KarmaOfChaos

[B]Um... do you know how hard it is to respond to you when you edit the quote?[/b] [color=deeppink] You'll live. But I'll try not to do it again. ^-~ [/color] [b] Then the hate-crimes will start, and the "I'm a little opressed guy" will start, I'll be beat up in school, walking down the street. Everyone will go into an uproar. I would get introuble with the network that I said it on. I would never be let alone about it. People don't take into consideration freedom of speech. I would be told not to tell those jokes, or face persecution of the law. Freedom? Nope. [/b] [color=deeppink] That's using 'slippery-slope' logic there. You're taking the example to extremes. If you said a racial joke to someone, they would either think it was funny, or think that it was lame and they probably wouldn't think very highly of you for saying it. If you said it to a group of people, once again, they'd either think it was funny, or that it wasn't right, and they'd be silent for a few moments and the subject would move on, possibly excluding you. If it was a particularily rowdy group, they might get seriously offended and say things to you. In extreme cases, you might be physical danger. However, that's why freedom of speech is also a responsiblity. You should know when to say something, and when not to. The freedom of speech is there to make sure that no one's opinions are supressed, and that everyone gets their say. It's not there to allow stupid comments, although many people do that in the name of freedom of speech. [/color] [b] I heard it from someone else, and then I observed it. I also saw a written petition to remove every single phrase of god, jesus, christ, and other events that lead to religion out of our government, radio, school, and Television shows. Also, after seeing this, I observed it. Then again, paradimes could've gotten in the way with that. But the benefit of the doubt has been noted. [/b] [color=deeppink] Well I suppose this is just a difference in where you live, and what TV you watch, etc. I guess I'm not a very reliable source, since I don't have TV. I get snow, and that's it. Poor me. I guess that was a poor assumption on my part. [/color] [b] Heh heh heh he ha ha Ha! I'm laughing because of exactly how many times I've seen that happen! Yeah, it should be censored, but it isn't. Sure, their entitled to, but they don't have a choice there. Well, one can block out those channels from their cable list with modern technology, but I still see thongs and strong bikinies and milimeters-away from being porn material on conventional channels, such as topless women NOT in art, and in art, aswell as exposed men both not and in art. Freedom of speech protects that. And their is a difference between pornography and religious beliefs. But hey! Everyon can just say it anyway! [/b] [color=deeppink] You took my quote out of context. And you're being slightly hypocritical. First you complain that they're censoring TV too much and that that is not freedom of speech, and then you say that they don't censor it enough and that that is the result of too much freedom of speech. Make up your mind? The TV is a great example of how America is trying to surpress freedom of speech in all the wrong places. The TV is also a good example of the abuse of freedom of speech. Both ways, it's not a good example in how we use freedom of speech. [/color] [b] That's why you wish for it. I wish I could win the lottery. But that doesn't happen. But the internet is less reliable than the news. I know these risks, and take into consideration. At one time, there once was a unbiased media. But that has long passed. [/b] [color=deeppink] Wishing for something that's very likely not going to happen with no way to improve your chances is stupid. Sorry to be blunt, but it is. And if you're willing to search long enough, the net is more reliable news. Perhaps you're just too lazy? ^-~ [/color] [b] That law is also what actually gives us the freedom of religion. But with everything that is good, there can always be a way to use it for bad. [/b] [color=deeppink] Of course. That's the nature of all things. Try to use laws like freedom of speech and religion for their original purpose, and hope that others do the same. That's all you can do. And that's enough of me rambling. TTFN. -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Well, I thought I'd post a nice, holiday-oriented topic up. As you all know, Halloween was yesterday. My friends and I chose to go t'o'ting this year, and had a very good time. Later today, I was talking with one of my friends, and I told him I had gone t'o'ting. He proceeded to say that t'o'ting is childish, and he couldn't believe that I still did it. However, I think t'o'ting is quite fun. You get to walk around your neighborhood, talk with your friends, dress up, and you get free candy! Sure, you could go to a party and do almost the exact same thing, but I find something a little special about the tradition of t'o'ting, and I don't think a party could ever replace that. I believe that it's fine as long as you're still a teen, and possibly even into your early twenties. Although I will probably end up just going to parties after I graduate high school, I still enjoy t'o'ting now. Yet I