above the flaw Selling this little piece of paper to your heart Keeping the wolves at their caves Walking around our traps Bleeding into our rags We are damnaged gods We are feeding the dogs Keeping the wolves in their caves Bleeding our rags You'll listen to what we say you sherpas are slaves little mountains with little names you trek their way up this frost conclave and through it make your names We eat the corruption dreams We are the drainers of electricity We live on the summit of all your being We are the drainers of your humility of your humanity We are the drainers We eat the corruption dreams Feeding off of your humanity of your humility The smell of words tastes so good Cotton gin never twisted the wool It was us and you were fooled We keep the wolves in their caves Spelunkers never even know their ways We are damnaged gods We are feeding the dogs Keeping the wolves in their caves Bleeding our rags You'll listen to what we say you sherpas are like sheep the silence of these lambs creating panic and feeding hands we're little mountains with little names we trek our way higher up for their conclave and through them we feel depraved you sherpas are like sheep always drooling to one spot always spitting with saliva brain washed. Brain washed. Washed in brains I find my chains Washed in brains I find my name Washed in brains I live in these chains in these shames in these caves on these endless rolling mountainous plains you sherpas are like sheep you learn the ways and that's the way you stay brain washed. Brain washed. Washed in brains you breathe you've lost your vena cava Brain washed it off to bleeding brothels Washed in brains you breathe. Washed in brains I feel nothing at all Washed in brains I feel for the paper-pushers' fall Washed in brains we're little mountains with little names Washed in brains My hands are only brains Washed in brains I live in these chains Washed in brains I live to do and live to Change we're little mountains with little names we're little sheep with curly bangs we're gnawing wolves with chains we're locked away in our brain washed brains we're locked away in these chains in these shames in these endless rolling mountainous plains in these chains in this blank empty cage in these endless gnawing little caves we're little mountains with little names [b][u]little fly[/b][/u] it flies around the disappointed people clutching bottles to their temples it doesn't mind the sweaty slime it doesn't mind eating the sour wine it just wants its food and its time it flies around and welcome to the jaws of hell you've woken one of the disappointed people clutching bottles to their temples the solitary man stumbles his hand and welcome to the jaws of hell welcome to the hands of hell little fly you've gone enough had enough can't you tell it's time to say welcome to the jaws of hell swoop down to the wood floor and leave this place it's time to say welcome to the hands of hell little fly it's time to delve to nowhere on the wood floor and leave this place you're hit you're lost you've been tossed give it up it's time to go you're nothing you've gone enough it's time to go little fly it's time you go little fly you're insignifigant little fly you've had your time you ate all the food you could find scavenged and doing your nature the meaningless little buzz and the meaningless little fly when it comes down to it the solitary man was right clutching his bottle to his temple and drinking his life when it comes down to it you're insignifigant little fly all you do is buzz and consume what never mattered spreading all around disease they hope you die they hope you choke they hope your wings are tangled and that you're a joke they hope that you let go and slow down they hope that you slow down little fly they hope that you slow down they hope that as you fall you stumble and hit the floor hard and don't ever come back around you're insignifigant little fly you're meaningless they hope that you choke that you die that your wings are tangled as you fly and the solitary man was right for slapping you down and the solitary man was right for clutching his bottle and drinking his life [b][u]river peccavi[/b][/u] peccavi my sins to my hands lose myself and forgotten lands a forest, or a beach with sand let there be warmth where my peccavi stands let there be darkness and drenching waters full of foam and hands for a minute there i could feel your hand sentimental lamenting flow of a river full of foam and hands a heavy feeling of where my peccavi stands and for a minute there i was glad but for a second here i was sad and i was wondering and i was lost for a minute there we got lost together the calming roll of straight reactions like a rolling stone falling on our crashes and i was lost and i was wondering and i was glad i was full of foam and hands and i was full of darkness and drenching waters where my peccavi stands and for a minute there i was walking on forgotten lands and for a minute there i was glad[/size]

