Mitch

[color=red][size=1] Just some stories I'm writing I have lying around. Thought I'd share them, see what you guys think. But a word: Don't be too harsh if you are going to critque, these aren't even finished, and they are [i]very[/i] rough. So, here we are, without further adieu:[/size] Somewhere far in my chest, my heart is beating. They say as you die, your life flashes you by all over again. They say the meaning of life is death. Maybe they're right, maybe they're wrong. But in my chest, there's more than just a beat, there's an emotional ride. Life might just be fantasy, but life sure does flash you by. In my heart, as the beats thump, there's more than just a beat. As I lay here, my heart ending and sputtering, there's a life passing me by. Maybe it was all fantasy. Maybe life isn't meant to mean anything. But here in my heart, as I clutch at my chest, images splatter and crunch all around me. Flashes creak and crumble. And my eyes aren't mine anymore, my eyes are me years and years ago. My hands aren't mine anymore, they don't even exist. I'm back directly to that moment, back directly to live in the terror of it all. I open my eyes, I peer. All I see is blackness, utter blackness. I try to think, but I don't have a developed brain. I try to say anything, but the words spasm and die in my throat. I shut my eyes again. There's a long moment of blackness, and I open them again. I try to move, and I soon realize that I have hands. I have legs. More blackness as I shut my eyes again. Far away I hear voices mumble as I feel my puny body cry and cry. The voice is soothing and warm. Soon my eyes are closed, and I'm flying again. I'm in whiteness and space. "I love you daddy," I say. I give him a huge loving hug. "I love you, daddy," I say again. The words echo and clash in reverberating waves. "I love you, I love you." "I love you too, Danny. Daddy has to go," the shadowy figure says. I look closer at the figure, and then I can finally see my Dad as I so fondly remembered him. But as he comes into my view, he disappears into nothingness. I clatch and clutch for something to lean on, and watch as I grab nothing over and over again. "I love you daddy," I say, teary-eyed and sad. Tears run down and tint my puffy-like, child cheeks. I cry as I look at the letter in my hand. I shake and shake, clutching it, almost crushing the fragile paper. "Daddy's gone to somewhere better, Danny," my mom's smooth and loving voice says. "He'll always be with you, don't you forget that." I feel arms patting my back, I feel the tears running down as fast a rain water. Then I remove my head from my Mom's shoulder, I look in her so familiar face. I walk away from her and look at the piece of paper. I read it, but it all blurs and melts away from my tears. The only word that is still readable stands clear as glass: Dead. I wail and cry, I let the paper fall and die. And somewhere far off I hear my Dad's voice. So far away it pitches and falls. "I love you, Danny," his voice says so far away. Then all I hear is silence. I cry and cry for him, but my Mom only approaches and then turns away, crying too. Then all that I see is blackness again and I'm falling and falling. My stomach is doing knots and loops. I pose a smile as the wind runs through my hair. I scream in utter happiness as the roller coaster rolls up and down. I hold dearly onto the side-railing of my car, full of hapiness and a fear. Up and down sideways and backwards. Upwards and downwards. The roller coaster moves and moves. Then it all stops, and I take off my safety-buckle, standing up as I leave the ride. The feeling inside my mind pure excite like nothing before. My Mom and I exit the together, holding hands.. "Wasn't that funny, Dan-Dan?" she asks. "Yes it was Mom," I say excitedly short of breath and words. I peer around the amusement park smiling like a kid on top of the world should. The happiness just tears around in me, it's like no feeling that ever has been felt to me. The pure innocence that I had forgotten so long ago of being a care-free child. Another flash of white, another momentary blackness. New eyes and new hands. A new sense of thinking, a new sense of feeling. I place the rose on his grave. His memory's still bright in my mind, and I miss him dearly. I cup my hands and I pray for awhile as I hold back the tears. "Don't cry, Danny. He wouldn't want to see it like that," my Mom's always soothing voice says. I turn to her, my mind much more sharper and tangible than before. "Yes, I don't think he would. It's just that...I miss him," I tell my mother, uncupping my hands as I say it. "But he's still with you Danny. Don't you forget...don't you forget," she says, her voice fading and dying away. Over and over again the words repeat in my head. "Don't forget...don't forget." A loud screech. The smoke is billowing, and I cup my hand around my face. I cough and exhale as I crawl alone on the smoke-ridden floor. I rub my eyes, forcing myself to awaken. Through the smoke I see an alarm clock's digit read. 5:59. It changes to 6:00 and I take my attention away from it. I feel like I'm going to pass out from the smoke, but I keep going somehow and manage to make it out of my old familiar home. I meet up and find my Mom standing outside. I look at her arm, and I almost flinch. "I'm very sorry, honey," her still soft and soothing voice hums at me. "Very sorry." "How did this happen, Mom? How?" I hear myself say as my mouth moves and dies. "I was...throwing away a cigarette I was smoking," she says slowly and hesitantly. She knew I didn't like that she smoked. I only told her everyday. "Mom, what have I told you? Just...look at your arm. My God," I managed to say as I struggled for words. I couldn't stop looking at her arm, it was horrible. Her arm didn't even look like an arm anymore, it looked like a charred mess. It was barely even recognizable from what it was. "Don't worry, I've already called the police...." I walked to her room, knocking before I got in. The doctor opened, and I stepped in, immediately popping him the same question I always asked. "How is she, doctor?" Everything fades away, and here I am again. The great whiteness. Snow is falling as my Mom and I stand outside of our home. My