i hate txts (3)

i hate txts
all over world
no sense in i head
tick tick in school
no gone ever
i can no stop
u no stop 2
u and i no stop
2gether
i hate txts

i hate txts (2)

i hate txts
get in way
i never like them
do u not like 2?
long time txts in i head
bleep bleep no gone
i hate txts

i hate txts (1)

i hate txts
don't u?
txts mess i up
no go txts
all txt, all time
never ending
i hate txts
don't u?

Adoption = Jeff D.

Laughter

Laughter is cheer, it is light, it is the very life that is living our lives. It spins us around in our emotional beings. It sits us down and throws into the air all at the same time. Either high, shrill voices of skipping children, or the bouncing lumps of chuckles of the old man in a wooden rocking chair, it shall pass all paths either willingly of the partaker or forcefully by the victim. Laughter is cheer, it is light, it is the very life that is living our lives, your life.

Adoption = Jeff D.

Yellow

It comes in many shades.

Light and dark clash to harmonize with each other.  In reality as well as in our unconscious minds. It sits atop our heads, as well as our feet. It is the smell of a thousand days of dry wheat and sweaty brows. It is of the calmness and calamity of the ocean, As the sun rises upon its ever expanding domain. It is of happiness and of greedy riches. It sits as the highest of quality for kings, and yet shows hunger of the needy and poor. We see it forever until we give up the will to live or become that of a goat. Never gone always here in our skies, bellies, and ground.

Adoption = Jeff D.

Leader

"Leaders" are everywhere.
Sticking out their chests.
Smiling fakely to small children.
Giving hugs to the elderly,
While cursing under their breath.
They stand on the podeum,
Taking in all the attention.
Their suits are tailored
To their specific body size.
Forever lying to everyone.

Leaders are rare.
Starting in young age,
They help all that needs it in sight.
In elementary school they stop bullying.
At home they settle disputes.
In the summer he runs the water
For all the run under.
In middle school he runs for leadership.
Winning over the love of man
Through the honesty and love he gives.
In high school he
wears a coat to mark his leadership.
In the future he will go on to  become
What he wants to become.
A boss of a fortune 500 company.
The president of the United States.
His memory and generocity will forever live on.
Your memory and generocity will forever live on.

Cinnamon

Ground from sticks, I was crushed from my original form this pathetic life form.
I will never return to the gracious stature of truiumph of the wild again.
For I am in shame of the tradgety. I shall never return to my brothers in the jungle of spices.
Nutmeg, paprika, pepper, basil, and thyme will for ever laugh at me for my disgrace.
And why am I like this? For the pleasure of man.
For their pleasure of taste, smell, and sustanence of life.
A brute force shall forever keep me ground, I shall never be a stick again...

Summer.

The room was bare, even the walls were stripped clean. The carpet smell rank with what ever that days food time was, mixed with body odor. The blinds were closed, letting in a small amount of light in.
I sat on the floor, waiting for my chance to strike. Waiting for the time of revenge for many days i would go with out brought by the regretful hand of power hungry whore-mungers.
Everything they did i hated. Wrath would boil up inside of me every time I would think, hear, smell, feel, see, or taste them anywhere. and i planned the day when wrath would boil inside of them just to think, hear, smell, feel, see, or taste me anywhere.
i scheduled on any unknown date when I would fly in spirit to a place unknown to man. or even in body to a place of lush fruit and salty water. on the day that i would be set free if that unsightful prison. The day i could turn around to the jailer and give them the childish sign of hatred, the finger.
But before the year and a half before the final day (or maybe a eventful day before that) had come, a savior stepped down from her pedistool next to the jailer, risking everything. she knelt  by me in that such ungodly place and wept for me. she felt pity on me, a worthless creature to my master, the jailer. A person she once stood with as they did their uncanny deeds of ruthfulness.
she rose up against them, and rallied against them. finding help in a unlikely, but very resourceful, place. The people who were kind to show me the greatness of humanity that was mine to own.
A higher power, above the jailer, came down upon my master. Letting light into the darkness, seeking out the lost soul that was mine. The warrior of this higher power reached down to me with a human hand and told me to stand up and take defense against that what had killed me and beaten me down for so long.
When the light came in I was blinded, seeing visions of the distant past. Seeing the jailer as my mentor, my provider, my best friend. Felling betrayed by the savior that knelt beside me, had wept for me.
The higher power's warrior receded from the prison when the power behind him faded and wavered from his side with the darkness of the night. But when the light shined again he stood up with the same valor and my eyes adjusted to the light that he shined in on me in that bare room.
From there on i stood up. Reaching up to the sky and finding the long lost humanity that had been taken from me. With help i recovered it all. I remembered myself. I was able to let go of my past, and yet still not forget it. To grow stronger, smarter, and more free from my past. Others from the higher power reached into that bare room where i had rooted to the floor and broke down the walls. Forever breaking me free from that bare room back in prison on a summer day.

Philosophy.

The universe started at one point. Where did it start from? God? or the middle of the universe? Most would answer God. Answer that a giant man, that with a wave of his hand created all that we are in seven days. A smaller part of a more logical part of the world that we live in would answer with their minds, the thing that works everything.
I will join those who use what is there to help them survive the harsh beatings of life. To say that God is not real, he is not here, he is not anywhere. He is a figment of imagination of man's ever evolving mind. There is no man, spirit, or thing in this universe that could create our world and everything that did, does, or ever will exsist in it in just seven days.
People say that he is almighty, a perfect being, and that he will save us all, but where is he now, how is he saving us from our own destruction. He is the one that sent us here to "test us", but if he was perfect he would already know who was on his side and who was against him.
Were there any that believed in him from the begining? Did they see him with their undeveloped eyes? How did they speak to him? Did they speak at all? How did he comfort them? Did he even go to them?
The answer is no! he does not exsist. If he 'loved' us then he would sit beside us and talk to us today. Show us the way to be perfect. No war. No death. No disease. Nothing.
But that is exactly what we would be, nothing. If it were not for the imperfections of humanity, Life itself would not occur. Our lives would be as dull as a blank peice of paper. To see things perfectly would include the garentee of discovering nothing. To learn nothing. To be no one. The personalities would be all perfect, giving us all good qualities, but to do so would make it were we would constantly not be ourselves. This would then cause disruption, thus we can never be perfect in our personalities.
If humanity is to try and become perfect is good enough. This makes us better people. We constantly learn and judge to 'good' and 'bad' around us. To be imperfect is a gift that evolution has given us. It is our whole life, and I will never ask for more.

Fan Letter.

Dear Mrs. Noelle Knight,

My name is Chelsea Connor. I live in Kansas City, MO. i have read your book and I think it is the most discriptive and realistic as it can be. I think on your last book the ending was very interteresting because you made a character and didn't reveal their motive. This made it to where they could have been out to kill Noelle or to help and watch over her. With this kind of ending I thought there would be a sequal to the book. Will there be a next book? Or will you leave it as a one-hit-wonder? I feel as though you should continue the seirse.

Sinserly,

Chelsea Connor.

Darkness' Edge.

Finding the edge of eternal darkness is not easy.
It is hard, challenging, an adventure.
To turn back the clock to the beginning of forever.
Going back to the beginning of the end.
The bells  ringing from memories of distant past.
There you start to move to the future.
For better of for worse the motion of time continues.
The time to find the edge of eternal darkness is not easy.