Mitch

[b]late[/b] it’s late tonight it’s late i feel tired hands beating down on me pushing over me it wants to break me i wanna go go--where they know wanna go where they know they know you don’t need to know they know you don’t need to know but they throw you down mud, dirt, you’re stained with their numb i wanna thaw sleep becomes me sleep becomes me dear its hand gives me more pleasure than yours sleep becomes me sleep becomes me dear its face gives me more to eye than yours what i see--what i see, how it seems with eyes stitched closed i see more-- how it seems the time goes by faster than it should-- what i see--what i see, sleep with me the night will hug us to hope that is not even there the dark will have an owl who hoos in the distance you will have your eyes on me it’s late it’s late sleep take me with your hand take me with your hand it’s late i’ll dream about the monster how it’s becoming me it’s disgusting.

[size=1][color=red] No, that post was for everyone. Heh. Glad I could help. Anyone who's gonna pursue Radiohead has my love.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=red] This is what I live for. This band is what I could only hope to find. This band is ******* amazing. It's ******* amazing. And I want to share it with you. I want you to know what I feel. To hear it. Know it. This one's about Radiohead. There's far more to Radiohead than just "Creep," as it's easy to guess many of you know. Far more to them. There's far more to them than just "Paranoid Android" or "Karma Police" too. The best place to start with Radiohead is either [i]The Bends[/i] or [i]Ok Computer[/i]. I recommend [i]Ok Computer[/i]. [i]Ok Computer[/i] is hit after hit after hit, after hit after hit, after hit, after hit, after hit. Every song on this album is just ******* amazing. It'll blow you away. When I first listened to [i]Ok Computer[/i] I hated most of it. I didn't understand what was so good about it. This is the best kind of music: the music that you have to listen to again and again and again and again to understand and love. When you listen to it enough and really hear the music, you'll be ******* blown away. From "Airbag" to "Paranoid Android" to "Subeterranean Homesick Alien" to "Exit Music (For a Film)" to "Let Down" to "Karma Police" to "Electioneering" to "Climbing Up the Walls" to "No Surprises" to "Lucky" to "The Tourist," [i]Ok Computer[/i] has all solid songs. The album's a ******* masterpiece as far as I'm concerned. Most of Radiohead's albums after [i]Ok Computer[/i] are. [i]Kid A[/i] is so very hard to get into, though. The music's just radically different in comparison to [i]Ok Computer's[/i]. You have to love Radiohead for going the way [i]Kid A[/i] does, though. It shows they're not afraid to take chances; big, large chances. And [i]Kid A[/i] is actually pretty good if you listen to it enough, as with all of their stuff. "Idioteque" off of the album's especially amazing. The title itself is amazing, and the song even moreso. Then there's "The National Anthem" off of there, a nice song. "How to Disappear Completely" is probably my favorite song on the CD if I'd have to choose. I still really like "Idioteque" too, though. "Morning Bell" is amazing too. "Treefingers," which is just ambient noise, is also nice. Can't foget "Optimistic," either. That's one of the more easily accessed songs on [i]Kid A[/i] most definitely. I also like "Kid A" the song, too. I like how it starts. The music boxes. Reminds of me childhood. What about "Everything in Its Right Place"? That's good too. Now, let us return to [i]Ok Computer[/i]. I didn't like this album as much when I first heard it. But now I realize it's a masterpiece. It's a modern day [i]Dark Side of the Moon[i] in the sense that it's the main album Radiohead's probably going to be remembered for. It's also like [i]Dark Side[/i] for the fact that I think it's what kept Radiohead alive. Without what happened on [i]Ok Computer[/i], Radiohead wouldn't have gone on to do what they've done. And continue to do. It is also a concept album. It's about Radiohead's disgust with Society and how everything's so mechanical, how this is what we're supposed to do. How no one really cares about the other, unless there's something more there. [i]Dark Side[/i] could also be considered a concept album. The album opens up with "Airbag." This is a rockin song. The line "In an interstellar burst/ I am back to save the universe" is especially catchy and makes this song memorable. The ending part, where it's just the music, none of Thom's trademakr falsetto, that's beautiful, too. A great song. "Paranoid Android" is a paranoid android in every sense. To me, this is a modern day "Bohemian Rhapsody." It's just like "Bohemian Rhapsody"--it's slow, it's fast, it's sad, it's elating, it's depressing, it's deep, it's shallow--it's so many things at once. And how fast those six minutes of the song pass by never ceases to amaze me. How the song can suddenly be so slow, then burst off, loud and blearing, amazes me. A great song. But there's more to Radiohead than this. There is. Just like there's more to them than "Creep." Or "Karma Police." Those songs aren't all of Radiohead. Almost every song I've heard of Radiohead's I've liked. This is not counting [i]Pablo Honey[/i], since I've never heard that album. "Subterranean Homesick Alien" is another mind blowing song. I like the instrumentals. That's what does it. And Thom's voice, as always. I like how Thom sings "I'm tired" and "I'm all right." It goes beyond words. This song's sort of mellow, too. I like that. "Exit Song (Music for a Film)." The most depressing song on the CD in my opinion. It's not even too depressing. It's more sad desperation than anything else to me. I like how slow it goes. How Thom sings. It's especially amazing when the drums hit, it sends shivers through my body. The way Thom sings, "You can laugh/ A spineless laugh" sends shivers down me, too. Then right after those lyrics, he says, "We hope your rules and wisdom choke you." The way he says it, oh my god, it's ******* amazing. It's just ******* amazing. How he says it all low, and it's so hard to hear but so easy, and how when he hits "wisdom" and sings the rest, "choe you," I love that. I like how the song ends: "We hope that you choke that you choke/ We hope that you choke that you choke/ We hope that you choke that you choke," that's beautiful. And how Thom says it. And the instrumentals. It's perfect. "Let Down" is my song. It's the one I've listened to the most on the CD. This song's really, really hard to get into. At first anyway. When you listen to it enough, it's ******* amazing, just like every song on this CD. Or almost any song by Radiohead in general. It's the best when you get through a lot of the meat of the song, and it's near the end almost. The part where it's, "You know where you are with, you know where you are with," that's where it starts to get me. I just zone out. It's just amazing. ******* amazing. I zone out and it's just the music. It's just me and the music. How this song just goes on and on, driveling, is beautiful. I really like how soundscaping this song is. One of my favorites. "Karma Police" I like. Although there's better than this. It's best at the end, when Thom just sings on and on, "For a minute there I lost myself." I also like it when he sings, "This is what you'll get when you mess with us." A good song, but there's better on the CD. And from Radiohead's other songs in general. "Fitter Happier" I like. It's just Thom's voice computerized, but it's a well-written what he's saying. Thom actually made this when he was drunk one night. I found that funny. I like the end: "Like a cat/ Tied to a stick/ That's driven into/ Frozen winter **** (the ability to laugh at weakness/ Calm/ Fitter, happier and more productive/ A pig/ In a cage/ On antibiotics." "Electioneering" is the most rockin song on the CD. It also works. I like the instrumentals the best. You don't even really hear Thom in this. He's kind of in the backdrop. What he says is making fun of society though. "Climbing Up the Walls" I love. I like how visceral it sounds. I like how Thom sings. I like how it's kind of dark. Another ******* amazing song in a CD full to the brim with ******* amazing songs. Listen to it a few million times. It grows on you like nothing else. "No Surprises" is my least liked song. And even though it's my least liked song on [i]Ok Computer[/i], it's still ******* amazing, too. The instrumentals always remind me of that song the Ice Cream man would play. You'll know what I mean if you've heard this song. The song's one of the more peacful songs on the CD, and is almost happy and enthusiastic. Needless to say, that's why I don't like it too much. Ah. And here we are at "Lucky." This is the best song on [i]Ok Computer[/i] in my opinion. It's a ******* geniusly brillian song, and anyone needs to hear it. From what I've heard, this song also means a lot to Thom. I mean, it is about his love, Sarah, after all, too. This song's deceptively deep, touching, emotional. It's so many things at once. It has great instrumentals. This might even be Thom's best vocal performance on a song ever, and that's a lot to say. Because to me Thom's an amazing vocalist. I especially like the end, where it's just orgasmic and just instrumentals. Listen to this song. It's ******* amazing. The last song on [i]Ok Computer[/i]. "The Tourist" reminds me of "Lucky" a lot in its sound. This song has simple lyrics, and does well to end the CD. Another ******* amazing song. [i]Ok Computer[/i] is pretty much genreless. You can't label this stuff. There's so much different sounds here, it's amazing. There's something here for everyone. I saw the CD for $10 at Target. That's a ******* steal. I'd be willing to pay upwards of $30 for this CD, it's that amazing and ******* wonderful to me. Everyday when I go on a walk, I listen to this CD at least once. As for [i]Amnesiac[/i]. I actually like the CD a lot, but then again I like pretty much ever Radiohead CD I own. Off of [i]Amnesiac[/i], "Pyramid Song" is a must-hear. So is "Like Spinning Plates," "Life in a Glass House," "Dollars & Cents," and I especially love "I Might Be Wrong." "You and Whose Army?" is also ******* amazing. Hell, the whole CD I love, other than "Pulk/ Pull Revolving Doors"--that song I honestly admit isn't the best of Radiohead's at all. I also love "Morning Bell/ Amnesiac." It's a remix of "Morning Bell" from [i]Kid A[/i] and is maybe better than the [i]Kid A[/i] version. It's hard to say though. I like them both as much. "Knives Out" is amazing too. The whole album's underrated in my opinion. A lot of Radiohead's stuff is underrated in my opinion. But I'm biased I guess. But seriously, give Radiohead some time and you'll love what you hear. At least that's how it works for me. [i]The Bends[/i] is my least liked album I own. And again, I still love [i]The Bends[/i], I think it's ******* amazing at times too. Just not as much as the later-sounding Radiohead. From this album I really love "Street Spirit (Fade Out)" and "Just" and "Bones" and "High and Dry" and "The Bends" and "My Iron Lung" especially. I love the whole CD. "My Iron Lung" is ******* amazing, once you get used to the part where it goes, "The headshrinkers, they want everything/ My uncle bill/ my belisha beacon." But I like "Street Spirit (Fade Out)" the most. Why don't I just say I love pretty much any Radiohead song? That's how it is. Give them more time, Tony. It takes a long, long, time to appreciate their later stuff especially. I still don't like it sometimes, but now I'm starting to love it so much. This is just the band for me. What is there to say. And I want to share them. Now, I was making another Radiohead thread last night. It wasn't posted obviously, but I find it funny that now this thread comes back to life. Kind of ironic. I so higly ******* recommend this band. I think they're far better than most anything I've ever heard. But then again, that's just me, and I reserve the right to think that. I've gotta go study for my ACT test tomorrow.[/size][/color]

