Fiddlers fiddled in the field beneath a waning moon
Incantations were spelled out for chickens laying soon.
By night, the farmer and his wife, red cheeks and breasts a-bare,
Danced by roaring firelight without a conscious care.
By day their secret's kept within their life upon the farm
Witches unknown by all the villagers for all their country charm.
Bloody heat of the summer sun, unbalanced in its blaze
Plagues combustion upon all those who dare its heated haze.
In broad daylight a raindance is hardly ever a ruse.
Neighbouring farmers view the rucous and soon its all the news.
Anyone close up to the farm will whisper the air is cooler.
Church folk gossip maliciously and swear a demon intruder.
Eventually townsfolk point, hailing the farmers "Witches!"
The farmers retreat, cursing them back, calling them "Sons of Bitches!"
By dusk the farmers call upon the Goddess of the Moon;
Begging her fields of water full, a miracle monsoon.
As Mother hears and abides, storms roll upon the plains.
The preacher cries "The devil relies on all of us not stayin'."
Floods fill fields, as each stalk yields to its drowning bitter end
In staking claims, survivors remain a weather witch's friend
Posted on: January 04 2012
3.0 / 5
I sit in my room feeling vacant
I notice my worth measured by the blind
With my light off I feel the pain and agony
As this big world spins, I move not an inch
I feel the glory of god, the wrath of Lucifer
With my light off I hear the joy and laughter
It's four a.m., my eyes cant close, I see music
All the notes and beats are waves, I slip away
With my light off I see surprise and distrust
I lay down with my misconceptions, my flaws
I take my sins to my soul, I'm a tainted being
With my light off I smell your hair and skin
I've locked my door and boarded up windows
I've killed the lights as you have killed me
With my light off I taste my blood and tears
Coming form my memories, memories of you
Posted on: December 28 2011
3.0 / 5
Happy New Year 2010
I’m everybody and so I’m nobody
I’m the unentitled with entitlement issues
The unworthy overly and undeservedly tastefully decorated and least deserving
The ever discontent consumer
Consuming my fill of all that is fine till it induces nausea and is no longer fine, temporary
I’m the pursuit of the unretainable
What human can retain is all a human ought to live for
In our brief presence of life in time there are things we can do to improve our soul
We are not a product of it, instead we impose and instill upon it
Our soul, the one thing that will survive all else that is us
Love will nourish your soul and is retainable
It will enrich your soul, priming it for another life
Your soul will nourish hate, if you let it, at the expense of an eroded, traumatized, brittle soul
This new year, pursue the retainable
I’m everybody and I’m nobody
I have chosen the path of the fall line
The path of impromptu paving
Through all life styles
As the path unfolds I become me
A product of all
I’m all and you
Posted on: December 13 2011
3.0 / 5
by Leona Carver
Mr and Mrs Harris took their family out for a picnic on a warm May day, when the breeze was cool and the sun hot. The children were eager to shake out their winter stiffness and enjoy the young green grass. They romped about on the hillside and ran in and out of the nearby trees.
Mrs Harris lay out the blanket and sprawled, basking in the sun. “This was a great idea,” she told her husband.
“I thought so.” He carried the picnic basket, the chairs and toys, and everything else a picnic could need. He sat by his wife for a moment and, while their children weren't looking, caressed her affectionately.
When the children returned to the blanket, breathless and excited, their father indicated that they could put out all the food for lunch. There were succulent fruits, soft bread, pungent meats and cheeses, crisp vegetables and sweet drinks. They lay it out with a nibble here and there. Then, as a family, they sat together, lowered their heads and prayed.
Mr Harris was just finishing grace when the youngest and smallest child, Mila, screamed.
It took a moment to discover the cause. When they did, the entire family jumped up and away from the picnic food. A long trail of insects had appeared and was industriously disassembling and carrying off their meal.
“Don't worry,” said Mr Harris. “I brought insecticide.” He dug it out of the bundle of other supplies and held it over the marching insects. Then he paused. “You know, I think this could be a good learning experience.”
“Oh, darling,” Mrs Harris sighed with exasperation. Everything was a learning experience when it came to her husband. “Is this really the time?”
“It's always time to learn,” he assured her. “Cover the food and I'll show the kids where these complex and fascinating creatures come from.” He waved at Mila. “I think it would be good for them not to be afraid.”
Mrs Harris knew better than to argue. She began closing up the food while Mr Harris, armed with a shovel and the insecticide, led their children away.
They followed the line of insects back to the source; a robust tower at the base of a tree. The tiny black and white creatures carried armfuls of fruit, cheese and meat down into the central hole at the top of the tower.
“This is a human colony,” Mr Harris explained wisely. “There can be thousands of workers in there and many queens.” He thrust his shovel deeply into the soft earth and pulled up a chunk of sod. Hundreds of scrambling humans writhed in the sudden gaping hole and fell off of the shovel as Mr Harris threw the dirt away. He dug a few more times and scraped the loose dirt away to reveal many perfectly square chambers full of workers, eggs, food stores and files.
“Wow,” breathed some of the children.
“Amazing, isn't it?” said Mr Harris. “I used to have a human colony. It was a different species, though. Mine were blue-collar, more industrial and trade workers. These look like office workers. Look at the cubicles and all that paper work.” He used a stick to prod a file room. Loose papers went everywhere.
“What's that?” asked one boy child, pointing to a cubicle with long, messy tables and unwanted sweets.
“The coffee room. Coffee is what the humans eat and drink to keep them working. The queens make it from the food that they bring. Let's see if we can find one.” He dug through another several inches of cubicle. Finally, he found a large chamber. In it, a gigantic human in a nice suit sat behind a desk. It waved its tiny arms, but was too big to move quickly. Mr Harris got his stick under her and brought her up for the children to all get a good look. “The queen, or CEO, will requisition new workers, the coffee, and everything else the cubicle colony needs. The workers obey her without question.”
One of his children, a boy with some issues concerning authority, as Mr Harris was constantly informed by the school system, asked, “What happens to them if they don't obey?”
Mr Harris looked very seriously at his son. “They're eaten.” The boy went quiet, his expression disconcerted. Mr Harris smiled at the rest of his children and said, “We can learn a lot from the humans. They work very hard for the sake of their colony. For this reason, humans are one of the most prolific and successful species on earth.”
A girl child shook her head. “Not as successful as ants.”
“Of course not,” Mr Harris replied jovially.
Little Mila, apparently experiencing a change in opinion, pushed through her many siblings and tapped her father's thorax. “Daddy,” she said. “Can I have some?”
Mr Harris' feelers waved happily. “Of course, sweetie. I still have my human farm. How about when we get home, we'll order some yuppie humans for you? They're the best looking.” He looked down at the cubicle colony they had found. “Of course, if we're going to finish our picnic, I'll have to get rid of these ones.” He brought up his can of insecticide and sprayed the exposed colony.
The hundred Harris children watched the humans die, then went back to their lunch, now free of pests.
Posted on: November 03 2011
3.0 / 5
Who is that I see? She looks at me as if she knows me
but I don't recognize her.
She is round-faced with crows feet around
her eyes. Her dark hair is beginning
to gray here and there. She has laugh lines and
jowls and her smile is sad but kind.
How does she know me?
Maybe she has seen me with my friends at the
playground, or passed my house and heard me singing
to my dolls. Perhaps she has even seen me at the grocery store
with my mother.
Wait! She is calling my name. How does she know it?
I didn't tell her. I've never seen her before just now.
She wants me to come with her. No. I can't.
I'm too busy now. I still have many years to play with
my dolls. I still have to share secrets with my friends
and have pillow fights and stay up past my bedtime.
I have to make cookies with my Mom and snuggle under
the covers with my teddy bear when there is a bad storm.
