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One Winged Angel


Dec 10, 2011, 7:39:29 PM by ~OmegaWolfOfWinter
Journals / Personal




It was very late, and Lucian had just gotten back from his assignment. he unlocked the door to his house and set his things down on the bed. he removed his shirt and removed the bandages on his chest. that demon put up quite a fight... he put on a robe and decided to get some rest. he set his things down on the floor next to him and hung his sword by the bed. he exhaled deeply and relaxed, finally back in the comfort of his own home. sleep quickly enveloped him and he began to dream.
******
Lucian was woken from a deep sleep by the sound of his door breaking down. Two massive angels shrouded in black cloaks stepped inside his room as Lucian scrambled to his feet, feeling a sudden chill beneath his simple white robe. One of the angels spoke, "Lucian, Elite Angel number 373-14, you are under arrest for high treason, grand theft, and ******."
Lucian was dumbfounded at the accusation. "What on heaven are you talking about?!"
the guard-angels grabbed the warrior-angel and dragged him out of his house and onto the streets where a small crowd had gathered. They escorted him to the capitol, which wasn't far away. Lucian gazed up at the massive black monolith before him.
He was immediately sent to the rooftop, where the Punisher was waiting.
Lucian desperately tried to explain. "I've been set up!! Please let me go! I've done nothing wrong!!"
The angel to his left looked at Lucian in disgust. "Quiet, you."
He reached to Lucian's throat and he felt a massive bolt of electricity course through his body. He collapsed in their arms and blacked out for a moment.
He couldn't say anything; he had a sign of silence on his throat. He blacked out again and when he woke he was on his knees in front of the punisher. His hands were bound behind his back and he was held by a multitude of chains and braces. The guard-angel touched his throat and the seal of silence was removed. "elite angel Lucian, number 373-14, you are charged with high treason against the holy city, grand theft of a holy artifact and the murders of 7 holy officials, as punishment-"
"I didn't do any of those things!!!"
"SILENCE!! There is evidence that places you at the scene."
"What-"
"your punishment, you will lose your wings," Lucian gasped and tears formed in his eyes. "...and will be given the Mark of Eternal torture."
"No! Not the Mark!! Please no!!"
The punisher stepped forward and drew his slender sword. As he stepped forward, Lucian squirmed and fought against his bindings but to no avail. "God help me!"
"How dare you speak the lord's name, criminal!" the punisher slashed at Lucian's throat, grazing it and leaving a long, bleeding cut. Lucian groaned and said, "No... No... Please..."
the punisher stepped to Lucian's side and raised the sword. Lucian's tears came and began hyperventilating. "No, NO, NOO!!!"
The punisher brought the sword down and Lucian screamed in agony as one of his wings fell to the ground. Lucian was in so much pain, he wished he could die right then, right there. He was crying now, tears of sorrow and pain. "No, please, I beg you! Have mercy!"
For some reason the punisher then sheathed his sword. "Fine, you may keep your remaining wing."
"th-thank-" he was cut off as the punisher knelt down and grabbed Lucian's throat. He screamed again as he felt an intense burning. He continued to cry out as the punisher released him but the burning remained, slowly spreading over his entire body with such intensity that he lost consciousness multiple times. after an excruciatingly long torture, the burning ceased, and Lucian saw that it had etched runes and twisting lines over his whole body, almost his whole body, it had left his head and hands untouched. His voice had turned into a hiss and he tried to speak. he was unbound and he reached back to touch where his left wing had been, there was only a stump left.
"Lucian, you are hereby renounced of your warrior status. Get him out of my sight." Lucian was escorted outside, where the guardians left him stranded in the street. He blacked out and felt himself being picked up and carried somewhere else.