I'm liked a silenced pistol when he talks to me. I've got a suppressor round my barrel. There's bullets in my chamber waiting to be fired. Think of the metal pistol lying on the floor, alone, and you get the picture. Imagine the shining metal, a window beside it, the full moon, its light shining off the pistol. And the curtains fluttering. Outside the windows crickets chirp. The sky's a somberly morose black void. The moon's held in the sky by gravity. The moon's full, the craters in it make it look like it's a face. A face I never knew Those curtains, too, they're held tight where they are, like the moon; they're hanging, by tape, since the curtains had broken off from wind. And the pistol's held to the ground by gravity, too. And it's held to the ground but its weight, and by its concealment. This is a place I live. It's a place of my creation. Of my conception. In my mind. In my mind, it can all be created better than what's created here. Here, in reality, it's all about reality. Misery. Servility. But in my mind, it's about much more. And it can be whatever I want it to be. Someone's got to put their hands on my trigger sometime, this gun. When that happens, there'll be the feeling of metal in their hands; cold metal, the feel of my metal reminding them of goosefleshed skin; the feel reminding them of snow, white-walling everything, frothing it all in cold. This gun in their hand will make them shiver. It'll be like it's so cold, their breath is seeable as it's coming out. It'll remind them of what death probably feels like, and how everything's eventual no matter what, for ****'s sake, you do. Russian Roulette is a fun game, isn't it? I think so. That's what I'd play with them. Spinning my chamber, I'd be twirling. Ashes ashes, we all fall down, right? Pockets full of posies? I'd spin. There'd be no doubt if I was loaded or not, cause I'm always loaded. Ready to fire. The pressing of the trigger is the like the pressing of the face to my face, the hand to my hand. The kiss to my kiss, the caress to my caress. Death is like sex. It's timeless and beautiful, ugly and naughty. Here in my mind it's genderless, it has no face, no meaning, but what it does. Its action. Putting the preconceptions of it all aside, and finding it's whatever it is at the moment. It's not pleasure, satisfaction. It's not release, finding yourself. It's just ******* death; it's just sex. Caressing and lovely, but naughty and ugly all the same. A gun is a machine. A body is a machine. Our bodies are like guns, our guns are like bodies. Isn't it possible to shoot bullets from the mouth? Bullets that're metal cold tearers of the heart. Metal cold tearers of everything. I'd shoot him if I could, then I'd shoot myself. And I do. In my mind. It's a mental bullet that's tearing tissue right now. Tissue that doesn't exist, but does. Mind over matter, matter over mind, over matter, over mind. It doesn't matter. It's the same. The bullet which tears is the bullet which rends. Can't feel the pain? Soon it will be felt. A gun that's got a suppressor on it. That's me. I've got the crafty trigger, the chamber inside to house the bullets, the murdering sentinels. I've got a grip on my handle, an ease of holding, so someone can put me to submission and to work at killing something. I'm a ******* killing machine. I give things life, but I'm a gun. Guns can give lives, but they take them away, too. Guns take em away, cold and breathless, and they never know what hit them. When someone grabs me, I come to life. In their hands, I'm a Houdini at escape. I slither back and forth. See the gun, and it writhes and moves. Deep inside it's the bullets powering the heart. The bullets thud with life. They're what make me alive. Those death-heads. They're eyes, beady eyes. Metal cold. The suppressor makes it so when I fire, I can't be heard. It's a marvel of design. One of those "silent but deadly" things. There's nothing more beautiful than silence, let me tell you. When the killing machine can be silent about what it does, that's the best. When you're slowly dying, effaced by it all, and you can't even feel it, that's the best. Death is a crawling spider on its web. We're all caught in it. Death takes us and wraps us with its fluid. Its web. Like spider-man, death's big and a super hero. As we dangle on his web, covered, almost in a cocoon, we're slowly decayed and turned to mush. Then death, the beautiful thing he is, takes us and sucks out all our inner organs, our entrails. He doesn't eat us whole. The spider doesn't eat us whole. We're left with our flesh, but it slowly goes away with our sad passing. It's such a thing to lament, isn't it? It slowly, so slowly kills us. That's the way of death. Soon as we're born from the womb, that's when we're wrapped in the web. We lie in there our whole lives. Most don't even see it. They think they're alive, when it's all purposeless. Understanding is purposeless when in the end, the spider kills you. In the end it eats you. Not whole, but eats you. Eats you all the same. Death is a mechanical enslaver. Think The Matrix, how Neo was in the pods. That's what death's like. Death is life, life is death. We sit in our own pods, connected with our own cords that give us life, to power the machine. The machine is all we sustain, not ourselves. It's all about a machine. Our bodies themselves are machines. Guns. We can shoot. Some don't have suppressors. I do. And I don't fire my gun myself, either. I fire it in the most subtle of ways. Ways that're hard to see, and clever. It's the way to cheat death: kill myself so many times before I die that when I die I'm already dead. I can feel it working, too. Working like death, the spider, works on me. I think the world would be better if I didn't exist. I'm meaningless. I'm just a gun, a gun with bullets in its chamber, ready to implode. To slither on myself, like a snake, and bite myself, inject the venom. Inject it to my veins. I'm already dead as it is. I'm metal cold. Nothing can break me. Nothing can warm me. I'm metal and I'm cold. Metal and ******* cold. I think what I need to do is go on a voyage to the moon. Von voyage, right? That's right. The moon's gray as the Earth when you think about it. The Earth's like one big machine, too. It's all like one big machine, sustaining itself with the cooperation of its nanomachines. You know how they say deus ex machina, god comes from the machine? They're right. There's some other, stupid, meaning to the word, but taken literally, it's beautiful. God does come from the machine. God is our bodies. God is the Earth. God is the way everything is. God is a gun. God is a bullet, entering to the head, going into the brain, puncturing in. It's all so vulnerable. So penetrating. In my mind it's a war. Revolutionary war, with the British on one side, the Americans on the other. I wonder who's gonna win? Don't you? I'm sure you do. Americans win. But not in this war. In this war no one ever wins. In this war there's more than just the British. It's an entire progression of wars. There's World War I, II, there's any war you can think of. Inside my mind it's all battling. The reds've got their guns, so does the other side. The guns hoisted in the air, berefted. The killing machine. A fist to the face. Blood running. A barroom fight in my mind. There's a fly buzzing around in there. Fresh blood. Fresh blood. A shark, in the water, smells it. In the water of my mind. He smells it and it smells good. He comes and jumps out of the water, eating it all, taking it to the ocean with him. The ocean. Saltwater. A killer whale eats krill, the shark eats the killer whale, the krill are eaten by the killer whale. Then, the world of my mind. It's changing. The sun turns to a big red giant, expands and sucks the water dry from me. No more water. The shark flops uselessly, suffocates, dies. He couldn't get oxygen from the water. From his decayed corpse leaps the homo sapiens. They're alive again. Muskets ready. Read to rip a new asshole. Blood, all the blood. The sun's still a red giant. Guns're still firing. I'm still a suppressor, I take in all the noise, but I never pull my own trigger. I don't even have control. They control it all. Not me. They've got control. The sun's eating their flesh now, as it's becoming a red giant, as it's progressing to its death. It melts them alive, burns their flesh alive. This is in me. This is in me, it's happening. A great fire. The burning. The pain. The great anguish. I can feel it. The guns fall to the ground as they fall to the ground, the guns're melting to piles of nothing, it's all melting. Being destroyed. Then the sun's just a white dwarf. The world that I used to know in my mind's gone. I look up from the nothingness to the sky. I'm still a silencer. I'm still a gun. My body's the gun. It's a visceral machine serving its raw purpose. Its purposeless purpose. Survival. I'm on a new planet now. Never been here. It's blood red here. Rusted. This planet's named from the God of war. God comes from the machine. War is a machine serving the purpose of genocide. Serving the purpose of killing. Maiming. Destroying. It'll all coalesce, all of it. All of it's a machine. I'm a machine that'll deliquesce. I'll decompose to nothing. Nothing that's something, but nothing all the same. The only winner in the end is death. Death is the winner. How can you even try to win out your machine? Beat the machines? Go beyond the machines? The machines are superhuman and were built for the purpose of keeping us in line, and keeping us in tune to the fact of our fates. We're just guns. Lying on the ground. The gun's able to be picked up, no doubt there. But the fact is, no one knows how to use the guns. Other than for killing. And fear. There's no other way for them. That's the only way it goes. I'd like the fighting in my head to stop. I'd like to say every part of me's died. I can't say that though. I never will. The essence of it all is survival. Useless, wasted survival. There's no reason to survive. To die is as good as surviving. Why not just shoot the gun at yourself rather than shoot it in your fear they give you? We're fools. Slaves. We're servile. Ancillary. That's all we are. Ever will be. I want to see it all end. I wish I could be here for the end. When everything ends. When death finally wins. Because death's going to win one day. What we have here isn't finite, even if the universe in my head's infinite, even if the universe out there's infinite. It's still finite. It still has its ends. Nothing can spiral on forever. When you spiral on, you'll keep going over the same things again, till you're driven insane and destroy it all. In my head, there's war. There's a coop. There's the systematic killing of six million thoughts, beings. It's all in my head. Nothing's real. It's all a joke. Inane. Funny. I laugh at it cause it's sad. And I cry with it cause it's hysterical. Bang. One day it'll all end. Bang, and it'll all end. Big bang, bang of a gun, what's the difference. What's the ******* difference. There isn't anymore. It's all the same to me. Mars is heaven, but it's mighty lonely. I think one time, I'll just go out and wander in space. A space odyssey maybe. I'll wander around. I wish you would just die. I wish I would just die. Well, I'm gonna buy the gun and start the war. Blame it on me. Blame it on me.