have people younger than me calling me childish for going. So what do [i]you[/i] think? Immature or fun? -Karma [/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Genkai [/i] [B]Put it simply: Just because you are thin doesn't mean that you are necessarily healthy. [/B][/QUOTE] [color=deeppink] Amen to that. I'm the right weight for my height and age, but I'm not too healthy. During a recent doctor's visit, she saw my weight and was quite pleased, explaining that many girls my age are either over or underweight. I proceeded to laugh loudly, and told her that I consume, on average, 2 to 3 cans of Mountain Dew a day, usually get about 4 hours sleep on weekdays, sometimes less, and that my eating habits are highly irregular, and that I'll often go for 7 hours not eating anything, then have about 3 small meals in a row, each one relatively close to the other. Suffice to say, she was a little shocked. Thinking back, I'm rather glad my mother wasn't there for that particular visit. ^^;; However, this is how I chose to live. I fully aware that it's not healthy, and I really don't care. I'd rather live life and die young, than constantly worry about my health. Death is not something to be feared. As for the Atkins' Diet, yes, it works if you're trying to lose weight. Of course, starving yourself also works. I don't think it's healthy, nor would I ever, ever attempt it. I live on carbohydrates. My dad uses this diet frequently. He'll lose 10-30 pounds, go off the diet, gain it back, go on the diet again, lose it again, etc. That's the problem with all diets. Like Mitch said, if you truly want to change your body and weight, it requires a change in lifestyles, not a temporary adjustment. And diets often deprive you of a certain thing your body needs, while assigning you an excess amount of another. So, all in all, I believe the Atkins Diet, and all other diets, are a bad idea. Either make a full effort to be healthy the rest of your days, or accept the fact that you just don't care enough to do that, and be unhealthy. Don't go inbetween diets and not, that just adds undue stress to your life. And that's that. -Karma [/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Crimson Spider [/i] [B]I don't see freedom. I can't walk up and make a whole bunch of racial jokes just because I'm white. I don't have the freedom to do that.[/b] [color=deeppink] Yes you could. (unless, of course, you are crippled or some such, which I am assuming is not the case here.) But a) why would you want to? Yes, some of them are funny, when taken in good humour, with no real offense meant. But a lot of them are mean-spirited, and aren't worth repeating at all. and b) people's opinion of you would probably be lowered. However, you [i]do[/i] have the freedom to say it, it's the fact that you're worried how society will view you after you say it. [/color] [b] Something else I heard is that they are trying to make it so you can't say Jesus Christ on television. They already have it on all the channels except for the christian channel, which their trying to get them to say only god. Where's the freedom then? Even if it is poorly being enforced, it's still not freedom. [/b] [color=deeppink] I don't know where you heard this rumour, but I have a sneaking suspicion it's not true. And yes, TV must be censored at certain points, because many people do not want their children or themselves exposed to things. Even if you're just flipping chanels, what if you happened to flip through something with porn or rated-R material, and you had a small child in the room? That isn't right. People are entitled to having things that they don't want to see not shoved in their faces. [/color] [b] I have problems with the freedom of speech. You see, freedom of speech also allows freedom to lie. Why would we have the freedom to lie? What good could ever come out of that? Also is freedom of the press. That means that you get 1 view on things. Also means that they can not tell you facts, and also lie to you. [/b] [color=deeppink] Of course it does. People should have the sense of mind to know when somebody is exaggerating the truth, as the media often does. And you know, when you watch the news, you risk the fact that you might be lied to, so it's not as if you're not aware of the fact. Personally, I avoid watching the news. A majority of the time, it's just depressing, and because of the fact that there IS so much corruption in the media, why even bother? Yes, there are some channels out there worth watching. most are just trash. [/color] [b] (wishes for unbiased media who doesn't care about ratings). [/B] [color=deeppink] Not to be rude, but why wish for something that's never, ever going to happen? If you want the facts bad enough, there are ways to get them. The internet often has many sources that will be a lot more honest than a news channel. Again, you take the risk that you're going to be lied to, but if you go to the right sites, the risk is much lower. Try not to be so close-minded to free speech. It's a wonderful thing, and I'm incredibly glad we have it. -Karma [/color] [/QUOTE]