[size=1] Hm. I don't think "smartness" has to do with books and learning pointless information about this world that we as men have discovered. I think it's more or less just common sense, and being good at whatever you're good at. That's smart and defines it well. When you are a child, you do not realize a lot of the troubles and things with this world. You simply live, and you are so very happy usually. Smarter when I was younger? Well, in a "school" sense, I don't think so. I have never really liked school much ever. I find it mostly a pointless waste of time. What Tony said is exactly how I feel: I don't feel like I'm doing anything that will matter; my will to do it is far away. I'm just going through the motions, and doing as the societal machine says I should do. As for the way I think of smartness...everyone definitely is more smart in that definition of it when they are older. When you're born, you quickly learn everything about common sense you need to know. The basics, I guess. When you put your hand in fire, it hurts. So you don't put it back in ever again. Same thing with a million of other things. We call up our memories of these, and through this information, we make a decision. And through that we make choices, wrong or right. You also quickly learn to behave. You don't stare at people in public. You don't burp in front of people. All of that. And so on. The thing is, when you're younger, you're simply doing what you're told to make your parents accept you for who you are. When you're older, you do it more for yourself, or others. I'd say a lot of people would rather just be a child again. Sometimes I do too. But this is what knowing more and more does to you. It makes you want to know what it felt like to be surprised with the world, to actually feel like it means something to be alive. To have the thrill of learning something so very interesting and new. That doesn't happen often to me anymore. School is just mostly poinltess crap I'd rather not learn. And the classes I do love, I love them as hard as I can, and get good grades. But the classes I hate I often cannot stand, and it takes a lot of effort to force myself to do good. But otherwise that, I still get pretty good grades I guess. I got a B in every class. But I don't want to excel in school...it sure would open a lot of potentials--scholarships, mainly...but I'm just too sick and tired of so many things to care.[/size]

[size=1] Yes, Mitch has decided to be Mr. Spam and post about his name.. Yeah. Mitchell is my first name, so I usually am called Mitch by people. So I just decided to screw it and get it as my name. My old name was AnimeLover. God.. Don't even get me started on that name lol. I absolutely hate that name now.[/size]

[size=1]arrest this man he talks in his sleep and i don't think he's human at all[/size]

[size=1] We all get depressed on and off I'd say. Some more than others--and those usually get help, or whatever. I usually get depressed more than once in a day...sometimes for long periods of time. Sometimes even for weeks. But you just deal with it. It's not the end of the world.[/size]

[size=1]glass doves swing merrily on rising in the air and falling glass has so much grace[/size]

[size=1] It depends, I guess. Whatever happens when a poem comes to life is sort of a hard thing to describe. It's just things laying themselves down in your mind and to the paper the right way...Bah. It's hard to say. I can write automatically, but when I write for longer periods of time, I find that everything I am writing starts to feel somewhat contrived, and of lesser value. It's like swimming and using your arms for a long amount of time...you get tired. But the longer you do it the stronger you muscles get, and you can do it more and more. At least that's how I see it. So inspiration is a factor, but I must say, I sure listen to music a lot when I write poems. I even use some lyrics that just randomly spur from a song and use them like a running start. Then it just happens as it happens.[/size]

[size=1]First off, you ended and began this thing great. The first stanza and the last stanza are the way I like my poems...with a slight, sneaky little rhyme that makes the words grip you down and hear them. It gets sort of so-so in the middle, but you then picked it up well and used the stanza almost exactly over again. That's what I do with my poems a lot of the time. Repetition. You have to do it in moderation, though. Or else it ruins whatever holds the poem together...at least for me. But yes. You show good promise, you have a nice way with your words, and the way you did the ending and the beginning was the right way to go from what I can see.[/size]

[size=1] Mm. It's okay. It needs more images. I want to [i]see[/i] the knife. I want to [i]feel[/i] its place in this person's mind. I feel like I'm only getting a slight swipe into whatever was going on in this person's mind. It's sort of vague...and just falters along, then suddenly ends. Not much else I can really say. It just needs more heart to it, more powerful words. A stronger swipe. Or so I guess. It's not horrible, but what can I say, I don't expect someone to just pick up something and know the best way to use it right away. You give it time.[/size]

[size=1]clap-clap we hold hands falling down, clutching the sands it is so lovely; stand Bah. I really hate Haikus. It's something to work on, though.[/size]

[size=1] Hm. I find that Heaven's Cloud is pretty good when he's good... I also like some of Sara's poems, she has a nice style of her own. Ah. And Lady Asphy's poems I tend to really enjoy as well, I'd love to see her keep going at it and get better. She's already pretty good, too. And of course, just for affectation's stake, I think I'm an okay poet..nah, not just okay, pretty good. Not to say that I'm the best or anything. But yeah. I've worked hard at poetry, I write nearly a poem a day most of the time, recently even more. Heh.[/size]

