For an old flame

Lately, I haven't been feeling too well. My life seems hellish due to a girl who's made me feel like shot for too long. I've said goodbye too many times, but her voice still lingers in my mind. Once more, my post this week will be putting my life, with regards to her, into words.
_____________________

"Lullaby for the Flames"

One: Ignition

Burning embers amount to vicious flames.
Searing heat from the center of a bruised mind--
Confused with the tortuous reality of lost love--
Surrounds the essence of everything that's held true.
But the symphony of pain rises to a bold forte,
Spelled out with a lullaby for the darkened flames;
Brings me back to the broken peace of my welcomed tomb.

Comfort comes back to dangerous ears
As the melody's grave tempo climbs to a happy allegro.
Quickly, the inferno pierces heavens and hearts alike
To make way for a climax which rocks my heart.
Her voice blasts through the rising flames
Giving life to memories which should have died
With the beating of my heart when she stabbed it.

Two: Searing Truth

You're something else than the creature that I loved. When I kissed you goodbye, you breighed a different tone than you moaned on the second night we spent beneath the stars. Lips pressed together. Hearts interwined. By moonlight you had come to me from the darkness of the world. Now, by the light of the fire alight in my soul, I leave you to the darkness my heart once bore. Dragging your name through the dirt--I've no doubt you've been passing judgement upon mine--I see no other fate for this bridge than to burn it down.

Three: Heartfelt Arsen

Through it all you couldn't see the blood on your clothes from the wound in my throat. You'd slit it with the same knife you dragged quick and hard across your dirty wrists to make this world feel like something more appealing. Any plan at all would have been better than the craziness you had concocted.
Curious wonder fills my heart at the questioning of reasons why I followed so closely. Your insanity only meant to burn whoever got too close. Such a fact has been clear ever since love was removed from my sight. 

Four: Counting Ashes

I mean nothing more than a random thought to you, if I remember the shape of your lips so correctly. Never could such thoughts really be true. Or else all the words that cut so deep are meaningless past the hatred of one who is too bitter to admit her mistakes. That's it, isn't it? My love, my captor, you're nothing more than an unforgiving child caught in a treacherous warzone. Each arsenal coming towards you plays a different tone to the beat of your crocodile tears as they greet the blood-stained floor below. But poor you; the value you see in life is less than anything at all. Yes, let's all cry for the girl who counts herself too trapped by tanks to see the escape route beneath her feet. Meanwhile, of course no words were muttered and no pity was shed when you sacrificed my heart to the flames of your regret. When all comes to an end, I hope the bullets of another make your heart burst asunder. Maybe then, you'll remember what you've lost.

Five: Afterlife

Slowly the symphony falls amongst the remnants of dreams.
Silence pervades all that's managed to remain true.
Soon a calming sleep shall follow the glorious tune
To help me forget about the girl who lit my fire. 

Provehito in altum
~Alex

Harry Potter Premeire Tonight!

Konnichiwa!

At midnight tonight, the final movie of one of the greatest book series in history premeires. It's bittersweet to know that this will almost surely be the last major Harry Potter event, I thought to take time to reflect on this series. Many rip Harry Potter for being a book based on fantasy and magic, yet it has managed to capivate millions with a brillantly developed plot, incredible characters, and one of the most iconic villains of all time. But the most memorable thing about this book is how it's fans and readers connected with the book. How this book managed to come alive for it's readers. The only thing that this series truly may have done wrong was that it ended to soon. Whether we believe this book to be the best in history is a different story, but one would be unwise to deny that Harry Potter will go down as one of the most legendary series ever.

Now that I'm done ranting about Harry, I thought for today's post I would post one of my Dream Chronicle stories. For those who don't know who what these are, I periodically have crazy dreams where many of my friends happen to make an appearance. So I thought I would type these up for comic relief. Warning: These dreams tend not to make any sense. Rarely do they actually, which is part of the charm behind them. I hope you enjoy them regardless!

Dream Chronicles: 2011 Part 1

The streets quiet, only the bleak sound of fighter jets zipping across the sky. The roads toppled by seemingly random craters and cover in burning cars, blood, and ash. I peek around the corner, looking to see if any green suits were hanging around the Kroger’s off Auburn Road. I pass under the cover of the smoke from a burning car, stopping right before smoke’s ceased. I wait a second while my breath catches up with me. Only have about 30 seconds… I look then at the smoke covered sky, and next to the ash-covered parking lot. I reach for the revolver in my belt. Only got a few shots. Better make this count. I slowly began to alternate my breathing, my heartbeat increasing tenfold. Go.

I dash forward, sprinting at full speed across the parking lot, almost slipping on the ash scattered about. I had gone maybe ten feet when a bullet grazed the ground behind me. I didn’t have time to think where it came from, just that I had to make it into the front doors. Shots were continuing to miss me by a slim margin, and I wasn’t sure if it was dumb luck or the shooter was a terrible shot. I was only a foot away from the front doors when two green suits burst out the front door opening fire. I let off two shots, each connecting for a fatal hit, but the suits managed to connect two hits into my left leg. I dragged myself under into the front doors, and hid behind the shopping carts to lick my wounds. I look up to see a convex mirror hanging from a hole in the roof. I see myself in a rugged South Pole polo, torn denim jeans, black socks and low top shoes. I was also wearing black sunglasses, which I started to reach for but quickly slapped down my hand.



“What’s wrong with me?” I whispered to myself aloud. “There’s no need to go over board using-”



I stopped when I noticed that something was out of place. Why is a giant mirror sitting here of all place- SHIT! I just barely managed to pull myself up in time to dodge a grenade that bounced off the mirror, exploding and caving me inside the store. I hopped over to the food section, grabbing every can of food I could fit in my hands, ripping a backpack off a fallen rack behind me. As I stuffed food into the pack, I felt a bullet dig into my right arm, with three other gazing my neck, cheek, and heel.