[color=deeppink] Q1: My answer would have to be both. Take, for example, atheism. A majority of society views atheism as morally and religiously wrong, yet they do not have anything to back up their belief besides 'faith' and the Bible. However, you can also have someone such as a serial killer or rapist. These acts are obviously born of something wrong psychologically, something disturbed in human nature. Q2: Of course, and I'd like to meet the person who says he or she doesn't. I procrastinate a lot, especially with my school work. My grades end up suffering, and it makes my life far more stressful. Do I like this? No. But changing such bad habits is far easier said than done. I also have a bad habit of skirting the truth (heh, lying.) Despite this, or perhaps because of it, I value telling the truth very much. C'est la vie. Q3, part a: Abuse of psychologically and physically altering substances such as alcholol, drugs, etc. Society seems to accept the consumption of these things more and more. People will go home so drunk they can't walk straight, and that will be considered 'having a good time.' Getting high is a fun group activity, just like going to the mall. This is mainly and especially a problem in America. People seek instant gratification, and no longer care about what their life is going to turn out as, or where they're going to end up, or how people will remember them, if at all. Another big one is careless sex. I can't believe people actually wonder why AIDS is such a big epidemic. I consider both of these things morally wrong. However, sad to say, at least half of America doesn't agree with me. Q3, part b) Yes. Untidiness probably isn't going to cause any serious problems, unless you're so much so that you leave boxes of food around, and get infestations. There are also various other flaws, such as perfectionism, that won't hurt anyone very much in the long run, unless it's to a severe extreme. Okay. It's 2 am, maybe I should go to bed. Let's add that to Q2...constant refusal to sleep. I swear, it's the insomnia...^-~ -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Name: Shine Black Callsign: A raindrop. Age: 19. Gender: Female. Alliance: Southern Vipers Biography: [i]They say she was born screaming. Not a normal baby's cry, but the scream of the damned, the insane, those who's mere existance in this world is a sin.[/i] December 17. It had just begun to snow. She was born in Trenton, New Jersey, right in the heart of that polluted city, the woman next door had just died from a drug overdose. Her mother died shortly after, the baby had taken the last out of her poor, abused body. The elderly couple that lived on the top of that aparment complex took her in, after hearing the baby's terrified screams. She was named Shine, after the snow that had just begun to shine and sparkle. Shine Black. It's really kind of ironic isn't it? Growing up, her friends were the druggies on the 2nd and 3rd floors, the girl on the first floor who's name was Suicide for all the slits on her wrists, and Cutter, a moody boy on the 4th. Shine would hang with the stoners on the second floor, cooking for them and talking about all the crazy things that made no sense to anyone else. Half the time they didn't make sense to themselves. Her favorite however, was Duffy. He always made her smile. Then she'd drop the mail off for the herion-addicts up on Floor 3, the back down to the first, to talk to Suicide. Actually, they never really talked. It was kind of an understood silence, as they drew pictures together. She suffered from manic depression. Most of the time, she was a spastic, insanely blissful bouncing off the walls kind of girl. But once in a blue moon, she'd have these bouts of severe depression. She'd jump off buildings too see if she could fly, and share a razor with Suicide down on the 1st floor. ...but the person she loved with all her heart was Cutter. He made her happy. Took her to the fair and showed her all the pretty lights. And when he was sad, she was there. Just like he was there to grab her when she tried to jump. It was a disturbed kind of love, but it was far more pure than the sick lust the world dare call love now. So Shine loved Cutter, and Cutter loved Shine. And it probably would have stayed that way forever. If he hadn't died. It was one of her suicidal bouts of depression again. And just as she started to jump, he pushed her away, back onto the safety of the ledge, and he fell. And that was it. After Cutter's death, Shine lost it completly. She burned the apartment complex, and ran screaming all through Trenton, Cutter's blood on her hands. She made it all the way to Stony Brook before the cops got her, and put her in a mental facility. Once she was there, the psychiatrists proceeded to diagnose her with almost every psychological disease known, and shot her so full of tranqulizers, it's a wonder she didn't die. Shine stayed in that place for 3 years, and after awhile, they didn't even give her most of the drugs. Just a dose of Lithium, and she sat there all day, staring with expressionless eyes. Every time it rained, her nurse would take her outside for a walk. She wouldn't go out otherwise. They say the day he died, it was raining that New Jersey acid rain. Then one day, she woke up. As if nothing was ever wrong. Right back to her crazy, blissful self. On her 18th birthday, she was deemed 'cured' and released onto the