Mom grasps her prosthetic arm, managing a smile. "It sure is beautiful out here, Danny. Cold but beautiful." "Yes, it sure is," I say, turning and giving her a warm smooch and an equally loving hug. It was the last time that I saw her. It was the last everything that day. The last day before I left, the last day of our Christmas together. She died the next week afterward. And I could see it in her eyes that night she wanted to die, the way her cheeks were deathly white. The way her hands just flailed in back of her like nothing, even her prosthetic one. "I'm very sorry...Daniel Peters is it?" I grasp the phone closer to me, trying to edge out the noise of my roommates. "No, it's Daniel Petters. Now what did you say?" I couldn't believe it. "Uh...your Mom, Belle Petters. She died this morning of lung cancer." "I'll be right down," I said. I place two roses on each of their graves side by side, and manage a teary smile. It's a beautiful July morning as I look up at the blue hued sky. "I'm getting married today, Mom and Dad," I say to their graves. I watch the beautiful sunrise and then leave their graves. "I love you, Dan," Christhine says with her kodak moment smile. We're in our just married car as we cuddle and hold one another. "I love you, too, Christhine," I say,. We pop one another a loving kiss. I brush my rough, middle-aged face. "This is the beginning, I guess." "Yeah, I guess so," she says, agreeing. Years and years spool by. Love, kids, work. The whiteness edges and caps, showing my pieces and bits. Echoes and backend words mingle and spoon about like a projected movie. Here and there I see myself older each time. I watch as my kids grow into teenagers to adults. I watch and watch, and then it all stops in a metallic and eerie clang. ------------------ I took his bloodied hand. Luminescent, his eyes shimmered and reflected at me. His breathing became increasingly and unmechanically differentiating. I held his hand so tightly. I looked him dead in the eye. Through it I saw my crushed face staring outwards and onwards through his hazy dumb-dead eyes. "Don't go on me," I said. But all I could hear was the loud and transcriptual perpetuality of bullets, explosions, death. All I could do was look in his hazy, faltering eyes. And the tears ran cold and numb like ice from eyes. I threw my gun away from my hands and watched it fly and scatter in the uncouth dirt. Tears pearling my eyes. So cold so numb, I sat down next to him. I took the whole of my palm and placed it tightly and vainly on his marred, neoteric chest. Warm and seething, he bellowed and howled in utter pain and asphyxiation. Removing my hand succintly, I quickly pulled an anesthetic from within the deep confines of my pockets. Also finding a small, carrying-sized hypodermic needle, I quickly assembled his last hope. "Hang on, hang on," I mumbled incoherently. I dug and clawed at his tingling, shaking, pain-imbued hand. I pushed purposefully and positionally on his arm, plaguing out his efferent blue vein. So cold, so numb, so far away, I forced the anesthetic needle into the narrows of his blood. Crazily, savaged, I watched as it missed, merely pricking and nothing more. I tried again and again?three more times?and the third, the third was the charm. The needle sunk in, and I quickly and inhumanly fiended over to his now unmoving, blank eyes. I shook him. I slapped him. I screamed and howled and howled and howled. I bellowed, I cried. I stared in his dumb-found eyes. The tears ran and ran. But, to my surprise?then there was a slight twitch of his eye. Just a slight, off-hand, weak yet faithfully opulent twitch. I couldn't believe it?I refused to believe. I waited again Again and again. I watched his eyes like a dog with a bone. I watched his eyes and peered into them like some dazzled and crazed amazon. And soon, again, there it was?another twitch. Small, weak, gone. Yet there. --------------------- Feet click clacking on the ground. Voices murmuring into a great void of drones and clamor. He looked up at them in utter contempt and hatred. Standing up from where he fell, he let out a loud snicker and spit a bloody concoction of saliva and blood onto the shiny, linoleum ground. He put his foot into the bloody wetness and smushed and sloshed it around like a stray cigarette butt. Walking into the bathroom, Silivan Taylor looked at his grinning, bloody self in the mirror. Turning the sink nozzle, he splashed some water on his scarred, bloody face. Still smiling, his face creased into an intimate t-bone of extreme pleasure, and he let out a hoarse, insanely mechanical laugh. Silivan taloned his hands onto the sink, still laughing. Only this time, weaker, farther away. Spasming, he felt his stomach churn as he coughed and hacked. Coughing, he vomited, falling over. His hands, still clasped on the sides of the sink, squeaked as they fell slowly off. The world was swirling for Silivan Taylor as he moaned into unconsciousness. "Wake up," a small, echoing voice said. "Wake up." Silivan opened his eyes revealing a blurry figure huddled over him. He blinked. The next time he opened his eyes, the figure had shifted. "It's time," the voice said kindly and intimately. "Are you ready?" Silivan's eyes ran over the figure. Instantly his mind eclipsed and clicked as he saw the figure's features. Instantly his eyes locked into a gaze. Silivan let out a small, far away guttural noise. He began to open his mouth to speak. A timid finger touched his dry, covered lips. "Shhh," the woman said. "Your lips are sealed, darlin'." The finger ran along his lips' impression, slowly swirling on the clefts. Silivan let out another small guttural noise, slightly stronger. It only murmured and fell to nothing Silivan tried to move his arms and legs. He shook and shook with all his might. Nothing. "Darlin', it's useless. Stop or else I'll have to send Mr. Sandman after you again," the voice went off as the slow and timid finger left his taped lips. "And I know you don't want that." The figure left his frame view, only a shadow against the silhouette of some meager light source. A window perhaps, Silivan guessed. The shadow of clasped hands ran over Silivan's face, darkly lining and faceting into his eyes.[/color]