Listen. She is telling me I can't do that anymore. I have to
give all that up now. I have to grow up and be responsible
for others. I can't be silly and carefree. I have to have dinner
parties instead of slumber parties. I have to be brave during storms.
She says I don't have a Mom anymore, except in my heart.
I don't like this. I'm afraid.
But she says I can't be afraid anymore, either. Maybe she's
not so bad. Maybe I should go to her. She seems kind enough.
I don't think she'll hurt me. I know that, if I go, I can never come
back but I take a step toward her anyway. It will be allright.
I can do this. I'll be brave and I'll be a big girl.
I'm beginning to see something in her eyes that I recognize and I find
it sort of comforting.
With a deep sigh, I wipe away a tear....
and turn away from the mirror.
Posted on: October 26 2011
3.0 / 5
Doctor: Josh, I'm sorry but if you leave the hospital you will most likely die from the stress.
Josh: I can't stay in here dying like this! Let me go! I'm leaving and u…
(Josh vomits in the trashcan.)
(The boy speaks in a weak voice.)
Josh: I have to see her. I have to go to school one last time. Please let me go. I'll tell people I snuck out. Just turn away and we never had this conversation.
Doctor: Why would you want to…
Josh: I'm going to die anyway. You said yourself I might not make it through the week.
Please let me go. Before my parents get back.
Doctor: You're in no shape to drive. I'll take you. Can you walk?
(Eyes closed. Completely overcome with exhaustion.)
Josh: Thank you.
(The doctor drives josh to his school and drops him off at the back door. Josh finds his girlfriend of 5 years in her senior P.E. class. They sit down alone in the hall. She is worried and crying.)
Girl: Why are you always so stubborn?
Josh: I'm sorry just please stop crying.
Girl: How can I stop crying!? You've been in the hospital for months with some freakish disease and now you're going to die!
(Trying to be lighthearted)
Josh: We're all going to die. I just have the privilege of knowing when.
(Josh lays his head on the girl's shoulder while she strokes his head.)
Josh: You know how I said I would love you forever?
(Girl calms down)
Girl: Save your words, baby. You don't have to be sweet right now. I remember ever sweet thing you've ever told me.
(Josh laughs a weak, small laugh.)
Josh: Really baby? Everything? I love you. With all my heart. Promise you won't forget me.
(The girl smiles. A small tear roles off her cheek onto the boy's lips.)
Girl: How could I forget my future husband?
Girl: You're heartbeat is so weak Josh. Are you ok?
(Josh sinks his head lower until he is resting in her lap. He smiles.)
Josh: You're such a silly girl.
(The girl lifts up josh's head and kisses him. He barely has the energy to kiss back.)
Josh: I love you.
Girl: As I love you.
(Josh falls asleep in the girl's lap. She closes her eyes and sings to him while stroking her fingers through his blond wild, hair.)
Girl: Hey Josh? I have a question.
Girl: Josh? Wake up baby I need to tell you something.
(The girl shakes Josh and cries in a panic. She feels his heartbeat. She screams in lamentation and the doctor runs through the door.)
Girl: Please help him!
Doctor: He should've died on the car ride up here. This boy really did love you.
Posted on: October 17 2011
3.0 / 5
The lung is bursting,
And the smoke is out there,
And also this is giving a pain,
I hope which I can always bear.
The wind blowing is taking it,
Away from my lung,
To give me the best feeling of
"A mind without fear".
Kill me if you can,
This is the best time you can have.
Not in the future,
Coz i'll never be so unplanned.
The wind passed away,
is having the toxin of time worth dying for.
Don't know in future,
If my thoughts would be so clear.
The silent wind shouting,
Which used to be cool clear calm,
Give me one another chance.
Well I'll see in future, if i can take your wish as grant.
Posted on: October 02 2011
3.0 / 5
I felt the cold wind on my back,
As i sat there looking at the sky.
How could my colorful world turn black?
And the love in my heart just die?
Love was suppose to be like Spring,
Now why does it feel like winter?
You claimed I was your everything!
I accepted you with your every flaw.
We were suppose to be like the stars,
And shine together side by side.
Why do I feel like I'm behind bars?
I need somewhere to run and hide!
Tears? I never knew them until today,
No reason did I have to cry.
You promised You would keep them away
So love where is my smile?
The warmness in my heart turned cold;
Excuse me, I'm new to this feeling
It's like I just suddenly grew old,
Why did this happen without warning?
Love you trained me to be selfless,
Was it hard to return the favour?
I guess this was the ultimate test,
And I must accept my failure.
Everything to me, is new
May I please go back in time?
LOVE! How could you not stay true?
I want everything you said would be mine!
The night is almost over;
Love would you be in my dreams?
Would you be back tomorrow?
Or are things just as they seem?
I cant believe you, this is not right!
But love I hope to see you again.
Until then Goodnight and
Love, you'd always be my friend .
Posted on: November 27 2012
2.0 / 5
They've become nothing,
Those squiggly, curved, straight lines
That are the way we can tell without our voices.
Are fed with love and truth.
But I am fed with words and lies.
Life, Love, Live
Some of the 4-lettered words that are
A sinking ship,
That once sailed fearlessly, worthily,
Flag whipping high.
But words are to me an empty present,
A blank sheet,
A confederate dollar,
A truthful lie,
A ghost and a broken heart.
Worth less than the ink written with
And the paper written on.
Speak the truth,
If you care for me not at all
Write me a note,
With 3 simple words
"I love you."
Posted on: August 11 2012
2.0 / 5
The blast of light and amazing screech came from something nobody expected. A pheonix made purely of raging fire that curled when the creature flapped its wings wooshed above their machine in a second.
But it wasn’t alone, a stone eagle that seemed heavier than an elephant soared through the wind in the same direction as the pheonix.
Last, a flock of little golden doves cooed as they danced in the air. But they didn’t follow the others, they seemed to be hovering right over Jesse, Melissa, and Malcome. It was amazing, how they shone magnificently. It was almost like they didn’t even know!
“Wow,” Muttered Malcome. “that is SO cool.”
Melissa laughed. “That is!”
Their necks were strained from bending up and marveling at the birds. Jesse asked, “Do you think they’re waiting for something?”
It was werid, but Jesse had a point. When the biggest one come down, touch it, Melissa suddenly thought out of the blue.
Another message, Melissa thought, this time actually thinking for herself. She couldn’t stop herself, it just seemed like the correct thing to do. So do it.
When the largest dove swooped down, almost commanded to Melissa’s thought, Melissa sprang up and merely touched one of its feathers. A burst of yellow light and Melissa was upon its back.
She opened her previously closed eyes to see the dove had grown what felt like times twenty!! Jesse and Malcome gasped as Melissa laughed. “Touch one!” She yelled at them between grabbing her stomach and hugging the dove.
Malcome did it without hesitation and was soon mimicing Melissa in joy. Jesse followed suit. As they all looked back, the vending machine swirled uncontrollably through the sky in every direction leving a smoke stack in its trail. Soon it was headed straight for the three of them!
“GO!” They all shouted in unison, and the doves took off. Like a rollwercoaster, same speed and thrill, the whole flock was majestically swinging to and fro. It was amazing!
As scary as it could have been, being up high and being chased by a vending machine, it couldn’t have been more exciting! The doves’ wings made a woosh sound every flap. It was one big sound they all made at once.
Looking around, Melissa was surprised all the doves grew. She also saw that they all left a stream of sparkles behind them. The doves acted almost completely normal, with what seemed like a slight little grin on their faces, happy to see the three of them happy.
As Melissa was playing detective and looking around, Jesse gestured her to look forward by pointing with very believable persistence. Melissa looked over and saw something shocking.
“What. . . IS that!?” She exclaimed.
