fortunesfoole

She won't be your biggest disappointment anymore
'Cause she won't be around to disappoint you like before.
The trick is leaving home before you catch her at the door,
But she won't be your sorry disappointment anymore.

Yours ain't a paid position, but you're counting anyway –

I won't argue that you love her, but you're keeping score.
I don't see respect, not when you're lurking in her door.

Yours ain't a paid position, but you're counting anyway –
Love's not a contact sport, but you're pushing her away.
Or can't you see yourself when you look inside all of her tears?
You would see yourself if only you would look at her tears.

I don't think you read the situation like I do;
I refuse to think that contemplation carries you.
She won't be your biggest disappointment anymore
'Cause she won't be around to disappoint you like before.

That was
about as lyrical as a potheads
philosophy is deep
congratulations
you've made a new low
no small feat

Somewhere in the corner
someone shouts
enraged
(show me where it is dog!)
playing a bit too much
of games made by those
enamored with Fables.

I fell in love at the house of blues
Your boyishly charming smile my heart couldn’t refuse
My nerves tingled all the way down in my shoes
When I fell in love at the house of blues

You fought the crowd
We broke the rules
I sung out loud
You played it cool

I fell in love on a balcony
A forbidden place we weren’t supposed to be
Adrenaline pumping through my entire body
Caused me to fall in love on a balcony

We scaled the stairs
My heart flew
I had no cares
While following you

I fell in love in one short night
I was always a doubter of love at first sight
But I cannot deny, try as I might
That I fell in love in one short night

She wanders. She'll
drift away and
disperse
like rain into a river;
to return to you as a fog amidst
some
morning after.



Adrien

P.S. I hope you all are doing well.

A pleasure to meet you
You may call me "Afterthought".

Like a Cheshire Cat
I am here
And I remain

smiling

smiling

smiling















but I have already disappeared

[meant to be spoken word.]

Your grandmother sits in the corner, silently
watching and watching and watching and watching and
I have to go to the bathroom
but I am inhuman (I wish) so
I'll hold it, I'll try.
My lips are all broken and cracking, my dear--
If I smile they'll open and bleed all again.
Taste my iron, I beg,
I don't care if she sees,
Make me bleed make me bleed make me bleed make me bleed--

Oh you're sorry, you say--
Your breath smells like animal
catsup or catfish or kitten
(or kitten!)--
You'd like to kiss sometimes,
but I am a side dish--you
finish me
and you're still hungry for more!

You are ravenous
moaning and slurping up
remnants of me from the
dregs of your bottomless cup
I AM EMPTY
I've given you all that I've got
You're a parasite, tick
I'm a ticking time bomb

I'm exploding!
A kitten you put in your microwave
Danger, I'm dangerous
put on your goggles!
I'm acid, corrosive
I'll cut to your bones
without thinking or feeling
or seconding thoughts.

I'm a white light, I'm blinding
I'm blind raging fury
with talons and claws
I will cut all your organs out.
Lock up your children,
your kittens, your grandmothers
I stop for nothing--
I won't stop for you.

Baby,Last night
while you were at work.

I kinda ate your dog.

He sorta got killed
when my pot of chilli
fell off the stove.

He was burned alive.

He was burned alive to death.

And, you know,I hate to waste chilli.
And then, when I realized
Barkles was in there,I stopped eating it.

But, dang, yo,poodle is so sweet
and tender.
So, I went ahead and finished
most of the pot.

Don't be mad, baby.
I saved you a bowl.
Barkles would have wanted it
that way.
He would have wanted it
that way
with crackers.

I have to write a paper on something that is controversial or is debated about - for example, to see if an event was necessary in causing something that came after it. The fact that it's controversial is pretty much the only thing that we've been given a limitation on, so it could be anything that's got some discussion on it.

I'm not asking for a topic itself, but I've been thinking for a few weeks about this, and I was wondering how exactly one would go about finding a topic for something like this? I have a few periods/countries I'm interested in, but nothing that I'm more interested in to probe in deep enough to find something that I could write about. There's too much to choose from, and I'm a little terrified at this point that I can't find something that fits the requirements and interests me, too.