[size=1][color=red] To ask what is beautiful is a question whose answer shall come from many places. One answer shall bleed forth from one's heart. One answer shall eye forth from one's eyes. Another shall come forth from one's brain. Thus, when asked the question pertaining to beauty, I shall say that what is beautiful are those things we cannot fully understand, nor fully grasp. This, I believe, applies in many cases, perhaps. The real answer to this question is that beauty is perception: it is how one sees something and percieves it that one shall come to the conclusion as to its contained therein beauty. There is no absolution to this answer, for beauty is not absolute. There are few, if any things, in this terrestrial ground we call Earth that are absolute indeed, and beauty is not one of them. The things which are ugly can be beautiful. It may be an moronic oxymoron, but it is true: things that are ugly hold beauty. Death is beautifully ugly itself, an enigma which confounds and vacillates through one's head. The sight of blood is beautifully ugly itself, the wound, the blood flowing, the hand coming in and catching it. The place wherein most beauty lies is not humanity's machine, nor humanity's creation: the most beautiful things are those things in their natural place. When everything is in its right place, uninterdicted by superficial stymies, therein lies the beauty. Nature's natural beauty is the most pertinently beautiful thing anyone shall ever see: she is beauty. The way the leaves blow through the large, billowing, colossal trees, that is wherein lies beauty; the way a woman's body moves as she walks, and the way she may smile, or cry, at the sight of certain inert events, therein lies beauty; the way the sky looks, unclouded by pollution, unsuffocated by humans' devise, herein lies beauty; the way, from the sky, a humanly uninhabited forest looks, that is beautiful. Natural-found, things are most blithe, most visceral and left to be the things they are; and there, that is where the beauty is. When I walk, each day, for my two hour voyage through my familiar suburbs, and through familiar roads, I see the buildings, devoid structures of human creation; and I see paved roads, creation of homo sapiens. Wheretofore I look, I look upon things unnatrual, unbeautiful, out of the laws of nature. Therefore, when this feeling comes upon me, heightened in tune, I wish for there to be nothing here but Nature's buildings and Nature's roads, and Nature's creations, devices. Herefore, found on the street, I imagine, vivid, in my mind, what would it look like if there was not these humanly catered things about me. And I believe therefound would be beauty of immaculate, awe-finding appeal and pristine quality. But us as humans shall continue to build our Nature. We shall continue to deviate from our Natures. We shall continue to try and claim what we believe be beauty. Wherefore would we do this? Albeit it is a good cause, things are most beautiful in their innocencial states. The states where they are unherded, unforced to adhere to inane institutions, interdicitions. It is too sad--it is too sad, but All The Pretty Things Are Going to Hell.[/size][/color]