“Fuck!” I yelled, pulling out my revolver only to have it shot away. “Hands up! NOW!” Said a green suit with a flashlight strapped to his pistol. I sighed, knowing that there was only one decision left. I slowly bring my hands up, subtly pushing my glasses up. I turn around to face my enemies, who immediately began to open fire, but to no avail. The bullets stopped in midair, and with a flick of my wrist were sent flying back at them, killing each suit with his bullets. My head began to hurt, so I quickly finished packing all the food into the bag and bolted to the front door, completely forgetting it was sealed off thanks to that grenade earlier. I ran around into the men’s room by the in-store Starbucks, where I found a hole in the wall that I could squeezed through. “He ran into the restrooms!” I could hear outside, as I hurried into the hole, my headache getting worse. Outside I found a motorcycle waiting for me to help me escape, but as I approached my mind went bonkers and an image of me touching an exploding motorcycle plagued my mind.



I pushed back, thrusting my hand into the sky to grab the sniper right above my head around the throat using my telekinesis powers. “Please, don’t do it…” He begged. I tightened my grip around his throat, crushing it then slamming him into the bike which subsequently exploded. Just then I sensed a suit sneak up on me, but knock him off his feet, relieved him of his weaponry and gave him a bullet to the face. Afterwards I heard the roar of Suzuki motorcycle coming around the corner, with my best friend Zel riding it.



“Hop on!” He cried, and I just barely managed to grab the tail end of the bike before the suits came roaring out the hole feverish firing at us.



Next thing I knew I was sitting in a dimly lit room, surrounded by my friends: Zel, Chris, Lyssa, Aulene, Kallie, Najee, Gwyn, Bryan, Marissa, Taylor, and Duhe a.k.a. Matt.



“I think he’s coming too…” said Najee.

“Well duh Najee his eyes are open!” said Gwyn.

“Chill out you guys,” I said while sitting up in the discolored pile of sheets I was lying on. “How is everyone doing?”

“Their fine Qui-Bon-Qui,” Aulene said angrily, pushing me down. “But you need to rest; you probably used up a lot of strength after using your powers when I explicably told you not to!”

“I was being shot at! Excuse me for not wanting to die!” I retorted.

“Calm down Quincy,” said Lyssa, attempting to mediate ensuing violence. “We don’t need your headaches acting up.” Aulene and I grunted.

“Did you check for illusions?” I asked bitterly.

“I don’t know, did we Taylor?” said Aulene. Almost immediately Taylor decked Duhe straight in the nose.

“Now we have.” She said, Duhe holding his nose well sighing in pain. I laughed a little inside. My alarm on my watch went off, signaling it was time to for a ‘session’. Zel frowned at me.



“I can take it from here dude. You need to rest.”

“What if one of them goes crazy on you? I’m the only one who can contain them then.” I said. I put on my Thunder Cats jacket when I see the sad looks on Marissa’s and Kallie’s faces. “…I’m sure they’re fine. Those two are tough ones.” I walked off; knowing that I was more scared then either of them. I strolled down a seemingly endless hallway, random thoughts bouncing around in my cranium.



They’re growing… these powers are definitely stronger. What If the guys are stronger too though? If even two of them were to go crazy at once I doubt I could beat them… I know for sure if Bradley and Jared went crazy I would be through.



I came upon a slightly cracked, and I walked in to a torn down room, except the about the size of a church corridor. There were rows of beds with teens laying in each. They all had the same crazy red eyes, however some were much calmer then the others. A few were simply sitting in bed reading a book like Kellie or Gabbi, while others were sitting Indian style floating in the air like Bradley and Tiny. “Tiny, Bradley, how you guys feeling?” I said to them, hopeful they had finally mastered their powers. Bradley looked at me with bright red eyes, which had the symbol of the Gemini behind the iris. Joy filled my heart, and I laughed a slight giggle, but immediately realized my mistake. Tiny looked at me, his eyes filled with angered and teeth sharpened. Just before I could react I felt a psychic blast strike me hard in the chest, sending me flying into Grant’s bed. “D…Damn…” I spoke through shaking words, my breath failing to catch up. I then felt a psychic wave push me up into the air, keeping me locked in place and suspended in midair. Shit… If I only I had saved some of my energy… I saw that it was indeed Grant suspending me into the air, not Tiny. I was for sure Tiny was going to finish me off when I saw he being pinned to the ground by Bradley, who was using some kind of gravitational press to unable him to move. Instantaneously, a body comes flying down the hall slamming into Grant and knocking Zoë out of her bed. I fell, almost landing on top of Kellie, but she was smart enough to move out the way. She rushed to my side, making sure I wasn’t hurt.



“He’s fine.” Came a voice from behind. “Go get the others in check.”

“What if I go crazy?” Kellie asked worriedly.

“Your powers aren’t very strong, so even if you did one of the other sane kids would be able to handle you.” The voice spoke out again, revealing to be Sylvia. “Quinton, we got a serious problem. Jared has gone crazy; he’s already killed Tiffany, Amy, and Caroline.” My worse nightmare was coming true; Jared was one of the most powerful psychics in the room. Way more powerful then Sylvia or I were, but we had some hope as well.



“I have some good news then. Bradley beat it. He’s in control!” Sylvia looked at me with her dark-red eyes full of shock and relief at the same time. “Great! Us three versus these two…”

“Actually Tiny went crazy too…” I said, my head starting to hurt, “Not to mention that I still haven’t regained all of my strength yet.” Sylvia’s smile went away.

“I see… Well even weakened you should still be on Tiny’s level, I might be able to handle Grant, and Jared isn’t as strong as Brad, so we might be able to pull this off, especially since they are still in the primal stage of insanity.” I was gone before we even had formulated a plan. I raced to Bradley, who had Tiny locked down. “Bradley, I need you to take on Jared...”

“Jared went crazy too? Aw jeez… can you handle Tiny?” He asked, but before I could react Jared had blasted Bradley through a wall, and Tiny hit me with a psychic blast to the face. Before I fell unconscious, I could hear the voice of a demonic creature that sounded similar to Jared. “Don’t kill them you fool! We must settle this the old-fashion way, at the Gamesssss… Hahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!”
================================

This was part one, I will post part 2 on my next post! Deuces!