************
"he's heavy" thought the angel. He carried the limp body off the streets and through alleys, to an abandoned complex not far away. "Melinda!" he called. A slender young angeless came from the shadows.
"Who on heaven is this, Ven?!"
Ven looked around and said, "not here... Let's get inside."
he carried the angel inside and set him down on the dimly lit bed. He was still out cold. Ven sighed and said, "Remember that trip I took to the holy city?"
"Yes of course."
"Things happened there... the Network had me do some things..."
she narrowed her eyes. "What type of things?"
"i-i had to steal some artifacts...and some officials got killed."
"WHAT?!?!"
"i didn't get caught! But... i-i panicked, i blamed it on... On him..."
melinda was speechless," i-i cant..."
"melinda... Please..."
"no, i cant deal with this anymore, i'm leaving."
"wait!"
"no, ven. Figure this out on your own." and she disappeared.
Ven sighed and looked over at the one-winged angel.
"i'm sorry"
the angel stirred slightly but didnt wake. Ven looked at the stump where the angel's wing should have been, and the scars that lined his body.
"i need to take him to the Network... Maybe, maybe then i can finish what i started... And give this angel what i stole from him... I have to take him to the Holy One..."
he closed his eyes for a moment, then,"i promise, you will get your wing back." and he fell asleep.
**********
Lucian woke up as parts of his body burned fiercly. He cried out and writhed in pain. Soon the burning became a simmer, but it still hurt. lucians heart was beating rapidly and he was exhausted. He replayed last night's adventure. He glanced over his shoulder and as expected, he didnt see his wing. he could feel the blood caked on his back and he felt weak when he tried to get up. He fell and caught himself on the table. "wait a moment... Where am i?!" he frantically looked at his surroundings. He saw another angel asleep in a chair and a doorway behind him. The door looked weak but lucian wasnt sure he could do anything in his weakened state. "i have to try..." he ran, or rather stumbled toward the door and managed to break it down. He fell down outside and was temporarily blinded by the sunlight. He managed his way into the street, where the angels looked on in confusion. "i'm... this
is my street..." he hobbled over to his house and stepped inside. nothing had been touched since last night. "i'm not going to be able to find work... I'm not going to be able buy food.. agh! What am i going to do!" he sat on the bed, his head in his hands. he looked over to the wall, where he had his warrior blade hanging just in case. He grabbed his bag and packed some clothes. He changed into his finer dress clothes that he used on formal occasions. He grabbed his bag and put the sword on his belt. "i wish it didnt have to come to this..." he pushed on a spot on the wall and it slid away. Inside the compartment were his warrior armor and weapons. He took off the suit jacket and grabbed his vest. he put various weapons in their spots and shut the wall. He put the suit-jacket back on and buttoned it to conceal the vest. He felt energized and ready for anything. That was until he turned and saw the angel from the complex.
"where do you think You're going?"
"who are you?"
the angel looked amused and said, "you can call me Ven."
"well, Ven, i'm going to find the one who set me up, and i'm going to do what he did to me."
ven looked frightened. "why dont you come with me."
lucian didnt trust this ven. "i'm not going with anyone." and he dove through the window. He sprinted down the street, the bag and his sword held firmly in his hands. "i need money, i need food... I need to find him."
***********
after all these years of loyal service, after all he'd done, he'd been thrown out without trial, revoked his warrior status, and now Lucian was going to find whoever had done this to him, and he was going to make him pay. he was a fallen angel, and he had nothing to lose.
lucian was perched on the top of the church spire, contemplating where to start his search. *the evidence.. what evidence...?

