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 Jul 2013 Gary Muir
TigerEyes
It's untitled because I'm still dreaming it up
designing their costumes
applying their make-up
I think one of them should say funny things
bringing the audience to their knees
Yeah...
the ideas are pouring in
Okay, I've got it
Act I
FADE IN:
that's where I'll begin
You never know what Zoe will say next...
she'll be hysterically funny, and very complex
(playing my protagonist)
bringing bubbles of joy
(even to my antagonist)
Yeah..
Zoe tends to do funny things
not even realizing the laughter she brings
because everyone will see themselves
in the situational stories she tells...
Act II
Zoe loses her shoes...
she thinks they're magic
(it will seem quite tragic)
maybe you'll cry
and, you won't know why
you'll just find it sad
to watch a person that's normally so happy, and glad
just to be in this world
to have emotions that swirl
you'll be cheering for her
to get back to the way things were
before she thought she lost her shoes
the ones she thinks are magic
(she's gonna have the blues)
I'll write a transition here
it comes from, Carlos Diaz, he'll be a true friend...
(he'll help her transcend)
Act III
Zoe finds her magic shoes
(but she'll have to pay some kind of price, or fee)
I'll have her find a key that will make her see...
that she can get back to the way things were
before she began to swerve
thinking life had way too many curves
(it seems so unlike her)
Yeah, he'll help her get back to the beginning
when she found humor in the darkest places
even in the eyes, and expressions of the all the strange faces
that had been tossed her way...
because her imagination was busy at play
Yeah..
You'll be so happy for her
that she's finally back to the way things were
her friend, Carlos Diaz...
he'll be the one to remind her of all the joy she can bring
(by this point you'll all want to sing)
because Zoe can find humor in almost anything.
© 2013

Inspired by my wonderful friend, Carlos Diaz. "Thank you".
Currently a story in development that's begging to be imagined, and written.
it would be more in Fear
that our Protectors will turn on us, The People,
than it would be in Fear
that some third party would come by such force to my Home.
 Jul 2013 Gary Muir
Jenna Dixon
She turns around in her seat
To see him sitting quietly,
A low hum rests in the class
As students pretend to do their work,

She takes a breath to say something
And he glances up,
Shyness overwhelms her
And she turns back to her work

The boy says nothing
And goes back to his
The girl bites her lip
Nervous, unable to focus,

She turns abruptly and speaks
The boy looks up in shock
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth
A new friendship has started,

She soon learns
The boy is bullied
For his worn cloths
Yet she does not mind this,

In the halls after school
The boy sits against his locker,
The girl approaches him
Noticing his black eye,

An outstretched hand
Was all he needed from her
To smile again
And she did just that,

Their friendship grew
And blossomed into love
But he had another detail
One she did not know yet,

At his mother's grave
He speaks to her
Explaining the subtle scars  
Her eyes water in sadness,

How could a father
Be so cure to his own son?
To hit him repeatedly
Until his skin broke,

This had to stop
He had to be freed
From the horrors of home
But he won't let her,

He said his dad would **** him
If he saw any legal authorities
She bows her head
Wishing, praying for his safety  

On a cold night a siren awakes her,
Sitting up in bed she watches
To see the way
The emergency response vehicle goes,

Her heart stops,
She knows the path it took all too well,
Climbing out her window
And grabbing her bike

She starts after it
Her eyes stinging from the night air
She arrives to see
It was his father's new girlfriend

Who had made the call
To put an end to things
But it was too late
She hadn't reached the phone in time

The girl runs inside,
Past the medics,
To see his body at rest
On the floor still bleeding

She falls beside him
And cries out his name,
If only he would answer
Everything would be alright,

Holding his hand tight
She whispers her apology to him,
Sorry she never did anything
Sorry she didn't save him,

The father thrown in jail
The boy buried six feet down,
The girl stands at his stone
Vowing her heart will never love another

She places a single rose
On the cool gray stone
And turns to walk back to the road
Her head hangs low, eyes fixed on the ground

She never saw the car that hit her
She never heard it
All she knew was it was over and done
And she was in his arms once again.
Hand over hand, pulling in the line
as waves crash, and continuously crack.

The bow and back, hit hopefully
by wind strong enough
to push us home, or out to sea

or boredom rises from the deck, as we create
tied knots neat and straight, as our thoughts drift
through calm breeze shifts, and still we sit
with no work here to do but wait.

The port fish below
and the starry birds above
know little of our troublesome tides,
the pain and burden of our lives
and reaching through the immensity of the world I float.
The brisk air sets on moist and grassy sheets
Of lawn that’s covered, colors on colors and hues
Reminding me that back home the warm feast
Awaits the family. Pumpkins as well as
Squished squashes align wet and foggy stoops,
And white smoke billows against darkening
Autumn skies. Slick streets littered with the branches
Of looming trees that lack their leaves once again.
The sidewalk walkers decline as the season
Still marches on with time. The temperature
Will fall as summer will proceed to fall.
if I could lie
on this beach with you
all day
every single day
then
every single night of
every week
I wouldn’t have
fish hooks
in the corners of my mouth
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