[color=red] It's so short and...blurry. It just isn't going anywhere yet. Oo. But I do say it shows that this little idea might grow into something bigger. So here's what I say: Expand it more, grow it more, augment, augment, augment. It's too little in the state it is now to really truly be something. I don't really have an opinion, thus, until you expand it. But I'll be in the chimeras of my mind faceting a wait. :p[/color]

[color=red] It'd be so nice to meet some of the people here from the boards; but sadly, I do not have the money, nor the time, most likely. Soon I plan on getting a job and other such things. It would be nice to go, but I can't. I hope you have fun, Shy.[/color]

[color=red] There are already numerous threads about this in the [i]Anime Lounge[/i]. And this, obviously, is the wrong forum. Please, read [url=http://www.theotaku.com/rules.shtml]The Rules[/url], and always check for a better suited forum for a topic. And also, be sure to check if there are already any threads that contain somewhat what you'd like to start a topic on.[/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by DuoMax [/i] [B]YA! Go Michael Moore! He had the guts to step up and talk about when everyone else was afraid to! [/B][/QUOTE] [color=red] Hehe, I haven't seen the footage, but yeah, I stand by him in respect. Actually, we just finished watching a documentary of his creation about his town of Flint dying. Good stuff. Especially that crazy rabbit lady. Don't ask. I did not even watch the Academy Awards. So...[/color]

