Mitch

[color=red] Dessy got most of what I was going to say, so I'm not going to repeat it all. :Gives dessy a pat on the back: Good job, slave. :)[/color]

[color=red][size=1] Well, I haven't had very much inspiration going for me lately, but I wanted to get another poem out. So this one I wrote mostly with Sara in mind, so I'd like to dedicate it to her. Basically it was dully inspired from Led Zeppelin's "Stairway To Heaven." It's nothing great, but it's something:[/size] [b][u]The Stairway[/b][/u] Under the stairway she walks soon The moon glimmers and light shines She takes her hand and there is a sigh Somewhere far off the wolves howl There's a stream by the steps A tree on the side the songbird sings He sings and sings as the tree rusts kept Branches fall and the bird caws She comes down the hill and finds the tree Her head is humming and it won't go Because she doesn't know The bird has fallen and the wolves howl The moon shines and singing drowns She's climbing a stairway And there's a wind on down the road There sings the bird and the wolves know The road's made of stone She takes her hand and holds on sure The bird flies and tries to sing Broken wings the branch slinged She takes her hand but the road's slipping down Here head is humming and it won't go The bird's singing is there and it comes soon How shroud the stairway is and the road leads And when her hand's on the road the stairs are there Her hair feels and she won't let go The water is stone and the bird is owned She hears him singing on the brook by the bough There's the songbird that sings Branches fall and stairway leads Wolves wander the stair's side She can't wander or else she'll wind She won't fall now the humming won't go The songbird is closer than the moon and sun see She comes to the tree and maybe she can't The bird died and the wolves scant She takes the bird and gives him a hand The stairway leads and the bird is demand Her head is humming and it won't go The sun and stars are black and shine Stairway leading on the line She climbs those steps soon How shroud she was as the bird sang The stairway leads but the tree is gone The stairway leads on but the wolves long She takes the first step and it is soon Moon and gone don't go The humming is on First step is bigger than her foot First step's bigger and should Falling down the bird clangs The cross echoes and she can't balance Her hand clutches on the hand Some voice booms and the bird stands Songbird and wonderful the words sang She fell and now she can't stand She looks up at the arms and she is grasped Light glimmers and her cross slides Songbird and wonderful stairway glows and dives She looks over and back as the hand holds clasped The wolves wander and claim but the hand gave She is hoisted and taken someplace the bird sings Now there's a look in her eyes And she can't stand but wings fly The stairs take her and the hand gave her Faith stands and some guide her The hand is true and he climbed there She climbs but without hands or feet There's a lady by the bough She falls and catches as the tree rusts She's climbing a stairway and she doesn't know The songbird sings and the wolves howl full All she needs is a hand over there It shines and shines and catches sand The hand takes you and catches don't go low Her hand has been catched and she knows The stairway catches and the hand pulls so She's climbing a stairway and it's high as can go Heaven is cloudy and the stone slows Cold burns and wind blows She climbs and goes one stair at a time The stairway to heaven sings and takes you as you come She can't let go faith comes but it never goes There's wolves and birds that sing on the stairs Sun and moon are dark and lighted stars There's a lady here demeanor is cold and bright as stone And she's happy as sad and there though she cares There's a leady that goes And she's climbing the stairway to heaven[/color]

[color=red] You don't give yourself enough, LA. This story does flow seamlessly, and it is simply and wonderfully written. I also like how you stayed away from using 'I'. Because I've found, many first-person stories use the word 'I' constantly. As I have. The ending was definite, but I felt I wanted more. Other than that, it was good.[/color]