[size=1] Heh, you're new here. But double posting isn't allowed. I've taken the liberty of editing your posts and merging them. Oh. And if you want to push your topic back up, all you have to do is copy your old post and the new post you want together, then delete your old post, and then post it all again. It will push it back up, and is totally not against the rules from where I stand. Don't worry, I realize you are new. I'm sure you have enough sense to take what I've said, eh? Yeah. [/size]

[size=1]]]]] Hm. 88 stupid shift is not working on this computer on some of the keys. Stupid Library. Gah. i (grr, stupid computer) like the whole look of the banner, but if it weren't so boxy-ish, i think it would be better. caps lock. Hah. Otherwise I think this banner's pretty nice--all the colors seem to mesh in a nice way, which is a good thing with a banner. You know, the coming together feeling? Yeah. But the boxy-ish look of it doesn't work for me. It needs a more free-form look. At least I think. ]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] ]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]'cs]] Wow. This keyboard is really annoying. O.o. Gah. Stupid key is stuck. There. [/size]

[size=1] Lady M in that picture seriously reminds me of Misato, with those glasses and all. Misato..ah. ^_^'; Heh. You draw a lot better than I ever could. O.o] Yeah. Color it. Now.[/size]

[size=1]You come here to the cemetary every night. You don't let up. It's like you live for death. Often, I stand over you, put my arm so tightly around you. Try to embrace you. Love you like we used to. "I love you," is often what I whisper in your ear, my lips moving smoothly away and out from each other. But all you do is stare on, a little cloud caught in your eye. Your dark hair just standing where it's at. Often, I tell you of your wife you had. I whisper more into your ear as the breeze blows it to only your ears. Her name was Dinah, I tell you. "She died from a heart attack, when you were out working, remember?" I'll ask. And you just continue to stare. Your eyes. Cold. Lost and wandering. I hug you even closer. I continue to whisper in your ear, but you still only stare at her grave. And stare off into the distance, not even caring about what you have left there sitting in that tombstone. Sometimes I scream at you. I get all angry and mad. I scream to God. Wondering, I pray to God. I ask him to fix you. But you are broken. And so that is God's will. But I go sternly against it; it's not right. I want you to be my Grandpa. I want you to be that man that smiled like a son of a gun, and loved life for each and every breath. I want you to be you. But you're broken. Like a wind-up toy that grows more creaky and labored in its age, you have caught that same disease. You only live to die. You only stare around this graveyard as I hug you and stare into your empty eyes. [i]To be continued later, I guess.[/i][/size]

[size=1] I am a very easy going person most of the time. Yeah. I have rage. But I think rage is different than anger, well it is to me, at least. Rage is a more long-term thing. Usual anger only lasts in short bursts; for me, at least. Rage is more of an internal thing. I usually just push it down inside of me, and use positive methods to let it dissipate. My methods of that? I listen to music, write poems, and go for long walks. That all helps a lot. Rage is a more festering thing than anger. It's rancor at its simple. Rage is something that can power you to do great things, and at the same time, it can kill everything you ever wanted or loved. That's what it's like to me. So yeah. I'm a really easy going person; around most of my friends I am very quiet and don't talk about my personal afflictions. I keep them to myself, deal with them myself, and live them myself; I believe, to me, that is the way it should be. I remember kicking a hole in the wall when I still lived in Utah. I was all mad because my parents wouldn't let me go to a friends, or something. That was when I was about eleven or so. I suppose I sure was a brat. But every rose has its thorn, as it goes. My Dad came in my room, and I remember in clearness that is vivid he slappped me. It was somewhat hard, but not hard enough to cause me to bleed; it only left a red mark. My Dad has slapped me other times as well, and whenever he gets angry (which he does relatively easily), he gets physical sometimes. Usually I just take it, and don't say much of anything. Lately I've grown tired of the constant yelling and screaming from him though. It's like learning that when you put your hand in fire that you get burned, but I'm not even putting my hand in. If that makes sense. A few days ago I even fought back. And punched him and shoved him. All that led to was more physical activity. We still love each other though, he just doesn't seem to understand where I stand on a lot of things. I'm just getting used to all of the changes that are and have to happen to me as I get older. He's only making it harder on me, but that's as it should be, I guess; the world's going to be like that once I get out of my house as well. Why my Dad gets so angry I don't understand. People that just get all angry don't make sense to me. Why get angry when you don't have to? Why not just keep it internal? That's what I do. Ah well.[/size]