world, on welfare. She took back to her street life in an instant. Having already been a girl used to the darker parts of town, she took back to it instantly prefering the crazier jobs the mafia lords set out for her, and excelling at close combat with her twin daggers. She was also taught informal Wu Shu and some Kendo by one of her associates in the crime industry. Almost a year after her release, she ran into a man walking down the street in the rain. He asked her if she wanted to share his umbrella. She said yes. So walking down the dingy city streets, they traded life stories. An invitation to come back to Japan with him, to fight for something that meant a little more than her pathetic, sinful existance without Cutter. And that was how Shine joined the Southern Vipers. Personality: Spastic, insane, and full of crazy ideas. She's not afraid of people, and usually ends up becoming close to the people she meets, despite their doubts on her sanity, or her tendancy to become very loud. Shine is always up for a crazy stunt, some impossible thing, and somehow she'll manage it. Rather die young than go through life not really living. She'll often talk others into doing something dangerous, always walking the edge. However, there's a haunting shade to her eyes, an tale of sin and sorrow. A story that whispers on the wind, and is told through her tears on the days that it rains. She becomes quiet on those days, a polar opposite of her normal state. Weapon: Twin daggers with Cutter's name etched into them. Picture: [to be scanned] {Karma} [/color]

[color=deeppink] School is a dictatorship, not a democracy. Perhaps we should start a revolution? ^-~ -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Quite beautiful. The imagery is gorgeous, and you have done it superbly, something not a lot of people can do. The poem had a nice, bittersweet tone, (complimented by the fact that I am currently listening to the Moonlight Sonata). I kept getting the image of a child playing blissful in a field at night, and even though he knows that it's going to end soon, he's still so happy to be out there. Very good, I'm excited about seeing your other work, do post it soon! =) -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Ahehehehehheh...evil hamsters!! Most excellent. It's pretty uncommon to find a poet that can write both melancholic and randomly 'happy' things, and do it well. Okay...now to catch up on my reviews, as per promised. Frozen: Very intresting. The way you chose to present your theme was quite unique. I'm guessing that the underlying message is 'if I was gone, would they just forget about me?' Nice and original, I liked it a lot. Normally I would tell someone to break it up into stanzas, but having all your lines together seems to work, and actually make it flow better than if it had been broken up. Once again, nice job. What Happens When You Cross Halves: Once again, excellent and original. It's intresting how you view yourself. And the poem itself flowed [i]very[/i] well. A little random and sporadic, but still makes sense. Good job! =) Evil Hamster: XD Topic: Yet another really intresting one! You come up with very cool ideas for your poems. Contrary to your statement, I thought this one was absolutely wonderful. Everyone does have a 'topic' and it's useless to say that you're all encompasing. Or that you know everything. Admit that sometimes you'll be wrong. This was my favorite (besides Evil Hamster), and definatly a keeper. (I'd like to meet your uncle, he sounds like a really spiffy person. ^-~) Overall, the only thing I would do to improve your poetry is to edit them grammar-wise once you've finished writing them. It makes them easier to read, and more people are likely to read them because it looks much more professional and like you're serious about your poetry. If you'd like, you could even send them to me, and I'll edit them for you. And beware of not breaking your poems up into stanzas. It has worked really well for your poems so far, but that might not always be the case. Try and read over to make sure the poems make sense if they're all grouped together, or if it would be easier to read them broken up. All in all, great work. I can't wait to see more, and I apologize for taking so long to review your current work. I have a bad habit of forgetting things. Keep writing! -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Free speech is free speech. If Toby Keith feels that way, and wants to sing about it, then let him. That is completly his choice and doesn't affect me in the least. Although it is ignorant and arrogant of him to say 'It's what all of America feels,' that only reflects his stupidity, and not mine. If you don't like what someone has to say, don't listen to their CD, watch their show, whatever. And if you feel so strong about it that you feel you must argue, then argue. That's what free speech is all about. ^-~ And as for shows like South Park, they're parodies. They're supposed to make fun of serious things. Put a lighter view on them. Yes, they are offensive to a substantial amount of people, but those people can choose not to watch it. Protesting against it isn't really accomplishing anything, they're still going to do it. The only problem with free speech