[color=red] I changed a few things. I still might even change more, but this is pretty much the final here. [size=1]The night paddled and puddled all about Jice. He looked keenly at the familiar surroundings, breathed in deeply the wondrously fresh air. He had been here before. The same path, the same surroundings. It was like pure nostalgia walking along the path for him as he strode in his hearty walk stopping to peer at the beautiful forests, the wholly twinkling black-bottomed sky. This is where he belonged; this was where he had always belonged. The smooth and blissful wonders of nature. The leaves blowing in the wind's wonderful arms. Trees swaying and shrieking as the sun shown a fiery light all above and yonder throughout the twitting and twattering of birds. This was where he belonged. This was him. It was all a beautiful thing to him?the very laws and ways of nature. Even the small snap of a twig, the small hearty chirping of a bird. He loved every part of it. And here he was yet again, on his way to Aiken. Aiken had always been one of his favorite places to visit. It was a medium thatched town, purely and mostly a quiet farming community. But it was a great and refreshing place for Jice. He'd stopped and played many a tune on his sullen harp, he'd wrote many wonderfully serene ballads of pristine prose. There in Aiken, he could lie back, the wind blowing through his jet-black hair as he gazed up at the blue sky. It was very peaceful being in Aiken, and Jice had decided upon taking such a quiet landing for a while. So here he trod, walking and walking as he neared his destination. He was in no rush. He had been traveling rather slow, stopping and aweing at a stray animal he might come across, a stray age-old tree. He certainly was in no rush and nor had he ever had much need to rush. This time was his time. Purely and intently, this was his time. The road would lead him on, but it certainly would never stop him from spending a nice nap here or there, or stopping to write about some blissful occurrence. Or to even possibly let his thoughts wonder on some reclusiveness of adverted thought through some trek into strong-feelinged emotions. This, through and thick, was his time. And just in the nightly distance he could see Aiken a shadowy silhouette in the cold, steel talons of the night's eye. He stopped his mechanical walk and strayed an observant look at Aiken. Here and there he could see momentary flickers of light and shadows. In other areas he could see dots and spots of lights echoing and refracting all about the meagerly quiet town. Yet all about his keen sense of nature could smell something. A slight hint. His eyes turned intent as he looked upon the stray town. His mind tried to pin what it was he sensed so vaguely, but he couldn't edge it into his mind. It only gargled and grasped at him whispering so sullenly and low into his ear. Something was wrong it said intently into his logic, yet that something was so very far away from his view. Something was wrong. His eyes frolicked and danced around the town for moments longer, and he then turned his head to the sky. The once clear, star-sprinkled sky was now covered in a blanket of dark and deep clouds. Through this all Jice could just barely partake the luminescent moon glimmering slight in the backdrop of the imbued sky. He then sensed another thing: it was going to rain. He could not only sense it, but he could also feel it. The air was ripe and opaque with a hot and heavy feeling of iron-weighted humidity. Jice's eyes fell from the grim-ridden sky and he began setting on his way again, walking faster and more brisk than before. He now was almost in a slow-paced jog as he walked. Maybe this wasn't his time his mind reverberated fluently at him. Maybe it wasn't. Something was amiss, everything opulently and so validly pointed so. By the time he had come to Aiken's frontal walls, it had done just as he had foreseen. Rain. It was not just rain, but more and even higher, it was pouring and pouring in almost flinching waves. It was coming down so quickly and rapidly fast that Jice could barely even see, nor could he barely hear, anything. Luckily, he had a small oil lamp with him for such occasions as this. It brought him a mellow and slight light, but it was enough. As he walked and strayed to the gate, Jice saw a familiar shadow in a blur of rain and motion. He quickly caught up with the peculiar and seemingly remembering form wallowing about the rain. "Stop!" Jice screamed as he neared in close proximity to the figure, "It is I, Edjice Mitchells." The figure stopped, and peered at him with tired and narrow eyes. "Eh?" the figure said, surprised. It began padding closer to Jice, slowly and cautiously. "Who'd you say you are?" "Edjice Mitchells," Jice said as the figure's face appeared finally through the rain and the darkness of the night. "Why...you are certainly a sight for sore eyes. You sure are." He gave Jice a hearty smile. "Jice? Ah, it has been a long time, old friend. It sure has." "Same to you, Mayor. I'm sure glad to see you. But...I sense something is wrong. It may just be an overrunning paranoia, but then again, it might not. Care to elaborate, Mayor?" "Ah, cer?" The Mayor was stopped in mid-sentence as a loud and sharp scream