Artist: Spill canvas
Song: The Tide
Album: Sunsets & Car Crashes
And there's three, count 'em three
Children playing on the beach
They were eager to learn,
To be taught and to teach
There's Veronica
She's biting her lip
As she watches the waves turn white at the tip
And there's Vada
Radiating with joy
And luckily she still can't stand the sight of a boy
And lastly there's Dade
His hair dances in the wind
And he's wondering what love is
And why it has to end
And he can't understand
How everyone goes on breathing when true love ends
His mother whispers quietly...
Heaven's not a place that you go when you die
It's that moment in life when you actually feel alive
So live for the moment
And take this advice, live by every word
Love is just a hoax so forget anything that you have heard
And live for the moment now
And there's three, count 'em three
Children growing on the beach
They were eager to learn,
To be taught and to teach
There's Veronica
She's licking her lips
As she waits for her real, first passionate kiss
And there's Vada
Can't admit her jealousy
Of her sister Veronica, and how she's so pretty and how she's so pretty
Lastly there's Dade
Still sitting on the dock
Ponders his life, and he skips his rocks
And he wonders when his father will return
But he's not coming back
And he can't understand
How everyone goes on breathing when true love ends
His mother whispers quietly...
Heaven's not a place that you go when you die
It's that moment in life when you actually feel alive
So live for the moment
And take this advice, live by every word
Love is just a hoax so forget everything that you have heard forget everything
And there's three, count 'em three
Children missing from the beach
They were eager to learn,
To be taught and to teach
But the sad thing
Is that they never lived passed the age of fifteen
Due to neglect from their mother
Who was bed ridden by her ex-lover, their father
She didn't even notice, or pay much attention
As the tide came in and swept her three into the ocean
Now all her advice, it seems useless
No, heaven's not a place that you go when you die
It's that moment in life when you touch her and you feel alive
So live for the moment
And take this advice, live by every word
Love's completely real, so forget anything that you've heard
And live for the moment now
Last day of the rest of my life
I wish I would've known
Cause I didn't kiss my mama goodbye
I didn't tell her that I loved her and how much I care
Or thank my pops for all the talks
And all the wisdom he shared
Unaware, I just did what I always do
Everyday, the same routine
Before I skate off to school
But who knew that this day wasn't like the rest
Instead of taking a test
I took two to the chest
Call me blind, but I didn't see it coming
Everybody was running
But I couldn't hear nothing
Except gun blasts, it happened so fast
I don't really know this kid
Even though I sit by him in class
Maybe this kid was reaching out for love
Or maybe for a moment
He forgot who he was
Or maybe this kid just wanted to be hugged
Whatever it was
I know it's because
[chorus:]
We are, We are, the youth of the nation
Little Suzy, she was only twelve
She was given the world
With every chance to excel
Hang with the boys and hear the stories they tell
She might act kind of proud
But no respect for herself
She finds love in all the wrong places
The same situations
Just different faces
Changed up her pace since her daddy left her
Too bad he never told her
She deserved much better
Johnny boy always played the fool
He broke all the rules
So you would think he was cool
He was never really one of the guys
No matter how hard he tried
Often thought of suicide
It's kind of hard when you ain't got no friends
He put his life to an end
They might remember him then
You cross the line and there's no turning back
Told the world how he felt
With the sound of a gat
[chorus]
Who's to blame for the lives that tragedies claim
No matter what you say
It don't take away the pain
That I feel inside, I'm tired of all the lies
Don't nobody know why
It's the blind leading the blind
I guess that's the way the story goes
Will it ever make sense
Somebody's got to know
There's got to be more to life than this
There's got to be more to everything
I thought exists
[chorus]
song makes me cry, kinda
"I look at you and know the world is beautiful"
"You'll never fly with someone else's wings"
they're so pretty, i just had to put them here for safe keeping until i feel like changing my housey. their not mine by the way.
*Walks in wearing guys jean shorts and a huge white hoodie, hair put into a slept in looking braid**yawns and stretches* eh. there's not much to be said for my style. it's hopeless. oh well. i just feel like writing and i know this should be put to writing something usefull, but i'm tired and in no mood to write anything that makes a lot of sense, or that requires a lot of thinking to write. just letting the poor old thing relax for baby sitting tomorrow. i have to get up at bloody...somet
over and out till next time
J.
ok get this: my bloody fingers got cut more taking the razor out of the shaver than my wrist did after i got it out. irony? i think so. ^-^ but funny irony. except that now my pointer finger hurts when i type and it's my main typing finger. (Can't type worth crap)
oh fudruckers. all i have to say. males are irritating especially, it seems, when they're my friends
FOR ANNIE
by Edgar Allan Poe
(1849)
Thank Heaven! the crisis-
The danger is past,
And the lingering illness
Is over at last-
And the fever called "Living"
Is conquered at last.
