Random

my stuff gets weirder as time goes on into the night,
with the stars shining bright,
and when the moon if full,
it never gets dull,
because the moon does weird things to ones thoughts.

I speak a language of my own. Well, at least a few words.
My Words:

Flitting- verb- (Flit-ting) - Walking like a little bird hops.

Chillockin’- verb- (chi-lock-in) - a word to describe a feeling that you get while listening to certain songs. *like Santeria*

Spadazzling- verb- (spa-dazz-el- ing) -spazzing while wearing something that looks amazing on you.

So happy,
So peppy,
The tuba just adds to it.
Such a perfect song to listen to now…
Just like me,
happy and peppy.
But,
Which instrument am I?
Am I the clarinet?
The lead of the rest,
The one letting itself be know?
Or am I the flute?
Soft and sweet,
floating on air,
Shy,
But not too shy?
Or am I the tuba?
A weird addition to the crowd?
It doesn’t fit,

*I get to the other side of the bridge and find a path. I decide to take it, ignore the multiple signs on the way. I come to an elf in the road. He has a hurt foot.*
Elf: Owwwwwe.....
Me: Oh, my. Can I help you??? I have magic...
Elf: No, if magic is used to heal something, the person who has the magic takes on the pain....
Me: Oh......

Minke Whale
Golf ball hail
Green radioactive mail.

Mealy bug,
Persian rug,
Lemur covered coffee mug.

Lincoln’s speech,
Bloodsucking leech,
Clean and clear sandy beach.

A dirt road bend,
A fabric mend,
And now the end.

Falling,
Twirling,
Dancing,
Whirling,
Into a black abyss.
The sky glows purple
In my mind.
What is happening?
The stars come out,
Shining,
Glowing,
Twinkling,
Time is wasting away.
But what does it matter?
It is wondrous
Being here
With
You.

Claire was five and like most five year olds she loved winter. She loved making snow angels and snowmen. She loved ice-skating and she loved Christmas. She didn’t really love snowball fights, the cold snowballs always hit her in the face. However, the thing she loved most was playing in the snow with her best friend, Sam.

Why
Have a name
When the people
Around us
Will twist it
And turn it
Until
It works
For them.

Why
Have a face
When you can
Just change it
Like a shirt
Or
A pair
Of shoes.

Why
Have a heart
When you know
That it will
Eventually
Be torn to pieces
By a person
Who’ll never think
To care.

Why
Be strong
And alone
When you can be
Weak
And together.

Why

Aloha! Here I am again, your reporter of random reports! The topic of my article you ask? Well, here it is: Why are all of the books they make you read in school depressing?
In class, we just finished reading a book. I had some hope that this book would have a happy ending, but it didn’t. It was utterly depressing because my favorite character died. I started to think.

Isn't it funny, how everyone in the world wants something they can't have? It seems like everyone wants a storybook life, one that's not perfect, but has a beginning, a conflict, a solution. But they don't understand that not every conflict has a solution.

Bonjour. It is I, the Author. I am here today to ask a random, but meaningful question: If we aren’t supposed to judge a book by its cover, then why do all of the covers have a different design on them?

The Balled of The Ballet

She can twist and she can turn
She’s filled with lovely grace
The awards she knows she’ll earn
She credits to her face

She seems so happy on the floor
She smiles at the crowd
She always gets the perfect score
Her parents are so proud

They still think she could spin faster
Their darling little girl
All the time they’re looking past her

Hello. I am an author. I like writing poems and stories, and getting very deep into random thoughts. At the moment, you are probably asking, “Well Author, why should I care?” This, my friend, is why you should care: because I said so!

Wishing you were here now for me to hold
Holding on to all the time together
Tender words that keep away all the cold
Stay with me from now until forever.

Wondering how much time we have to go
Going faster than we know we should be
You try to say what is too hard to show
A smile that lets you know that I see

I can't stand how happy you make me feel

Please hold my hand and take me there
Take me to where they won't care
Take me away
Away from here
Take me to where there is no fear
Take me back
Back from these dreams
Take me to where everythings as it seems
Just grab my hand, it's held out to you
It's the only thing that you can do
Just pull me back from this dark edge
Pull me back off this ledge
Before I fall and lose it all

There's a box in my attic
Kept deep and so dark
What secrets lie there I don't wish to remeber
There's a box in my attic
Kept shut and locked tight
What stories its heard I don't wish to repeat
There's a box in my attic
Kept hidden and suggestivly safe
What pictures it hold I don't wish to recall
There's a box in my attic
So quietly it sat

There's a box in my attic
Kept deep and so dark
What secrets lie there I don't wish to remember
There's a box in my attic
Kept shut and locked tight
What stories its heard I don't wish to repeat
There's a box in my attic
Kept hidden and suggestively safe
What pictures it holds I don't wish to recall
There's a box in my attic
So quietly it sat

Wow. Drama is getting old. I guess there isn't as much of it in my life now as there used to be.... but still, I could do with it at all.

Drama is.... everywhere.

I have drama at home and drama at school.

Die drama. =)

Hello! I just want to say hi to alll....