is when people abuse the right and get in people's face, and don't leave them alone. Yes, you have the right to free speech, but they also have the right not to listen. That is the only time when I consider free speech taken too far. -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Thanks for the reviews, again. =) I'm glad my poem spoke to you Arasoi, if I can do that, then it makes it all worth it. The last line of the first stanza in Accept is similar to a No Doubt song, although at the time I didn't realize it. No Doubt rocks my socks... Anyway, here's a short, melancholy little poem I wrote awhile ago, after I had been listening to Marcy Playground obsessively: [b]Tin Angel[/b] Tin angel, rattle your wings It?s such a sad song you sing Metallic soul you cannot steal Born without the ability to feel. Held up by strings Master puppeteer, Please hold her here Or else her fragile body might fall. Echos through a darkened alley Words that no one can hear Screams born of things you fear Plague the mind, it?s way too near Tin angel, rattle your wings It?s such a sad song she sings Damaged soul no one will steal Broken without the ability to heal. I?m standing here all alone I?ve been shoved and thrown I?m waiting for my angel Tin angel, won?t you rattle your wings? This is a nice little symbolic poem. Tell me what you think. -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Heh, yes, I figured from the poem you were no longer together. I simply meant I hope that you two work things out and stay good friends. Right now, my relationship with a certain guy is up in there, for all I know we might up dating, or hating, eachother. Anyway...enough of [i]my[/i] mindless ramble...on to your poem. Good work, as usual. ^-~ I know the feeling. Short and *sweet* nothing incredibly fancy, just getting it out of your system. I particularily liked the last stanza, with 'depression's finale.' Very intresting word use. =) I must say though, Demon Song is the best so far. Keep writing! -Karma [/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Charles [/i] [B]Not in South Jersey. Mos' of us ain't speak with no accent like that. We smoov. You can specifically tell that North Jersey is nothing like South Jersey when you used the word beautiful to describe it. . [/B][/QUOTE] [color=deeppink] Oh yes Charles. Incredibly smooth. ^-~ And yes, the word beautiful cannot be used to describe a majority of New Jersey now, South or North. Been to Trenton lately? * shudder * The ghettos in Trenton are enough to scare people born in downtown NY. But there are parts that remain really pretty. I try to stay in those parts when I go up visiting my old home (And my grandmother, who still lives there.) Stony Brook is still pretty nice. Either way...I'd rather live in NJ than SC. I miss my snow. -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Ah, once again, great work! Very nice, how you change, and how your thoughts, go from one side of the spectrum to the complete opposite, yet still stay in the same theme. I have a feeling this guy must mean a lot to you. ^-~ I wish you the best with him. Don't you just hate when they start out so loving...and then drift away? Aya. C'est la vie. -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Wooo! Halloween rocked. I have enough candy to last me awhile...* joy. * As inspired as I was to write a Halloween poem, I ended up writing one about a guy. Basically, I like him, but he's ignoring me. Long story. Read the poem and see if you can figure it out. [b]Accept[/b] I stepped onto this edge so oblivious With thoughts only of you Entranced in the enigma Without realizing you were a darker shade of blue. For a moment I was flying And at the same time dying Drowning inside of us Mixed emotions are the hardest to show Hurt comes from all the things I should have known. And now that you've pushed me away Your indiffrence hurts me more than anything you could ever say I can't accept the fact that this wasn't real I want you to feel I need you to want the same things I do. Defeated at every turn No more trust, love, or concern Just a blank stare from your eyes And then you look away. The heartless part of me The numbness no one can see Keeps saying that I need to let go Accept the things I should have known. But your face is imbedded into my eyes Your voice always speaks in my ears And the little part of your soul that you bared Always seems to calm my fears. I can taste the faded trace of your lips Feel the soft edge of your hips Right beneath my fingertips And it's driving me insane. You lead me around like a blind fool I think I might've heard the whisper Of a promise A whisper, and then it was gone. So long, so long What a sad song. And all the things I should have known All the things I learned before I lost them in your eyes Lost them in the breath of a sigh. Let down my defenses inside your soul, Swallow me whole Take my heart and destroy it Kill me with a single blow Because that would be so much more easy Accepting your rejection is more than I can bear. I can't accept all the things, That I really, should have known. Okay. Have a good 'day after' everyone! -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] As tired as I was before, I am even more so today. * posts