[size=1][color=red] April Fool's day is lame. The extent of my Apirl Fooling was this: Mitch: Guess what? Victim: What? Mitch: I killed your mom. Victim: You did? Mitch: Yeah. Mitch: April fools. Victim: Haha, funny. Mitch: I know. Mitch: Funny like your mom.[/size][/color]

[size=1][color=red] I've actually met the author, Dave Pelzer, in person. He was up here at Barnes & Noble signing books, and I got to meet him and have him sign the two books of his I own. I forget the name of the next book in the series, but I've read them. I still haven't gone out and got the rest of the books of his, though. Despite the fact of how badly he was treated by his mother, to me he appeared to be a usual human being. So even despite how horridly he was treated, he's still come out of it a good person. There is something amiable and inspiring about that. The book my be sad, but it is the truth. And the truth always isn't good. I'd recommend the book to anyone that wants a good book. It may be depressing, but this is the kind of stuff I enjoy reading. I recently bought two books about serial killers, and I'm going to be reading those. Even if you don't want to admit it, the worst things that happen often make for the most enthralling to hear about and know about. There's something about the unknown that drives you on to know it, and there's something about pain that lets humans survive. As a human being, I seem to thrive on my pain; it is about the only thing that keeps me going. Because with pain comes survival. . .[/size][/color]

You can't think outside the box When what you're thinking outside the box Is being thought inside the box And is contemplated in the box My past is my future, my future is the past; they all are the same, they all are the same to me. Still stuck in this box still stuck in this box And no one, nothing can pull me out. I won't let them I won't let you. It is useless it has no bearing it will only destroy a part of me. We're meant to be in the box and the box gives us life. It gives us life. I am childilsh; we are all childish deep at heart. Some block it drain it strain it bleed it all to destroy their heart. When they don't realize The heart that feels that is not numb that is not dumbed and bruised is the heart of a child. Children are such fools. When I look at a child I see their ignorance and I am jealous. When I look at a child and I see their happiness I am jealous. And I feel pity for them because one day One day A hand will rip out their hearts. Make them bleed Make them bleed. The machine. Will make. Them. Bleed. Their hearts torn out Their feelings numb. Dumb. The injury sustained And the need for an iron lung to mend the scar festering a new heart. My past is my future; my future is my past. There is no future left at all. There was no future ever left at all. The mistakes of the past: the history Will repeat itself over in monotonous mundanes Will repeat itself over in ill-gotten gains Will repeat itself over Repeat Itself Over Repeat itself over We are all suffering slaves. We are all suffering slaves. Suffering slaves given the promise of eternal life in heaven. There is no heaven there is no God there is no heaven there is no hell There is no God Earth is heaven Heaven is hell Hell is Earth Heaven is hell They turned it into a deathground where we waste our lives learning Useless information We learn Useless information When We'll die no matter what There is no reason to be greater there is no reason to be better What you are as you are born is what you are forever. Built into you is how you will function. The world only seeks to strain it, shape it more, and give you death. I will not die for years and years, but from this time I've died over and over and over again. There were no tears. What has happened Will happen Again What will happen Has happened Again Humans are flesh-heavy open-ready bleeding beings Controlled by their bodies, the machines. The fate of chains of fate of being. Humans are flesh-covered useless-living foolish beings Controlled by their bodies, the machines. I do not question who I am because who I am is what I am right now. I do not question why things are because why things are is because they are. We all carry crosses Like Jesus Christ and these crosses: bruise us hurt us prick us nail us rust us labor us shoulder, claim us bleed us feel us hold us learn us teach us show us murder, maim us And when, at last, us cowards have died our many deaths There will be the last. They will take our cross and nail our hands, arms, feet, legs into it And the blood will flow more than it ever has. Everyone is crucified before they die. Jesus Christ died for nothing. There is no heaven There is no hell. The Earth is hell The Earth is heaven. We suffer. We die. We live. We cry. We wonder. We question why. We eat. We sigh. We think. We buy. We do. We see. We grieve. We try. We are. We go. We show. We die. We still die despite all we are all we do. Intelligence will be our downfall. The fools are fools, but a human is the same as any other human. Fools. So be a world child form a circle before we all go under. Keep it all alive. This sucking, eating, dying land. This sucking, eating, dying race of man. Keep it all alive. This sucking, eating, waste of time, waste of plan. The sucking, eating, hoarding, selfish, intelligent, great, wonderful, useless, race of man. Keep them all alive. One day they die. All of them. Each and every one. And what was, and is, will be no more. I Every one around Near Every one around Near But so alone Every one around Near Every one around Near But so alone Every one around Near Every one around Near But so alone II Death was beautiful today Dying in my arms was beautiful today I felt you in there nestling around searching for me There's no one in there it's a he there's no me That's not me It is too bad when I die I must be reborn It is too bad when I die I must be reborn I'm not here This isn't happening I must be reborn Then the dying again will be beautiful Phoenix I The ash The fires The smoke, billowing, through the sky the brim of my flesh I am a bloody pulp a fleshly pulp a sucker for you to suck How many licks to the center? How many licks to the core? I don't care anymore I don't care anymore III five plus five gives you a ten ten plus ten gives you a twenty a quarter plus a dime gives you thirty- five one hundred plus two thousand gives you two thousand and a hundred but through the numbers, their logic, their predictable way, i cannot add you, subtract you, divide you, multiply you. i cannot combine you cannot lessen you cannot cut you to pieces cannot make you muliplied IV they said the smallest form of matter is the atom well you are the smallest form of matter they were wrong they were all wrong we're not about numbers we don't need numbers all we need is instability, unpredictability, something warmer we don't need numbers the number of times i've lived and the number of times i've lied and the number of times it has happened is insignificant we don't need numbers we do not need facts we are the numbers we are the facts we are not faceless we have faces we have faces we are not faceless we are not faceless we have face [b]The Human Psychology They Will Never Come to See[/b] I I gag myself to see myself to show myself that I am myself as I see myself I feel myself to know myself to be myself as I want myself I feel small I feel small I see small I see small I feel small I see small I look at myself through myself in myself to have myself as I be myself I kill myself to bleed myself to thin myself to hold myself as I bruised myself Oh I feel I feel small Oh I feel I see small Oh I feel I feel small Oh I feel I see small I feel small I see small I feel small I see small I see small in these arms I feel small in these arms I see small in these arms I hold myself in my arms I hold my arms on my back in my arms I hold myself cradle myself to feel I hold myself I feel myself to feel To feel I do it to feel To feel I do it to feel To feel to feel I do it to feel Hold me I hold me Hold me I hold me Alone Hold me I hold me Hold me I hold me Alone Hold me I hold me Hold me Alone Alone I hold me to myself on myself in myself around myself over myself Alone This is myself These are myself It is myself All of it is myself No one can take myself Steal myself Be myself Know myself I see myself I am myself I feel myself I see myself I am myself I feel myself I feel myself to touch the touch to my fingers I feel myself to touch the touch to my hands I feel myself to touch the touch to ease the feeling to make the feeling to create the feeling I feel myself to myself on myself all over myself to touch the feeling to let it be alive to myself I have myself for myself I have myself I have it for me I have myself I have it for me None of it is here but me None of it is here but me But me But me But me Release me Please Release me Please Please Oh please Release me for myself to myself on myself around myself all over myself Release me II Shut your eyes the lashes closed Shut your eyes the lashes closed the sockets closed the pupils unexposed Shut your eyes the lashes closed Shut your eyes the lashes closed I see with my eyes closed I see I see with my eyes closed I see How can this be? How can this be? I see with my eyes closed I see I see with my eyes closed I see It is you to me to I to these It is me to you to them to we It is I to who to some to these It is all to nothing to every to we It is not here not there not about It is not there not here not about I pout I cry I spout I bout I cry I spout I bout I pout Who are these and those This and that that is we hold Who are these this that and those When eyes are shut and lashes closed Who are you to me to I to them When eyes are shut and lashes closed Exposed Be exposed Open wide be exposed Exposed Be exposed open wide be exposed I see you in that pose I see you wearing a rose I see you in that pose I see you wearing a rose The heart speaks louder Than what is seen The heart bleeds louder Than what it means The heart knows better Than what it breathes The heart is greater It is not a machine It is alive it is a being The eyes speak louder Than nothing there is The eyes blear louder Than nothing they hear The eyes see nothing More than they fear The eyes are windows Vantages where we fear more than when we're near The eyes see nothing In the small Earth see nothing worthwile to touch so worth The eyes see nothing They are flirts And glean on over The reality of the world Making it not twirl Making it not whirl Making it mechanical and sprawl in on the bodies and sprawl in on the assets For eyes are holes And holes are meant to be entered And holes that can see what enters Should not be holes And holes should not hold so as they do They should not glance where they go Eyes shall blind as and we do not even know The heart knows better Than what it breathes The heart bleeds more It is not a machine The eyes give it vision The heart give it worth The eyes give it clarity The heart give it hurt I close my eyes To breathe with my heart I close my eyes To breathe with my heart The breathing is a wheeze It coughs it sneezed I cannot do this right I cannot breathe without a fight I close my eyes To breathe my heart And in my throat I catch it sharp And my eyes want to see it And focus the view But I shall not See the hurt so true I stiched a name into my heart With words which matter Which have much to say I stiched a name into my heart The operation severs the art It awakens it all and groans here The blood vessels are what you should fear The blood vessels are what you should fear Full of anger anguish here Full of meaning breathing feeling that sears The blood vessels are what you should fear Eyes have nothing, mean nothing Here What I see is more near The heart that beats Thuds my ears III The android Is a human machine The android Is still human but a machine The android is human But still a machine You seek to tear me, rend me Bend me to believe You seek to tend me, fend me Bend me to believe You seek to take my heart as it bleeds. You will not. I am an android I am a human machine I am an android I am a human machine. You will not numb me You will not dumb me You will not make mechanical I will not be a mechanical animal You seek to take my heart as it bleeds. You will not take it that is me. You will not take it that is me. You will not take it that is me I will be an andriod I will be a human machine. And in your presence I will be a machine. And in her presence I will be a human being.

