Itsaki
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Has negative infinity karma.
There is a time and a place for everything, my love, and let no one tell you different.
Posts: 774
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Post by Itsaki on Feb 28, 2009 14:41:11 GMT -5
I agree...psycho much? and what did he do to get put in an institution? ack, this story is odd, but intense. I like it...
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K
Administrator
Posts: 737
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Post by K on Feb 28, 2009 14:48:34 GMT -5
He was playing with his sister and then he bit her, it left a mark. She freaked out he didn't know what was going on. His parents freaked out and were angry at him. He hadn't realized what he did so he denied and got angry. His parents were more angry and there was yelling, throwing stuff ect. until the phone call was made as you will find in part 2 or 3.
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K
Administrator
Posts: 737
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Post by K on Feb 28, 2009 16:57:22 GMT -5
He was woken up. He hated getting woken up. He rolled over and went back to sleep. He was woken again in what seemed like two seconds later. This time he got up as he was told. He allowed himself about fifteen seconds of dark thoughts. Kill all of those fucking bastards. Rip their throats out.
After the brief moment he allowed his soul to slip free of his body again. His face went blank. His emotions stopped. His body was just a maniquin that could follow instructions. He was led into the hallway outside his door and then into a comfortable little lounge.
The man took his blood pressure, The boy hated getting his blood pressure taken. It hurt. It had to be done twice becuase he couldn't stop fidgiting the first time. The man gave him a pill in a dixie cup and another dixe filled with water. It wasn't the same pill as the the boy was taking before. It was smaller and green and was the kind that could be taken apart and sprinkled over food. The boy took it and the man had him open his mouth to check. The boy hadn't even thought of pretending to take it.
He was given breakfast in the lounge. the boy liked that. It was comfortable. he was given a mini box of cereal little paper bowl and some milk. The man forgot a spoon. The boy had to ask for one. That idiot was making him speak. He would die, he would scream, his blood would be everywhere! The man seemed astonished by the suddenly dark look the boy was giving him as he handed the boy a spoon.
After the boy was done eating he was told to get dressed back in his room. More clothes that his mom had dropped off. He walked out back out into the hallway after he dressed. The man was waiting for him. He was led down the hallway off into a little room. It looked like a waiting room at a pedeatricians office but with more comfortable and more on the coloring book and childrens book side than the building blocks side.
The boy sat at a table. There were the felt posters. The ones you colored with markers. He began to color one in, it was a dragon. The man who led him in there walked out. The boy began to color for a bit and in a short while the man walked back in with a tall skinny guy around the age of seventeen. The guy looked around with familiarity then to the boy. The guy had the same look on his face the boy had. Blank, emotionless, empty. The guy wandered to the back of the room taking the chair. The man kept his eyes on the guy, watching in case he did something. The man didn't leave this time.
A bit later a different man brought in a tallish girl, of course they all looked tall to the boy. She was about seventeen also. She was skinny and the beginnings of puberty allowed him to realize that she was very attractive. She had an angry look in her eyes but her face was blank just like his own and the guy's. She sat down at the same table as the boy's, either there or by guy.
The boy spent a long time watching the two, drawing. There was definant tension in the room. After a little while. A tall skinny looking man entered. He began to talk and the boy ignored him for a while. So did the other two, well, the girl was listening some. The man was talking about the differences of 'good touches' from 'bad touches'.
The girl got up to talk, a defiant look in her eyes. She talked about how her father had touched her on her twelfth birthday. How he continued to do things to her until she was fifteen. The boy tried not to listen, wondering what the hell he was doing here. Nothing bad had ever happened to him. He was the one who was doing the bad stuff.
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K
Administrator
Posts: 737
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Post by K on Mar 1, 2009 7:04:24 GMT -5
Don't be an asshole and don't shout. Both are annoying and piss me off. I'm |-| <-- this close to deleting that. I suggest you do it for me Scott.
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Post by Shyl on Mar 1, 2009 8:30:40 GMT -5
roflmao, can ya take a joke, hehe.
