There is a rose that grows in the night and day, as she awaits for someone to hold her, care for her. One day a young bird comes in, the rose lets him play with her, she doesn't know what is to happen. The bird returns day after day. They last a few months before a thorn grows, the rose, she is tired of the games. The bird induces the last thorn she can take and breaks her where it will take the longest time to heal, her heart. years later, one of the roses friends, a honeybee comes along and sees the rose is hurt. Days go and he desperately tries to care for her, but she doesn't want to let anyone in, she has locked up her heart until the day she feels she is ready for another try.
This is a true story. The rose symbolizes a beautiful, young women who was hurt to the point where she feels afraid of giving her heart to anyone. The bird was the boyfriend that hurt her, and the honeybee is me, one who has loved, but she is so hurt that she is scared to give anyone a chance until she feels ready.
Showing posts with label alone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alone. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
I am reposting "The horrid truth" for all those who would like to read it, it is decided to be either chapter 4 or 5 of "Bed of Roses"
Bright flashing lights filled route 66 with terror. Thunder rolls epicly across the night sky. Hail was beating down on my '72, ivy green mustang. Frost lined the outer rim of the windsheilds like a picture frame. The inside of the muscle was pitch black leather, and a mahogany verneer dash. When I tuned in to the radio, Charlie Daniel started up his fiddle with "The Devil went down to Georgia," and then, just then did a second and third flash light up the night. Just as I darted out of my car, a bolt of lightning incenerated the neon sign that I had just earlier parked under. There was a gas stataion; was... but I wasn't about to severely torture myself in that inferno. I was tossed away about a fraction of a mile and could still feel the intense heat anyway. I walked about a mile in the pouring rain.
Upon spotting this ambiguous glow, the rain started to slow, by this time, my cell was obliterated from the static and rain. I trudged up the road, when I reached the drive there stood a sign reading 'Tresspassers will be shot! Survivers will be shot again!'. Underneath the sign laid a crevas, significantly large. Nearly a half and one hour had passed since the storm had seized.
I ignorantly walked up the drive into the house. As I acheived a foothold ont the porch the door swung open. There stood a figure, short in stature with foam oozing from the beast's mouth, running down one of the four legs on which he held his stand. The beast growled and hounded me off the porch, I ran until I felt the beast had stopped his pursute. I saw the collar before the beast excaped, "Ol Red" it stated. On my way back to the house I cought eye of the now non exhistant crevas with a stone reading 'here lays Ol Red, the damnest dog to ever live. Stupid mutt was dead for three days until he was burried. The date exclaimed 'Oct. 9, 1999- Sept. 12, 2010.' Dang near eleven. Anywho, I entered th I'll-odored craphole and on my way in I gagged, almost enough to vomit. The house wreeked of dog vomit, rotting fish, fresh corpse and mold and mildew.
There was a stairwell that led down to a second floor of the three story home. On the other side there were two sets of stairs, both leading to the third floor. The stairs looked old, but vaigly used. I went down the first set of stairs and saw no light. I heard music that gave me chills, orgons.
There was a door at the pit of the stairs, the handle was as rusty as a diomands sheen is bright. When I opened the door there was a candle, dim, faint light. There was a broken mirror infront of a blasphemous old man. The words he spoke were bombastic and uncomprehendable. He was old beyond comparison. When I asked him if he was alright, he turned slowly, taking two minutes for him to face towards me, and leaned on the orgon creating this awful pitch, then he smiled demonicly and said "the one I love is lost, how would YOU deal with the pain. Damn you for asking, damn you for finding this wreched place." I told him nothing, but ran. When I exited the room, I saw claw marks on the wall. I stumbled up the stairs into a voice calling "Isaac, Isaac we know you are here, we have been waiting." I was drawn to the suductive echo, up the stairs and into the foyer...
The voice was as ruby, safire and gold. I entered the door to the right of the foyer and there, sitting in a deep leather loveseat was a georgious woman whose eyes resembled that of a young emrald. Her hair was a long and wavy blonde. She had a dress, long flowing scarlet dress. A name was given to her...Jade. "Come and stay. Please, don't worry about our father"
"Who is we, why do you speak like that?"
