The tree's war

I see the rain fall down as the trees, mellow, and quiet. The hailstorm comes, yet they do not retaliate, they only whisper in the wind, swaying back and forth like in a Sunday song. People can be so much like the storm, we take for granted what was given us, upset, only by ourselves that we have to take war. What is war? War is held in no man's hand. We may see it, but who has the knowledge with courage to reach out and grasp it. War belongs to no man, no shield or sword can win war, and a war is not won, it is fought, only victory is won, but how are the ways to victory so? There is a way in which no man fully seeks, within this way is the tree. The tree stands in place, he sways, but does not fight with fist nor armor, sword or tool, but with peace, one thing no man can achieve on his own. Easy it is to fight the war like rain or hail, but difficult is it to fight like a tree.

Regret

There are so many things that we regret, Hatred, and Love, lost time, and not enough time to spend with family. Hurting, and if it is your fault, being hurt. Living, and the wishing of death. Classes you took, and didn't take. Decisions, good and bad. these are not even one percent of what people regret. I am an idiot, I have not been writing anything at all. There is nothing I can do but say, "I need to write more" so my plan is to upload essays and written projects from school to my blog.

A Hurt Friend

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.

Bed of roses, the updated copy

There's a place where people gather together to remember, and forget. They look to the past for the times of love, the present and plead, saying "why so young," and the future proclaiming "now they have it all."...

"Isaac, don't forget to remember me!" Carrie pleads.
"I won't!"

Mothers house was in Happy Valley, Oregon, where I was raised. For years I had wanted to live in Texas, and for years I've wanted to be a Marine. I know that times have been tough and though it may be, I have always loved to travel, well imagination counts, right? Since six years old, I have had these visions. I never thought much of it, but, I mean, too much de ja vu. I would cry and see a face, then within three weeks, a loved one dies. Once I witnessed a club shooting, through a dream, a dear friend was shot down. I cried for two days straight after the actual shooting occured. Sometimes my classmates would call me crazy or try to figure out what was wrong, because I had hid myself in the corner (of course this was in elementery school). Then in jr high I would start hearing things. Entire wars would play out into my head.

There are so many things I remember about my childhood. I even remember my old favorite super soaker, but I'm not telling about that now. Anyway, I had burried a time capsol in the back yard. "Mother, where's the shovel?"
"In the shed." I would hate to leave this house, all the memories.

I went to the back yard and dug up the treasure box. I rummaged through the photographs and found a book filled with a lifetime full of memories all rolled into one week, spring break '97, Lake of the Woods.

At the age of fourteen, all my friends were dating. I was the only one who chose to "stick it out" and wait for a girl, a special girl, no one certain, no one inperticular. I was the one that everyone called 'loner.' Two years after my decision, I became friends with many young women. One of my friends was Angela Meyer, she was one of the most georgious women I had ever laid my eyes on, but beauty struck me not. She was seventeen, one year older than I, and we and a bunch of other friends were out by the lake. Angel, as I shortened her name to, was staring at me. As I looked over, her eyes were glistening from the moon reflectant water. Her blond hair was highlighted with a tint of grey, and was suddenly flipped after this snob of a kid, Jackson Martin, an Alabama resedent, took a bucket and saturated her head with the ice cold water. Her beautiful green eyes shut as she lay her head down on my shoulder, as if...she...was desperately in need of some
loving sypathy. "Isaac," she murmered franticly. "I need to tell you-" her words broke short to rephrase, "do y-"
"It's getting cold. Let's go inside." I stated.

We scurried along the rock path to cabins number 15 and 16. When we got there, my cabin members had the lights on, and Lexi Meyer, one of Angel's invites, was in a dead sleep in the chair by the furnace. Elizabeth Davidson was the only one awake in the girls' cabin.
"Isaac, Angel, y'all have fun?" she asked."
"Fine," I said,
"well I had a wonderful time with you Isaac," explained Angel, "and why are you so glum right now? You weren't like this earlier. Oh, I know what we could do, we could go back and..."
"we should start heading in." I said as I try to put some water on the firepit.

In the morning, Angel, Liz, and I were the first ones awake.
"She...?" I asked
"yes," Angel answered. She hesitated awhile... "she was suppose to be smarter, Lexi usually, she never..."
"Isn't your sister in her thirties,? She should be smarter than that." I whispered.
"She should be smarter, and she's thirty-five." answered Angel.
Of course the girls made us guys clean up the vile, awful vomit. Angel insisted I stay outside with her, her sisters and friends. "A mans a man," exclaimed Julianne Stone- her and two other girls were the causes.

An hour after the mess was cleaned up, Annabel, Julianne's younger sister took out the prebuilt ramps and her bright pink Yamaha dirtbike from the utility van. Marya Davidson too had a dirt bike, her's was lime green. Seeing as Alex Carter and I were the ones who built the ramps we were forced to help unload. As soon as we finished unloading I decided to leave, I intended to go alone, but Angel followed me.

We found our way down to the general store beside the restaraunt that was there. I spotted a path and we started walking it. We took a right when we met up with the wallamate and lost ourselves in the serine wilderness. By the resteraunt there was a floating dock. We passed some campers in tents, some of which had brought dogs. I always knew Angel was a 'hugger,' there was no one she didn't like, and everytime she saw a friend, she had to wrap her arms around them. Angel's nickname durrived in part by her personality. What really annoid me was her arm was locked in mine, like she didn't want to leave me, like she was scared, but her face said otherwise. On our way back she wanted to sit on the floating dock we passed earlier.
"I know you want to own your own restaraunt, but you never told me. I want to know where you want to move to, when, I want to help take some stress off of you. You know I... You know... How can I say this, I know someone who deeply loves you with all her heart. And she is in this very resort, maybe closer than you think!" explained Angel.
"I don't think your even serious." I started to chuckle, "you have said that so many times that I lost count. I would like to move to Tex-"
"You don't understand me, do you," she weaped out, "that someone is right beside you."
"I...I'm so very sorry. I didn't mean to."

When we got back to the general store I saw Annabel on the dock, Liz, Jake Davidson (Liz's older brother) and her were playing king of the hill, suddenly Annabel gets pushed to the edge and front flips into the water.

I look at some old pictures taken that spring and recognize all but four faces. There was a picture of Annabel doing a backflip off the dock into the water with Alex and Lexi tossing a beachball off to the right. There was another with Jake and Liz in a footrace. There were more of the group.

Twitter

You can now follow me on Twitter @ asensitivepoet or click on the link at the top right hand corner of the page.

I am sorry there haven't been much more writing. There are some things I would love to post, but the problem is... It is extremely hard for me to put these things to words. I've been contemplating the ways to write, and what to write. I feared this would happen, I have contracted a serious case of a serious problem. This disease is known to have no true constant cure. In devolution terms, my mind is dying, I'm going crazy, and my grammer is reducing to nothing. I went to two different medical assistants, the first was the school "nurse" and the other was Dr Diva, who works at the Bipolar Health Clinic, each had different advice- no pill, no injection, serum nothing, just advice. Sure they identified the problem. I have... and truly I hate to say it, but sadly I have something almost all writers get- or so I'm told- writer's block. Yes this disease haunts any writer I know. Too many a day and no word per page. Thank you for listening to my sad little pain.

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.