emanated from someplace quite nearby them. The Mayor uttered a surprised guttural noise and a wide-mouthed, scared gape. "Come, Mayor, the noise was over here," Jice said. They came to some blandly standing houses to find many lone and traumatized figures standing about. The Mayor stopped and spoke. "What in the name of god happened here? What?" A dark and purely malevolent figure stepped up and spoke, his shoulders crossed. "Hah, it was our fox. Too bad we missed most of it, quite too bad," the man said, turning and striking a stare at Jice, his eyebrows raised in a questioning matter. "Who the hell is this?" he asked, anger tinting his voice. "Is this our guy?" "No, no, of course not, Lacroix. This, this here is an old friend. His name is Edjice Mitchells. Or just Jice," the Mayor said heartfully. There were some short-amounting gasps and wondering sighs. It seemed some of them had heard of Jice. Lacroix uncrossed his arms. "And why should I care? We have more important things to worry about right now. Calonice is missing." The Mayor fell some back, startled. Jice even let out a slight grimace. "Calonice? Calonice, the Rosary Knight?" Jice asked, surprise and grim grays both edging a biting nip in his voice. "Yes, the Rosary Knight," a solitary figure said from the shadows. "Come all, we must go to where we last lost track of her." Upon this calling, the party left, meandering off into the many back-paths of the forest some ways away from the gate. The figure leading them stopped, unfurling a long ashen bow. 'We are very near," he said, glimmering about the surroundings. They had come to a many intersecting path of age-old trees, bushes, and other fauna and vegetation. Their search was quite long carried out with the rain still coming down in almost as fast a pour as earlier. Jice and a few of the others of the party had split up with him to search one certain edge of the forest's paths. And as they searched and searched, Jice looked keenly about, using his in-tuneness with nature to get a nice and viewful perspective. As he peered, something caught the side of his eyes. It was just a far away glint, but he quickly focused on it. Jice began running towards the shimmer, the rest in his group following. The figure was gone in a quick and mist-aided flee. With the rain pouring down as hard as it was, Jice and the others could barely catch a view of the figure. All they saw was a blur of a shadow. Then nothing. Approaching where the figure once was, they came upon the body. "Over here!" Jice screamed, getting the others to gather. It was a gory and quite killing sight to them all. Calonice lay on the green, rainwater-laden ground. Her armor was brutally marred, a large, red-sweltered hole laced and etched in the middle of her chest. Her face was not even recognizable; the skin had been clipped and clasped completely off. The skin on her arms had also been removed crudely, and blood lay sheltered and death-ringingly all about the ground. She looked purely and completely in utter pain and brutality. Most of them looked away with just one sight of the bloody mess, others fell down and cried. They all felt this death; and they all fell and remembered it highly about their efferent and constantly reflective lives. And after they had had enough of this feeling incredulity and falteringly falling sight, they took her broken sword and hilt, placing it clasped in her bloodied hand, placing her hands and the sword's pieces squarely in the center of her chest. They then carried her body, wrapped in her various cloths, back to the walls. As the rain poured and poured, thunder began to boom ominously all about. "There is not time for a proper burial now," the Mayor said reflectively and riledly. "We shall have it on tomorrow's dark But for now, you all must hurry and begin your investigations. My heart goes out to you all farther than any of you know. Now, kindly, go!" They all nodded and approached the gate of the walls. All of their minds and thoughts were in another land, far, far, far away. They waited while the mayor spoke to the guards. Soon thereafter, the gates were briskly opened as the thunder continued to boom, as if trying to do some justice for Calonice's death. The rain, a cryptic following of the thunder, continued crying and tearing, pitying and injustice seemingly flowing from the clouds' bellowed tops. Once within the town, they did not waste a second of time. Upon the mayor's advice, they first went to the Hampton family farm. Alex, the one whom had led them near to Calonice, kindly introduced himself to Jice on the way there, and pointed out a few of the others. Xii, Percy, and Tylenia were all pointed out. Jice kindly thanked him as they came to the immediate outskirts of the Hampton family farm. Once there, they came to find a few of the Hamptons tired-eyed and awake, surveying and sipping cumberly from cups of coffee. One tall and sleek Hampton peered out at them groggily and wet. The other, short and fat, continued sipping from his steaming cup of coffee, acting as if Jice and the others were not even there. Xii "What exactly happened here?" Xii asked. "We ain't exactly sure," Gert Hampton, the tall farmer, notioned. "All's we's know is sumt'in' came o'er 'ere, or sum'tin' close ta there, an' mutilated