[size=1] O.o. Why would it be a hoax? Then this throws everything off space-wise where we're at now. So you're basically saying NASA would have to be a complete lie, created by the goverment; and that all of this millions/billions of dollars that go into it each year are also a lie for something else. And that the landing of the walker-thing on Mars was also a lie. And that every single thing ever said by NASA also a lie. And also the fact that there's actual footage of it; even though it be black and white, it looks pretty damned real to me. And millions of other things. I could sit here and support myself and everything. But I don't see the point. The space race to the moon was done by many countries. We were the first to make it; I don't see how that could be contrived. If you're saying that, then you're saying that everything about NASA is a flat-out lie. Which it certainly [i]isn't[/i].[/size]

[size=1] Rain is so serene. It's like a calming friend. I love the pit-pat sound that rain makes as it rains as it falls onto roofs, streets, and all around. That's just a cool sound. The smell of the air when it rains I also love...it just has this nice, fresh smell. Somewhat. I sound like some damn crazy old hag. O.o. Heh. Yeah. I like rain. It's such an atmospheric type of thing. It usually sets me in a cool mood.[/size]

[size=1][b][u]Nazarene[/b][/u] Nazarene the clouds are in your eyes as you ride silently on in Nazareth and into the dark just because you feel it doesn't mean it's there Nazarene just because you feel it doesn't mean it's there as the wind blows through you hair doesn't mean it's there and just because you want it doesn't mean it's there Nazarene I'm sure the clouds are in your eyes this time I'm sure and what you want will take some time and what you want will be a long drive what you want might not breathe to life it might not be there Nazarene Nazareth is a lonely city so late at night all these shadows it can be a fright all these shadows Nazarene but you're only dancing in the sky riding on in your creaky wagon and into the night so late at night it can be a fright but you Nazarene there's clouds in your eyes and in them angels fly and Nazarene just because you feel it doesn't mean it's there just because you feel it Nazarene doesn't mean it's there [b][u]like a head where the heart[/b][/u] this chilly basement is cold on my hands this clacky keyboard feels the same but it feels like it needs to be replaced like a head where the heart i miss the dead zone where we part this chilly basement is cold on my brain this colorhue monitor feels the same but it feels like it needs to be legged so kick it with the foot so kick it with every word there's to say this chilly basement is cold on my heart like this head on its side sleep in the cold like this cold heart on its veins sleep in the cold like a head where the heart i miss the dead zone where we part sleeping in the cold on its veins sleeping in the cold on its side this cold basement is chilly as ice and i miss the dead zone where we part feels like the keyboard is numbing my joints going so far that i can't feel feels like this keyboard is cold on my hands makes them want to sleep like my heart as it skips its beats with the coldness nipping its feet sleeping in the cold basement that is called missing and being alone sleeping on the bed where the sheets are thinning and the thin ice is dead so let's be like our head where the heart let's keep this and go in the dark so let's give life to the dead zone where we part because my hands are numbing my face is frost my body's trying to keep my heart because i miss the dead zone where we part my hands numbing my face cold my body trying to keep my heart trying to keep my heart so let's be like our head where the heart let's breathe in this dead zone where we part let's keep this and go in the dark[/size]

[size=1] I say do what you love, and do it. Nothing more nothing less. So go you, then, in this case. But when I read the title, I was all, you're a box? Cardboard? Eh. I get weird thoughts from thread titles.[/size]

[size=1][b][u]many sparrows[/b][/u] many sparrows fly overhead on the phonewires and the twine they cut the ribbon that holds the time and on the belltower the clock chimes it is late this eve for midnight has just breathed sometimes i stand in the mist as the sky wanders on past sometimes i stand here thinking i hold my fear looking at the belltower as many sparrows fly overhead i hold my head to the sky watch the black haze of them and the starry heaven has my mind that fear of everything that's been put behind and sometimes i stand here but not anymore the belltower has grown cold it creaks its gears as it chimes growing cold at its pendulum of time it seems just like me with its fear of everything that's been put behind even though still i stand here staring at the sky as many sparrows fly by it's so tranquil that birds fly like they don't have anything else and they don't know why too bad the big dipper is so high for if i could i'd grab its twinkle and shine i'm sure those many sparrows wouldn't mind for up there the heavens keep my eye but i am no bird that flies it's so tranquil that birds fly and just like them i don't know why i don't know why as the belltower stands here creaking its gears counting on the time that i'd rather not hear that i stand here and it is late this eve for midnight has just breathed and the starry heaven has my mind as many sparrows fly by [b][u]on this earth so grey[/b][/u] she burns like a nebula today is a sun this earth grey like a comet i'm falling faster down to flame this earth so grey so tell me what is the price to pay for my moutain of dreams on this earth so grey so tell me when is the world going to open its eyes see that for once each one has a life on this earth so grey she burns like a nebula her hair is on fire this earth so grey so tell me what you value in me on this earth so grey so tell me when we'll walk on the tombstones of glory on this earth so grey like a nebula she burns supernova in my ear today is a sun on this earth so grey so tell me how you breathe this corruption to your mouth so tell me how you know what it is to burn so tell me is this what it is to burn my milky way on this earth so grey like kryptonite we all fall today for today what it is to burn is the hardest thing to learn what it is to live is colorless but tasteless so let it burn for today on this milky way on this earth so grey we are spinning our graves for today we all fall today like a nebula in the starry sky we burn for today what it is to burn is the hardest thing to learn for today we are spinning our graves on this earth so grey[/size]