her poem and scoots off to bed for a quick nap before trick or treating * [b]Game (The Art of Suicide)[/b] Tic-tac-toe on my wrists Slits on my fists The blood paints a game Of the suicidally insane Move your king, he's in check, Slowly, so slowly, you're a wreck And now we're falling into Candyland Mommy's pills spill in my hand All the pretty colors... Gambling with 9mm Russian Roulette 1 out of 6, will you be next? The art of chance, a dangerous dance; With fickle, Lady Luck. The art of suicide is just a game. Yea. Okay. Sleep. Happy Halloween y'all. -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Wow. Really awesome. Great rhyming, wonderful flow. And you can tell you know what you're talking about, you know what it feels like to deal with someone like that. I must say...having dealt with people like that *coughmymothercough * it has to be one of the most frustrating things in the world. Because they always think they're right. Gr. Anyway, I really felt your poem. Great job. I'd like to see more of your work! -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] I was born and raised in Stony Brook, New Jersey. (About 40 minutes away from Trenton, and an hour from Princeton, depending on which way you go. I've taken some pretty wild shortcuts.) At the tender age of six, I was torn away from beautiful, snowy, northern home where I had grown up speaking the New Jersey accent(yes dahling, we spaek like tis), and the fast paced walk of the New Jerseian, and set upon such a hellfire as my small mind could not have comprehended: South Carolina. Here, it is not hot until you've past 98 F. A hoodie is perfectly acceptable all the way into the high eighties, and 70 F is considered chilly. And in the summer, the air is so damp and humind, you have to focus on breathing 24/7. Not to mention...the nearest thing I've seen to snow was this little white fluff that barely showed up against the grass. It was so tragic, seeing all the southern-born children play about in it like it was something amazing. I've seen more frost in my freezer. However, they seemed to think it significant enough to cancel school. I later found out that it had snowed exactly 1/8 of an inch. My summers however, are spent in beautiful San Francisco, Burlingame, and Hillsbourough. How I adore California. Even if they do go into hysterics everytime it goes over 5 degrees below or higher than 70 F. And there are so many hills it's enough to drive me into a neurotic mess. (long story.) And that concludes my epic tale. Fin. -Karma [/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Sara [/i] [B][size=1]I love [i]language[/i]. Words fascinate me. I get all giddy and stuff, it's funny. *laughs softly* But, yes. For me, it's not really about how [i]useful[/i] a language would be. I mean, I went to Germany this summer and had no trouble communicating at all when I used English. (Which I generally made a point of not doing, because it sort of defeats the purpose of being in a country where English isn't the official language.) It's just that fact that [i]knowing[/i] it would be so [i]awesome.[/i] Heck, I'd even specifically find a job that required the use of another language if it meant I'd be able to learn it. Heh.[/size] [/B][/QUOTE] [color=deeppink] I agree completely. Writing is an art form, and languages are the different mediums of it. I adore playing with words, and combining phrases from several different langugages. And the idea of being able to speak to someone in a different tongue is just...amazing. Yea. Anyway. And as for German not being useful - I will fully disagree. Many products from Asia get shipped to Germany before they come to America. So Germany is, in essence, the middle man. Somewhat like the Italy of the Renaissance world. Plus, not only Germans speak German. The various small countries surrounding Germany (ie: The Czech Republic) also speak German, as do parts of France. And here's an intresting fact: Both English and German are based on Old Germanic. Not Latin, as many Americans believe. During the 1500's(I think, I might be off) [i]both[/i] the English and the German languages integrated many French words into their language, and since Latin is the basis of French, people get the misleading idea that English comes from Latin. But the only languages that come from Latin are the 'romance languages' (ie: Spanish, French, Italian). So German is really far more like English than, say, Spanish. And yes. German has really neat words. Like the word for glue(kleibstoff) literally means 'stick stuff.' Heehee. Mitch, you're wrong. Schade is [i]so[/i] much cooler than Eheu. Schade owns Eheu. Do not deny it. ^-~ -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Nice. I just love those moments of amazing realization, when you just feel it hit you, this wave, like a tsunami. Something you never knew before, and in knowing it now, you feel as if just one more piece of life has been put into to place. =) -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Ick, I'm tired. Here's my poem. [b]Beautiful Suicide[/b] Your death is embedded forever in my mind a beautiful tragedy your crimson blood is the perfect paint for a sick masterpiece. metallic finger paint colored red life is bled slowly through your veins. scar tissue and lovely pain write it on the walls slowly salty tears do fall nails scraping against hardwood and alone I stood. This is your beautiful tragedy My insanity Pure and sinful An act of bravery. And still of cowardice. The beautiful paradox The beautiful suicide. Mainly the result of Mitch messing with my mind. I'll get you Mitch...