~APLIW~

Silent Drops of Rain

The tears I cry
fall silently.
No one hears
nor sees them.
My own face
hides itself
from the wet drops
in shame.
How I wish
to not cry
with these silent
drops of rain.

~~~~

I thought I'd give you all a reprieve from the story for a day. I hope the poem kept you entertained. 

~Anora Anakaya~

These waters, they darken with each thought.

Lately, my writing has gone away from poems and stories. Rather, all that my pen dictates are the words that my mind attempts to project upon the paper in front of me. Simply, there's no intended meter or flow; solely the sum of my thoughts construct my writing.

Sin Titulo

Heart’s temptations have left me far from the shores of my dreams. The waves come in, crashing upon the rocks of each of life’s many perceptions, but the cool waters of a good night’s sleep evade me. Here and there, forever and after, standing before the sunset, these weary feet wait below the mind that doesn’t dare beckon them forward. Where could they go? “Where are they wanted?” is a better question still. And the salty breeze from the sea of disbelief shall always whisper the same tune, that melodious harmony that treats wounded ears to a feast of horrific feats.

The waves, they crumble and erode the sandy shores of every dream that’s ever passed before my dreary eyes. Yet, still, years later, I’ve seen no end. (There’s no end in sight.) Meanwhile, every next instance proves how sightless I’ve been; for still I see the rocks beneath my feet, piercing my flesh, without any yearning to remove my body from such torture. Oh, how good such redness feels as it comes across my bare flesh! “Wonder no more,” each drop whispers, “for this feeling is the only right thing you’ll ever feel.” Nevermore shall my heart find any need to disagree. 

Provehito in altum

~Alex

The Trio, cont'd

The story continues! If you have forgotten what happened last time here's the link to read up on! The amazing trio, which isn't quite amazing yet, has asked that you stay tuned! 

            The rogue and healer followed behind the warrior. Progress was slow. The rogue eventually regained his strength and was able to walk on his own. He fell behind Sarah, who stayed in the middle of the line. Sarah was a rare prize they couldn’t let die.  She was a healer, one of the best, one that could bring back the dead.  She carried a staff in one hand and a focus in the other, each imbued power into her that helped guide her powers.

            The rogue, whose name was Nirav, carried a bow in one hand and had a quiver slung across his back. Knives were hidden in the folds of his clothes, different sized daggers lined his waist,  a pistol, crudely made, hung on his hip and tools for lock-picking were hidden in pouches on his belt.

            The warrior’s armor was light, but offered great protection. His sword was sheathed and his pack carried the most. His face was stern and scarred.  His rough hands had seen many years of work and battle. His eyes were a distant blue filled with sorrow and hardship. His bow was slung across his back and did not match the quality of Nirav’s, but his pistol was far better made.

            The terrain was rugged. Few trees inhabited these war-ravaged lands. The trees that did were nearly dead from fires and drought. The location of these particular lands made them ideal for battles. Though each kingdom claimed some part of them, few of them truly enforced its law in it. Rebellious citizens often gathered within it but more importantly its connection to each kingdom allowed direct transportation of troops in war.

            The rain stopped and wind kicked up the dusty soil. Echoes coursed through the endless plain. The wind whistled through the dying branches and a small animal scurried of to the travelers’ right.

            “John,” Sarah’s voice called wearily, “We have to stop.”

            “Fine, we’ll stop at that tree.” John, the warrior, nodded his head toward the tree.

            “How long have we been traveling? It seems like days,” commented the rogue as he rubbed his neck.

            “It has been a day since the city. It’ll take five more if we continue at this rate and if we follow the path. But, if we cut through the Highlands, we’ll reach the Marshes in three.”

            “I don’t care if we flank them anymore. If we don’t get there soon they’ll re-organize,” said John. “What’s the quickest route?” John took his pack off and leaned it against the tree. He knelt to the ground on one knee.

            “Through the Highlands, still,” replied Sarah, who was the only one still standing, “Nirav will have to call his hawk in to scout out ahead though. The Highlands are filled with more than grass and birds.”

            “What do mean?” asked Nirav as he cocked his head to one side looking up at Sarah.

            “Well there are orcs, goblins, elves, and not the nice ones. There are even Jenglots.”

            “Jenglots? What are those?” asked Nirav nervously, “I never heard of them at the Academy.”

            “They are short beings, about the size of a six-year old human child. They are vampiric creatures. They’re strong, but not too intelligent. They live in groups and they really don’t like people,” replied John coldly.

            “How do we kill them?” asked Nirav.

            “We don’t,” replied Sarah, “They are nocturnal. If we go through during the day, we’ll be safe.”

            “I’ll keep watch tonight, you two sleep,” John walked away from the tree. He set up dried wood and twigs. As he pulled out his flint and steel, he called to the others, “Eat something before the night is out. The dried venison won’t last much longer and the biscuits are starting to go stale.”

            “Alright,” replied Sarah as she set up her bedding, which was truly just two blankets laid across the ground.

            “I’ll eat, too,” Nirav said. He was also setting up his bed.

            “I think I’ve got some coffee from the Southern Isles in my pack. Might help you stay up, John,” Sarah said tenderly.

            “Save it. We might need it later. It is not so cold this night, but winter is coming on.” John’s eyes were sullen and they drooped. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in months, even though his last good rest was only a few days past.

            John was putting some water over the fire to warm, while Sarah and Nirav made their way over to the smoldering flames. John unwrapped the dried meat and handed and equal share to Sarah and Nirav. Sarah sat on her knees, Nirav was cross-legged, and John remained squatted by the fire.

            Night had fallen upon the land. Light scarcely dotted the sky, only a few stars twinkled between the clouds. One large red planet dimly lit the dark with a red glow. The wind died down and the echoes ceased. The leafless branches of the petrified trees reached to the skies in feigned reverence for the stars as they were strewn across the dusty landscape. A road, only noticeable by the tracks left by the feet of many travelers, wound its way through the land. This land was another planet when compared to the lands surrounding it. Its name was so easily guessed and so widely known. Its name is Deadwood. 

Discussion: Movie of Year? (Halfway Mark)

Hola!

How was the Fourth of July to all those who celebrate? Mine was a quiet day of relaxing, grilling hamburgers, and capping it all off with a movie and fireworks. :) I saw Transformers Dark of the Moon in 3D. Not only was it the best out of all three transformers movies, it I felt it might win movie of the year.

Dark of the Moon was just about everything you could ever want in a movie: good plot, awesome characters who bring the picture to life, plenty of good laughs, and a sense of suspense throughout the whole movie. I was always on my toes, wondering "how they would get out of this spot?" or "They are totally screwed!". In respect to those who haven't seen it, I will withhold revealing my favorite scenes, but I must say every scene with Ken Jeong (Both Hangover Movies) in it had me falling out of my seat. Shia LaBeouf also hands out another stunning performance, showing extreme growth from the Sam we knew in movie one. Look for him to nominated for many awards. The only problem I had with this movie was Sam's new girl Carly. While I feel she still needed some work, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley gave decent performance, but didn't quite compare to Megan Fox in the past two movies. She played little if not no impact to the main storyline, it felt as if the Bay and Steven were afraid to have her actually carry a role. Despite this saddening turn of events, the fantastic action, great plot, and hilarious comedy all perfectly tied together in one box.

But what is your opinion? Do you agreed that Transformers Dark of the Moon was the best movie so far in 2011? Or was it one of the other blockbuster movies like Hangover Part II, X-Men: First Class, or Green Lantern? Comment on this post give your opinions!

~APLIW~

Two poems from Alex

Here are two untitleds from Alex's notebook:

One heart,
one mind,
is all I'll ever need.
An actor
though I am,
I will never be
nothing but me.
Set out against fate,
my mentality shall never rest.
There is no sleep
for someone
who can't accept death.