A golden dome glittered like the doves, but less glamorous, more like a shield would shine, but isn’t really meant to. But the dome looked like it was four stories tall and the diameter (length from one side to the other) was about two miles.
Around it in what looked like an organized line of cottages and scattered people walking around. It was a buzz of a little community.
They flew for a few more minutes until the doves landed them right in the middle of the first line of cottages. People swarmed them.
The doves cooed and left toward the golden dome, but before they could see what happened to the birds, a soothing voice asked, “Excuse me, but what are you doing here?”
Dang, if they had a dime for each time they heard that.
Posted on: July 04 2012
2.0 / 5
That heart-shaped core inside me
Is nothing short of haunted house
With smashed windows and broken dreams
A door swinging crazily, crookedly in the midst of a storm
On its rusted hinges
If the outside has not frightened thee,
Some have dared to enter
And fall only through the weak floor boards
Or pale at the shadows
Who haunt, wisp, and glide the lonely rooms
Hunting, haunted, for something
That they'll never find,
Innocence, in their haunted minds
In my haunted house.
This doesn't feel too great of a poem and if any of you have a great idea or are in the perfect mood to perfect this poem or expand on it, you are certainly welcome to re-write it yourself and post it, and I hope you'll show it to me!
Posted on: July 01 2012
2.0 / 5
In a stark room they crawl to each other,
Collapse in early morning from passions
That are ready to begin anew, Dress
Each other in demanding imagination,
He in desire’s sway, she
In lipstick and high heels; in spent
Flesh a suggestion of a dance in cool
Dawn. They collide in sweet agonizing
Tempos, violate damp air
Like hot Latin music. They
Forget nothing about it: a champagne
Chalice, the sound of leather hot
Across spent and satisfied skin,
Sweet chained pressure across
Breasts fresh and available,
Imploring sobs, wails whose voices
They did not recognize
Sometimes they may be stalling: coffee,
Dinner, Amsterdam; he measures
Her but will never know her. She
Has earned the right to know things
About him. They collide in a film
That makes crazy lives seem sedate.
Posted on: November 29 2011
2.0 / 5
I wish I could have just one more memory: To dance with you to my radio in the middle of a backroad with the trees stretching across trying to meet each other; under the moon and the stars and the dim light of my headlights. May our hearts beat as one. And may our song be love. Forever and ever babe. Just one last memory together...
Posted on: October 17 2011
2.0 / 5
She was right. The sounds HAD stopped. But that’s what scared me.
Now I knew that this thing outside knew that we knew it was there so it stopped. So it wasn’t expecting us to be there. So since it stopped because it knew we were there, but wasn’t expecting us to be there, he probably had this giant chainsaw and wanted to rip us apart!
Or she! Or it! Or all three! Or just two, but that still has a variety different outcomes and I wasn’t in any mood to try and firgure them out.
At that minute I wished I was upstairs when I remembered Jaliet was still there. That colled me off a bit. ONLY one bit!
A long silence grew, telling me we all knew the two things that were going to happen:
A.) We were going to run upstairs and hide or they were going to run and hide.
B.) Somebody would have too much idiot-level-brave brain cells to open the back door and find the other one there.
For some reason I honestly will never find out, Jaliet decided she was going to go with choice ‘B’ and open the door.
Goosebumps trapped me in my skin and spot as she slowly crept with caution towards the door. I was still shocked as she dared to turn the doorknop creating, if possible, even more terror throughout everybody. Inside and outside the door.
I saw her knuckles turn white as she swung open the door to see the bitter darkness tha was outback in the middle of the night. But of course, things aren’t just what you see when there’s a noise outside of a dojo where teenagers, a man, and an old man train to fight with water and rocks.
Now that everybody knew a fight was about to occur, the phantom reavealed himself. Well. . .HER self.
Out from the bushes twirled a teenage girl, Jaliet’s age, in all black except for a few accessories. Her black denim jeans were tucked into her calf-high bright red socks. Her dark shirt was the same. At the wrists it was tucked in to wierd red fabric wrapped tightly around her wrists. Her waist had anothers tightly wrapped piece of fabric impeding view of the separation of her pants and shirt. Her brown hair was set in a ponytail using a red scrunchie.
She was one of the red ninja guys, I thought. Except. . .she was a girl!
She snapped her head up, scaring Jaliet, and let us see her beautiful face. Her hazel eyes weren’t like a single pair I’ve seen. Almost orange. Her face was smooth, sharp, and stunning.
Her voice wrapped it all up like a bow. “I thought I was the only hirl who could fight with the Earth.”
For some reason I spoke up, without quivering. “You’re darn right! She. . .she’s awesome!”
And I didn’t need Jaliet to spell out her next move. She stabbed me with her dagger eyes, telling me never to say something like that again.
When Jaliet faced the other girl, the other girl smirked. I kinda got mad that she was so arrogant. I stood up, sending her into a little surprise.
She tried to hide it with her confident voice, but we began to see through it. “You’re insolent. But I’m out numbered.” she looked straight into me, and I began to sink in. “I’m still going to win.”
I clenched my fist and whipped my hair around for a second to get out of the funk. “You shut it.”
I swear, looking back at that, I really should’ve taken that back and not let myself get back-fisted into the gut. By Jaliet.
I chocked a bit and held my stomach. But Jaliet was finished with me, but still wanted to steam off a little. So, as we all knew, she eyed the other girl and slapped her with all her cat-fight power. That send the other girl into a frenzy.
I recovered slowly as the other girl levitated a rocked and threw it at Jaliet with a full surprise to her. Jaliet took the shot in her shoulder and held it, holding back tears.
Seeing Jaliet mad made me want to smack this girl, so I decide to. While she was busy laughing at Jaliet, I took the stone from the ground at threw it at her knee.
She seemed a little confused, and mad, so I took off while she was looking down. I took off outside, speffically to the calender. Out of rage she followed me into the black light.
I knew I couldn’t make it to the calender before the took a swing at me with another rock, so I froze in my place. She ran past me for a second, then she realized I had stopped. But all too late. I already had a ten-pound stone infront of my in the air. And she saw it.
I took a step forward, and she fumbled a bit backwards. Forward, backwards, forward, backwards. She got the hint soon. Her wide eyes told me so.
Suddenly, she got an idea. I could tell because her eyes changed, and were pointed down evilly. She lifted her hands and acted like she was gripping a rock.
I thought she had a big rock behind me, so I looked quickly only to see nothing. She laughed and snatched the rock from me.
“What!?” I yelled. She just tricked me! Is that what they learn from the red guy?
So she ran, and I mean FAST RAN, to the calender. I tried to make roots randomly appear in front of her feet, maybe tripping her, but she always saw them coming.
I thought she would get away when out of nowhere, a vine of water engulfed her ankle, and down she went. Right into the hard ground.