[size=1]I.. I'm speechless. The emotions I feel from looking at it are so different all at once. It's..yeah.[/size]

[size=1][b][u]erasing man[/b][/u] and i don't mind hanging around walking around and holding my hand high and i don't mind talking to the sand hollering so loud it sways but today the erasing man has my deuce but today i drew a joker from the deck how loose so pour me out and walk with me and hug the clouds where souls flee so pour me out i'm standing on the edge and the paper falls down to my head i'll never stay the erasing man takes it all away i'll never keep it up my hand is too high it's gonna be so hard to breathe and i hope that you choke that you choke that you choke [b][u]cigar smoking sky[/b][/u] the mannequin without its shirt the crackling wind on the flag's head the wood without its bark and that's my soul up there crackling, without its shirt without its bark been so cold without its shirt the wind crackling like a rainy calm and the flagpole still holds it down it's like i got bitten by a mothman in the cigar smoking sky it's like i can't taste my hands and the god i knew died no one here but me and that's my soul up there i'd send my one-winged angel to squall the mannequin without its shirt sailoring an SOS but all i'd wish would be put to test like the cigar smoking sky and if my one-wing had its tears too many would there be to cry i'd cry for humanity for being alive i'd cry for the pains and the hurt for them all i'd cry for this spinning sphere we all live here all live here, on this spinning sphere looking down, my soul here looking down the world's so plastic with its trees world's so synthetic with its leaves looking down i wonder what it'd be like without its shirt be like the mannequin like the cigar smoking sky so why not kiss it all goodbye lovely love lovely sighs we all live here on this spinning sphere so kiss it all goodbye lovely love lovely sighs but the wood is without its bark the flag is crackling in the wind and the world's so plastic the mannequin's without its shirt so lovely love lovely sighs this spinning sphere is contrived kiss it all goodbye like a lover about to die kiss it goodbye like a cigar smoking sky kiss it goodbye that's my soul up there spinning maniacally on its share kiss it goodbye cause if my one-wing had its tears too many would there be to cry i'd end it with a blink of an eye like a cigar smoking sky end it all like a cigar smoking sky [b][u]dreamdeath[/b][/u] take your life to me i'd kill the bugs the algae we breathe the oxygen fake leaves i'll kill you in your dreams tonight breathe my death on your life take your life to me give me the algae we breathe the oxygen fake leaves give me the last kiss give me my endless fist and anger me to your dreams tonight breathe my dreamdeath on your life begin new life we want our youth we suck young death we bring new life breathe to us and bring us to fetal life we are babies and we anger our love we are veterans of eternity bleed these dreams of silence i'll kill you and your dreams tonight take your life to me fallen one, i love thee you are so beautiful, so youthfully clean give me. give me your algae we breathe. siphon your fake oxygen leaves to me love my death as my life covenant forever ever, the bread of life for we are babies we anger our love to our lord and we sheep our cows to the horde we are veterans of eternity we want our youth we suck young death we bleed these dreams of silence i'll kill you and your dreams tonight we'll have what's ours and what is right [b][u]may aphrodite fall down[/b][/u] is that a smile on your face is that a kiss on your lips may aphrodite fall down on all your souls and into your skulls that's not a smile on your face nor a kiss on your lips it is only when you mess with what exists that you find out what your kisses missed it is only when you mess with what exists that you find out what your smile slipped sorry to piss on your face sorry to piss on your lips but it's only when you mess with what exists that mouths are like thorns and the red blood hits mad bull am i so sorry to acquaintance your hollow abode so sorry that the mud still holds for my mouth is like thorns the red blood hits when did it feel like your kiss missed or tasteless smiles slipped so sorry to piss on your pearls so sorry that you find that when you mess with what exists the red blood hits [/size]