~~~~~

Dream of my success.
Make my digressions
    something more.
Help me find worth for all
    that lay beyond life's door.

A New Beginning Chapter 4!

Hey guys, good to be back... I was in Disney world on vacation, and have been extremely busy shooting and independent film as well as working with my band.
But alas, here we are, another chapter in my sci fi novel...

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Chapter 4
A Nuclear Blast

The ship had been in space for 2 days, the passengers never grew bored of the view outside. It was a sight like no one had ever seen. The stars were bigger, and more beautiful, the blue ball known, as “Earth” was now just a glowing shadow of blue.

William Jamison sat in the lounge area in the middle of the third level of the ship.
He was pondering how the ship could make it to Mars in such a short amount of time, for Dr. Jennings had never explained it.

He looked out the window behind the ship, and noticed that a hatch from the restricted lower level was opening. And something was being dropped out the back.
Then suddenly a voice came over the loud speaker throughout the ship, “Attention all passengers of Exodus1, Please find a seat and strap in, it is 30 minutes till we jump.
I repeat, 30 minutes till we jump.”

William couldn’t comprehend what they meant by “Jump,” But he took a seat right by the window watching the floating object behind them. It was long and made of metal, almost like… a missile. It struck William immediately, It was a Missile, It looked just like a Nuclear Warhead. He had seen them many times working as a police officer in Indianapolis. Ever since the attack on Columbus, Ohio, every capital city boosted its security, and was equipped with anti-nuclear turrets.

He became immediately concerned about this, as time kept moving.
Until over the loud speaker the captain’s voice came again, “Prepare for immediate impact.” Suddenly William looked out the window, and saw the Nuclear Warhead slowly expanding, and gaining speed, as the blast began pushing the ship forward at a faster rate, the ship more than quadrupled in speed. He saw what should have been a mushroom cloud forming, but it was more just radiation filled smoke. William did not like this. It was not what he had signed up for.

A few moments later he stood up, and ran to Dr. Jennings who was walking nearby towards her quarters. “What the hell was that Jennings?” he exclaimed.
Jennings turned to him and stated “Please speak to me in a more respectful tone Mr. Jamison, Or you will find yourself on a long journey back home, through nuclear radiation, in a lonely escape pod. Now what you saw, Mr. Jamison, was a nuclear warhead, which we blew up, so we could get to Mars in a much shorter amount of time, so we don’t starve inside this ship or run out of oxygen.”

“I didn’t sign up for this!” snapped William. “I didn’t want to be part of a nuclear program! You endangered the entire ship by doing that! Your lucky there wasn’t any damage done to this ship from it!”

“Well Mr. Jamison, we already knew the consequences, and they weren’t severe, all we did was lose contact with earth, for 2 weeks. I think we can handle that, once we get to our colony on the new planet, we will re-open contact. So calm down, go to your quarters, and sleep. Goodnight Mr. Jamison”

Dr. Jennings promptly walked forward without another glance at the angry man. She entered her quarters. William was left alone, and feeling uncomfortable.

******************************

Once again, I'd love to hear your thoughts and predictions.

Love
Joseph W.

The Amazing Trio

So I decided, as my apology gift to all of our wonderful readers, to post my most advanced, and most well liked, story. This is the only story of mine that I think may actually become a full fledged book at some point in my life. Anyway, it is a fantasy storyline so if you aren't into the whole Eragon-Harry Potter-Narnia typed stuff, well this probably isn't for you. 

The Warrior, The Rogue, and The Healer

The thunder clouds overhead loomed over him. Thunder boomed some distance away. Lightning lit up the sky. He stood, sword gleaming in his hand, above the wrecked city. His pistol was at his side and a bow and quiver was slung across his back. His red aura slowly entered, left, and re-entered his body, a sporadic display of color.

            The healer leaned over a third figure as the warrior looked upon the city. The healer’s blue aura exited her body and was funneled through her hand into the comrade’s dying body. Life slowly returned to him.

            “How is he?” asked the warrior in harsh voice, without turning around.

            “The rogue? He’ll live,” replied the more tender voice of the healer.

            “Then we leave.” The warrior left his previous post and walked across the rocky surface, his boots clomping in the rain and blood.

            The rogue started to rise, his black aura shimmering slightly, like a faint and dying candle on a windy night. “Here let me help you up.” The healer bent down and put the rouge’s arm over her shoulder. The rogue was only semi-conscious of what was happening.

            “Where are we headed?” asked the rogue in a faint voice.

            “After the survivors,” replied the warrior.

            “Why? We already scattered their forces. They won’t last long among the marshes.”

            The warrior stopped walking. He turned around, “In case you don’t remember, they killed the king, my wife, your children and Sarah’s coven. They may die soon but I’d rather kill them myself and know when and how they died.”