Posted on: July 04 2012
1.0 / 5
Surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones, as if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called, and we got called them all. So we grew up believing that no one would ever fall in love with us. That we'd be lonely forever. That we'd never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their tool shed. So broken that the heart strings bled the blues. As we tried to empty ourselves so we would feel nothing. Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone. That an ingrown life is something surgeons can cut away. That there's no way for it to penetrate. It does. She was eight years old. On the first day of grade three. The day she got called ugly. She got moved to the back of the class so she would stop getting bombarded by spit balls. But the school halls were a battle ground where she found herself outnumbered day after wretched day. She used to stay inside for recess because outside was much worse. Outside, she had to rehearse how to run away. Or learn to stay still like a statue, giving no clues that she was even there. In grade five, they taped a sign to her desk that read "Beware of Dog" To this day, despite a loving family and great friends, she doesn't think she's beautiful. Kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer that someone tried to erase, but couldn't get the job done. And they'll never understand that she already had a hard life, she didn't need them to add on. They don't see her heart before they see her skin. But she's only ever been amazing. She was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree. Adopted, but not because her parents opted for a different destiny. She was three when she became a mixed drink. One part left alone, and two parts tragedy. She started therapy in 6th grade. Had a personality made up of tests and pills. Lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs. Four fifths suicidal. A tidal wave of antidepressants. And an adolescence of being called a popper. One part because of the pills and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty. She tried to kill herself in 8th grade. When she went home to "mom" and "dad" they had the audacity to tell her "get over it." As if depression is something that can be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit. To this day, she is a stick of TNT lit from both ends. She could descrobe to you in detail the way the sky bends in the moments before it is about to fall and despite an army of friends who call her an inspiration, she remains a conversation piece between people who can't understand sometimes that becoming drug free has less to do with addiction and more to do with sanity. But she isn't the only kid who grew up this way. To this day, kids are still being called names. The classics were "Hey stupid" "Hey spaz" Seems like every school has an arsenal of names getting updated every year. If a kid breaks into a school and no one around chooses to hear, do they make a sound? Are they just the background noise of a soundtrack stuck on repeat when people say things like "Kids can be cruel." Every school was a big top circus tent and the pecking order went from acrobats to lion tamers to clowns and then carnies. All of these were miles ahead of who she was. She was a freak. Lobster claw boys and bearded ladies. Oddities juggling depression and lonliness. Playing solitairy spin the bottle, trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal. But at night while the others slept, we kept walking the tightrope. It was practice. And yeah, some of us fell. But I want to tell them that all of this is just debris. Leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be. And if you can't find anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror. Look a little closer. Stare a little longer. Because there's something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and you signed it yourself. You signed it "They were wrong" Because maybe you didn't belong to a group or a clique. Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball and everything. Maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to show and tell but never told because how can you hold your ground if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it? You have to believe that they were wrong. They have to be wrong. Because why else would you still be here? We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them. We stem from a root planted in the belief that we are not what we were called. We are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on some highway. And if in some way we are, don't worry. We only got out to walk and get gas. We are graduating members from the class of We Made It. Not the faded echoes of voices crying out "names will never hurt me" Of course they did. But out lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty.
Surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones, as if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called, and we got called them all. So we grew up believing that no one would ever fall in love with us. That we'd be lonely forever. That we'd never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their tool shed. So broken that the heart strings bled the blues. As we tried to empty ourselves so we would feel nothing. Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone. That an ingrown life is something surgeons can cut away. That there's no way for it to penetrate. It does.
She was eight years old. On the first day of grade three. The day she got called ugly. She got moved to the back of the class so she would stop getting bombarded by spit balls. But the school halls were a battle ground where she found herself outnumbered day after wretched day. She used to stay inside for recess because outside was much worse. Outside, she had to rehearse how to run away. Or learn to stay still like a statue, giving no clues that she was even there.
In grade five, they taped a sign to her desk that read "Beware of Dog" To this day, despite a loving family and great friends, she doesn't think she's beautiful. Kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer that someone tried to erase, but couldn't get the job done. And they'll never understand that she already had a hard life, she didn't need them to add on. They don't see her heart before they see her skin. But she's only ever been amazing.
She was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree. Adopted, but not because her parents opted for a different destiny. She was three when she became a mixed drink. One part left alone, and two parts tragedy.
She started therapy in 6th grade. Had a personality made up of tests and pills. Lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs. Four fifths suicidal. A tidal wave of antidepressants. And an adolescence of being called a popper. One part because of the pills and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty. She tried to kill herself in 8th grade. When she went home to "mom" and "dad" they had the audacity to tell her "get over it." As if depression is something that can be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit.
To this day, she is a stick of TNT lit from both ends. She could descrobe to you in detail the way the sky bends in the moments before it is about to fall and despite an army of friends who call her an inspiration, she remains a conversation piece between people who can't understand sometimes that becoming drug free has less to do with addiction and more to do with sanity. But she isn't the only kid who grew up this way.
To this day, kids are still being called names. The classics were "Hey stupid" "Hey spaz" Seems like every school has an arsenal of names getting updated every year. If a kid breaks into a school and no one around chooses to hear, do they make a sound? Are they just the background noise of a soundtrack stuck on repeat when people say things like "Kids can be cruel."
Every school was a big top circus tent and the pecking order went from acrobats to lion tamers to clowns and then carnies. All of these were miles ahead of who she was. She was a freak.
Lobster claw boys and bearded ladies. Oddities juggling depression and lonliness. Playing solitairy spin the bottle, trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal. But at night while the others slept, we kept walking the tightrope. It was practice. And yeah, some of us fell. But I want to tell them that all of this is just debris. Leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be. And if you can't find anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror. Look a little closer. Stare a little longer. Because there's something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and you signed it yourself. You signed it "They were wrong" Because maybe you didn't belong to a group or a clique. Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball and everything. Maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to show and tell but never told because how can you hold your ground if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it? You have to believe that they were wrong.
They have to be wrong. Because why else would you still be here? We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them. We stem from a root planted in the belief that we are not what we were called. We are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on some highway.
And if in some way we are, don't worry. We only got out to walk and get gas. We are graduating members from the class of We Made It. Not the faded echoes of voices crying out "names will never hurt me"
Of course they did. But out lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty.
Posted on: December 06 2013
Not yet rated / 5
“We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a special report from our Washington correspondents”
“Good evening America. We have just received information from Senate sources that the President
has requested a Declaration of War against Russia. Sources say this is in response to this morning’s
simultaneous joint Chinese and Russian force invasions of Iran, Iraq and Saudi Arabia. Russian forces
are now controlling the Suez Canal and major Saudi refineries. Saudi sources report high casualty rates
and little resistance from the surprised nation. The President is planning a noon news conference tomorrow
where he will officially declare war on Russia and ask Congress for nuclear mobilization.
We return to scheduled programming”
RADIO“ah, roger nine-two, tide-waters 7, 30 miles closing”
“roger nine-seven, tide-waters 9, 20 miles closing:
“ah, roger nine-three, tide-waters 10, 10 miles closing”
“Ok, roger one-one, tide-waters complete, we are over target”
“launch switches on, armed, dropping now”
“God bless America”
“roger three, we are now high tide, returning to light house”
“roger eight, under heavy Mig fire! Heavy bombers, heavy fire starboard engine!”
Posted on: November 28 2013
Not yet rated / 5
IS NOT ENOUGH
IS TOO MUCH
Posted on: November 24 2013
Not yet rated / 5
by Pirate Queen
OK so i know that this is a really rough, rough draft but bear with me here. Also excuse my bad grammer and spelling please.
(I'm working on it.) This is my first play, its about 5 middle school students and how their lives work. The basis of the story is to compare and contrast their lives and to show that your good deeds mean something to others. This is the almost complete 1st act. It's about 2 3 scenes away from being fully finished. Please leave comments about what you think is good, bad, or what I can do to make it better. I apreciate all feedback.
Dear Diary: A small act of kindness goes a long way
Marigold (Mary): Anorexic, struggles with depression but keeps up her status on the outside. Is a cheerleader, popular but can’t seem to handle it all. Her grades start to slip. She doesn’t let anybody see her hurting, so she keeps it inside. Her reason is that her Mom recently died in a car crash.
Darcy: She is a cutter. Involved in band\choir. She can be played as a rebellious girl or a nice nerdy girl who doesn’t know how to deal with problems. She has an ok family life, but was emotionally abused as a child. She is constantly lonely and stressed.
Gwendolyn (Gwen): Perky and upright, performs in musicals and isn’t afraid to be who she is. Sometimes she will scare other off and it will make her sad but she will let it slide off her back. She daydreams a lot and is really weird, but she knows right from wrong. Is part of the debate team?