Sadly, I know
I am shorn of my strength,
And no muscle I move
As I lie at full length-
But no matter!-I feel
I am better at length.
And I rest so composedly,
Now, in my bed
That any beholder
Might fancy me dead-
Might start at beholding me,
Thinking me dead.
The moaning and groaning,
The sighing and sobbing,
Are quieted now,
With that horrible throbbing
At heart:- ah, that horrible,
Horrible throbbing!
The sickness- the nausea-
The pitiless pain-
Have ceased, with the fever
That maddened my brain-
With the fever called "Living"
That burned in my brain.
And oh! of all tortures
That torture the worst
Has abated- the terrible
Torture of thirst
For the naphthaline river
Of Passion accurst:-
I have drunk of a water
That quenches all thirst:-
Of a water that flows,
With a lullaby sound,
From a spring but a very few
Feet under ground-
From a cavern not very far
Down under ground.
And ah! let it never
Be foolishly said
That my room it is gloomy
And narrow my bed;
For man never slept
In a different bed-
And, to sleep, you must slumber
In just such a bed.
My tantalized spirit
Here blandly reposes,
Forgetting, or never
Regretting its roses-
Its old agitations
Of myrtles and roses:
For now, while so quietly
Lying, it fancies
A holier odor
About it, of pansies-
A rosemary odor,
Commingled with pansies-
With rue and the beautiful
Puritan pansies.
And so it lies happily,
Bathing in many
A dream of the truth
And the beauty of Annie-
Drowned in a bath
Of the tresses of Annie.
She tenderly kissed me,
She fondly caressed,
And then I fell gently
To sleep on her breast-
Deeply to sleep
From the heaven of her breast.
When the light was extinguished,
She covered me warm,
And she prayed to the angels
To keep me from harm-
To the queen of the angels
To shield me from harm.
And I lie so composedly,
Now, in my bed,
(Knowing her love)
That you fancy me dead-
And I rest so contentedly,
Now, in my bed,
(With her love at my breast)
That you fancy me dead-
That you shudder to look at me,
Thinking me dead.
But my heart it is brighter
Than all of the many
Stars in the sky,
For it sparkles with Annie-
It glows with the light
Of the love of my Annie-
With the thought of the light
Of the eyes of my Annie.
-- THE END --
--------------
Someone told me that they would call me Annie, because they love the poem For Annie by Edgar Allen Poe. I never knew what to think of that until I looked for it online. Now, I think it's an honor.
Benj, this is for you, Love:
You're my Lancelot,
My philosopher knight.
After we talk,
I know I'll be alright.
I can ask for help,
Or talk about my dreams.
You explain things out;
Straighten the crooked seams.
Not knowing exactly myself,
I tell you what's on my heart,
You know just what I'm saying,
And create with your art
A picture of the emotion,
The best by any man.
No maybe yours is better,
Showing as only God can;
Touching to the inner soul;
Showing me a world
Unseen by normal minds,
It's glories now unfurled
Before my bright, astonished eyes.
Only you could take me here,
Only you can make
This wonderful world appear.
When I'm with you, the stress has fled,
You calm the waters of my mind,
Bringing peace back inside my head.
You tell me all I want to find,
And then some more, to feed the fire,
You know I want to grow
More wise, more like you,
With the inner beauty that you show.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sorry if you think this is over the top, it's how I feel though. I tried to write more, tried to put all of what I feel, but I can't; words have yet again eluded me. You can't describe a heart song with words, but I have tried to capture some of this song for you. It's a poor attempt, and I'm sorry that it's not better.
~Jaime
yeah i guess these are called rants, or ramblings, but i'm not gonna call them anything. my mind is about to pop, and anything i'm saying isn't making sense, or is something a 11 or 12 year old (a very immature one to be sure) would say. i feel lonely, i guess because everyone now-a-days has a bf/gf or has broken up with one, and all my friends are ignoring me. not that i blame them, they have better things and better people to talk to than moi, and not all of them are ignoring me. not complaining about that (gods, i hope i'm not complaining at all, cause complaining is whining and i really don't want to do that!), but i just feel kinda left out. everywhere you go, people are writing stuf about the person they love, how they belong to that person, hell, i even saw a whole house filled with stuff this guy wrote to his girl friend (pretty good too). everyone tells me to wait, i'm too young and unwise to handle that kind of relationship, just wait till your older and ready to marry. well, i have to ask, did you? not only that, but i want to have lots of time to get to know this guy, not just your quick, know him for a month or two, marry him, have kids get divorced. (note, i'm not stereotyping people who fall in love quickly, that's just a common thing that happens). i don't want to think, man i wish i would've met him sooner! i want to look back and see all the stuff we did! kind of selfish of me to want that, when other people wait their whole lives. but patience never has been one of my virtues. and you know how people are always saying there's love out there for everyone? not true. some people don't find or really need love. or maybe, they find it, but the person they love loves another, so they're quiet about it, and just want that person to be happy, so they continue alone. sometimes that person denied love won't be miserable for the rest of their lives, because if their love is perfect, all they want is their happiness, and seeing that is good enough. not always though, of course. most people die their own private deaths everytime they see their love kiss another, knowing that they will never feel that, knowing it's not theirs to want. Knowing, that unless the impossible happens, that person will never be theirs to hold and cherish and grow old with.