            The rogue went quiet. He limped along, leaning on the healer for support.

            “Sarah.”

            “Yes?” replied the healer.

            “Do you have a map of the marshes?”

            “Yea, here,” Sarah dug into her pack and withdrew a scroll, “It’s old, fifty years past practical use.”

            “It’ll work.” The warrior took the map and opened it. After a few moments he rolled it up and handed it back to Sarah. “North,” was all he needed to say.

~~~~~

Oh and here is a little factoid for those who like trivia. The story started as a way to keep me from being bored after and exam my freshman year of high school. The first five to six paragraphs was actually written during that time frame. Everything else, and believe me there is a whole lot more come (hint, hint), was crafted at a later date.

~Anora Anakaya~

You Miss Us?

Salute!

The L.I.F. crew is back and here to let you know we are still alive! Sorry to take such a long break, but the blog went underground in order to calm the chaos that we were dealing with in each of our lives. Nevertheless, the blog is back and we have a few treats for you! Joseph has more chapters to his fantastic story, A New Beginning, as we continue through Bruce's journey, while Anora has her always marvelous writing to keep your tastes appeased.

As for me, I will be slowly building up a new project on the site that I have been very secretive about; Not even my fellow bloggers know about this project. All I will tell you about it right now is that it's codenamed "Jokes". No this isn't a really late April Fool's joke, but don't worry I will be posting information and doing a little Q&A soon on the details, along with a new challenge and discussion that will have a lot to do with it. Speaking of jokes though, I thought it would be downright rude to leave without giving you a taste of the future, so here is a poem that Ms. Anora inspired me to write. Enjoy! :)

Put his life into words didn't he?

===============================

What A Joke

We call society’s outcasts freaks,

Labeling them for having a personality.

These people with nothing but pure desire,

Insanity brought about by humanity’s cruel fire.

Pocket knifes stealing the lives of a mother’s child,

Gang violence poisoning the mind into ignorant denial.

Yet worship is given to the monsters of this world,

Sitting fat onto a greed infested order.

Shooting, Killing,

Ruining the lives of the hard workers.

Creating these madmen that rape a father’s daughter.

Molding the psychopath that stabs a lady’s poor grandfather.

No one thinks of the ones who lose their world,

Until they are person screaming unjust.

Not realizing that this all steams

From a man who had one bad day.

Not realizing we are no different then him,

And he was only ahead of the curve.

So in that asylum,

We toss the loon, the freak inside.

Calling for his head,

Wishing he was dead,

The monster we gave birth to.

It’s too much ask,

To save a freak,

Because most the time we’re too late.

Yet every now and then comes freak,

Who can be save, but dies cause no one

Stands up and becames a little brave.

No, homo sapiens are content,

With excluding their own,

In a species that hates individuals,

Anyone too different from the world.

You call that girl,

The one who loves a little too dear,

A freak and crazy right beside her.

You name that Boy,

That loving boy,

A creeper and weirdo then egg them.

Then when hanging from rope,

You crack a few jokes,

Our people never truly caring we caused it.

Then we all go out,

To hear how they caught the real freaks.

HA! That’s a joke if I ever heard one.
========

~APLIW~

Chapter 3 in my novel

Here is chapter 3..

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Chapter 3
Lift Off

The entire group of people was now aboard the ship, each given their own personal quarters and left to do as they please on the ship. Two of the people on the journey were pilots, each were ex-marines. Dr. Jennings joined them in the cockpit for preparation before they took off. The other 17 passengers just stared at the inside of the ship in awe.

“It’s time to leave captain, prepare for lift off.” Dr. Jennings commanded.
The ships engines began to roar, the sound was deafening. The roof of the building began to open, and the blue sky could be seen above.
The ship then lifted off of the ground and began hovering in the air. It was unlike any space launch in the past, it was much more advanced than those of the early 21st century.
The ship was rising slowly, and it kept gaining speed until it began shaking as it exited Earth’s atmosphere.

Finally the entire ship was still, and slowly cruising through space, leaving the giant, blue ball we call earth behind for good. They were now on their journey, to do something never done by man… They were on their way to colonize another planet. Their course was set for the planet Mars.

The underground canals had been re-worked by NASA robots, to where it was an entirely brand new home on another planet. It would be self-sustainable. There would be experiments that would advance man kind like never before.

Dr. Jennings had a feeling in the pit of her stomach, not a scared feeling, but more an excited one. She had butterflies in her stomach; it was something she hadn’t felt since she was just a high school girl.

She began walking back to her quarters, ready to sleep after an eventful day.
She wanted to just get to the planet and have this trip over with. This was her fifth trip off planet, but she’d never been farther than the moon. She was relieved that advancements were made on the new ship, so they would no longer have to wear those stuffy, uncomfortable space suits, unless they were going off ship.

‘This journey will be successful, we will succeed’ she thought to herself, ‘I will make uncle Lewis proud. It was his dream to colonize Mars and now its coming true.’
She imagined her uncle right there with her, he was saying repeatedly “Miranda, you have done it, your on your way, your going to make something of our family name.”

At least that’s what she imagined he would say, she knew it was unrealistic. Her uncle spent too much time drunk to actually be proud of her accomplishments.
Her parents had died in a plane crash 22 years before. Her uncle had raised her from the time she was six years of age.

Growing up she had longed for someone to show her compassion, or even to tell her “good job!” or “I’m proud of you Miranda.” But she never had anyone.
Then when she was 21 years old, her uncle died of lung cancer, 3 years before a cure could be found. She spent her whole life achieving, without praise. She knew now that it was ridiculous to wish for it, but she craved it.

She reached her quarters and shut the door, and locked it. Slipped into a nightgown, and went to bed. Thinking to herself, “It’ll only be a few weeks before we’re there…”
Then she closed her eyes, and drifted off into slumber.

******************************

Lemme know what you think, and what you believe might happen next?

Love,
Joseph w.

A brief look into Alex

This week, I've decided to post an excerpt from my personal notebooks. These next four (two from this year, two from 2009) pieces give a slight insight into what I've been going through.

I apologize ahead of time for the dark nature of my pieces.


