daniel-reganWhisper

American
Sort
958 Atkin (05/10/11)And though our lives move on and our days continue to be filled with the life we had all once left behind, we still remember. And though we wake up each morning with a new crowed of people to share our breakfast with, we still remember. Etched into our minds like those three numbers we held so dear as a symbol of our freedom and identity. Those three numbers that separated you enough to show ones independence, but connected you with a community of people who forever would fill every waking (and sometimes sleeping) moments of your life. These three numbers, coupled with a key, representing a time of transition from parental curfews, sober nights, and childish antics to a life of frivolous and naked moments. Passing into a time where the only sober though one had was that approaching deadline and getting everyone home safe. A time where basketball games, endless games of cards, crazy dance parties, shower time, movie nights, redbird pizza runs, *** talks, burning frat houses, fights with floor 8, board games, and multiple YOUTUBE sensations took precedence over whatever was due the next day. And though our nights sometime met the light of day; we continued in our ways knowing each morning when we awoke the day was ours and would be filled with people who would make every moment spectacular. So with our new found life consuming us we ignored the grains as they fell towards a time when the life we had come to know and love would be thrown into a whirlwind of tears, hugs and goodbyes. But that day has come and gone; and though promises were made and dates set, we still can’t help to remember those three numbers and those people who made them more then just a room number. And though those days are gone and we consider our selves grown, we can’t help but cling to childish moments where friendships were forged and long lasting bonds made by a simple acceptance button found on our social portals. A bond that we now hold to for dear life as a means to keep one another connected. Connected to those people who became our life line in times of good and bad; those same people who we shared the good and bad moments with and knew we could turn to no matter what. Those same people whose lives we would put in front of ours and bend over backwards for no matter the cost or how empty our wallets may seem. And even when we found our selves counting quarters and estimating how many loads we could run, we always knew we could count on the person across the hall or right next door to fill that half hour until our whites were done. We laughed, and we cried, we made nick names for each other and threw up in each others arms. We watch each other run around naked, made never ending “that’s what she said jokes,” and maybe kissed a few people we never thought we could. And though nights got out of hand and feels hurt here or there, regret is something none of us feel. For regret is an emotion that holds no place between people whose moments with one another were made priceless because of how embarrassing or stupid we acted. Stupid, embarrassing moments that we have come to cherish and hold close to our hearts in the hopes to keep those people we refer to as our kin with us when distance challenges our very bonds. Moments that cannot be duplicated, remade, imitated, or passed off as a normal Saturday afternoon; but rather remembered and someday share with our kids and grandkids as they move in for their first year of college. And when our kids and grandkids are overcome with emotion and come to us for advice about conquering the college scene, we can say from the depths of our hearts that the people they meet in college will forever change their life and make them a better person. Those same people whom I could never replace, and can’t wait to embrace as brother and sister when the next semester of ISU rolls around. :)
1
Feb 19, 2012
abc123 (April 19th, 2014)00111222333444555666777888999000000099988877766655544433322211100 / aaabbbcccdddeeevery word, thought, feeling made simple by those and that which create it fffggghhhow am I suppose to find the bigger picture in this world of I SPY, CSI, and magnified screens, text, and images iiijjjkkklllet me suppose we do it without conscious regard for the bigger picture, but I cannot believe that when we scrutinize each other to the point of minimizing each other’s soul, purpose, and individuality mmmnnnooopppqqquite the notion when you examine the world around us and its ever outward expansion by mans technology, freethinking mind, and unquenchable reach rrrssstttuuuvvvery ironic as I focus on the letters that give me inspiration yet cling to the words that give voice to my every fleeting thought wwwxxxyyyzzzero chance that my message finds a bigger paper, forum, or world for the letters that make them up do not scream loud enough for the worlds magnifying glass to hear zzzyyyxxxwwwith ever black to white click of thought it becomes analyzed by the grammatically correct, socially adept, and economically sept vvvuuutttsssrrreveling itself in form, purpose, and motivation as my numbers climb with the amount of eyes that these words find qqqpppooonnnmmmy own ego lost in a numbers game and battle of the words, played against my own self doubt and an ever changing world lllkkkjjjiiilluminated by an audience whose thoughts are much like my own, who play under the same lights and are surrounded by the same dome hhhgggffforever screaming in black and white as the world spins in color, reveled in pictures but structured in letters and numbers eeedddcccbbbaaalone we must all feel as we stare at the big picture and the underlining letters, while our life moves beyond the sight of our glass / 00111222333444555666777888999000000099988877766655544433322211100
3
Apr 19, 2014
Be my 180 (8/02/13)I have to don the face of madness when I encounter your shadow. Held back only when that shadow pulls a 180. And though I cannot hold the hand of this shadow and spin madly on with it. I grasp unwillingly to the hand that catches my grip. Catches my palm, catches my five reasons for holding on. Because your shadow is the only shade of you I can seem to handle. The one I wait on to signal the coming of a new day. The only one I hold my breath for because it holds no breath at all. But rather the idea of catching up to someone whom I wish to see vanish. No, I hold no distain towards you and no pleasure in seeing the shadowy curves of you saunter off into the sun. No I do not hold regret in the distance found between your shadow and I, because that distance cant seem to multiply fast enough for my liking. And though the closer and closer you get to that sun represents sunshine entering my life again, it will never be enough. Because even when you walk head first into that sun I know your every molecule is still floating in this endless universe of ours. I will never be without your presence, I will never be without your shadow, I will never be without you haunting my every thought. For no matter the alcohol consumed, cannabis smoked, and concussions sustained I will never be able to put a scratch on the lyrical nightmare that was our song. That was our time together, and though I try and play DJ and put a positive spin on our song…Im reminded that it once was played. So I look for your shadow every night and every day. Not for torment sake but for the little sanity that remains to show me that the monster that was once my love can be slain again, and again, and again. And though it keeps returning I remind myself the difference between your darkness and my light is exactly 180 degrees.