Karen (Kara): Is unpopular and bullied. She is seen as the weird emo girl who nobody likes. She eats lunch alone every day, she is and feels invisible. The only time anybody notices her is when they bully her. Her outlet is drawing clouds because she wishes she were one.
Trevor White (Rocky Road): He is by the world’s definition your average Jo. He has a crush on Marigold but feels he doesn’t have a chance. He feels as if he is no one special and can’t accomplish anything. His parents ignore him and he has major identity issues.
Plot: First act is the first day in school. The play starts off with them writing in their diaries about that day in school. The scene takes them and we back to what they are writing about. The scenes then show the lives these 5 live at school and at home. The act ends with them finishing their diary entries.
Second act starts with all except Gwen writing about how they don’t want to go to school. This time we see things in order. Their dreary lives continue, and Gwen only shows up in the second act to help others. The play ends with all 4 at the end of the day writing about how Gwen really made them feel special. Gwen steps on and they all say. A small act of kindness goes a long way.
Annalisa: She is Gwen’s best friend. She is an overzealous ensemble actress, and over exaggerates everything. She is peppy, fun, over-dramatic, and quirky.
Gigi: She is queen B. Mary is the most popular girl in school and she isn’t. She wants to be the best but she knows she can’t and is extremely jealous of Mary. Therefore she does everything in her power to try and bring Marigold down, while trying to look innocent. She is snobby, bratty, spoiled but not downright mean, just selfish.
Mickey: Trevor’s biggest “bro”. He is a track and field jock, very boyish and immature.
Jonah: Darcy’s best friend and lead singer in their band. Jonah genuinely cares about Darcy but he is too preoccupied to notice her hurting.
Charles: Annalisa’s boyfriend and fellow overzealous actor. He is very supportive and encouraging.
Mrs. Classwell: She is your average teacher and is tired of her rambunctious students, but still maintains an enthusiasm for learning.
Mr. Y: He thinks that science is the most important thing in the world. Very impatient and strict.
Gwen’s siblings: Anya age 7 twins Matt and Nathan age 5
Anya: Gwen’s little sister. She is spunky and girly. She thoroughly enjoys being around Gwen.
Matt and Nathan: These boys are twins and brothers of Gwen. They enjoy all the things a young boy should enjoy: anything with a gun or a ball.
(Scene: Gwen, Kara, Mary, Darcy, and Trevor are apron center with a blank set. They are standing next to each other but not aware of each other. Each of them holds a diary and a pen. None of them will actually write just pretend to write. Spotlights centered on them.)
Gwen, Kara, Mary, Darcy: Dear Diary
Trevor: Um hey journal
Mary: Today was
Kara: The same as yesterday
Gwen: Today I
Kara: Drew some clouds
Mary: Went to cheerleading practice.
Darcy: Cut myself
Trevor: smoked pot
Gwen: Practiced my solo
Trevor: Sometimes I wish I could just be
Kara: I constantly feel
Gwen: I’m glad I’m not
Mary: My life is just so
Darcy: On the inside I am just
All 5: Dead
Kara: If you were a person, would feel that way too?
Gwen: Death is a scary thing
Darcy: I feel like I am dying but nobody knows.
Trevor: If life is always the same, then what is death?
Mary: People tell me all the time that I could die
Gwen: Anyways, I won’t talk about that
Darcy: Here’s what happened at school today
(Scene shifts to school hallway as the curtains open and reveal a school setting. Characters stay in place for transformation. Once students start to come on then they blend into their groups. Mary with the cheerleaders, Trevor with some boys. Gwen with the somewhat abstract drama group, Darcy with people carrying instruments, and Kara just go to her locker alone. All 5 are in different positions but they are in front of their different groups. As they walk around students talk and give it the feel of a hallway. Bell rings and all students rush off except 5. They look at each other awkwardly then walk or shuffle their different ways).
(All students are in one of 2classrooms. Each classroom has a teacher and students in each class are about12 . All the groups are mixed in the classes and leads are up front. Chairs are facing audience with teachers facing audience too. Darcy, Gwen and Kara are in Geometry class and Trevor and Mary are in the other)
Mrs. Classwell: Who knows what the meanings of interior opposing angles are?
Gwen: (Hand shoots in the air excitedly) me! Me! I know what it is!
Mrs. Classwell: (small audible sigh) Anyone else? Anyone? (Looks around room) Very well then, Mrs. Reed.
Gwen: It’s when they are on opposite sides of the transversal but on the inside of the parallel lines.
Mrs. Classwell: Very good. Now who knows what a transversal is?
(Gwen’s hand shoots up again)
(Scene goes over to second classroom. Spotlight switches)
Mr. Y : Ozone, A molecule composed of three oxygen atoms makes up this amazing filter.(Mic will go out or turn down, but Mr. Y will continue speaking his lesson, to keep the atmosphere up while Trevor tries to talk to Mary) It turns out that this amazing filter breaks down in the presence of ultraviolet light. It is extremely harmful to our bodies. It has just enough energy to break apart one of these bonds . Thus the ozone stops the ultraviolet light from getting to earth. But the truly amazing thing about the ozone is that it is not broken by invisible or infrared light! That is the light we actually need. As a result they pass right through the ozone layer. Now please understand that the ozone does not stop all ultra violet light from getting to the earth. Some of it does reach earth. This is a reason we get sunburned.
Trevor: (to Mary) ugh why do we even need to know this stuff?
Mary: I don’t know. Shhh
Trevor: But come on, I’m not going to be a scientist or anything when I grow up
Mary: Well, why not?
Trevor: I’m not smart or good enough
Mary: But you can always try. You never know. Maybe someday you will be a scientist.
Trevor: You really think so?
Mary: Ya, I think you can be anyth-
Mr. Y: Excuse Trevor and Mary. Am I interrupting anything?
Mary: (looking down) No sir
Mr. Y: Detention after school both of you.
(Turns to board and resumes drawing molecules)
Trevor: Sorry about that
Mary: It’s ok
(Lights go off on science classroom and turn on in geometry classroom)
Mrs. Classwell: As you all know your quarter projects are starting this week. But this time I might try something different (claps hands excitedly and looks at class hopeful) Partners! You may choose your partners but if you cannot decide then, I will choose your partners.
(Students shift around to find partners. Gwen links arms with friend Annalisa. Everyone has a partner except Darcy and Kara.)
Darcy: (to Kara) I guess were partners then
Kara: (Shyly with head down) ya I guess.
Mrs. Classwell: Ok now that were all buckled up and ready to go, I suggest you start. You will be making a poster each explaining different theorems of Geometry.
(Class gets into partners and starts discussing. Nobody is really talking and all is quiet, but everyone should be animated and in their projects)
Darcy: Hi… Its Kara right
Kara: Yes and your Darcy.
Darcy: Oh ok good, sorry I don’t see you around a lot, and I am completely bad with names
Kara: That’s fine (Turns the other way and whispers to self) It’s just because I am invisible.
Darcy: What was that?
Kara: Nothing (Goes back to doodling in notebook)
Darcy: I guess I’ll just get started then.
(Spotlight moves from Darcy and Kara to Gwen and Annalisa)
Annalisa: How many lines have you gotten down?
Gwen: (very proud of herself) All of them
Annalisa: Wow! But Gwen you only got the part of the witch a week ago!
Gwen: I know right! I just can’t help reading my script in my free time. I guess I read it so much that I just have it memorized!
Annalisa: You are so lucky you get a solo. Ensemble doesn’t get anything.
Gwen: But Annalisa, you guys are still important.
Annalisa: Thanks Gwen, you are so nice.