"i'll start with the judges chambers..."
lucian looked to the north, where the monolith towered over the city. he jumped from roof to roof as he neared the building. i'll do whatever i have to... anything to clear my name. different parts of his body started to burn, and the others began to cool off.
the mark... its burning, it's going to keep burning...
he cried out and fell from the roof he was on. he hit the alley hard enough to break bone, but he happened to land on his wing, cushioning his fall, only a little bit though.
this mark is going to **** me someday... he checked his wing and brushed off the dirt. he folded the wing flat against his back and sat up. he got back on his feet and continued to the monolith.
will i have to live with this mark forever?
*************
(one day later)
"GET BACK HERE!!! STOP THAT MAN!!!" lucian was on the run. he found exactly what he was looking for, now he needed to find more information concerning the artifacts and the theif. but first he had to get away. he was turning corners and sprinting like a madman, but he couldnt escape the Detainers. then he heard a voice, "One Wing! over here!"
lucian looked towards where he heard the voice and saw an Angeless beckoning for him to come. "follow me!"
lucian reluctantly followed, winding through abandoned buildings and finally ducking behind an old counter. after a few minutes of silence, the woman said, "okay, we're clear. i'm Elora."
"lucian."
"oh... you're THE One-wing-angel..."
lucian looked down at the ground. "yeah... that's me."
"you were an elite, a warrior angel, weren't you?"
"yeah, but then i was set up and now i'm an outcast..."
"you were set up?"
"yeah, i was. i had everything i ever wanted, why would i need to commit those crimes? i was loyal, and trusted by everyone. and i swear that i will find whoever set me up..."
"and then what?" elora seemed to be waiting for something.
"i'm going to do to him what he did to me."
"what did he-" elora was cut off by lucian as he cried out. "what's wrong?!"
"the mark.... of eternal torture..."
"oh my gosh... i didnt know..."
"its nothing... i'm used to it..."
he took off his suit jacket and elora gasped when she saw his scars. she didn't seem to notice the vest of weapons or the sword at his side. "this is..."
"...the Mark..."
she grimaced as she saw them and said, "i'm sorry..."
"but why?"
"because, i was going to turn you in..."
lucian was on his feet immediately. "what?!"
"wait!! i'm not going to... not after seeing what they did to you..."
"how can i be sure i can trust you?!"
elora looked down at her feet and said, "you cant... but i can get you out of the city..."
"you can?"
************
Lucian was still finding it hard to trust Elora, but he stuck with her anyway. She took him away from the city and was about to turn back. Something inside Lucian wanted her to stay. "Wait! Don't leave. Come with me to the holy city."
She seemed hesitant but willing, "i-ive never been to the holy city...."
"It's an amazing place, quite a sight to see."
She took a moment to think and nodded, "I'll go with you."
Lucian smiled and walked forward. After long hours of relentless walking, Elora asked," how far do we have to travel?"
"A few more hours of walking..."
Elora sighed and said, "Alright..."
Lucian glanced over at her and saw that she was tired. "We should rest."
Elora and Lucian got off of the path ad took shelter beneath some gild-trees. "Elora, go ahead and rest up."
she reluctantly slept, but she was glad to, they had been traveling all day.
Lucian sharpened his blades and meditated while she slept.
Lucian prayed, like he had always done every morning. He had vowed not to let his becoming an outcast interfere with his routine. After he was finished, he sighed and glanced over at Elora; she was fast asleep. He then glanced at the sky and saw dark clouds quickly closing in. Lucian didn't want to wake Elora but he wanted to get her out of the rain. He set his suit jacket and weapons vest next to her and he extended his wing over her just as the rain began to fall. he was pleased to see that the rain would not touch the sleeping angel. On the other hand, Lucian was vulnerable, but he didn't mind. He would rather shelter Elora than himself. Lucian ignored the rain and decided to doze for a while.
***********
Elora woke up as a cold wind blew. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and saw the millions of raindrops in front of her. it took her a moment to realize that she was dry. she glanced over and saw that Lucian was soaking wet and had his wing extended over her. "You should have woken me, Lucian." she extended one of her wings over him as he shivered.
"th-thanks, e-elora." she could tell he was freezing because even the feather's  above her were shivering. she decided to do something to repay his kindness.
"come closer, we can share body heat." suddenly the feathers stopped shivering, they became rigid, as if lucian was surprised... apparently he was.
"really?"
"yeah, its the least i can do." she sat closer to him and put an arm around him. his skin was cool to the touch and his muscles were tense, but they soon relaxed, as did the feathers above her. he soon stopped shivering and the rain stopped falling.
judy smith Jul 2016
The 9.6 million followers who tune in to watch Miranda Kerr having her hair done on Instagram — for this is how models spend most of their time — were treated to a rather more interesting sight last Thursday: a black and white photograph of a whacking great diamond ring.