"My twin and I can see things to happen."
"Where is this 'twin' of yours?"
"She is out, she went to the market." Jade explains
"The market, the one by the gas station?"
"Yes, why do you ask?"
"My car was parked next to a sign and a market and the gas station, they, Im sorry, the market is destroyed..."
Jade started to weep as I explained to her what had happened. She was vaigly able to cry out "please, please, please stay, do it for me." shaking her head as she pleaded.
The decision came swift, all my belongings were in the mustang. "I'll stay."
She showed me to a guesthouse aside of her bedroom, it was located in the hall next to the foyer. I tossed and turned until I awoke, I ran down the hall, hearing an eiry scream, precenting was a loud growl. The man, Jade's father had found me just then, and offered to take me out to the garage to show me his "prize" camaro. He also had inquired a 2009 American Eagle Maverick, and a 2010 Harley-Davidson Roadglide. He later took me to a large shed out back and when I refused to enter, he took the candlestick that was in his han and struck me atop the head... That was when I arose from my deep slumber...
I had appearantly yelled, waking up Jade in the process. She darted into the guestroom, ripping the door through the air and slamming it into the wall. "What happened?" she asked.
"I would like to say!"
We left the hall and went downstairs where the house was suddenly clean and the smell wasn't near as bad. "I cleaned the house!!" exclaimed Jade. There were eggs on the table alongside some sausage, bacon and toast. I couldn't eat, though Jade was the only one besides me that was awake. Or so I thought. I learned the man's name, Andrew Luthor Wakeman III.
Bright flashing lights filled route 66 with terror. Thunder rolls epicly across the night sky. Hail was beating down on my '72, ivy green mustang. Frost lined the outer rim of the windsheilds like a picture frame. The inside of the muscle was pitch black leather, and a mahogany verneer dash. When I tuned in to the radio, Charlie Daniel started up his fiddle with "The Devil went down to Georgia," and then, just then did a second and third flash light up the night. Just as I darted out of my car, a bolt of lightning incenerated the neon sign that I had just earlier parked under. There was a gas stataion; was... but I wasn't about to severely torture myself in that inferno. I was tossed away about a fraction of a mile and could still feel the intense heat anyway. I walked about a mile in the pouring rain.
Upon spotting this ambiguous glow, the rain started to slow, by this time, my cell was obliterated from the static and rain. I trudged up the road, when I reached the drive there stood a sign reading 'Tresspassers will be shot! Survivers will be shot again!'. Underneath the sign laid a crevas, significantly large. Nearly a half and one hour had passed since the storm had seized.
I ignorantly walked up the drive into the house. As I acheived a foothold ont the porch the door swung open. There stood a figure, short in stature with foam oozing from the beast's mouth, running down one of the four legs on which he held his stand. The beast growled and hounded me off the porch, I ran until I felt the beast had stopped his pursute. I saw the collar before the beast excaped, "Ol Red" it stated. On my way back to the house I cought eye of the now non exhistant crevas with a stone reading 'here lays Ol Red, the damnest dog to ever live. Stupid mutt was dead for three days until he was burried. The date exclaimed 'Oct. 9, 1999- Sept. 12, 2010.' Dang near eleven. Anywho, I entered th I'll-odored craphole and on my way in I gagged, almost enough to vomit. The house wreeked of dog vomit, rotting fish, fresh corpse and mold and mildew.
There was a stairwell that led down to a second floor of the three story home. On the other side there were two sets of stairs, both leading to the third floor. The stairs looked old, but vaigly used. I went down the first set of stairs and saw no light. I heard music that gave me chills, orgons.