[color=red] I listen to your songs nonetheless, Kenny. You've got a knack for words. And I need to start reading more poetry, and just everything in general. ;)[/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Semjaza Azazel [/i] [B]I love Mitch's banner. I thought it was the best thing I saw yesterday, but that's me heh. [/B][/QUOTE] [color=red] Glad you like it, [b]Se[/b][strike]m[/strike][b]j[/b][strike]azaz[/strike] [strike]Azazel[/strike]. It's a thing Zeh and I are doing. We put insulting phrases in our sig. If you look in Tasis's sig, you'll see the phrase I've made up, lol. It's much better than the one he gave me. The banner's by Zeh as well. He's forcing me to use it. And badder just doesn't sound good, D_A, heh. And it's not my fault that it's so hard to work with.[/color]

[color=red] I want to see this movie . Having read the book, finding it pretty good, I'm even more pumped. I know I'll be left with a bad aftertaste after seeing it, knowing the book was better, but I'm always up for a nice, intense ride like [i]Dreamcatcher[/i] was to read. I've always been a fan somewhat of Stephen King. But some of his stuff is horrible. But that's the way authors are.[/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Psyco [/i] [B][color=teal][size=1][b]I made this poem, actually it's a song, or it could be a poemasong! Anyways here it is.It's mostly about me. [strike]If you're[/strike] Psyco and you know it stab someone If you're [strike]Psyco[/strike]a visage [strike]and you know it[/strike] stab someone. [strike]If you're Psyco and you know it and you really wanna show it, stab someone.[/strike] Psycho and you know it blood red and shot it. Is it good? [color=red]Not really, to be truthful.[/color][/b][/size][/color] [/B][/QUOTE] [color=red] Hm. There's my rendition at some try with it. It's way too repetitive offhand, I must say. It just doesn't go anywhere. It needs more description...ah well. I couldn't really make it better, lol. It's just that bad. Don't feel bad though. You have to start somewhere with everything.[/color]

[color=red] I'm all with James and Semjaza. I don't believe in all these abductions and things. It's just not what aliens would be doing if they were here. I've been interested in Aliens most of my life. It's just strange and interesting stuff. And I know that if we're here, somewhere else out there there's something, too.[/color]