[size=1][color=red] Latin isn't arranged in any certain way. It doesn't matter where you put the verb, subject, direct object, indirect object. Instead of having to put words in a certain order, Latin uses cases to denote a word doing a certain thing in a sentence. There's the Ablative case, which is for prepostitions. There's the nominative, which is for subject; the genitive, which is used to show possession; there's accusative, which is used to show a direct object. It works like that. So it doesn't matter what comes when. Latin isn't like our language of English. Usually, I find, the verb actually comes last in Latin. This makes it so that me, one whose native language is english, has to jump all over a sentence searching for the verb, and then looking at the cases, and so on. It's a lot like a jigsaw puzzle. If you need help, I'm in first year Latin and all you need to do is post the sentence here and I can help you out. Ego sum nihil; ego sum nemo. Ego cogito igitur ego sum. [/size][/color]

[QUOTE=Yisan]well, because they were wrong. I know, it's hard to believe. [i]THE OSCARS WERE WRONG!!!!!![/i] *GASP* documentary's a fact based. More spliced video together to make what he wanted to be true to seem true to people watching it, aka not fact.[/QUOTE] [size=1][color=red] Whatever you want to say. There is people interviewed in this movie--factual information based upon a source saying what they believe. He uses factual information. He just doesn't pull crap out of nowhere that isn't a fact and say, "This is how I see things! Not how they see it, or some see it!" Moore interviewed actual people from the Columbine area. He talked to a spokesperson for K-mart, for that one Leed or Heed or whatever weapons make that gives many of Columbine's residents a job, who in turn have students. He interviewed Marilyn Manson. He talked about things America has done because we didn't like somoene, just like Dylan and his buddy did (but he did not mean to say that that makes what Dylan did justified, and nor did he even point to this point [i]at all[/i]). He talked to that movie actor that is the head of the NRA. He talked to many people, and he just didn't put together some piece of **** work that isn't even a documentary. To have any sort of relevancy, something has to be factual, even if it twists the facts. That is what Moore did. If he made a vision that is his own, that is fine and you simply either agree with it or not. It's a documentary. Say what you will, but it has factual information in it, it has factual sources and people. Albeit he may have twisted things, but that is besides the point. Because the main point here is that it is a documentary. You're the one who's wrong, my friend.[/size][/color]

[size=1][color=red]How you doin'? I label it as an average movie. What can I say, comedies usually aren't my type of movies. I thought it was okay, and that was about it. There's better movies out now to go see than this one. So go see the others instead. That's what I think, anyway. I prefer [i]Meet the Parents[/i] over [i]Zoolander[/i], heh.[/size][/color]

[size=1][color=red] Yisan and Tony, that is fine. It is, as always, my opinion. I would hope that's understood. Moore [i]does[/i] make some points in the movie. But anyway, yes, it is for the watcher to interpret--as Tony said. If you want to single me out just because I like Moore and just because I stated my opinions, that is fine. That is what it's all about apparently. :p I would also like to point out, Tony, that many movies and many people will misconstrue things. Look at Bush. Look at almost any person who's gone to power, and they've at least twisted things to their ways. There's innumerable examples. It's not just Moore that does this. Tony, I would like you to see this movie, then tell me what you think. Do you think the same? Did it actually teach you anything? What did it to for you? I mean, you at least can't just write something off this easily. You have to give it a chance. It's kind of assumptuous just to not see the movie just because you have some inbred hatred. Be more openminded. Don't just write things off. Don't just not see this movie because "you don't like Micheal Moore." Rather than that, see the movie so you actually have something to justify your saying what this movie is. What you say of Moore may be correct--but it's not like there's other people who are like this. What of Bush's "God" sayings all the time. What of so many other things. Ah well. I doubt that did a thing, heh. There is something to learn from everything, and this documentary is included. Would you agree, Tony? At least at that part? Isn't that enough reason to see it? And if that isn't, then see it just so you can give reason to what you say of Moore even more. But in the end, I'm the one that's saying this movie is worth seeing. . .so you don't have to listen to me at all. And Yisan, it is a documentary. If it wasn't, then why did it win the "best documentary" award at the Oscars? Exactly. [/size][/color]

[size=1][color=red][b]The Last Samurai[/b]--highly underrated movie that deserves to get what it offers. Anyone who says they didn't see this movie because Tom Cruise was in it needs to get a reality check and realize that Tom Cruise can act, and gives a wonderful performance in this movie. Saying you didn't see it because you don't like Tom Cruise isn't an excuse. There is no excuse for not going to see this movie. This movie is great. [b]Bowling for Columbine[/b]--A masterpiece that will open Americans' eyes. It won many awards, including best documentary at the Oscars. Any American should see this movie. It will finally wake some of you up and see things like they are. [b]Minority Report[/b]--Beautiful representation of the future. An interesting idea stolen from a short story--what if we developed techonolgy and were able to stop a crime before it happened. That is the premise of the movie--precrime. But it is more along the lines of a mystery. Another movie with Tom Cruise in a main role. There's no excuse for not seeing this movie. It is directed by Stephen Spielburg--one of the most well-known directors of this time. An amazing movie that will make you think beyond things and open your eyes. It is also heavily original and is sci-fi too.[/size][/color]