our livestock," he pointed over to some fallen shapes. The short Hampton turned towards them, bringing out his hands. "Ah, Gurt, ya left sumt'in' out there me boy. They's or whatever the hell they are also did'em sumt'in' to our corn an' other crops, too," he also pointed to some far away shapes, motioning towards them. Everyone nodded kindly and went to survey the mutilated livestock. Once there, Jice bent over, Xii next to him over his shoulder. Jice looked closely at the fallen cow. It was a red mess of blood. The cow's skin had also been partially cut off, leaving a bloody and brutal mess; either that, concluded Jice, or it had been eaten by some stray scavenger upon the cattle's death. Jice took his hand and put it into the cattle's large, open wound where the skin had been cut. He flinched. It was...warm. Xii turned to him, her face showing wonderingly in the thunder-flash ridden, rain-trodden night. "What is it? Why'd you flinch?" she asked, turning her head in a questioning arc. "It was nothing. The thunder scared me," Jice said, sounding as truthful as he could. "Oh," Xii simply said, removing her head from the strange-arced position and returning to her examination. Jice put his hand back in the wound, this time going deeper. He felt around for any internal organs through the hotness, and strangely, he found none. Quizzically, he took his hand out, trying to piece it together, but finding nothing. After some more examining and looking, they all stood up, deciding upon searching through the crops. Reaching the crops, they found fewer clues then with the livestock. "With the rain coming down as fast as it is," Percy said, "we really can't take these destroyed crops for anything." Jice almost laughed at the man's strange and smooth accent. He hadn't expected it. Xii turned toward Percy. "Well, with the rain coming down as fast as it is," she mocked, "maybe I might attune that the obvious is obvious. May I not, Perc'?" Percy looked strangely at her. "Pardon? What was that, Xii?" "Never mind," Xii said, half smiling. Jice heard someone snicker, and he elbowed Alex, asking Alex who it was. "Relee," Alex whispered to Jice. "That's Relee." Jice nodded, and they all then returned to the farmers. They were still standing, drinking their coffee. They said their dues and good-byes, giving them a wave as they turned and set off on their way. Just then, a farmer piped up. "'Ey, you might go'n check out the tavern. There might be's some rumors for ya's to hear there that might help ya'll," said the short and fat farmer.. With that, they turned, leaving. Taking the farmer's advice, they set off towards the tavern. As they approached, the rain begun to slowly subside, and the thunder regressed into lightning. As they walked nearer to the tavern, Jice cupped out his hand, feeling the dropping humidity in the air. Yes, it was stopping. Jice looked up at the sky, noticing a small patch through the clouds. He stopped walking, the others going a bit ahead of him, then stopping, questioning and tired looks upon their faces. Jice pointed at the opening in the clouds. There the sun shone just barely tipping over the bottom of the horizon. The color was a lovely and wonderful orange-red. Jice smiled, looking beautifully at the sunrise. The others looked dazzeledly at it as well. Jice continued to smile, a tear falling down his cold cheeks. Another tear fell. And another. Jice took out his harp, his tears hitting the strings in a dull and sullen clang. He wiped his tears away with a swift wipe of his arm, and placed his hands on his harp slowly and masterfully. Sniffling and holding back his tears, he began to play a sad and sullen tune from the depths of his heart. Jice's eyes disappeared into his harp and emotion, letting the music carry and become him. The others looked wonderfully and serenely at Jice, some even crying themselves. Lacriox let out a guttural withdrawl and turned around, crossing his shoulders apathetically. After some time, Jice's heart felt eased, and he stopped playing, some stray tears still pelting and shimming all over him. He looked at the rising sun, and peered a side-glanced rainbow through the going clouds. His eyes stayed focused and intent upon the rainbow and the sun as if somewhere far off. "Come on, Jice, let's go," Xii said slowly and whisperingly. "Let's go." The party started walking off, Jice following hesitantly behind as the orange-hued, brilliant sun shown them the way to the tavern.[/size][/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Sara [/i] [B][size=1]Almost all my friends are taller than me--and I'm about 5'6. What can I say, I make friends with the "freakishly tall." ^_~ Whoo-hooo! I'm diverse! ....inside joke that none of you are in on....why do I post these things......[/size] [/B][/QUOTE] [color=red] Hey-ey, I'm about 5'6" as well. What a coincidencal little fox that is... I guess I could be maybe considered a friend by you :all: ... So I guess that means you have one friend that isn't "Freakishly Tall." Inside jokes are funny. They are so like totally yeah inside. Like yeah. :) Mmm...getting on topic. I'm a medium bloomer. I started around thirteen or so and am still going...so I have nothing to complain about. I'm happy with me. :Strikes a beauty pose:[/color]