So basically - how would you go about finding something to write about? What kind of things do you research as a sort of basis before you get into it properly?

Thanks a lot! :)

ETA: Interests - I'm sticking to the last hundred years, because I feel like it's easier to get texts that discuss rather than just elaborate on events if they're based on more recent events. Plus I think that they're more likely to involve politics, which I like reading about in history. Country-wise I'd love to do something about India, the U.S., or one of the satellite states of the USSR - independence for the latter (maybe Romania or Hungary), and leaders and the things they've done from the first two (e.g. Indira Gandhi).

I can't think of where to go from there, I guess, which is the problem.

Love howled at the moon the day your face met daylight.
Shaken to it's very core you always fought the stray fight.
Burn me up and turn me lose, I wanna see fire
I wanna know, I wanna grow, I feel the concrete city mire.

Give me every last piece of you that you can spare
And I'll always take it with me everywhere.
I'll keep you warm on rainy winter days.
I'll love you more than these words can ever say.

It's love yes it's true; you drive me wild to the bone.
You drive me to insanity, oh yes I'm mad, very mad.
It must be love.

I watched you and I've wanted you,
To have near me by my side.
Just to sit and look at you is enough to tear down my pride.
But I'm too content, when I hold your eyes.
So I cannot settle, for this expected surprise.

I'll love you more than the wind caressing your face.
I'll hold you closer and tighter with every sweet embrace
Don't give me up, don't give me away.
I'm here for you, for keeps, and I'm here to stay.

I'll love you hotter than the coals you walk on for me,
I'll keep you closer than the jacket that you wear.
Learn to look at me, right in the eye
And tell me that it's never going to be a lie.

Your fingertips are like a thousand knives, searching to compel
Deep into this heart of mine, I know it very well.
I'll take this chance on you, as if I never knew
The fate that fell and the sorrows that swell
From touching such a razor as you.

But I wanna feel alive, so cut me open wide.
From here on out it's all sunsets and fireflies.
Give me the time and I'll give you your life,
I just want to be your better half.

I've got this disease and you are the cure
Its not like what you think, cause its worse
Its a fever you'll never sweat out
I'm dying, and you're the only cure

She looked into the mirror and saw

Saw what? A pregnant teen? Blood on her hands? Thousands of souls behind her eyes?

She reached out for him. He wasn't there.

The cool metal felt better than nothing. Not as good as him.

Blonde. Gray eyes. Pretty, she supposes.

She doesn't burn her. She never does. He hated that.

The knife isn't enough. She moves on. The pipe is crude. It gets the job done.

Shrieks of pain that are hers and not hers. The girl's legs are broken.

Hands next. Nose, then. Her face was too pretty.

She was begging. It wasn't difficult to tune out. They always do that.

A lock of hair, taken and tied with a string. In the cabinet with its sisters.

The red syrup was sticky on her face. That was how he liked it.

Maybe he would come back now. To raise their child.

The meat was warm still. Bloody still.

He would have liked it.

But he's not here.

Fourth grade. There's a boy named Francine. Calm. Collected. A tough kid. Francine "collected" lunch money from the "poor unfortunates," for Edgar Day-Gas and the gang that couldn't pee straight.

Really. They'd line up at recess on days the playground wind was blowing girls' skirts around like sailors looking for a cove to anchor in for the night, backs to the wind on the edge of Ranker's Toe, and see how far their tiny-dinky streams could fly.

If the wind was right the golden drops would atomize, like something girls in Paris sprayed across their necks before they high-heeled it to a "brassiere" for wine and flirty talk.

Fourth grade's when the girls of Paris, Rome, and other "legged exoticals" made their first entrance in some boys' dreams, in stories from a playground a ways beyond the one at Wilson Elementary. On that playground, fun and games was like an entirely different language, the learning of which often doesn't make the Reader's Digest version of "My Journey From the Momma Oven, So Far."

Which is to shame, what a closed ice cream store is to a summer day.


20091211 01:59 Fri (188 words)