^-~ -Karma [/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Mitch [/i] [B] He is a murderer. His leather seats dash his car like a cozy sofa. The dashboard is litten up in a neon fizz. And he is a murderer. He sits with his head going nowhere, his thoughts reoccuring to flashes and sparks, all litten up but just there, like his dashboard. Like his entire life. Inside his mind the metal messenger of death is ringing. And he picks it up. A little clang and a little clatter. [/b] [color=deeppink]Very nice imagery here. You manage to leave undefined whether or not the weapon of choice is a gun or a knife. Good job. [/color][b] [i]Hello[/i]... Little deathbirds whisper in his head, the hollowed-out skulls of memories. In his mind he can see the messenger of death in his hands, he can see himself speaking to it, telling it all he wants. All he loves. All he hates. And the messenger smiles, he can see it as he hears it. A small uplift of small cheeks, a big grin, a qauvering grin, like a beating heart. [/b][color=deeppink] I love this part. I can see the person sitting in his car, voices in his head as he mumurs all the thoughts he couldn't say to anyone else to the gun/knife. [/color][b] In his mind he can see the wound seeping into him, like acid poison, like crumbling, skipping stairs, falling one by one in an endless depth. He can see it taint and bleed and spasm and kill. He can taste the smell of gunpowdered wishes, like snow falling endlessly and helplessly and scentlessly in its dead, flittering white. He can see white covering him, like a coat, and blackness right on his eyes, his beady, empty eyes. He can feel splattering, mangling wishes and dreams and brainmatter strewn about, a murderer's art, a picture only blood could paint and blood could finger. [/b][color=deeppink] Once again, clever vagueness. Is he pondering death, or is he already dead? Perhaps he is already dead in his minds' eye. The last line is particularily vivid and beautiful. [/color][b] [i]Bang[/i] [/b][color=deeppink] Nearly fooled me. But not quite. [/color][b] He can hear the bang in his mind. He can hear little voices, a small choir of whores, telling him to stop, to end, to resist, to cease. To not give up. The whores were empty hearts, red bloodholes in his mind, faded kisses that nourished nothing, only cold skin. They were white as paper, thin as ribs. Little bases that gave his face a head. Little cements that glooped in an endless loop, so frantically, so quickly. And they were all drying, all melting, and all tears as they stood around and moped and sulked by a now filled piece of Earth. By a murder's rug, and his stone home. [/b][color=deeppink] Again, beautiful imagery. The little voices...the whores. Contradicting his fragile conviction. And yet he knows that their promises are empty, that they bring only sadness even in their songs of hope. Such tragedy. [/color][b] The hate that rises through the pavements. The little cats that are as feline as love. The little slips of paper of a torn up test grade, buried forever in a trash can. A bottle of soda smeared with fingerprints, small, tedious fingerprints. A little boy with a little heart and a little life doing handstands in the rain, his hands wet with enthusiasm. A bigger boy, tall as the moon, short as the ground. But gravity always wins. [i]But gravity always wins...[/i] [/b][color=deeppink] My second favorite part. Where he truly realizes that there is no hope. Gravity must always win. The little boy keeps dancing in my mind...doing his endless handstands in the rain. [/color][b] Between his eyes I see his brain, a silent tape in the open breeze. Spinning like a pinball in a machine fed too many quarters and too little love. Spinning like a twirling, spasming girl kissing and wooing with endless amority. I see a tape unraveling like a red carpet on a short stair that ends as soon as it begins. I see a tape playing with its sound dying, its wheels overused, overknown, overneeded. [/b][color=deeppink] My favorite part. I can see all the random thoughts and memories just whirring through his head. It's so symbolic, with the tape reel and the pinball machine. He's on a drugged, dazed overdrive, his emotions spinning away. This was just amazing. [/color][b] I hear a man in the classroom singing, "Lalalalalala listen to yourself, go on and on as if you spoke to someone else." I see flashes, endless lightbulbs burning out and preparing to be dead and gone forever and ever. I see metal in the cold night, dancing on his closed eyes, dancing with his brain in a slow dance that never ends only when it stops. [/b][color=deeppink] He's about to die. What sad thoughts must be echoing through his head, as he sees his reflection in the cold metal? Such sad eyes. [/color][b] He thinks of all the people in life. He looks at them like knives, too sharp and growing too dull, one day to be broken forever. Tears touch his