Gwen: (imitating fake blush) Aww shucks. (Checks watch) looks like it’s time for lunch.
(Bell rings students rush out of seats and go different directions. Lights go out and props are taken off by teachers. Blank stage is set. Kara is bumped by several people, all either ignoring her or scowling at her as she makes her way center stage.)
Kara’s Monologue Lunch Time
It’s that time again. (Small sigh) Lunch time. I don’t like lunch, I mean I like to eat but I just don’t like eating it with other people, or in my case, alone. I see people hugging and laughing and holding hands in the lunchroom. They are all so happy. But I have no friend to hug and to laugh with; I have no hand to hold. I’m not happy, I’m lonely. What’s wrong with me? I try to make friends. I really do try, but nobody likes me. I am pushed and shunned away. I am invisible, I don’t matter. The only time I seem to exist to other people, is when they bully me. They hurt me; it hurts so bad that I just want it to stop. I’m so tired of this, of all of this. I just want it to stop. I want the pain to stop; I want the hurt to stop. I just want it to end.
Can’t you all remember I am human too? When you hurt me, I know you forget that. It’s easier to treat me like a thing, rather than a human being. But I am a human; I have a heartbeat, a nose, fingers, and feelings. What makes me so different? Why can’t you just treat me how I deserve to be treated? Why can’t you just treat me like a human?
(Lunchroom. Everyone is separated into their own groups talking laughing and hugging. Once everyone goes to their seat the dialogue starts. There should be at least 4 different lunch tables one with Gwen’s group, another with Mary and the cheerleaders, Trevor should be with the boys, Darcy should be with her music friends, and Kara should sit apron right by herself)
Gigi: Did you hear?
Mary: Hear what?
Gigi: Trevor broke up with Janelle Colin. He’s single and on the market.
Mary: (Trying to act as if she doesn’t care but obviously does) Oh really?
Gigi: Ya I know, he totally broke her heart last night.
Mary: I feel bad for Janelle, I honestly had no idea. But Gigi what do you care?
Gigi: Oh I don’t really care; I just thought you would want to know.
Mary: (embarrassed) Oh.
Gigi: (Looking at Mary’s untouched tray) aren’t you going to eat anything?
Mary: (Shifting around uncomfortably) No. I’m not hungry
Gigi: Oh well, ok then
(Spotlight shifts to Trevor and his friends as Trevor sits down)
Mickey: Hey Rocky Road!
Trevor: I told you not to call me that.
Mickey: Oh come on roadster. Ok fine. Heard about what happened last night.
Trevor: (accusingly) what do you care?
Mickey: (Throws hands in the air in sarcastic apology) Hey, hey, just wondering that’s all.
Trevor: Well mind your own business Mickey.
(Spotlight shifts to Darcy and her friends)
Darcy: Jonah, when have you gotten us lined up for our next gig?
Jonah: In 2 weeks.
Darcy: I thought you told me you got us one this week.
Jonah: Well Ya, but we already have 2 guitarists, we don’t need a third.
Darcy: So is that all I am to you, just a third guitarist?
Jonah: No Darcy, I didn’t mean it like that.
Darcy: (sigh) its fine Jonah, your right.
Jonah: Darcy, we still need you. The band still needs you. I still need you.
Darcy: (brightening up) I guess you’re right.
Jonah: You know Darcy lately you’ve been acting kind of
Jonah: No, more depressed. You’re not cutting again are you?
Darcy: (looking away) No
Jonah: Darcy please don’t do that again. It’s not going to help.
(Scene shifts to Gwen and Annalisa)
Annalisa: And I said to that. Moo Moo Moo Moo.
(Everyone erupts into genuine laughter)
Gwen: (gasping between breaths) that was so funny Annalisa!
Annalisa: It’s what I do best
Charles: I cannot wait for rehearsal today
All at table: Tech week!
Charles: I wish tech week was every week.
Gwen: As future president of United States of America, I say this shall pass!
(Laughter erupts again this time only louder, grabbing the attention of the nearby cheerleaders)
Gigi: What's their problem?
Mary: I don’t really care
Gigi: Anyways, so I told him, no way Mister, you cannot just call me that and expect to get away with it!
Mary: Gigi, do you ever feel like?
Gigi: Feel like what?
Mary: That we aren’t having as much fun as everyone else is?
Gigi: Are you kidding? Mary! We are the cheerleaders; we are at the top of the popularity food chain! Who could have more fun than us?
Mary: I don’t know. I guess your right
Gigi: You bet
(Spotlight goes to Trevor and his friends)
Mickey: You ok dude, you seem down.
Trevor: Not that breaking up with my ex would have anything to do with that.
Mickey: It was your call dude.
Still have to figure our scene ending
(About 20 students are in an art classroom. Mary and Kara are in the front painting their clay pots. Kara’s pot is a bowl but she is painting it black. Mary’s bowl is significantly bigger, more complex looking and beautiful. She is painting it violet and pink. Mrs. Paint is walking around complimenting everybody’s sculptures.)
Mrs. Paint: (To random student) Very good. I like the colors.
(Mrs. Paint walks over to Kara)
Mrs. Paint: Kara darling, why are you painting it all black? Don’t you think it would look better with some brown or whites too?
Kara: I think its ok.
Mrs. Paint: Well ok then.
(Mrs. Paint walks over to Mary)
Mrs. Paint: Oh Mary! That looks wonderful!
Mary: This? It wasn’t that hard. I don’t think it’s that pretty.
Mrs. Paint: Well Mary you certainly have an artist’s eye.
Mary: I really don’t think it’s anything special.
Mrs. Paint: Mary would you like to take an afterschool art class?
Mary: I have cheerleading after school.
Mrs. Paint: Mary. You really have a lot of talent. You should just try. It’s not like you have to be an artist when you grow up.
Mary: I don’t even like art that much…
Mrs. Paint: But Mary, look at your sculpture. It’s gorgeous.
Mary: Thanks, but no thanks.
(Bell rings and Mary rushes off to class. Mrs. Paint leaves the room. Kara takes her time packing things up. Then looks around the room and sighs. Lights fade out)
(It is tech week for the drama department. It is the end of rehearsal and everybody is saying goodbye. Gwen finds herself alone on the stage)
Charles: This was a great run! I can’t believe the show is in a week. You were amazing out there today Gwen.
Gwen: Oh thanks Charles.
Annalisa: Well Charles and I have a study date. Keep up the good work. See you tomorrow. Bye!
(Annalisa hugs Gwen then walks hand in hand with Charles offstage leaving Gwen alone on the stage)
Gwen: Oh, I guess I’m alone.
(Gwen walks around the stage to different parts and pretends to be different people, or does a dance. Whatever she does she is just enjoying herself onstage. She stops center stage and turns to the audience, as if perhaps realizing something.)
Gwen’s Monologue: On the Stage
I am on the stage. The stage is in me. We are one. It lets me use its platforms to carry my message, and I take the privilege seriously. On the stage I am different. Of course it is because I am a character, but it is also because on the stage I am free. On the stage I am free to be whatever I want to be, wherever I want to be and do whatever I want to do. On the stage I feel alive. I am alive more than ever, pouring my soul out to the audience before me. On the stage my eyes light up. They carry a fierceness to them, a determination to show the world who I am. Or even just the people in the back row. On the stage I am flying. I am flying through my lines and my songs, I am flying inside the story I am telling. On the stage, I am free, alive, lit up, flying. On the stage I am really just me.
(Detention. Trevor and Mary are sitting in a classroom at the very front one desk apart from each other. Mr. Y is reading a book at his desk next to a chalkboard that says: QUIET no talking during detention. Feel free to add as many students as possible)
Mary: (In a stage whisper) I heard you broke up with Janelle.