5/24/11

Time upon time, I attempt to find more words to say. Yet I find myself puzzled and wondering, if my words amount to thoughts I wish to display. No matter how much I try, I cannot seem to describe the beauty that I've seen. Perhaps such misery is due to the imperfection that I've been. No, no, no...life now is just moving far too slow, causing me to lie to myself evermore. For all the smiles I display don't accurately amount to how love has left me sore. Still, I try and I try to figure out why I'm being tested so. Yet, I'm afraid I may never know.

-----

2/11/11

Such a boring life I lead. Nothing interesting ever comes to me. It's almost as if the universe and I were never meant to be friends. The universe, and everyone else I've ever met. All is wrong, never right, especially on these idiotic nights. The air is cool and the night is swift and time seems like nothing more than something I've missed. Oh, how I wish the stars would kiss my life with something more exciting. What's wrong is how I wish upon the airplanes that are falling. Surely whenever I do my wishes will never come true. It's just my bad luck to never remake this life anew.

-----

5/24/09

Every time I look towards the heavens my mind turns to grief, now that I realize a happy ending is something I cannot keep. Before my eyes, these visions spread, no longer of Tory and I in her bed. I've forgotten that much... Now, all I see is that dream of her and me in which we were joyful, to say the least. And, it reminds me of how life was that very first day, when nothing mattered and all the problems of the world seemed to drift away. It leaves me so heart broken, knowing nothing will ever be the same... and it brings me to tears, knowing we'll never be together again. I can't help this fate, no matter what I try. I can't seem to get these visions of Tory from my eye. How horrible I feel just knowing the truth, that so much love has been lost in my youth.

-----

4/11/09

What is this feeling? Not even god knows.. I can't stand this, this misery, grief, fatal spirit of which I've been shown. I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I could stop it, but it all ends in tears, jeers, an endless wave of all my fears coming to life before my eyes. I will plead for help, scream for help, and speak my mind, but all to ashes my attempts will lead, because never am I supposed to understand. I love her, L.O.V.E. for her, but will this cause such similar grief? Will this be another dead end? I can't take this, can't stand this uncertainty, this feeling of invisible grief and intangible misery.. I need help. I need counsel. I need something.. or else, I don't know to what actions my mind shall lead.

Fate drives me.
~Alex

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Graduating...

Ciaossu!

The New Logo for L.I.F.!!!!!

Hey guys! Sorry that I haven't been posting lately, but I have been taking multiple exams the last week all leading up to my graduation tomorrow!!! Alex and I will be heading out into the "real world" soon, and it's a bittersweet moment for me. But first off, I would like to introduce the new logo of L.I.F. courtesy of Anora! A very beautiful yet simple design that the bloggers all agreed was fantastic. I would have introduced it sooner, but as I said, I was busy writing poems for graduation. I'm all ready to get the hell out of high school, but I know full well that things only get tougher from here on out. Even as I struggled to enjoyed High School, I have always wondered, how will College be any different? Sure there are no cliques, no restrictions and the freedom to do whatever you want. Nevertheless, there is also bills to pay, for most loans to receive and to pay off, and extremely harder material to learn AND memorize. Not to mention only around 30% of college freshmen finish their first year in college... So I attempted to write a poem to ease my pain, and the words from soul failed to piece together on a white sheet. Then, while reading a poem of my good friendand fellow blogger Alex, I had an epiphany on what I was doing wrong, and now, you guys will be the first to read it! Here is my last post as a Senior of Mill Creek High School, I hope you enjoy it!

Monologue of a Pessimistic



Listen as I recall

The life I attempt to control.
The trials it has faced,
The lessons it has learned.
From the moment I opened my eyes.
To the sound of my first cry.
As I took that first step on my feet,
I slowly walked towards a painful street.
From the bouncing and moving across the states,
To the fading of innocence from my youthful brain.
This life slowly left the control,
Of my hands that only wish to hold.
Death began to crowd my life,
Yet I remain deaf to the fat lady’s song.
So from rope swing my friend’s stories,
While the pieces to my own were no where to be found.
Placing my hope in love to save my soul,
In a girl with a heart more unstable then my own.
I cost her her life, in return she took my heart,
And love showed its highs and lows.
On and on I walked,
Searching for the pieces I never owned.
Failing to opening back up,
And dreaming without a happy thought.
Nearly falling into the bloody requiem,
Fire burning away the memories of my heart.
Yet the fire still dies out,
Leaving sweet snow in its wake.
Snow to let me cover up burns,
But only adds hurt to injury.
My deaf ears still refuse to listen,
Because of friends long and gone.
The pain continues to pile,
While the secrets remain to torture.
The thought of never being able to feel worthwhile,
Or the nightmare of never telling her my feelings.
The solace I must find in loneliness,
While surrounded by a million people.
Down I fall an empty hall,
Into a mirrored wall grand and tall.
The Wall reflects all pain at once,
And plays it back as a dead man’s song.
“I won’t listen, I refuse!
My ears no longer listen!”
Why do that, you silly boy,
No wonder you can’t hear those kids whispers.
Listening for the whispers,
I stare on pass,
Where I entered this dungeon.
To find my friends, my comrades,
All chasing behind.
I’m running away from pain,
From death, from acceptance,
All because it was never what I wanted.
Little did I realize that what I wanted,
Was always standing behind it.
I was looking for the final pieces,
But you can make a picture without them.
I was dreaming a sweet nightmare,
But I always wake up from it.
I could never make up a story,
Because I forgot I only write them.
And now that my pieces are together,
And my story is a nice one,
I can tell you now with some confidence,

That your real world isn’t mine sir.

===============================================

What did you think? I think this poem was a lot different from my other poems. Not only in style, but I feel it really shows how I have not so much grown, but changed over the years. I mean this in terms of my writing style, my diction(although very limitly), and in character. I hope you guys enjoyed it! And to the Class of 2011, CONGRATULATIONS, And never forget to Always Put Life Into Words!!!!!!!!

~Quinton

A New Beginning Chapter 2

Hey guys, a little late this week, I know...
But here is chapter 2. Lemme know what you think!


***********************************

Chapter 2
A Temporary Home

Bruce kept an expressionless face as he pulled up to the gates of the