[b]Machine Star[/b] Numb drip the fury kiss so toilet yellow nothing she--she's nothing she's machine stars. Numb drip the fury kiss taste of pulp suck dry. she's a woman--she's red blood flesh in the flesh. Usless pigskin rock and roll. Horny Small. This is just the beginning this is just. This is just. This is just the beggining it's just the beggining. This is just the beginning. woman machine, blood flesh in the flesh. she's nothing--she's nothing machine star. Beginning is here. Here. Surgery on the heart. Vena cava bleed apart. Surgery on the heart. Vena cava. Bleed apart. Machine star. Machine star. Surgery on the heart. Machine star. Machine star. Machine machine star machine star machine star. Mechanical we are. Mechanical we are Mechanical we are we are we are. Mechanical we are. You know, you know you know who who you are. You know, you know, (Mechanical we are) you know who you are [b]frei macht free[/b] wall, wall with bruises strokes and caresses hands lying by blood red in wall, wall with the bruises, strokes and caresses, breathing and chokes. bricks, hands and bricks. smile child, smile faces, embraces, smile child, smile faces, embraces, tears won't come. tears won't come. feeling, if you want some feeling, if you want some. wall adorned roses in hands daffodills. wall, wall beaten bruised and injured welted lacerated and incisioned. wall, wall cannot be passed wall, wall cannot be broken wall cannot be broken beaten into submission cannot be bent to termination. the wall is me wall is me wall is me is me is me is me wall is me is me feeling, feeling, feeling. broken down chemical reactions inbalances in the brain and balances in the brain broken down chemical reactions head pounding blood rushing. beat against the wall. wall, beat against the wall. head, beaten, cracks open, bleeds groping, down the rush falls rush of blood to the head head, beaten, down the rush falls. hands tight wall's brick beat it prick. wall's brick tight beat it prick. wall's brick stone and pressure pressure and time eating blame wall's me wall's me wall's me. can't do. won't do. it won't do for me. veins, heart of wall, veins heart of wall broken highways to their streets the places where they meet veins, heart of wall, veins broken all. smile child, smile child, smile. so small on the wall beating bugger's head on the side of the brick can see it prick. head pounding broken mesage dying lesson given pension. i want me back. i want me back. i want me back. want me back want me back, i want me back. wall, stole, thief, stole everything i had. give it back. give it back to me. give it back. wall, stole, theft, i want me. want me back. give it back. give back what you stole what you stole what you give back what you what you stole what you stole what you stole stole stole what you stole give back what you stole. tasted wall licked tongue tasted on taste buds the taste of done taste wall licked tongue tasted taste of done. of done done. of done. done. of done. tasted of done. dry, wall taste dry. cannot ever try. dry. wall tasted try. smile child, smile. smile. smile for your hands, bleed freely for their work. smile for the toil, bleed freely for their work. frei macht free. frei macht free. frei macht free. frei macht free smile child. frie macht free. smile faces, smile child, smile faces, embraces, faces, embraces, faces. embraces faces to be frei macht free. arbeit macht frei. for this we breathe- wall of frei macht free.

[size=1][color=red] Who cares is what I say. I don't care--don't care about the planet, don't care about overpopulation, don't care if we're destroying the planet, don't care if we've killed, maimed, destroyed, elimanated, eaten, beaten, bruised--I don't care. Animals will go extinct anyway. It is the natural way of nature. It giveth, and it taketh away. Heaven is Mars. And: "The Sun will continue to shine almost unchanged for several billion years. Meanwhile, the Earth will continue to pass through ice ages and warm periods as its orbit goes through a regular cycle of slight change. "In about 5 billion years' time, energy from the Sun's huge core will make its outer layers expand. As our star swells and grows hotter, the water on Earth will start to boil away. Life forms will suffocate in the great heat. "As the Sun turns into a red giant star, Earth will be scorched to a cinder, and its atmosphere will be stripped away. A few million years later the thin outer layers of the Sun will have consumed the Earth; Mars will probably escape. "After the red giant stage, lasting about 100 million years, the Sun will run out of nuclear fuel. It will shrink and become a white dwarf star. From the surface of Mars it will be a dim pinpoint. "[i]The Earth will no longer exist.[/i]" Heaven is Mars. And she's gonna die anyway. And the sun'll be just a little dwarf, like Pluto as she sits in the sky now. What's the bets on us as a race surviving for about 5 billion more years? I hope we go extinct like dinosaurs. It is all wasted light. Is all wasted light, even in the night. It is all wasted light Ray Bradbury is a pimp.[/size][/color]

[size=1][color=red] Obviously it's sad things like this have to happen. But there's not much else I can say. I don't really pay intent attention to the news, and so I have what I've heard and that's enough. I've found on a day-to-day basis you can find some kind of suicide bombing almost every other day at the least. Usually it's over petty religious ideals, but now it's supposed to be terrorists. Whatever the case, there's no much I can do, so I just hear it and that's about all.[/size][/color]

[size=1][color=red] Ms. Asphy, known to me as Kat, has asked that I put all my various writing works all in one thread. I agree with her and am happy to oblige. So, here I be, ready to post things for thee.[/size][/color] [b]Rhyme rhyme rhyme, mud mud slime[/b] Stubborn tenacious tenacity Roomous sprawling capacity Breathing lungable opacity Sucking vacuumous aristocracy Breathe with me breathe reality. Heave so hazardously through the stomach's digesting whine. Stomachache breaking the tick-tock man's time. Mudslide shoulders inertia fine. Congested ingestioned crime. Murdered reality's slaving shrine. Full working functioned mimes. Severed destroying ties. Relinquished dying child's climb. Hill steep hoisting cry. Innocence finds its summit's side. Come running over wide. Catch me over glide. Clutching grabbing seize Teething clasping breeze Downard upward seethe Clouding downing creed Floundering fishing machine Steel-toed death-eyed breathe Lover's loving. Imagination's idioteque child. Born wombed smiled. Held told beguiled. Frowned the faces pedophile. The sucking renching draining eating guile. Jaws munch all the while. Hold me eat me down Slow me burn me frown Hit me bruise me round Love me kiss me clown Laugh me tease me ground. All it's growing now. You left you're gone You came you're fond You ate you're strong You weight you're brawn You fight you're song One day it'll be gone. Buried interred soil Happy mother's coil Monkey's-man human toil Expulse expose derail. Train's going pale. Tracks laid out Follow zealous stout Immediacy immediates the trout. Tumble rock roll bout. Fallen shout. Ululating yearn Perpetual burn Roaching slur Butterfly's demur Wing's clipped sure. Gone to her. Death's-head came. Go to grave. There hear names. Reality's claims. Roses' shame. Tick-tack toe game. Repeats the shame. Dark oscillating color Velvet mutter. Taut slutter. Slaughter pig's clutter Genocide's gutter. Child's hand. Junkyard land. Expiration slate's slanter sland. Animus's dying band. Surrogate band-aid sand. Deserted desert grand. The place of man. Skulls the vultures pluck. Overboarding orchard's overtured suck. Dry luck. The mind's tuck. Cards going over duck. Sun blears stuck. Held in sky shut. Moon bloom in sky. Falling tear shy. Lovely sigh. Demise. Glowing luminescent wry. Up in air blind. Wolves howl dry. Snouts proboscis earth Growls penetrate dirt. Dig up graves hurt. Child moves down curt. Dead skull of mallow girt. Torn tallowed shirt. Naked exposed cradle spurt. Monsters grab children in. Shelter slim. Teeth gnarling grim. Augment them then. Child comes post-mortem again. Alive in eyes dim. Scared hymn. Mind runs wild. Monster holds it's futile. Imagination piles. Death rears all the while. Innocent heralded style. Faded bark thing smiles. Child lines up single-file. It's time to hide for a while. The cracks and corners. Away from the coroners. Deep in boulders. Bowing shoulders. Hidden rover. Hiding slower. Need to get over. Be alive hope glowers. Monster's holder. Wretched things. Wolf beings. Child screams. Found dreams. Raped clings. Hold it machine. Click-clack metal careen. Gun in its palm. Hold it slob. Bullet in ready to rob. The anointment oil's balm. Gunpowder's mob. Monster's hog. Slaughter child raw. Visceral tint's texturous slog. Trigger pressured. Monster's eyes ushered. Tightness covers. Child mutters. Dreams stutter. Imagination clutters. Bang flutters. Bang flutters like a butterfly flying in the sky. Demise. Goodbye. Shot die. Slave hi. Work don't whine. Do your time. Stress me caress me Shoot me kill me Down me up me Rape me leave me In me out me Monster inside derides. Laughterous cry. Sly. Wry. Child's died. Another day he'll be alive. Child's died. Another day he'll be alive.