Across it was the caption “Marry me!” and a twee animation of the tech mogul Evan Spiegel on bended knee. Underneath Kerr had typed “I said yes!!!” and an explosion of heart emojis.

A spokesman for Spiegel, founder of the Snapchat mobile app, who is 26 to Kerr’s 33 and worth $US 2.1 billion to her $US 42.5 million , revealed “they are very happy”.

At first, the marriage seems an unlikely combination: a man so bright he founded Snapchat while still at Stanford University, becoming one of the world’s youngest self-made billionaires by 22, and a Victoria’s Secret model who was previously married to the Pirates of the Caribbean star Orlando Bloom (she allegedly had a fling with pop brat Justin Bieber, leading Bloom to punch Beebs in a posh Ibiza restaurant).

Perhaps the union indicates that there is more to Kerr than we thought. More likely, it reveals something about Spiegel — and the way the social status of “geeks” has changed.

Since Steve Jobs made computers cool and Millennials started living online, nerds are king. Even coding is **** enough for the model Karlie Kloss, singer will.i.am and actor Ashton Kutcher to learn it. Silicon Valley has become the new Hollywood, as moguls and social media barons take over from film stars and sportsmen not just on rich lists, but as alpha men.

Being a co-founder of a company is this decade’s equivalent to being a rock star or a chef. And, if their attractiveness to models and actresses proves anything, then being a Twag — tech wife or girlfriend — is a “thing”. Sources tell me Twags are also known as “founder-hounders” because they like to date the creators of start-up companies.

Actress Talulah Riley was an early adopter. She started dating the PayPal founder Elon Musk in 2008. Riley, then fresh from starring in the St Trinian’s film, met Musk in London’s Whisky Mist nightclub after he had delivered a lecture at the Royal Aeronautical Society. I interviewed her shortly afterwards and she told me they had spent the evening talking about “quantum physics”. A month later they were engaged. Their on-again-off-again marriage lasted six years before she filed for divorce again in March. Currently Musk, worth an estimated $US 12.7 billion and focused on Tesla cars, is said to be “spending a lot of time” with Johnny Depp’s estranged wife, Amber Heard.

Model Lily Cole dated the Twitter founder Jack Dorsey in 2013. Later she had a son with Kwame Ferreira, founder of the digital innovation agency Kwamecorp. Actress Emma Watson is going out with William Knight, an “adventurer” who has an incredibly boringly sounding job as a senior manager at Medallia, a software company. Allison Williams, Marnie in the HBO television show Girls, is married to Ricky Van Veen, co-founder of College Humor website.

Could it be that these women are onto something? Dating a bro certainly has its appeal. They are innovative: how else would they invent apps that deliver cheese toasties or match singles based on their haircuts? They are risk-takers who must be charismatic enough to inspire investors and attract crowd-funding. They may not be gym-fit, but they are mathletes who can do your tax bill. They are animal lovers: every start-up is dog friendly. And they are fun: who would not want to date somebody with a ball pool in their office?

There is a saying about dating in Silicon Valley: the odds are good but the goods are odd. Nerds are notorious for peculiar chat-up lines and normcore clothes. Still, if geeks can be awkward, that is part of their charm. Keira Knightley, complaining that Silicon Valley was all men in hoodies and Crocs, described how one gave her his card, saying she should get in touch if she wanted to see a spaceship.

One Vogue writer recalled a Silicon Valley man messaging her via a dating app, in which he noted: “In 50 per cent of your photos you’re holding an iPhone. It may interest you to find out that I invented the iPhone. More accurately I was an engineer on the original iPhone . . .”

Most promisingly, some guys are astoundingly rich. It is suggested Kerr’s engagement ring is a 2.5-carat diamond worth around dollars 55,000. She has already moved into Spiegel’s dollars 12m LA pad. Between his money and her Victoria’s Secrets bridesmaids, no wonder sources claim they are planning an “extravagant wedding”.

It might rival even the Napster founder Sean Parker’s $US10m performance-art bash. He married songwriter Alexandra Lenas in a canopy among Big Sur’s redwoods decorated to look like an enchanted forest. Some 350 guests wore Tolkienesque costumes created by The Lord of the Rings costume designer Ngila Dickson. They sat on white fur rugs and were given bunnies to pet. Presumably rabbit babysitters were on hand when the disco started.

If such fantasies inspire you to become a Twag, the great news is you do not have to be a supermodel to be in with a chance. Such is the dearth of single women in Silicon Valley that one dating site, Dating Ring, crowdfunded a plane to fly single women to Palo Alto from New York.

Be warned, though: guys are single because they are married to the job.

No wonder most meet their partners at college or work — the Facebook chief executive Mark Zuckerberg met his wife, Priscilla Chan, at Harvard.

The Instagram co-founder Kevin Systrom met girlfriend Nicole Schuetz at Stanford. Melinda met Bill Gates when, in 1987, they sat next to each other at an Expo trade-fair dinner. “He was funnier than I expected him to be,” she said.

Kerr began dating Spiegel in 2014 after meeting him at a Louis Vuitton dinner in New York. You can bet he was networking. Shortly after Louis Vuitton showcased their cruise collection in a Snapchat story. Last season Snapchat went on to become the biggest new name at NY fashion week.