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K
Administrator
Posts: 737
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Post by K on Mar 1, 2009 9:07:24 GMT -5
I can take a joke Scott, that wasn't one.
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K
Administrator
Posts: 737
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Post by K on Mar 27, 2009 14:06:16 GMT -5
I don't really know. . . I was writing this for my own entertainment while bored at school. . . I might write more if you want to know more.
Preening is a needed social interaction between birds. It shows a social structure by who preens first. The queen is always the first to be preened then each step down to you, the visiter. Generally it is polite to keep it to a tidying of the wing edges if you aren’t on first name terms with the bird. If you find yourself being preened first, the bird is either showing that you are of greater social status, is trying to comfort you, or is praising you. If you have not turned yourself into a bird to communicate then the bird will likely tug lightly on your clothes or hair as a method of preening. If a bird denies your offer to preen then back up quickly, The bird wants to be alone and will likely attack if you push your presence upon it. When preening, feel free to use your hands, the bird will understand, but if you are trying to be more caring then preening with the mouth will be expected. Again, this is if you haven’t taken bird form. When you take bird form it is polite to take on a crescent shaped coloring on your head or breast feathers to mark you out as an alien.
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K
Administrator
Posts: 737
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Post by K on Mar 27, 2009 14:12:17 GMT -5
I am the Chronicler and you are the Key Take my hand and we shall be free I'll show you what life is like for a tree Or take you away to some distant sea Or maybe we can sit here, just you and me
I am who I am, an our Love is the Guide So shall we go? Somewhere in the Night? To the Ancient City, all tall and bright May we go there, as I hope we might?
I have been waiting for you all this Time Crafting my Thoughts into Rhyme.
I should die if you go Please don't say no
For if you do what use am I?
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Post by Shyl on Mar 27, 2009 16:07:54 GMT -5
very poetic but ill make a few corrections and critical point outs I should die if you go Please don't say no <bit short, cuts off teh rhyme flow To the Ancient City, all tall and bright ^ comma otherwise very poetic, well worded, good job on rhymes
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K
Administrator
Posts: 737
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Post by K on Mar 28, 2009 5:35:45 GMT -5
Thanks. the part was small and meant to cut off the flow. It's like. . . The person he is begging for is leaving and he can't function without her so it starts to get choppy and it is also meant to break the pattern and stop it from becoming repetitive.
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Itsaki
Administrator
Has negative infinity karma.
There is a time and a place for everything, my love, and let no one tell you different.
Posts: 774
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Post by Itsaki on Jun 2, 2009 13:57:40 GMT -5
The Sarmatians
The men of Europe, Listen well, The women sit right down. I’ll tell a tale of fateful death, The bones of which not found. Long ago, right here at home, A people made their stay. A tribe of fearful warriors, That now have made their way. Sarmatians they were called, With sword they carved their fate. With horsemen here, And archers there, Not one could bring them down. Germans, Russians, Mongols, Not one could steal their crown. It took the might of Rome, Only they prevailed, but even so, Their men ran low, But Sarmatian loss was hailed But even yet, Not all was lost, As many so may bet. A king by name of Arthur, Carried Sarmatia blood, His blade by name Excalibur, Helped carry his name on, So the world may know, The Sarmatian people won. And the Mongols too, Sought these men, Now with no king, And he employed their kin, And in his army, Sarmatians fought, ensured him every win. But now the culture’s gone and dead, The warriors’ names all gone, And though this fills me with great dread, Their noble song lives on. The song of vict’ry, Sung out loud, But only my ears see, To the drums, the cries, The swords and hooves, The endless battles nighs, Across the lands, Sarmatians live, Spirits hand in hand, To sing their song of vict’ry, Across this fated land. And now my tale is told, My fateful song is sung, So when you hear the singing bold, Remember who has won.
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Itsaki
Administrator
Has negative infinity karma.
There is a time and a place for everything, my love, and let no one tell you different.