[color=red][size=1] Okay. I revised this for about an hour or so last night. I shortened it down a lot. Got rid of some of the things plagueing it. It still needs more revision, and I'm going to continue to tweak it constantly. Hm. I don't know. I think Mnemolth was right. I need to slow down on my poetry. Looking back, my poems on page 3-5ish were much better. So I'm going to slow down a lot. I'm going to let a poem come to me and grow on me before I take the initiative to go on with it. Plus I'm going to start learning how to better and better revise my poems.[/size] [b][u]Roached Death Doped Mosquito Blind/ Mad War Rhetoric[/b][/u] Death doped and blind Go on and go on Bullets hit but ricochet on Fragments fall down hit hard This is this This is that I'm sick of death I'm sick of lapse Take your voice let it yell I'm angry and can't you tell This is this that is enough Death doped and blind Take your hate and give it a dime The coin is yours don't take it down Shoot it give it a crown Go on and go on This is enough so bleed me gone I'm sick of death I'm sick of lapse Leave me here bleed me gone Bullets twitch the moth on This is the line and you can't cross But you do anyways like a flickering moth Don't you know don't you care I tire and this is despair Death doped and blind Take a bullet take a life This moth's nothing he's worth Shoot him now bleed the work Here's my eyes They're tasting inside Flies and flies Taste my eyes They're tasting inside Look as they buzz inside Flies and flies Death doped and blind Bug-eyed and out of line I'm sick and sick of this But still you shine Take a bullet take a shard Still shine and taste these eyes Flies and flies Taste these flies Drivel on and drivel on Bullet me and take the wrist All is this and I encompass nothingness Storms bleed those moths die red-eyed I'm death doped and blind There's so much more on my mind Your yelling won't take me anywhere but across the line Take your bullet take your weapon You're the king I'm the sign Eat me and taste the flies Bullet the blood watch them die Flies and flies Death doped and blind Bullet me and bullet me fine I'm a bug eye bleeding Pus and sores in seeding Death doped here Blind and tasting of flies Eat me and bleed I've got an axe Death doped and blind It blunts me in the side Like some prick that won't give up all the time Go away go away I feel enough I need this day Go away go away This is me and I'm here to stay I have enough to think of and think of fine This is this the bullet crosses my eyes I grasp I cry but it digs inside Death doped and blind Get that and this is the line Snapped in half and I'm gone inside Go away go away Let me live let me die The axe won't go and holler flies Buzzing in my ear the buzz yells And if you see and if you tell There's enough there's enough I hear the flies Get off my mind Get off or I'm going to die You roach you roach eat the guts and flies Climb your climb climb your climb Limb your limb that primated drib Look into my mind Roach roach Look into my mind Flies and flies Veins inside Blood beats these veins This is this that is that Black and bruised red black Bite me and nip my neck axe Go away go away Axe and axed enough enough Death doped and blind Blind death doped blind My mind get out My mind Get out of my mind This is yours there's more death in time Blood red black with flies It's mine it's mine Walk away you roach Take your exoskeleton walk away Bleed the bullet In between your eyes bleed those flies It's mine it's mine I've broken and the sinew is mine Go away go away Yell and holler drink it away My blood is blood and it bleeds Go go and go this dream Roach roach Eat your blood get the throat Take the axe Get the throat Death doped and blind Go away and go over the flies Snip the wings bleed the throat Taste my blood from my eyes Bug-eyed tears crimson flies Eat me roach eat me bleeding Taste my blood from my eyes My blood is blood it bleeds Mosquitoes sap the needle's funnel sees I bleed I bleed My mind is my mind Death doped blind I bleed I bleed Mosquito mosquito Your proboscis your needle My blood my bleed Flies and flies Death doped blind Bleeding curdled and curdled Dry and dripping on my axe Bleeding bleed saturates that Death doped and blind Snapped snapped going out of my mind I have enough I have enough Full and empty take the glass Red crimson of some red bleeding past Mosquitoes proboscises transfer the fevered black Mosquitoed blood runs pumping Pump the axe pump the axe Bleed the blood bleed the bask Forget and forget in lapse Death doped blind Bug-eyed tears wick the sides Go on roach yell the antenna high This is this and I've died[/color]

[color=red] Hm. I love how mellow the songs are. And how [i]deep[/i].[/color]

[color=red] Nice. I just don't like that thing in the middle. It gets in the way of the helicopter and sort of draws your attention more outwards. It is a really simple banner, but effective. 8/10.[/color]

[color=red] I always try to say something worthwhile. When someone I talk to is down, I try to cheer them up. Mostly unsucessfully. I sometimes tend to be really silly. But I'm dead serious when conversation goes there. When I can't find something to say, I try to put it into words, but I usually never get anything out. I just end up going nowhere though. At least that's how it seems to me. :Glares at Ginny: You're never on when I'm on. Either than or you have some secret name. Bleh.[/color]

[color=red] Here's what I've gotten so far, Tony: [b]"I Bleed."[/b]-It's a good song. Bleeding and blood has always been a wonderful, symbolic image in my head. The entire beat and the entire way the song goes is wonderful. This is the first song of theirs I listened to, and I wasn't disappointed. At all. [b]"Here Comes Your Man."[/b]-Probably the song I least like that I've listened to of theirs. It's just so outdown and outwashed. There's too many songs that are in close par to this one. [b]"Hey."[/b]-This is my favorite song I've heard so far. I can't really explain why. I just love it. The entire way it goes and goes, eventually ending, is just great. As I said, my favorite song so far. I love it. [b]"Velouria."[/b]-I have not listened to this song that much. It's only OK for my tastes. But as I listen to it, I know it'll grow. Already it's growing on me. [b]"Dead."[/b]-I also really like this song. It's dark and wonderful. Not much else to say. It has nice beat and it keeps me into it. [b]"Debaser."[/b]-This song is also good. The lyrics are nice and interesting. The constant repeating of 'Debaser' is great. [b]"I've Been Tired."[/b]-This song is fine. I just need to let it grow on me more. [b]"Wave of Mutilation." [U.K. Surf Version][/b]-This song is nice too. I just haven't really listened to it more than twice. [b]"All Over the World."[/b]-I like this song. It's their longest song I've gotten so far. I like long songs. Especially Pink Floyd long songs, heh. But anyways, it's average, but I like it. That's pretty much all I've listened to so far. They're a great band and I hope to get Doolittle and Bossanova once I get the money. Thanks as always Tony.[/color]