yeah, i know that if there's any "older and wiser" people out there, you'll most likely find fault with this, but this is something i actually do know something about (amazed?). if you want to argue any point in that, go ahead, i'll take you on. you may actually have a valid point, in which case, i'll have learned something.
A tall girl in a long cotton under dress is doing solo drama for her friends, who are sitting or reclining in front of her on thin pallets layed on the hard wooden floor. This is their entertainment for the night, watching their tall, dark haired, humorous friend relate her Master's talks with her about his lover. The girl seems to concentrate harder for a split second, and then before the other girls' eyes, stands the Word Master himself! He is tall, but with a lean frame and sharply cleft ears, marking his elvish heritage. He has a bearing and stance which radiates power, which also shows his royal blood. His deep brown eyes, set exactly right into his perfectly cut face, are a bit dreamy and romantic, making the girls laugh quietly. They had now known before that this man had a lover...or that he was so young. Older than them, of course, but from the way his student spoke, they had thought of him as an older man. Then to top this surprise, the Word Master began to speak. In deep, yet soft tones that spoke of fond memories, he said "In that moment, time stopped and stood still. It was just me, her and the stars. No parents to bother us, no leaving, just me and her. The thought of just kissing her gives me goosbumbs. After we kissed, I looked into her eyes and told her I loved her, and she said she loved me too. It was just one of the most romantic moments I've ever had. Then later, we were watching field of dreams on tv, we were laying on the couch in her basement, and she kinda fell asleep on me, I realized then I wanted to be in that same spot forever. It was awesome. Then we made out for like 45 minutes. So now she can never sit on that couch and not smile, and I can't watch field of dreams without smiling." The speech held the girls rapt; not one moved or made any noise, until the Master disappeared and the tall girl reappeared, smiling, and looking a bit tired. Then she was bombarded with questions as to who his lover was, how she had ever done that (from a few of the more knowledge seeking ones), if he had taught her that, if she would teach them, until the poor girl laughed and told them to shh, and she would answer more questions tomorrow. She was tired from that mind work and wanted to sleep. The girls obliged willingly, for telling them tomorrow meant the possibility of another story. Soon, everything was quiet; with all her friends asleep, the story-teller now had the peace and quiet to dwell on her own thoughts before she went to sleep on her thin pallet.
"it took alot. i was on the net from 9-12 most nights calmly listenign to every word an saying what i coudl to make her feel better. if she didnt answer at one point, i'de call her to make sure she was ok. it was a hard thing to do, but i learned alot from it, and am better off today becuase of it. what doesnt kill you makes your stronger.
"well when i was 13, i got up in a seriosuly bad relationship with a girl, it was only three months, but i still suffer the shockwaves to this day. to put it shortly, after dating my ex, i smoke, drank, and i'de fight anyone at the drop of a hat. i'm highly protective liek that. and i also had a thing for girls, when i met my gf now, i had like 2 others girls i was talking to. but when i met her and got serious about her, i knew to help her, i would have to clean house and change myself and how i lived. in those three months, and 3 after. i quite drinking, smoking , left the people i hung out with entirely, and focused my energy on her. its all becuase of her i am who i am today. it made me serious, taught me patience, endurance. i had to leanr these things to help her.i had to be patient, becuase i had to outlast her stubbornness. i had to endure becuase she wasnt totally faithful to me at the time, and i had to be strong becuase she depended on me for support. she turned my life around entirely. we've separated and rehashed old habits sometimes, but we're over it becuase we experienced the pain. there were nights i cryed my self alseep because i didnt think i could handle it anymore. but i was still there for her the next night no matter how i felt. i took a change and threw that life away for her, and it worked out. i havent drank since then, and i havent smoked since then. i still flirt with girls from tiem to time, but they know me and know its never serious."
The quiet girl called Annie, read this and almost cries, thinking, 'Will anyone ever have that much to say about me? Will anyone ever give that much up for me? Will I ever even deserve to have that much given up for me?' A tear or two drops onto the note, then she smiles. 'Oh well. I am happy for my friend!'