mind like a lost ocean, but he pushes them back, he pushes them back in a wave of water, a wave that will cover everything in its hands. [/b][color=deeppink] Water against water? Memories against emotions, it makes them all numb. [/color][b] He grabs the messenger of death for real this time. He winces in anguish, in some last plea, in some last wish, some last dream, some last could have been. He pauses for a moment longer, like a sloth, slowly, coldly. Movies are playing in his head, movies just as powerful and moving as any other. Memories face him and touch him and grasp him like an old man too dead to know what he's doing. [/b][color=deeppink] A last breath of hope. Fading...and yet you're so desperate to hold onto it. Clinging to that last bit of air in your lungs. It's fading so fast. I like the last line. It's very real...it brings life to imagery. [/color][b] And then he puts the metal messenger to his head. He places his finger over the trigger like a teacher first grabbing chalk, first teaching. His finger lays on the little slab of the trigger, uncertain and capable of its potentials. Uncertain and capable potentials that will kill other uncertain and capable potentials. Like a sigh that turns to a scream, bloodcurdling and cold as hell. [/b][color=deeppink] Yet this is my favorite too. The part with the new teacher first grabbing the chalk is such an intresting metaphor, it conveys the meaning beautifully. And then the uncertain and capable potentials of the gun's bullet...killing the uncertain and capable potentials of the young mind. So alike and yet so different. The last line was amazing too...I guess this ties as favorite. [/color][b] With a twitch of his brain his muscles move the trigger back forcefully with his finger. Little shadows dance and recede. Little memories breathe one last breath then cough and die. Hands move and wiggle for the last time. A face moves and licks and breathes for the last moments and fades to just another rag doll, just another doll that was stuffed and nothing and dead. [i]Bang[/i] The bang is sudden. Sudden like a wrenching, decayed ghost appearing and showing its face. The red is all over the car, the bullet a cannibal to its own end. The murderer a murderer to his own end. The blood is all over; it is all over his face, all over his hands, all over the ground. A spaghetti of brain matter paints the leather seats, brain matter that once was. That once had a being. That once danced like a neon sign. He squirms for a while longer. Then there is nothing. Nothing but a lone car in a lone road with its litten dashboard, just sitting. [/b][color=deeppink] A beautiful massacre. A macabre masterpiece. The blood is sinful and pure, an act of cowardice and of bravery, the ultimate paradox. Beautifully dark imagery here. So very gothic. [/color][b] A few days later, snow fell, a confetti parade for the devil. A purgatorial white that scattered and clawed in a gnawing cold, cutting the air with a dead breeze. It fell like one last sneeze, showering the world in the white of bone, in the purging color of white. The snow ate at us all, chewing and munching on us. All of us food that hasn't died. All of us paralyzed. [/B] [/QUOTE] [color=deeppink] Twas most amazing Mitch. What can I say? You rock. ^-~ -Karma {PS: I was listening to Beehtoven when I wrote this. Pretty neat effect.} [/color]

[color=deeppink] Okay. It's running out of angelfire now. Hopefully I'll be able to run all my images out of there. Sweet jebus...this is getting old. (One is constantly reminded of the Verizon commercial: Can you hear(see) me now? Gooooood....) -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink] Okay, I finally found a way that works. I'm just running them out of my file manager on geocities. Why didn't I think of that before? ...I guess it's just the stupidity setting in. ^^;; Thanks for all the help/tips/suggestions. I'm much obliged. -Karma [/color]

[color=deeppink][font=arial] Back again. With another poem. ^-~ [b]Emotion[/b] I sat here staring at these walls Feeling left a message, forgot to call Emotion drifts through me like water As I sit here in a daze Life is just a phase A word becomes a phrase The phrase expresses emotion Emotion trascends the words Action transcends the emotion So what you say is not what you do And what you do is not what you feel Do what they tell you to Never be true Living life as a lie Normalacy is a falacy Emotion explodes Rage destroys fear Happiness ignores it Sadness doesn't care And now the fear isn't there. So one by one emotion melds All the memories in my head As I lay here in my bed It becomes a many colored metal Liquid metal Amorphic Ever changing, and omnipotent Perfection in imperfection, and not a dent Ready to sharpen and kill Ready to engulf and thrill And ready to soften and heal. Always feel. I'm sittting here staring at my walls Pondering all my falls And I realized, That I wasn't really falling, But that I had learned how to fly. This poem is a result of the 'Which Emotion Are You?' quiz I took. I got happiness. * laughs * Go figure, huh? Kyo - I haven't had time yet, and I'm way too tired to give poetry the attetion it deserves tonight. I promise I'll get to it tommorow though. =) -Karma [/font][/color]