[color=red] I listened to the song finally. There's nothing great or anything about it at all. It just doesn't sound good to my ears. Ah well, my tastes have changed a lot...So I really doubt if I'll be getting into them as much as I used to.[/color]

[color=red][b]Pink Floyd-[/b] "I Wish You Were Here." [b]Led Zeppelin-[/b] "Stairway To Heaven." [b]Pink Floyd-[/b] "Hey You." [b]Pink Floyd-[/b] "Comfortably Numb." [b]Queen-[/b] "Bohemian Rhapsody." [b]Led Zeppelin-[/b] "No Quarter." [b]Elton John-[/b] "Crocodile Rock." [b]Elton John-[/b] "Candle In The Wind." [b]Nirvana-[/b] "Lithium." [b]Nirvana-[/b] "Teen Spirit." [b]Pink Floyd-[/b] "Shine On You Crazy Diamond Parts I & II." [b]Led Zeppelin-[/b] "The Battle of Evermore." [b]Pink Floyd-[/b] "Learning To Fly." [b]Pink Floyd-[/b] "Sorrow." [b]The Cars-[/b] "Let's Go." ....This isn't really balanced. That was [i]very[/i] hard. Bleh...[/color]

[color=red] It's very cute. I just want grab 'er and touch the greenness. ^_^[/color]

[color=red] That was pretty good for just a first poem. It's even better than my first. It's pretty powerful, at least to me. So what I say is keep writing, you'll improve more and more as you do it. Very good for a first try.[/color]

[color=red] I've only heard "Lifestyles of The Rich And The Famous." The song is only so-so, and there's better bands out there anyways. So I don't like them very much at all really. But I may not have a good enough opinion seeing as I've only heard that one song. But there's better out there. Much better.[/color]

[color=red] Me like lyrics ^_^. It's the same as poetry to me. As for the banner, it is actually pretty nice. I like. As for what's wrong with Mudvayne, I'm really not quite sure yet. First let me hear some of them then I'll tell you.[/color]

[color=red] I like it except it needs to be darker. It's too bright for me to like it. My eyes like darker colors much better. Otherwise, looks quite good.[/color]

[color=red] Mmm. I do not see why this was moved here. It isn't about the TV show, it is about the death of a wonderful man. But whatever. It's still shown in OL....:Wanders off:[/color]

[color=red].) [b]1.)What thoughts or words come to mind when someone says, "Church"[/b] I really don't like Church to be truthful. It's just a waste of time for me. If I want to worship God, I will do it in my own time. So usually my thoughts are pretty negative. But if someone out there likes Church, go them. [b]2.) Give two reasons why you don't go to church[/b] Well firstly, it's just a waste of time for me. About the only thing I like about church is the bible readings and possibly communion. The songs and singing part, which takes almost the [i]whole[/i] thing is why I really can't stand Church. Also because, going with what James said, I don't think God would want it this way. He wouldn't want his ego to constantly be upheld and stroked. It's just not God. It's not the God I know personally. [b]3.) What qualities do you think a church needs to be a "good" church?[/b] It just needs to be a friendly and kind community basically. And they have to have a good Father. Because if their Father cannot give a nice good interesting sermon, then I will die. Because that is another reason why I like Church. But there are many reasons why I don't like church as well.[/color]