There was a door at the pit of the stairs, the handle was as rusty as a diomands sheen is bright. When I opened the door there was a candle, dim, faint light. There was a broken mirror infront of a blasphemous old man. The words he spoke were bombastic and uncomprehendable. He was old beyond comparison. When I asked him if he was alright, he turned slowly, taking two minutes for him to face towards me, and leaned on the orgon creating this awful pitch, then he smiled demonicly and said "the one I love is lost, how would YOU deal with the pain. Damn you for asking, damn you for finding this wreched place." I told him nothing, but ran. When I exited the room, I saw claw marks on the wall. I stumbled up the stairs into a voice calling "Isaac, Isaac we know you are here, we have been waiting." I was drawn to the suductive echo, up the stairs and into the foyer...
The voice was as ruby, safire and gold. I entered the door to the right of the foyer and there, sitting in a deep leather loveseat was a georgious woman whose eyes resembled that of a young emrald. Her hair was a long and wavy blonde. She had a dress, long flowing scarlet dress. A name was given to her...Jade. "Come and stay. Please, don't worry about our father"
"Who is we, why do you speak like that?"
"My twin and I can see things to happen."
"Where is this 'twin' of yours?"
"She is out, she went to the market." Jade explains
"The market, the one by the gas station?"
"Yes, why do you ask?"
"My car was parked next to a sign and a market and the gas station, they, Im sorry, the market is destroyed..."
Jade started to weep as I explained to her what had happened. She was vaigly able to cry out "please, please, please stay, do it for me." shaking her head as she pleaded.
The decision came swift, all my belongings were in the mustang. "I'll stay."
She showed me to a guesthouse aside of her bedroom, it was located in the hall next to the foyer. I tossed and turned until I awoke, I ran down the hall, hearing an eiry scream, precenting was a loud growl. The man, Jade's father had found me just then, and offered to take me out to the garage to show me his "prize" camaro. He also had inquired a 2009 American Eagle Maverick, and a 2010 Harley-Davidson Roadglide. He later took me to a large shed out back and when I refused to enter, he took the candlestick that was in his han and struck me atop the head... That was when I arose from my deep slumber...
I had appearantly yelled, waking up Jade in the process. She darted into the guestroom, ripping the door through the air and slamming it into the wall. "What happened?" she asked.
"I would like to say!"
We left the hall and went downstairs where the house was suddenly clean and the smell wasn't near as bad. "I cleaned the house!!" exclaimed Jade. There were eggs on the table alongside some sausage, bacon and toast. I couldn't eat, though Jade was the only one besides me that was awake. Or so I thought. I learned the man's name, Andrew Luthor Wakeman III.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
From a school project for the Vietnam war are "blood in the sand" and "change"
The red clay, oh horrid blood in the sand,
The burrowed hole where a friend hast died in.
Blood spilt, countless lives lost in the heartland,
I look up and smell that red clay again.
That sad, sad song that haunts the daily air
comes from that clay in that Vietnam War.
The red clay, the blood in the sand I feel,
The blood in the sand is stuck in my hair.
The friend I have lost are too many more.
The red clay to me will always feel real.
Change is too often thrown upon our shoulders
Too quick to ready ourselves for what is next;
Love was thrown down when love was not from her,
And war is not ever forever fixed.
Nothing can ready for sudden changes;
Not war, nor the struggles we face daily,
Not even the people who brave it ouANCan ready themselves barely for changes.
Still nothing will give us much but vaigly
The sound of mind that has been with much doubt.
The red clay, oh horrid blood in the sand,
The burrowed hole where a friend hast died in.
Blood spilt, countless lives lost in the heartland,
I look up and smell that red clay again.
That sad, sad song that haunts the daily air
comes from that clay in that Vietnam War.
The red clay, the blood in the sand I feel,
The blood in the sand is stuck in my hair.
The friend I have lost are too many more.
The red clay to me will always feel real.
Change is too often thrown upon our shoulders
Too quick to ready ourselves for what is next;
Love was thrown down when love was not from her,
And war is not ever forever fixed.
Nothing can ready for sudden changes;
Not war, nor the struggles we face daily,
Not even the people who brave it ouANCan ready themselves barely for changes.
Still nothing will give us much but vaigly
The sound of mind that has been with much doubt.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Tell me who
If you could pick and choose one person to live out your life with, who would it be? A parent, your boyfriend/girlfriend, best friend. For what reason?
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