Trevor: (Staring off into space then his attention is brought to Mary) what?! Oh Ya. I guess the gossip has made its rounds then?
Mary: Ya I think so. Can I ask you a question?
Trevor: You can always ask me a question.
(Mary is taken back for a second then jumps right into the question)
Mary: Why did you do it? I mean break up with her?
Trevor: Well I. I honestly don’t know. I just think we weren’t getting anywhere.
Mary: Oh. Can I ask you another question?
Trevor: You just did.
Mary: (giggling) That doesn’t count. Do you um, think I’m skinny?
Trevor: You are seriously asking me that?
Mary: Ya your right I shouldn’t be asking that
Trevor: No I didn’t mean it like that I just meant, You are the prettiest girl I’ve ever known. And as far as I’m concerned you have a perfect body.
Mary: (Blushing) Oh, um thanks.
Mr. Y: Trevor and Mary, can you read?! (Points to sign that says quiet)
Trevor and Mary: Sorry.
Mr. Y: Well detention is over in 2 minutes anyways. I hope you learned your lesson about talking in class and in detention for you have detention tomorrow. (Sigh) You may go.
(Everyone leaves except Trevor. Props and set still stay in place)
Trevor’s Monologue: Your average Jo.
I’m Average. I’m not invisible at least, but I am normal and average. There’s a difference you know, I mean at least I know I exist .But I’m still nothing special. I’m not involved in any sports, I get B’s in all my classes, and I have no “special talents”. My friend Mickey however, Oh man, he is amazing. He’s the quarterback on the football team, and he can get any girl he wants. Probably even Marigold Evans. Not that she would pay him any mind. I hope. I wish I had a chance with her. At least she talks to me, but she would never like me for more than that.
It also doesn’t help that my parents wish I was somebody else. They wish I was like Mickey. I can see it in their eyes when I bring him to my house. No matter what they say or do, I can see it. I can see how they cringe when I show them my B’s on my report card. They have no idea how hard I try for those. When I was 7 my dad stopped taking me to the ball park, because it was too embarrassing when his son couldn’t catch a football. I feel like I’m just a big disappointment to my parents. I’ll never be good enough for them, because in their eyes, in everyone’s eyes, I am just your average Jo.
(Scene ends. Lights go out and props and set are taken off stage.)
(Kara’s and Gwen’s living rooms are set up next to each other. Kara’s on stage right and Gwen on stage left. Lights go on Kara first.)
(Kara walks to couch seeing and empty room) Kara: Mom? Dad?
(Kara’s mom walks in behind her wearing apron and holding a mixing spoon)
Kara’s Mom: Oh hey honey. Dad’s at work today. How was school today?
Kara: (forcing smile) Oh it was fine. I have a new partner for a math project. Her name is Darcy.
Kara’s mom: (obviously thinking about other things) that’s great honey.
Kara: Ya. Sure. Great.
(Lights go out for Kara’s house and spotlight switches to Gwen’s house)
Gwen: (Entering from stage left) I’M HOME!!!!
Anya, Matt and Nate: GWEN!!!! (Wrap around Gwen in bear hug)
Anya: (Letting go) Where have you been?
Nate: Mommy’s been worried.
Matt: Ya Ya!
Gwen: Oh you guys I was at tech rehearsal. It takes a long time. But Mom should have known I was there.
Anya: Well she didn’t.
Gwen’s mom: (Wearing a ratty apron and baking mitts) Oh hello Gwendolyn.
Gwen: Hey Mom.
Gwen’s Mom: Where have you been? I’ve had to take care of these 3 and make dinner since your father is working the late shift.
Gwen: Mom I told you last night. I was at tech rehearsal.
Gwen’s Mom: Oh I’m sorry sweetie. But could you take care of them? I have to make dinner and pay the bills, and do the laundry.
Gwen: (trying not to sound too exhausted) Yes mom
(Gwen’s mom leaves stage left)
Matt: Soooo what do you want to play?
Nate: Gun war?
Matt: Water balloon fight?
Matt: Car races?
Nate: Video Games?
Anya: Dolls and ponies?
Nate: That’s stupid.
Anya: Not as stupid as a water balloon fight.
Gwen: (falling back into couch) Guys!
All 3: What?
Gwen: Do you know what I want to play?
Gwen: (Rising from couch) none of those. I want to play the quiet game.
All 3: (groaning) not again!
(Lights go off on Gwen’s family and switch to Kara’s house)
Kara’s Dad: (Entering stage right carrying briefcase and wearing dishelfed tie) I’m home.
Kara: Oh Hi Dad.
Kara’s Dad: (Sitting on couch across from Kara) so, how was school today honey?
Kara: (Looking uncomfortable)it was fine Dad.
Kara’s Dad: Really? Anything interesting happen?
Kara: No.(Mom walks in and Kara is relieved) Dad I think mom wants to talk to you.
Kara’s Dad: (While walking off) Ok see you later.
Kara’s Mom: Honey, Would you mind cleaning the house? I have a lot of work I need to do.
Kara: Ok Mom.
(Lights go on for Gwen’s side. Gwen’s siblings are frozen. Kara and Gwen in almost identical timing fall down on the couch and sigh)
Kara and Gwen: I think I need a nap.
Darcy and Mary: Do you know what it’s like to have a secret you can’t control?
Darcy: You thought you could control it.
Mary: But instead, it controls you.
Darcy: That’s what cutting is like.
Mary: That’s what anorexia is like.
Darcy and Mary: It was supposed to be a way out.
Mary: I thought it would make me perfect
Darcy: I thought it would make me happy
Mary: It should have made me perfect
Darcy: It was supposed to make me happy
Mary and Darcy: I am never going to be enough
Darcy: Cutting is
Mary: Anorexia is
Mary and Darcy: Death
Darcy: But I can’t stop
Mary: There’s no way out now
Darcy: Some scars are there forever
Mary: People will think I’m ugly
Both: So I guess I’ll just keep
Mary: Is this what I want?
Darcy: I’m crying for help but nobody hears me
Both: I chose this path. I’ll do what it takes to be
Mary: My choice left me starving
Darcy: My choice left me bleeding
Darcy’s Monologue: Some Scars
Some scars never heal. Some scars stay on you forever as a constant reminder of what you did, or what you didn’t do. You can try to ignore them, get rid of them, but they never heal. Sometimes you’ll forget there even there, but like waking up from a dream, the sight of the scars brings you back to the cold desolate place of reality. Some scars never heal.
I have scars. I have a lot of scars. I have167 scars. I counted, I know. I know why I have each and every one of those scars. I know why I left them on my body. To remind me. I remember, but all I want to do is forget. So I’ll take that blade and scrape it across my skin and leave more scars. Sometimes I won’t even wash the blood.
I know scars can be reopened. Sometimes I reopen my physical ones. But my emotional ones, well those are still bleeding. When you reopen a scar, it’s like a thousand memories flowing back into you at once. The guilty memories, the sad, the bittersweet but never the happy.
In the end I feel exhausted. Why? Why leave scars, and open old and leave new ones? Why? Why bleed over all of this endless cycle? What is the point?
I scrape, and cut and wash and bleed. But I know I know that some scars never heal.
Mary’s Monologue: Expectations
Expectations. Everybody expects something right? Or something is expected of everybody.
People look at me and expect to see a perfect girl, with perfect features, and perfect hair and a perfect body. Humph. Expectations.
People expect me to be perfect. At least that’s what it feels like. Picture perfect all the time. Constantly wearing a mask so that no one see’s the real you. Is the real me really that bad? If I peeled of my makeup would my face be hideous? If I ate junk food and got fat would I lose my friends? What do you expect. Expect.
Everyone expects something of me. Nerds expect me to be mean. Mom expects me to be excellent. Friends expect me to be skinny. Teachers expect me to be dumb. But if I wasn’t anything like that what would people do? They would just keep expecting I meet their demands until I do.