1
Sep 2, 2013
Breaking the Silence (09/28/10)Put a gun to my head, go ahead and pull the trigger. Lifes to short to focus on forever. I find myself questioning everything in my core. Only to be brought back to earth, regret pressent ever more. Following ever little shadows down every single corridor. Avoiding those ghosts, like a movie full of horror. Their faces ever present, in my book filled with lives. Defining themselves by a bunch of silly headlines. Where has my character been and gone, to have made me become this cold. Funny how a few pictures can begin to make you unfold. So you play cat and mouse, with those who got away. Filling your half empty cup with those you met today. Lighting a match in places where ash has begun to pile. Throwing sticks at your past and waiting patiently for awhile. But the past has done just that; left you in its wake. So you drop your board; this is as far as the ride will take. Looking at your watch and wondering where the time has gone. Only realizing your watch is in the entirely wrong time zone. And now your jusy behind on the wishes of today. To busy focusing on the memories that have left and gone away. So you take the next step to getting over this **** And you write a few words and throw them in a lump. Making sentence begin to ryhme and words begin to sway. Giving credit to the rappers who have paved your lyrical way. And your mind begins to run with voices of today, only hearing the next line and what it is you want to say. So you bleed for your words and make then all come to life. Every cut you have for them, is a lifetime full of strife. So you take a single memory and hold it to the light. And your rip it in half and hold back your feelings with all your might. For your words are all you have in this never ending game. Of photo albums and picture frames, lost numbers and days filled with shame. Shame for those you meant to call, and still wish it to this day. But understand that god has come and had the final say. So you look at those you've lost, and those you can still save. And wonder if those memories should be left in their own grave. And fight back the feeling of betrayal and hate. And remind yourself each day that it will never be too late. To you show those whom you have lost that there is still something there. And you honor those who are gone, with love and an evening prayer.... Life is to short to focus on forever. But never is life to short, to write out something clever. To stir the emotion of human intent, and show those who matter you are done being silent.
1
Feb 19, 2012
Call me an *** (03/31/09)If nice guys finish last, then call me an ******* Im done being the nice guy, im done playing that role. Because society doesnt care if you can save the human race. All they seem to care about is stuffing their own face. With fast food, and expensive gifts, with cool gadgets and lavish trips. This world is selfish and does not care for you, so you might as well loose the nice guy attitude. Your friends may say they like your nice guy ways. But lets be honest, love and affection cant get you recognition and fame. Life is cold, life is bleak. Like having no paddles going up a muddy creak. Love is blind, so you will never find, that special someone, that someone to call mine. So why be nice, when no one cares. Why be nice, when life isnt fair. Why be nice, when no one sees you. Why be nice, when no one cares what you do. So call me and ******* call me a **** call me a huge, monsterous ***** But dont call me the nice guy, you'll only make me sick. So here's some advice, if you want to get ahead in life. Forget about fairytale endings, forget about the lavish white weddings, forget about being nice and allways doing right. Cuz life ***** and blows, like a five dollar ***** So get use to those sores, cuz thats what lifes for. ******** you from behind, when you've been nothing but kind. Giving someone your heart, and getting nothing from start. Working your *** off for that spot, only to loose what you got. So **** it all, and **** my life. Get use to these phrases and get use your strifes. And get use to never being right. Cuz when life kicks in, you've already lost the fight!
1
Feb 19, 2012
1
Mar 4, 2012