Kennedy Space Center, he showed the pass card that Dr. Jennings had given him.
Dr. Jennings was the head of NASA, she was a beautiful, intelligent, and impressive woman. She had done so much in her life, and she was only 28 years old. Bruce was intimidated by her beyond belief, for he himself was 26 years old, and had accomplished nothing.

He parked his car and got out, and began walking toward the main entrance of the building, where he once again showed the guards his pass card. An attendant showed him the way to a room labeled “Briefing.” He entered the room. It was filled with 9 women, and 9 men. They were all waiting silently, almost in fear. Bruce was wondering what was going to happen next.

This trip had been in the plans for 3 years now, and these had to be the other people that Dr. Jennings had told him about, all great candidates for the trip.
Bruce sat there and studied everyone in the room attentively, when he noticed that next to him there was a very strong looking, dark skinned man, He had a shaved head and looked to be close to 30 years old.

The man took notice that Bruce was staring at him, and he gave a grin and extended his hand saying “The names Will, William Jamison.” Bruce was a little hesitant shaking his hand, because growing up he had never had much contact with black people, but he felt he should give someone a chance, since it is The New Beginning. “Bruce Lawson” he replied as he shook the dark man’s hand.

“Where are you from?” Inquired Bruce.

“I’m from Indianapolis” Replied the man, “How about yourself?”

“Tampa” said Bruce quietly trying not to be to open to conversation.

“This journey Is a wonderful thing for the people here, it truly is going to be a fresh start for these people, a way to escape the things we don’t want to remember, but cannot forget.” Will said proudly.
“Indeed, I find it pretty crazy how…” replied Bruce as he was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and in walked Dr. Jennings.
She was about 5’8 inches tall, with dark brown hair, and sparkling blue eyes.
She immediately went to the podium in the middle of the room, as everyone began sitting up properly in their chairs.

She began to speak. “Sorry to keep you all waiting, I had a lot of final preparations to make before the journey, but I am here now, so lets begin.”
Bruce was in awe of her beauty and grace as she addressed the group of people.

“You are the selected group of people, chosen specifically for character traits, abilities and for the fact that you are all willing to make this journey. You all have little to risk, but you have much to gain from this. And we here at NASA thank you for this. Although it’s dangerous, you are risking your lives. That is why I too am going on this journey. If you are to survive you are going to need someone who knows everything necessary for the journey. We have doctors, construction men, gardeners, farmers, soldiers, and scientists. All are key to our survival in this new home.”

Bruce was enthralled in this whole speech, not that it was anything special, but Dr. Jennings just had a way of speaking, that kept you interested in what she was saying.
Suddenly he realized she was leaving the podium and everyone was following her.
“I must’ve been day dreaming through the end of the speech.” He said quietly to himself as he started following the crowd.

They walked down a long dark tunnel, until they reached the end. It went out into an enormous room, and in the middle sat a piece of machinery like no other, a spacecraft, it was easily ten stories high, it was silver with a flat, round shaped top that had a fin-like thing sticking out of the top. It was something you might see in a movie from the early part of the century, it looked completely out dated to the current sci-fi films, which were so unbelievably un-realistic.
Dr. Jennings looked at the group and said allowed, “Meet your temporary home, Exodus1”

***************************************************************8



Love,
Joseph W.

Life brings hope

Here's another poem to end this weekend. I hope you enjoy it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Chances

Close my eyes,
Count to three.
Tragedy will come...
One
Two
Three

Amidst the darkness,
I see her.
Among the blackness,
no one shines brighter.

She smiles,
I return the glance.
Her eyes stare back,
I wonder if I'd have a chance.

My hand reaches out
To gain hers
If she'd permit.
But she solely stares
With green eyes so fare
My heart jumps in a fit.

So softly I whisper
"Why?"
And her lips return
"Why not?"

Her laugh cuts
The darkness in two.
As a bright light fills,
Remakes, the space anew.

Suddenly
She is next to me.
Suddenly
I'm able to see.

I hadn't won;
Darkness had fled.
What I gained
Was love instead.

Open my eyes.
Count to three.
Believe hard enough;
I'll escape a tragedy.

Fate drives me.
~Alex

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Where it all ends, something begins

Hey everyone.

As those closest to me may know, my girlfriend and I broke up. For this past week I've been a wreck and unable to write for the most part. My feelings for her are something I've never felt before so intensely. Only time will tell if everything will get better. This week's poem is appropriately named for what will be my biggest helper.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time

 The space in between lines
     amount to all the tears
          between these complex times.
My eyes drip liquid wonder
     as these last few moments
          time now begins to plunder.

These thoughts.
          These crimes.
     These tortuous rhymes.
Escaping fate
          is not a gift
     but something to lift
          each thought
     of who I'm not.

Such random concepts.
I wish the world would
     give me a hint.
For it seems
     that I can't grasp
          the inspiration before my eyes.
Every part of this life
    is a blurry mess now
          since love has gained my heart.

Fate drives me.
~Alex

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Skye Dreams Again

I have good new again. Donivon Hineron Skye from last week's post continues to dream strangely in this week's continuation. I know not much story is currently happening but some things take longer than others no? And didn't some once say all good things come to those who wait?

Skye

Donivon found himself laying in the dirt. Trees stretched toward the sky, their branches reaching for sunlight. Small patches of blue peered through the massive wall of green. Donivon stood up. He was exhausted. His feet felt like lead. His head felt heavy. His breathing was instinctively fast, but he slowed it down.

There was nothing, just trees, moss, and some other foliage. Leaves rustled behind him. He turned. Again, there was nothing.

Donivon walked. After hours of passing tree after tree, a path appeared. There was no one in sight but foot prints clearly made their way in on distinctive direction. Donivon decided to follow them. A low rumble came from behind. Slowly, the noise grew louder. It began to sound more like an engine and less like a rumble. 

Donivon turned around. A truck was speeding down the path. It seemed too big for the path and the trees seemed to bend up around it, making room for it. Its red rusted side was ready to fall apart but the glistening hood claimed to be of lesser age. 