[color=red] I'll be watching this thread. If it blows up into another religous debate, consider it closed. As for the question of this thread. I've never played D&D, but I used to be into Magic. They both are related somewhat. Anyways, I don't think it corrupts Christians at all. Humans are the way the are. They are already corrupted more than once in their lives.[/color]

[color=red] Mnenm, the new objectives are not on the page. It might be I'm just not seeing them or something, but I do not see them. >.> I'll keep looking. But I swear...[/color]

[color=red] With the immediating want of where you can find Mitch, I have taken the goodwill for myself and found it. Now, you can find me by going about to the middle of this page. An image will appear. It is not the best. The lighting in my room is evil and a 'tard, so I cannot blame it on anything else but that lighting. But yes, Ginny, now I expect you to do a drawing of me or I will threaten to do something very horrible. I cannot possilbly name it here. The word is too sacred to sacrificing factions. Let's just say it's not pretty. And I may be lying, but ah well. I know you think Shaun is a hottie and you will be destroyed for your ideals. Or something. [url=http://otakuboards.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=19884&perpage=15&pagenumber=5]Mitch is here.[/url] Ah. And may a reiterate. May I? That drawing, dear Gin-Rin-Tin-Dinny-Din, is amazing. You have talent.[/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by GinnyLyn [/i] [B]*eyes Mitch* OK, I DARE all you other hotties to post piccies and strike my fancy, then! ;) [/B][/QUOTE] [color=red] Well, my picture's in the forum. Just look, and you shall be hottified. I hope I strike your fancy, but I don't know. You might have me as some bug-eyed, dark, writer-esque looking person. But that's beside the point.[/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Charles [/i] It's a day by the window, a day free of the grinning, bone-colored walls. A day free of huddling in the corner with his knees tucked into his chest. Patient 13 rubs his eyes, and pours a handful of blue pills into his gullet, washing them down with black coffee. He tries to ignore the biting headache he?s gotten from overworking his eyes. Patient 13 has been staring out onto the naked expanse of the courtyard for three hours. Grimacing at the pounding fist of pain in his temples, he chews the pills into a pale paste and swallows. [b]Cotton candy clouds and a sprawling playground of grass dotted with dandelions and frolicking dragonflies seem threatening; they're too boring.[/b] [color=red][This sentence needs work. It's too long, for one. And it sets me off. Cotton candy clouds? Also, the repeating of 'and' makes this sentence off and even longer than it seems. Either break it up into small sentences or get rid of some of the descriptive words. It has too many images to direct a whole image. ][/color] He wants to take their serenity and smash it into pieces. But, the sunlight feels good on his face. It's much better than the faint glow the light bulb in his room emits. It's so warm--it takes him away. [b]Flames light up an entire block. He's back in the San Fernando Valley. The fire rises high into the night sky, engulfing what was once a picturesque Victorian mansion, while rivulets of fire drip from the molten aluminum rails of the now crisp cedar deck. The white pattern siding has melted and discolored to a point far beyond compare, and the roof sags heavily in the middle, nearing its collapse.[/b][color=red][More transition here. It's somewhat bumpy. Put at least another sentence explaining his zoning out as he is taken away to emphasize a better and more smooth story][/color] [strike][b]Sirens[/b][/strike][color=red][The repetition of Sirens here sticks out like a sore thumb. Possibly wail, scream, and roar are a few words you could use. But there's others, of course.][/color] of police sirens flooding the desolate building bring Patient 13 back to reality. A crooked smile is plastered on his face. Blood is streaked across the floors and walls of both the upper and lower floors, disturbing the once sterile, waxed look of the place. [b]In the middle of the lower floor sits the most disturbing vision of all: A nurse is hanging by a chain, some two feet off of the floor. Her blonde hair is streaked a crimson red, her face has gained a foul, purple tinge, and her lips pulse with intense pressure. Veins stick out on her forehead as her body hangs limp from the chain.[/b][color=red][Very good ending. It is somewhat definite. But you need to have more contrast to the weather Possibly make the weather in his recollection of some grim, tragic sort.] [/QUOTE] It is well written, as always. Just off in some parts. It needs better transition in the middle, and it needs more on the weather. Otherwise, well done.[/color]