Maybe that’s why I starve. To do something that they don’t expect of me. To try and be someone without labels. Maybe that’s why. Or maybe by starving I’m doing the exact thing everyone would expect.
I try and try to be my own person despite what people want, or think or expect. But when I really think about it who am I if people don’t expect something of me?
Posted on: November 19 2013
Not yet rated / 5
IN THE DARK
WHERE THE RAILROADS CROSS
MAN STANDS WITH HIS
HANDS IN HIS POCKETS
WONDERING IF HIS LIFE
IS LIKE A TRAIN
HE SEES THE CARS PASSING BY
OH THEY’RE SPEEDIN’
FOR ANOTHER TOWN
THAT ON ARRIVAL
LOOKS THE SAME
TIME FLIES, HE WONDERS WHY
HE DOESN’T CARE IF HE LIVES OR DIES
FROM THE PAIN IN HIS BRAIN
AS HE WATCHES THE TRAINS GO BY
CONDUCTOR SAID THE ONLY WAY
TO SEE TONIGHT
IS TO LEAVE IT ALL BEHIND
AND AS HE RIDES INTO TOMORROW
THE MEANING OF THE MAN
AT THE CROSSING
FATE’S CRUEL DICE
IN THE AIR
I’D STOP THE TRAIN
IF ONLY I COULD
I’D STAND IN THE TRACKS
IF THEY WOULD
STOP TO UNDERSTAND
FEEL THE STEEL
OF THE COLD BLUE RAIL
PULLED BY SAILS OF DIESEL
THROUGH THE LAND
NEAR THE TRACKS
IN THE RISING SUN
WHERE ONCE WAS A MAN
BOUND TO DESTINATIONS
THE SUN ASCENDS
A JOURNEY ENDS
AS ANOTHER MAN BEGINS
HE CLIMBS ABOARD
AND THE WHEELS SPIN
Posted on: November 16 2013
Not yet rated / 5
by Hawk Lawson
They tell me you're so wicked
Your blood dried up many years ago
But I know it started with your heart
Yes, I know you had a heart
I know you tried to save him
You didn't succeed
And you blame yourself
At first the damage went unseen
No one knew how tortured you were
There were no signs of battle
No broken bones, no bruised and battered limbs
Just a thousand poisoned spears
Piercing the soft flesh of your heart
Spilling your thirst for life
Draining hopes and dreams
Leaving nothing but a shriveled husk
A mere shell of who you were
And your blackened heart stopped fighting
They say that your soul is so unclean
Pure water can melt you
Like forgotten parchment, tucked away in a dusty attic
The tiniest bit of moisture might reduce you to pulp
But when I look at you,
My skin ripples with joy
My heart skips a beat
Like a tiny pebble across the surface of my soul
I love you with a soft, gentle love
That could shake you to your core
In my dreams, you ache to drown yourself in me
And wash away your doubts
I want to love you openly (in the daylight),
Without fear or reservation
But this forbidden love, like Schrodinger said,
It can only exist in a state of superposition
In the darkness, an observer's paradox
But you still fear the darkness, don't you, love?
Posted on: November 15 2013
Not yet rated / 5
by Hawk Lawson
There's a cold room in your house full of ghosts
The knob on the door's always warm
I know you need to visit the past from time to time
To whisper tear-stained sonnets beneath your boozy breath
To the cold pillow her body left behind, but
This will be easier
One day you won't need to do this
You won't have to inventory your ghosts
To make sure they're still there
Stop trying to dress me in your dead wife's clothes
I'm not her; She's not me
And I can't keep paying for her mistakes
I'm still here
Look at me
I'm still here
With icy hands
Wrapped 'round my neck
I'm still here
Don't let them kill me
I'm still here
I don't want to become
One of your ghosts
There's a cold room in your house full of ghosts
The knob on the door's always warm
I hope you'll visit me from time to time
I'm still here
Posted on: November 15 2013
Not yet rated / 5
Grass Siphon Mixdown
Current mood: sick
Grass Siphon mixdown was cancelled last night.
Maestro B (hereafter known as "Special Guest")
was fallen by a ringing in his right ear,
which began on Sunday after his flight to San Diego.
Fearing Tinnitus, Ear Infection, or perforation of the eardrum,
Special Guest chose to huddle in bed like a sick little fetus
until he could get a Doctor appt today.
Doctor looks in his wittle ear and says
"there's a lot of fluid in there but the signs of infection are not present".
Special Guest makes him get a medical book and show him the pictures.
Since he had already done the things the Doctor recommended (he's a crafty one),
Doctor goes ahead and prescribes the powerful shit.
So now without further introduction, here is Special Guest:
Hey it's great to be back in action waiting for this medication to do its work,
waiting in the back of the station on a train that comes from the sky.
And if you ask why? I'll tell you a thing or two about me, one of them others is a liar.
Others from a story visit the world again, like the others before him.
I'm the One with the cross in his eye take my advice and judgement!
My vessel is full of the good while the bad and the ugly writhe in pools as black vultures.
Rise up into Heaven!
Posted on: November 10 2013
Not yet rated / 5
the whole world goes to hell
on April 13th, 2014
when a terrorist detonates a briefcased
size nuclear weapon in Washington DC,
taking out the President and Congress
and leading the Vice President to
believe it was a missle launched
from a Soviet submarine.
The United States
delivers a full nuclear response
and obliterates most of Russia, just before
Russia obliterates most of the United States.
All of the tension in the
Middle East erupts,
Iraq over-runs Kuwait and begins firing SCUD missles
filled with Anthrax into Israel
This prompts a nuclear response from
Israel and soon all countries in Europe
are fighting chemical and nuclear wars
The good news is that Jane lady survives
but gets trapped in her basement
Posted on: November 02 2013
Not yet rated / 5
Howard gently stroked Jane's glowing dome light.
Jane awoke, sweating, which is odd to do after becoming a refrigerator.
It was if they were mocking her lack of food, not counting the rotting vegetables.
She lurched her empty food storage body through dark mazes the world under the house had become.
Jane found a tunnel up and out into the colors of a nuclear sky.
Someone had propped a giant cracked mirror against the burnt-out hulk of their car.
Jane lumbered over and took a good look into a face that had become leather, eyes that had long since lost their soul.
Howard called to her across the road.
"Jane, I thought I would never see you again! I got trapped in the neighbor's basement".
Jane remembered the neighbor, as a real slut.
Jane lurched towards her husband, and his ironically mutated microwave oven body.
This time, Jane really woke up.
Posted on: October 26 2013
Not yet rated / 5
Weird and out of the ordinary.
Jane decides to take advantage of this,
as she is using her stubbled legs to make it to the liquor store.
She wants to get back to normal, but first she must burn.
Feeling tall and unstoppable
with an internal temperature of 200 degrees,
it's a real good idea to breath down someone's neck.
Who? Oh no, get there fast, suck on his fingers
and scare him with all of the heat.
He won't know what to do!
She distracts with unusual powers, get back,
back to being able to drink
all of the snails that make you feel whole.
Hurry, she's coming
Posted on: October 20 2013
Not yet rated / 5
Displaying Article 176 - 200 of 1071 in total
joined the VIS community!
at 1:04PM Dec 06
joined the VIS community!
at 1:01PM Dec 06
joined the VIS community!
at 12:59PM Dec 06
joined the VIS community!
at 12:43AM Dec 02
joined the VIS community!
at 1:27PM Nov 29
postedDear Diary: A small act of kindness goes a long way around
at 6:22PM Nov 19
received a 4 snap rating
at 2:31PM Nov 18
joined the VIS community!
at 2:13PM Nov 18