[size=1][color=red] It was an okay movie that excelled in some areas. In the end, I still end up saying that it was just "okay." I say okay because this movie is an average, maybe a little above average, movie and not much else. Of course, most people aren't looking at this film in this light. But I am, because I do not believe in the Catholic faith. I'd come to believe that they overdid the gore in this movie. If you don't think so, then you should at least say the overdid it a little bit, if just that. The premise of gore in this movie is a given thing. But still, they overdid it in my eyes. I was thinking an average person would most definitely had passed out from being beaten and carrying the cross as Jesus was represented to be doing in the movie. But, I guess Christ wouldn't be classified as an average person. But he is to me, anyway. Great visual aspects. It was pretty seamless. The addition of Latin and Islamic language was a nice bonus. The subtitles added to the feel that this happened at another time. Jesus was well acted by the actor who acted him. That's what's good about this movie in a nutshell. I still only found it to be around average, maybe a little higher. Perhaps it is because I do not believe in Christ and do not see the big deal about the movie. I'm trying to give a better judgement about it than that though. I found probably the best part was when Jesus was being beaten, and as he was beaten there was counting in Latin. The second best part was when Mary saw Jesus walking by on his way to get crucified, and a flashback to when she'd seen him fall as a child. Mary then ran up to Jesus and wished to hold him in her arms as she had when he was a young boy, but she could not. Mel Gibson is getting somewhere around $38 Mill for this movie. Anyone surprised? I know I'm not. The guy got the money he used to make the movie back, and then some. In the end, since I'm looking at this movie in a movie aspect, as I think it should be looked upon if one is to discuss it (because really, if you wanted to hear about Jesus Christ's crucifixion, go to the Bible or go to a stations of the cross at church), I find there's better movies than this one out there that have affected me far more. This movie didn't really affect me. It was kind of passive care.[/size][/color]

[size=1][color=red] I have one band for you and that is all. Pixies. I, as Tony, have not the clue what "Indie" is. I don't even know what it used to be. . .only that it sounded like rock I thought.[/size][/color]

I I give up, That is what I say to you now. I am through. Melancholy the dog blue has set up in my mind on his cozy bed. And what is this here he has to find? A bone in his jaws called time. Tick-tock pendulum mime. The long face and he cries. But I have never let tears touch these eyes for a long time. I have forgotten their taste, the salt grace, the way they fall on the face. There is no tears from these eyes, only fears that scream inside. And Melancholy the dog blue, he watches with sad-puppy eyes the tick-tock pendlum mime of time. The hour hand moves, the second hand ticks, the insectile pests in his hair hop. They lay their eggs with time's care. And Melancholy the dog blue scratches as tears whine. I feel so sad feel so crushed, want to hug something that matters much. There isn't anything around only me here in this town, in my house in my room nowhere to be found. It's too late to feel around the lovehandles of my mind. I feel the groping hand of time. Endless and the crime. I'm feeling raped, desecrated but fine. I'm fine, the tears don't need to cry I can hold them, strained, and sigh. The time keeps ticking by. I embrace myself and feel Melancholy the dog blue in my head. And I feel my skin and feel the scars brush on over and look to the stars in my head. I'm thinking I'm dreaming but the dream's dead. And I'm wishing I could see what I thought I said. When something seems shot it seems dead. The gun's in my finger's hand already spread. An ulcer I fed. With bitter eyes. Ones that wanted to cry. I swear I didn't shoot Elation the dog that was high. I think old Melancholy the dog blue did the crime. I want to love something and pass the time. And old Melancholy the dog blue, the bone in his jaws in my head he buries the bone called time by his bed. He comes on over and sleeps dead. There's tears in his eyes large and bled. I told him turn off the rain but he said he isn't going to be a slave. He said I need to change. I'm too cold and my tears are like ice or snow on the ground. It all falls but doesn't have a form. Doesn't feel wet in the womb and born. He looked like he was in pain old Melancholy the dog blue. So I shot him and he was through. I give up. This is what I say to you now. I am through. II Apathy the ghost was haunting round my head she was whispering it was dead. She came to me clothed in white, and she was like a coma, bright. Told her she wasn't my type but she latched onto me tight. Told her to let go but she needed someone for the night. Told her again she wasn't my type. But she said she would be with me tonight. I gave her a place in my head, place where I buried Melancholy the dog blue. She said she knew there was something there. Told me she would dig it up bare. I told her to leave old Melancholy the dog blue alone. She said she didn't care what I said. She dug him up dead. The bone was still in his mouth and his eyes were closed tight. She fingered his eye sockets brought open them slight. There was still a tear rolling down them eyes. They beckoned me to join in and cry. I held it in. I had told him to turn off the rain. There were no clouds to blame. No reason to wet the ground. And no reason to find tears for a hound. I told Apathy to leave him be and I dug Melancholy the dog blue back in. Covered it in a dirt mound big. And on the tombstone I put all his years. And I could still hear the tick-tock of time. It went over me and I sighed. Apathy the ghost tried to seize me in. Tried to take control of me then. I fought her hard and ended up to win. As she left me there alone I saw in my face I felt shown. Apathy the ghost round my head found a main spot where I felt dead. She nestled in and since then we've been friends. She keeps my company when I need. She makes me shiver when she breathes. She's hard to see but I know her head's cut off and she can't feel. I know emotions in her are killed. III Elation the drug dealer came in my shed. Burrowed deep in my bed. He spoke so high and was all smiles. He offered me some dope to be fed. I told him no drugs aren't what I need. He strangled me and injected the drugs in my head. The wood all round the sturdy shed of my mind whined in a rush. Blood templed into me and mushed. My eyes went crazed fell back in their sockets. And still I could see Melancholy the dog blue's tombstone with flowers on it bloomed. And Apathy the ghost moaned her deathly whine. She beckoned me to shove it off and lose my mind. Everything was a hustle-bustle and the pleasure was so nice. I wandered in a land I had never been. But then the rush was over and my eyes came back to see. There I saw Elation the drug dealer lying deep on his side. He was passed out with too much of a hit. He looked like he might die. I went in a rage to Melancholy the dog blue's grave and dug it up in sadness. The sadness hit me like a gun. It seemed the drugs wearing off had me done in somber. I didn't have anything else to do but have it all dug up and find it all again. I found old Melancholy blue's bones. And found the bone still in his jaws. It was still tick-tocking sobs. The pendulum seemed to be a mob in my head. Time tick-tocking on. And I dug in Melancholy's mouth there was his tongue hanging out like a breathing living lung. It was wet, the dog a slob. I wondered how the tongue was there. I took it and it was wet. Sadness came in and swelted like sweat. But no tears have cried from these eyes for a long time. All there was was held in cries. IV I give up, That is what I say to you now. I am through. Melancholy the dog blue, Apathy the ghost round my head. And Elation the drug dealer dead. It's too much to have said. Too much to have to shed like a moth in a skin. The change has yet to truly begin.