[color=red] Somewhere far off the children cry. Somewhere far off the sky isn't as shiny as it used to be. The world is moving on, but they've lost and lost--something is dying. The pure innocence of being a child ruffs through my hair. It blows in the wind and sways, wandering off. Something has died, it can't quite be pinned. It wasn't just a momentary death, either. It was something more. That man emblazoned more than just a man, he was an entire era. He was an entire generation. Far away I can still hear the tune play. Far away, maybe in years and years after and come, children will still smile, and remember. Mr. Rogers will smile that genuine smile, saying so suavely and wonderfully: "Won't you be my neighbor?" And somewhere, somewhere far off and gone, his grave will stand, the forefront to the death of a generation. And the tears will fall and tumble into a nothingness that will never be filled by any such figure ever again.[/color]

[color=red] Heh, I didn't say I'm [i]perfect[/i], did I? Sonnets just don't seem to be my thing, but that's because I'm so very used to free form. Yeah, free form's more my thing. As with everything, I need to practice writing sonnets more. Blah. As for the second sonnet, I found it to be a level higher and better. I can already see some small improvements. :)[/color]

[color=red] It's so-so, but Sonnets are hard for me to write, too. So just stick at it, and I know you'll improve. I myself have only written one sonnet, I'll find it and paste it here now I suppose. It deals with love as does yours. Most sonnets are about love, I'm guessing you knew that already, but yes. Some of the words you chose to go with the rhyming scheme seemed a bit stale. For example-grow and shadow just don't sound much alike when you say them except for the very ending--the -ow part. It really helps to have clearly stated words in the rhyming, it gives the poem more depth and a better rhythm and better sound. I know how hard it is to find some words that sound good rhyming together, but it's something that you can get better at with time. So just keep writing them, and you'll get better for certain. I know how hard they are. ;) Edit: Here's my sonnet if you care to read. Again, it isn't all too good, but ah well: [b][u]Knifed Heart[/b][/u] Upon my eyes the moon does glow and bestow this radiance which feel I do all around the beauty I feel to the ground and so below yet all the earth alas doth reply is surround Even though this does the earth still embrace grant as of god's eternal unend of surmise so warmly the earth doth penance of scant like a warmly father of long concise And is not love of a like size of edge? a glowing shine upon our steep mortal ties but alas a knife forever placed upon pledge that so gently is knifed doth swing of binds And I see thy radiance of that heart keeping love in knife of all wounded part[/color]

[color=red][b]Think of a desert...[/b] I got it. [b]Now think of a cube in the desert.[/b] Good enough [b]How big is it? What is it made of? What color? Is it floating in the air or flat in the sand? [/b] It is palm-sized. It is made of water. It is blue. It is floating in the air. [b]Not think of a ladder in the desert.[/b] I see the ladder. [b]What is it made of? Where is it in relationship to the cube?(on top of it. leaning againrt it.)[/b] It is made of bamboo. It has no relationship with the cube, they divorced ages ago. [b]Not think of a horse.[/b] Got it. [b]What kind of horse is it? Where is the horse in relationship to the cube?[/b] It is a black horse. The horse is licking the cube. Is this...pointless or what? O-o[/color]

[color=red]Mitch loves[/color][color=blue] blue[/color]. [color=red] Wow, I love that. There's not a thing I don't love about it, Gireate.[/color]

[color=red] Bah, I hate reality TV. It's like spoon feed for some innocent baby. And I know I'm no baby, brotha. So I say down with the system, or just down with the reality. I want more classic sitcoms of yesteryear. I want an easter bunny that really is an easter bunny if you know what I mean. I want something that tastes like Seinfield with another piece of cheese cake on the side.[/color]