[color=red] Nice. :therock: Why only Shaun? You have the...[i]hots[/i] for him, now, Ginny? Hm? What about Mitch? What about Josh? What about all of the million of other guys out there? Why just him? Why? Uh. Yeah. That took 37 minutes. Amazing. You're really talented.[/color]

[color=red] How is it all a mess? That's the way poetry is to me, Mnem. A mess. It's my thoughts and processes on paper. I don't think it's a mess, thus. Anyways, I've just started on poetry. I have a long ways to go. I know that. Gah, there's never writing too much,lol. I suppose I do need to slow down. But if I want to go farther and ahead of where every other poet's at, I have to. But I do understand that I need to more focus my poems. But my mind isn't focused. There's so many things that go in and out of it a day. As for learning the styles and such. I have been slowly and painfully reading a book that teaches those. But I just don't find the overall way the book is written and shown to be entertaining. But when I get to college I plan on taking as many poetry classes as I can. I'm kind of sad that you don't like my style. Gah, lol. Ah well. I thank you for your comments. It's always good to be told something about my poetry. I just don't think it's a mess :p As for revisions. Yeah, I've thought about it. But to be true, I am scared to tinker with my poems. I am afraid I will ruin what was there before. But it is something I will and have to learn to do.[/color]

[color=red] I used to collect the Goosebump books. I also used to collect rocks. I still have quite a few. As for the Goosebumps, I sold most of them. Except for a few. I especially love the one where you grow and shrink. I can't exactly remember the name of it. But I love it, heh. I guess I collect my own poems. Or something. Gah Shy, I can be your hero, too. ^_^;;'[/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by gokents [/i] I also want to address enigma in the post reffering to the people urging war and "not knowing what it is." I want to ask you what makes you think you know war better than anyone else. You might want to take into consideration the words of a famus man and general who said that "no one loathes war more than the soldier." This is true of the soldiers families also. That said, I want to remind you that the majority of us who support military action are the same people who were raised in military families. (such as myself) Those who are protesting the war are usually the same ones who treat the soldiers themselves as bad people... regardless of your own opinion, this is the general demeanor of the anti-war protestors. With all the statments you made, I failed to see anything that supported the idea that Saddam should be left in power. Only the ideas that the "world" knows better. [/QUOTE] [color=red] Gokents, you have no right to say such things. How in the hell do you even know what the people who are against war think? Me myself--I know a life. I know and I care. This right here is why I hate war. It is so damn pointless. We are fighting over seemingly nothing that will be stopped. Saddam isn't going to get caught. Obviously I can already see that. It's just pointless. We lose lives so that maybe, just maybe there will never be terroism. There will never be hate. This is so pointless to me. This war. There's 38 or so other countries out there that are just as bad or worse than Iraq. Why do we have to point fingers? Why? You have no right to say that we don't know war, because I know you yourself haven't even seen war. So we're all right and we're all wrong. As for Saddam? Of course I want him out of Iraq. We all do. But war isn't going to do that. Saddam will just run out on his people and lay low forever. He's going to be just like Osama. Already lives are dying over something that isn't worth it. War is never worth it--at least to me. So please, don't point fingers at us anti-war people like we're not even Americans for our stance. A life is more than a life. A death is more than a death.[/color]

[color=red] I'm not going to say much. I'm just mad. War is terrible.[/color]