[b]The Pavements They Are a Mess[/b] The recurrent theme continues to play, organs beat, the dancer in dismay. Instruments to the bone. "It is going to happen," says my father as I walk upstairs. Were those tears upon those eyes? I felt his voice faulter, fall and sigh. Heave. And on it plays. On it plays. When I was a child, a child of three years of age, my parents divorced, gave their say. My father's name was Tom Smith, my last name is Smith to this day. Tom Smith's middle name was Grant, and my middle name is still that today. He is my true father, the one whose blood is in me. But I do not know him. I never knew him. Not even today. A music box, open, it plays, a dancer on the top spinning, nice legs. A face that stays the same and gears that creak names. The tune, proverbial, she spins. She is in a closet, locked in. And the recurrent time passes by, the dust gathers on her thighs, her eyes, her lovely spinning form. She was young once, now full of scorn. A hand reaches toward the closet, opens it up wide. Down falls the music box, her inside. The hand picks it up plays it and listens. The tune is slow, subdued and whines. In the garbage it goes. Goodbye. My real father used to call me, ask me how my school was going. A ten-year-old I would tell him fine, then he'd ask me if I'd like to get my blood tested, see if I was really his son. I didn't know then. Should've known, but now I know what's been done. He didn't even see me as his son. Never seen that man, not for a long time. And he stopped paying my child support, and he owes us money. My dad just stepped in here, there he was crying in his eyes, he said whatever happens he always loves me. Whatever happens. Whatever happens he loves me. He said it's not him causing this to go where it goes, it's my mother who's doing it. I shall not blame the ones I love. Shall not chain the heart. Shall not eat the raw tart. She is the one from what I see who has brought things to where they are. But this is not my battle, I do not need any scars. What will be will be no matter where you are. And I will take them as they go far. I do not know what to feel, I do not know what to do. Let things go the way they go? I do not know. My step father is more a father than any will be, and my real father he is nothing. He abandoned me, as a child, long ago. Never came to see me grow. He's black as a crow. Of my mother there is much to say, she smokes a cigarette each day, she is depressed and on quite a many pills which she too takes each day. She does not love my step father anymore. How that must be a sore. How I saw, as I was upstairs a bit ago, saw him standing there so cold and lone. And she just would laugh, and give dirty looks. It's just too much to go over, too much to say. I feel fine right now, feel fine as I could be. The recurrent theme, the music to my ears. How it blears.

[size=1][color=red] It's two characters talking to each other. They take turns talking. The first quote is the first character, then the next quote is the other character, then the quote after that is the first character, then the next quote after that is the other character. . .it goes on like that. One of the characters in this story is a female, the other is an irish male. If you require more explanation, just ask.[/size][/color]

[size=1][color=red] My favorite raper is Eminem. He rapes the best. He always rapes about his mom. And his little girl and his wife. He's a good raper. Piece to you too. Don't rape too much to the point where you can't anymore.[/size][/color]

[size=1][color=red] Well, when one writes dialogue, one draws on all the times he's heard other's speak, so to say. So in that sense, I guess so. But, really, this entire piece was made from my imagination. What inspired me to write it was just wanting to put down some of my annoyances with school down. And so on. So that's what inspired it. . .if that's even inspiration. I think inspiration is more of a thing that just smacks you in the face, and you're caught off-guard when it comes. It wasn't like that when I wrote this heh.[/size][/color]

[QUOTE=wrist cutter]Well, it's not really relevant to the main topic, but it relates to this. I noticed a lot of people make this mistake: "Me and Jake went to the park yesterday." There are two grammatical errors in this sentence: 1) Does "Me went to the park yesterday" sound right? No, of course not. Use "I" when it is the subject. 2) You never list yourself first, but instead last. It should be "Jake and I". Lots of people make this mistake really commonly and it drives me nuts. I remember these rules being pounded into us in elementary school (third grade if I recall correctly), so it's really annoying to hear them be so often neglected.[/QUOTE] [size=1][color=red] I can understand what you're saying, since you had this stuff pounded into your head. . .but not everyone else has. All you would call that is a form of slang; people taking the right way to say something, and giving it their own way. Most people don't say, "Me and. . ." purposely. It's just the way they've been brought up. It's what they've learned and become accustomed to saying. And there's nothing much wrong with that. Rules are only a guideline. . .they don't need to be explicitly followed unless someone's going to make you follow them. There's all kinds of different ways I say words and phrases than other people. Is that wrong? No. It may annoy you as a person, wrist cutter, but you need to learn to accept it. When people speak how they speak. . .it makes them more them. The words "each other"? I say them as one word all the time. It comes out sounding more like "e'chother." That's just the way I've heard it often. I've even seen a lot of people make "each other" one word online--such as Tony, I see him doing that often (and it's no big deal, by the way). There's a whole bunch of words I say differently, as well as phrases; just like you do the same. Yes, it's grammatically wrong to say, "Me and. . ." but I'm open-minded about it. As much as it's annoying to hear it, being someone who likes language, you just absorb it. I've said "Me and. . ." many times, just in offhand conversation. There's also another rule that I've messed up a lot, that I want to mention. It's the "that-who" rule. You're supposed to only use "that" for inanimate, not alive things. For example, "that car over there." And for "who" you're only supposed to use it for living objects. Such as, "the animal over there, who I know" instead of "the animal over there, [i]that[/i] I know." I always mess up this rule often. It's just the way I learned to use the word. . .and so it's the way I use it. Even in writing, I've done it many times. I just don't see the deal. On a side note, I see people using the plural and possesive form of "who" wrong all the time. Most people will do something like this: "The dog, who's collar I held, I led over." It should be this: "The dog, [i]whose[/i] collar I held, I led over." The way you can make sure you don't misuse "who" is to remember this: "who's" is the contractioned form of the word. It either means "who is" or, less often, "who has." You know, something like, "the man who's going to go with me." In this sentence "who's" means "who is." And, here's one for "who has.": "Who's got my shoes?" Read the sentence, uncontractioning the word. "Who is" doesn't work. But "who has" does. "Who has got my shoes?" Whatever the case, there's many overused words. Overused words aren't always a bad things. Because the words we overuse are obviously those words we are familiar with and use most often in offhand conversation, this leads them to sometimes be the words we will come to greet more easily.. Sometimes it makes for better writing. There are annoying terms out there, though. You've mentioned some here, wrist cutter. But I don't see much of a reason to complain. . .I go along with what Harry says. They're just words. As much as words mean to me, you need to realize that how someone uses words is their own way; even if they may speak them wrong. Some people have accents and say words strangely. It's just another thing, as I said, that makes them them. I see no problem with using "Me. . .and" if that's the way you use it. I say just say things the way you'd say them, within reason. It could be worse than it is, if it bothers you that much. There could be people walking around going, "I ain't got none of not of that man who's gonna have alot of irregardless nothing and I ain't not gonna list'n to dis." Or even worse than that. (On a side note, read Baron's post. Great stuff.) People don't just sit there breaking the rules of the English language to just do it. They do it because that's the way they know how to say what they want to say. . .it's not meant to make you mad. I think the way language is misused and slanged makes for language to be much more versatile than it could be. It makes it more fun to talk. . .write. . .whatever. In the end I don't care how people use language. I just care how I use it and how it sounds when I hear other people talk. I'd rather have there be things that could be said to be "overused words." It makes things more fun and allows me to be satirical at times, as well as broadens and opens your mind. I think the way language can be used is beauty. Lanuage is such an ornate, amazing thing when you think about it. It allows you to say things and write down things as much as you'd want to. It allows you to do it as much as you'd desire. So instead of complaining about it, I'm going to say I'm glad there's things like what we're talking about in this thread. It allows me to write dialogue much more realistic, and makes so many more options for me in writing, and speaking. [/size][/color]