[color=red][size=1]This one's for GinnyLyn. I don't know her too well, but I decided to try and write something for the situation she's in right now. I think I sort of over-did the rhyming scheme in this, but I suppose it didn't turn out too bad. Considering I haven't written poetry for about two weeks or so.[/size] [b][u]Muddled Mud Greener Dirt[/b][/u] Of the dirts here in my hand Up the gravity the grains prick For curdled I take your hand Of some dentation soiling wick Take some dirt Rub it in your eyes Take some hurt Rub it in your lies Sandstorm intentional look overland Rainstorm droughted turn into sand Blowstorm desisted fall overside I can Overland pollutioned smoke risen ran Don't take some hurt Rub it in your good-byes Don't take this dirt Rub it in your cries Chemically unaltered as the rain falls Organically altered as the mud growls It sticks and sticks on your hand Mud comes as acid drawls Mud sky he won't turn don't ask why Courses may change sometimes rain plies I look at your hand and mud dissects the corner ties Mud rain pats and she's risked high Overdosed as the dirt is gone Mud sticks as death holds brawn Overdosed, the dirt is gone Wooden taste as aftertaste utters on Two imagines weighting the sand Another try as death's land But sand turns to mud and it stands Mud falls hard and don't you know Far away and the dirt will go low Whispering in her ear it goes Everything blurs and the mud closed Dirt utters in asphyxiation Aftertastes utter estuation Falling over the mud catches her under The mud sky wonders and wonders why Beyond the horizon the grass is a dirt greener The mud sky keeps dirt and grime's sleet keener Falling over the mud catches her encumbered as keeper The taste is sweeter over the horizon The dirt grass is greener Forever wander as the dawn dwindles creeder I look at your hand and the mud is there Far off I see mud reality claim her hairs and cares And I know you'll cry while the mud holds sweeter I know you'll cry while the grass grows a dirt greener The mud rains while time holds it all away Someway the mud breaks and it all sways Flowers grow and headstones gray Walking back again where it was greener The mud rains while your hand is cleaner Your wary eyes still stray Her aftertaste defeated her The taste was sweeter Those nights of under die in sunder Somewhere off the mud tainted deeper The taste was of a tasting sweeter[/color]

[color=red] Placing all of the millions of scenarios you could give me, I believe there's two places they could go. There's those situations that are actually [i]critical[/i] to a relationship and/or a friendship. And then there's those that don't even matter one bit to how something is going. So basically, it depends on how difficult the situation it is. If your friend says they are going to go and kill themselves or something along the lines somewhere in the finality, you obviously don't want them to kill themselves. So you would tell them everything is going to be happy and wonderful forever and ever. That there is of course a lie, but on the other side, it is a compassionate lie somewhat. But more along what the lines of what Sara is asking. Would you lie if a friend [i]asked[/i] you to. That could be kind of contradicting and spiralling right there. I could have been lieing from the very beginning and then, supposing they ask you to lie--that's just a whole tangle of lies and other things. You see, people lie sometimes just for the sake. They don't mean it, but then again, then they don't have to argue. Basically, it depends on how riled and able to fight over someone else's ideals someone is. If it's a small thing that doesn't matter in the long run--such as liking a movie for an example--then I would be abriged to lie that I liked it just to possibly get the friend off of my case. And then again, it also depends on how high I hold that friend. If they're my best friend in the world, I would certainly not lie. But if I'm abriged not to care of what that person thinks of me, I will lie. But now, taking this higher. Say they ask you to lie and say you're something you're not and build a reputation as such. That there is something that changes other's opinions of you. That is a much bigger thing than just saying you didn't like a movie. That's being asked to [i]live a lie[/i]. That is a completely different thing in intensity all together then just lying about the movie. There's many different other ways and scenarios you can rank up to what Sara's asked, but they all land in one of two places. Either it's something that doesn't matter to the person who is being asked to lie, or it is. Almost everything, if not all, will follow into one of those two places.[/color]

[color=red]...Pah, it was -[i]25[/i] degrees earlier this week here. Not to mention the low was -35. Bah, I hate North Dakota's continuing immunity to strive at never cancelling school because we are so used to cold weather. -1 degrees is [i]nothing[/i]. Take it from...North Dakota, and me as well.[/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Mitth'raw'nuruodo [/i] [B]But....why do you deserve it? Because you say you deserve it? What if he had gone back and recounted [/B][/QUOTE] [color=red] Well, I'm pretty certain I won. But yeah, there's other good poets here on OB as well. So I can't tell you if I'm the best here, you have to choose yourself. I'm just pretty certain that I won.[/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by ssj3 [/i] [B][COLOR=green]hmm . . . someone seems a little self rightous, don't you think?[/COLOR] [/B][/QUOTE] [color=red] Possibly. But someone else seems somewhat...rude? It's not my fault that Shy's busy, so, don't kill me, I'm giving myself what I deserve. And if I'm self-righteous and self-giving, whatever. It is what I deserve, truthfully. Sorry for being true to myself, eh?[/color]