Posts: 774
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Post by Itsaki on Jun 2, 2009 13:58:04 GMT -5
To Arms
The battle cry Was shouted loud, “To arms! To arms! My fellow France! To arms we go away!” The women cried, The bards record, The men all march to sea. With sword in hand, And axe, And bow, The arrows all aloft, The battle cry was sung aloud, The captain yelled his plea, “To arms! To arms! My fellow France! To arms we go to war!” And the shadows rang With heaven’s cry The men were called to arms, And on the field, The battle sang, The song of vict’ry sung, The captain called, His dying breath, “To arms, to arms, My fellow France, Has fall’n this fateful day.”
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K
Administrator
Posts: 737
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Post by K on Jun 8, 2009 17:13:09 GMT -5
I wait for him he is coming for me I know I have done wrong. I am anxious I pretend I don't but I know what is coming. Any time now please just wait ten minutes You don't have to come right away.
Now he arrives to pick me up its over for me now I am finished.
Your face is blank and hard as stone To others it appears that you are weary But I know better, I see it in your eyes Anger, Rage, Fury
You put your hand on the back of my neck guiding me out of hereand to your car You lead me, push me, half a step too fast and I stumble at your impossible pace "Get in the car." You say and I scramble to comply
Your face is blank and hard as stone To others it appears that you are weary But I know better, I hear it in your voice Anger, Rage, Fury
And then your face becomes frightening and red as you pull into the home driveway The emotions that I had before you came Are now with you, I can see it "Get in the house." you say, disgusted, and I try to put it off
Your eyes are blank and hard as stone But your face, it shows the fury I know I will feel your anger now but of Anger and Rage you grow weary
I'm left without a bruise but I am battered and crying. I know I deserved it after what I did it's fair. But I hate you now and fear you for doing just as I did as punishment.
Into bed I crawl up, exhuasted and wait for the dawn to come.
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Post by Shyl on Jun 8, 2009 17:52:35 GMT -5
I wrote your name in the sky, but the wind blew it away. I wrote your name in the sand, but the waves washed it away. I wrote your name in my heart, and forever it will stay.
A simple love poem
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Itsaki
Administrator
Has negative infinity karma.
There is a time and a place for everything, my love, and let no one tell you different.
Posts: 774
|
Post by Itsaki on Jun 10, 2009 3:04:55 GMT -5
It all begins with a lonely soul, drifting on the wind. Then it's drawn, like it knew it would be, one day. To a hospital. To a home. To a lonely woman, crying to herself as she tries, abandoned, bruised, and alone, to giver birth to the child, she longs to hold in her arms. The sould settles deep inside its new flesh, Unseen by all.
From the joys and pain of birth, a soul is happy, bound tight in its new home. It laughs in happiness as a cake is set before it, celebrating its body's first birthday. But the child does not smile. The sould yells in glee as it opens the boxes, wrapped in colored paper at Christmas. Its body is five now. But the child des not smile. The soul yells in happiness, as his body's mother's soul lifts from her body. The soul knows she will drift on the wind, destined for a new home as her body lays, cold, unmoving, soulless. The child is twenty now. Still he does not smile. The soul sees a new soul seetle into his body's son, born from his body's wife. The child looks into the eyes, the blue eyes of his son, and sees life. He knows the pain and joy of birth now. He is a man. He is thirty one, now. He does not smile. The soul feels his body's life become low. It flickers, then is gone. The soul is sad now. His body is dead. Lifting from his body, the soul looks the man in the face. He is eighty-four now. He has never smiled. The soul feels the pull of the wind and leaves his body, leaves it far behind. the soul hears the wind, and the joy of other souls. But the man does not.
The boy has seen, but has not heard. Silence has always been his friend. Silence has always listened. Silence was always there, always saw his burden, only silence ever knew. In death, he was with silence. Now silence would be with him forever. Now it would always be with him.
He would never know the sound of waves, running over sand. The sound of birds, singing in the trees. The sound of his soul, As it cried for him.
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