~~~

I know this story is coming together in short spurts. I know this is likely a disappointing weekly read. And I know, this story so far sucks. But bear with me and realize that this is the very first draft. It is unedited and unchanged from what I wrote on my paper here at home. So, that said, I will take any and all feedback as to editing, story continuation, word change, detail additions (or subtractions), even point of view change. Just don't through me under a buss. ;)

~Anora Anakaya~

Write for freedom:  

Freedom of creation.

Soooo I'm back... With a New Beginning

Hey guys, Joseph W. Here, and I'm finally back from Hiatus... But not with lyrics or poetry... I've been actually writing novels as of late... Because my poetry isn't going so well right now. So here is chapter one of my novel "A New Beginning" which is still being written.

**********************************************
A New Beginning



Chapter 1
To start an adventure

Bruce Lawson was sitting in his old, beat up Honda Civic. He was parked right outside a house in the middle of a rough looking neighborhood that had the look of what might have once been a beautiful, peaceful place.
Kids were out in the neighbors yard playing, dogs were barking. He remembered how lovely it was to be a kid back in the day.

He opened his car door, feeling quite nostalgic about the little house, remembering days of water gun fights, and “hide and seek”. Those were different days, before worry and responsibility. He slammed the door and began his short walk to the door of the house.

He knocked on the door, and a few moments later a woman who looked to be about 50 or 60 years old greeted him. With a long pause she studied him, looking him over as if he were some riff raff from off the street. Her face became pale for a moment as she gasped, “Bruce?” she said in a hushed tone. “Yes, mother” he replied, “It’s me.”

She opened the door and he stumbled in the doorway awkwardly, and saw the living room where he once sat to watch his cartoons on Saturday mornings.
The blue armchair in the corner, the coffee table in front of the leather couch, the flat screen television. The house seemed so out of date to him, it was not something he was used to. The house had not changed much.

“Would you like some tea? Or coffee? I just baked some cookies. Or…”
“No, mother” he interrupted, “I’m fine, I cannot stay long”
“Oh, well is this about money?” She asked in a rather monotone voice.
“No, But Is father home by any chance?” He asked
“I really need to talk to both of you, its pretty important, and I don’t have much time.”

His mother looked very grim, “Your father doesn’t wish to see you. He’s still not over what happened all those years ago.”
Bruce gave the kind of sad and disappointed look you would expect from a child who is being punished. “I figured” he said “I was in the wrong, and I know that… and that’s… that’s why I’m here mom… I’m leaving.”
“Leaving where Bruce?”
“I can’t really say much mother, I’m not supposed to, but I came to tell you and the family that I love you all, and that I most likely won’t see you again… I came to… make things right.”

At this point his mother became very concerned, “Bruce, what are you talking about? You sound as if you are dying! Is there something wrong?”
“Mom, I really need to go, I love you Mother…” he said calmly as he kissed her on the forehead, and began walking toward the door.
“Bruce Peter Lawson! Tell me what is going on! Please son… Please”
“Mother, I cannot tell you anymore, it is prohibited… Tell father I’m sorry… Goodbye”

Bruce quickly got in the car, and drove off, seeing his mother in the rear view mirror with a confused and sad expression, you could see the lines on her old, yet wise face. He shed a tear as he saw her growing smaller and smaller in the mirror. But he couldn’t think of it any longer, he had a new life ahead of him. His journey was of the utter most Importance. He knew he was risking nothing but his life, And the reward of this risk, could be great.

*********************************


So I'd love to hear your feedback and predictions on what happens next.

Much Love,

Joseph W.

In His Place

Unfortunately Alex has not been feeling well of late. He has asked me to post two of his pieces in his stead. So here is Heartgold and Serenity. 


Heartgold


Here is my heart.
It beats in my chest
Like a bass drum,
Far from heaven,
At the base of my world.

I close my eyes.
I feel the pulse.
So hard does the blood pump
Through my green veins.

So far
I've felt so greedy
To keep such a miraculous muscle
Buried deep
in my cavernous chest.

Now,
you reach out to me.
Look
At those lovely hands that you own.

They've been scarred.
They've been scratched.
And, now,
They hold something more precious
Than those eyes of yours
Which match
The color of my corrupted veins.

Here is my heart.
Hold it gently
As it beats in your lovely hands. 







Serenity

I can hear them
The flapping of the doves' wings
As they fly too high above our heads
To ever be seen

But it's obvious
That they fly
Solely to carry serenity
To our damaged souls

They bring peace
I can feel it in my bones
Any time I'm around you

All of my pain
Leaves my soul
Whenever you're by my side

With such serenity
I know that
Even fate
Shall consider us lucky

~~~

Here is to praying that Alex Azazel Arlington feels better in the coming days. 

Donivon Hineron Skye

Hey all! So in order to keep me writing I am going to post one part of my new story that focuses on dreams. The main character as you may have guessed is named Donivon Hineron Skye. No, his parents didn't like him much to give him the name ''Hineron". Anyway, the whole plot line of this story will be revealed to you as soon as it is revealed to me. I've got no plans for it so we will see where it goes.

Dreams

Donivon Hineron Skye walked down a dirt road. Wind kicked up dust in the wasteland. The sun beat down upon Donivon's back. Donivon staggered. His knee buckled and he fell. He rolled over to his back and spread his arms wide. A car passed on the other side of the road. Donivon squinted and looked into the sun. His vision blurred and all he could see was white and then, everything turned black.

Skye jerked up. Sweat dripped down his temple. His eyes were wide. Skye looked around. Familiar features slowly greeted him: a lamp, a table, his clothes. Calm slowly reentered him. He pulled the sheets off of him and walked down the hall. He found himself going toward the fridge. Drawings cover it: a sketch of the wasteland, his face twisted in anguish, the blinding sun, a girl's face, a child's hand.

Each confused Skye.He drew each, knew every detail, but he didn't know why. Skye stared at the last drawing, the one of a child's hand. He had drawn every detail in, right down to the fingerprints. He followed the lines and curves with his eyes, searching for some meaning. Suddenly, he jerked himself from his trance opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle. He popped the top and drank. The liquid inside was gone in seconds.

~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed it.

~Anora Anakaya~