Ahh poor Annie. She's a friend of mine. Got that from her diary. She's a nice girl, but really lonely. I try to talk to her all the time, and be there for her, but I can't be on all the time. Poor girl needs a b/f, a caring good one. BTW, I have no idea who that thing above her personal note is from. Just on of the world's few nice guys left i suppose. It's good they're friends. I just feel so bad for her!
What am I to you?
A toy? A whore,
To come to when you're alone,
Then leave in the dark?
That's not fair.
All I wanted was for you to care.
I could point fingers,
Say "You started it!"
But I should have ended it then.
I knew this was how it would be,
Knew you'd pass right by me
Without stopping to glance
At the young girl
Who held you when you were cold,
Stayed with you when you were alone,
Tried to cheer you when you were down.
No, not now that you've got a proper girl,
One who would look down her nose at me.
You can't let her know about me,
Unless it's to call me one of your "mistakes",
And promise her you'll never do that again.
I was just your toy, your whore,
Something to make you feel better
Till you got a real lady.
I don't want to pity me
And say "Oh poor thing!
Let's give you some money,
Give you a hug, then send you off."
I don't mind being forgotten, really.
What I really want is love.
J. K. Maxwell
"everytime i describe her the words dont want to come out. when i try to describe how she makes me feel, theres so many words wanting to come out they jam the hole and stop the description, and all i can do is blush and smie"
A young girl clad in a cream-colored silk shift turns in a small room of the thatch hut she shares with other girls share, her dark hair swirling about her back. She has just finished telling her roomates of her Master's latest conversation with her: "And that, my friends, is what happens to even the Word Master when he falls in love!" She bows deeply, as the royal bards do, and amidst the laughing and clapping and talking, no one notices her freckled face take on a fixed look as she stares at another world, a world of thought. "Wouldn't it be nice to someday have someone feel that way about me?" she thinks.
Then one of her friends tugs her toward the fire so that they can all practice together, and she forgets the thought, happy to show off the sword she had made earlier and talk also of the boy she had met.
You see a girl in a dark brown short tunic and breeches to match standing by a swiftly flowing, winding river, doing what seems to be sword work. Except there's no sword. You ask her what she's doing and she stops and faces you saying, "Well, sword work of course! Are you blind?" You say that you can't see the sword. The girl laughs and replies "That's because I haven't made it real yet. Master Darius has told me to practice, and so as soon as I settle on the right sword, the right description of a sword, you shall see it. Because I shall draw it with words, and make it real." She says this with such confidence that you too believe it and stay to watch. After a while longer of swift slashes, quick parries, ducks and twists and smooth turns, the girl stops and stands still, with her eyes closed. Suddenly, right before your eyes, a sword begins to take shape. It is a beautiful sword, with a long blade that shines in the sun, made from an unknown metal, but having an altogether surreal appearance. The hilt is not very decorated; only two silver wolves, with glaring amethyst eyes and jaws open, looking ready to spring off the sword and right at you. The whole sword itself seems almost to glow with an irridescent light. The girl opens her eyes, and when she finds thatthe sword is still there, seems relieved and happy. "Finally I have made something hat stays long enough for me to practice with!" She looks at you. "It is a beautiful sword, is it not Sir?"
You can only nod, oversome by the amazing ability this girl has. You ask "Could I learn to do that?"
The girl grins and says "Well of course! Anyone with imagination can! Come, let me take you to Master Darius; he'll soon be teaching you too..."
So off the two of you walk down the path under the blossoming trees, she swinging her sword at her side, and you listening intently to all she tells you.
You see a tall girl sitting by herself by a lake, reading what seems to be a letter. As you watch, a tear falls from her dark green eye and lands on the letter. The girl crumples the letter up, and throws it into the lake, her shoulders heaving with silent sobs while her long brown hair creates a veil around her face. You don't want to intrude upon her privacy, so you quietly leave.
One Autumn day, you see the same girl again, standing on a bridge over the same lake with her hands tightly on the railing, staring deeply into the water with a pondering look. You think about going over and talking to her; she looks lonely. But again, you decide to leave her to herself, thinking 'She's probably just thinking.'
One cold December night, you're on your way home, and you see the girl on the bridge again. Her face is cold and pale. This time you don't even stop to think about her; it's freezing out, and you have a dinner to get home to. If she wants to freeze out here looking at the water, that's her choice.
The next day, while your reading the paper, you look at he last page and happen to see a small article with the girl's face above it. The article tells about how she had thrown herself off a bridge last night, killing herself. You stare in amazed horror, because you know that three times, you could have saved her. Three times. But instead, you walked on by. And now she's dead.