If you want to meet tech guys, you might catch them at Silicon Valley parties, which is how the Uber chief executive Travis Kalanick met his partner, Gabi Holzwarth, a violinist hired to play. Or they might be schmoozing clients downtown in a swanky Noe Valley club in San Francisco or a boring Union Square hotel in New York. In London you find them around Old Street, aka Silicon Roundabout, in bars, at hackathons, or start-up meet-ups. In the day they are coding at Google Campus or practising their pitching in a co-working space.

Some tech boys date the old-fashioned way: on Tinder. Airbnb founder Brian Chesky met his girlfriend of three years, Elissa Patel, through the app. When I interviewed Instagram co-founder Systrom he admitted that when he had been single he had signed up.

Dating agency Linx — presumably a play on operating system Linux — is dedicated to making Silicon Valley matches. Amy Andersen set it up in 2003 after moving to Palo Alto and being “flabbergasted” by the number of eligible men. She claims her clients are “extremely dynamic and successful individuals’’: tech founders, tech chief executives, financier founding partners of large institutions and “tons of entrepreneurs”.

Andersen says tech guys make “fabulous partners”. Romantic and chivalrous, they write love letters, plan dates, “even proposing on Snapchat!” If you want to marry a tech billionaire, she says, “you need to bring your A game.” Her clients look “for women who are equally, if not more, dynamic and interesting than he is!”

There are drawbacks to dating tech guys. Before Google buys your amore’s business, he will be living on *** Noodles waiting for the next round of funding — and workaholics are dull.

Kerr says Spiegel is “25, but he acts like he’s 50. He’s not out partying. He goes to work in Venice [Beach], he comes home. We don’t go out. We’d rather be at home and have dinner, go to bed early.” Which might suit Kerr, but is not my idea of a fun.

You had also better be prepared to share your life. When Priscilla Chan miscarried three times, Mark Zuckerberg wrote about it on Facebook, while Chesky used a romantic trip with his girlfriend to promote Airbnb - uploading a picture of her in bed, with a note saying “f* hotels”. Besides all of which is the notorious issue of Silicon Valley sexism.

It has a chief exec-bro culture that puts pick-up artist/comedian Dapper Laughs to shame. Ninety per cent of women working in the Valley say they have witnessed sexist behaviour, 60 per cent have experienced unwanted ****** advances at work, two thirds of them from their boss. Whitney Wolfe, a co-founder of Tinder, took Justin Mateen to court for ****** harassment. Her lawsuit against the company alleged that Mateen, her former partner, sent text messages calling her a “*****”.

Spiegel has tech bro form. He apologised after emails from his days at Stanford emerged: missives about stripper poles, getting black-out drunk, shooting lasers at “fat chicks”, and promising to “roll a blunt for whoever sees the most **** tonight (Sunday)”. After one fraternity Hawaiian luau party, he signed off emails “f*
bitchesgetleid”.

No wonder some women are not inspired to become Twags. Especially when you could be a tech billionaire yourself. Would you not rather be Sheryl Sandberg, chief operating officer of Facebook, than married to the boss?Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/evening-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/black-formal-dresses
Betty Ponder Nov 2013
Retailers hope to net profits with the overlapping of holiday seasons.
Thanksgiving is yet to be history; but, out comes the Christmas trimmings.
No big surprise seeing holiday reminders arriving and filling mail box,
comes with pre-season, this early blitz of commercials on tv now the net.

Early arrival of holiday brings bell ringers standing between shopper's exit,
a failure to repeat and repeat donations, brings looks of extreme displeasure.
Each and every time you enter or exit discount, drug, and many retail stores,
shoppers face not only bell ringers; but, 365 days donate at register requests.

Most can't equal billion dollar give aways by Bill and Melinda Gates' circle.
Most work extremely hard and donate but also choose to live on budgets.
I donate and have nothing against charities; but, how much should one give?
Retailers, putting shoppers on the spot, asking for donations upon check out?

Never a pinch penny when it comes to sharing when there's an "actual" need,
generosity is always a personal choice, I let guilt not be my companion in giving.
Multiple donations to canister's of amnesiac holiday bell ringers? Wont happen!
Nothing against legit charities; but, giving until you're broke, you "will" be needy.
Trevon Haywood Jan 2019
She is a miserable girl I've ever seen in my own life.
She is friendless and an outcast because of something that happened over the summer.
Also, she has the wrong hair, the wrong clothes, the wrong attitude and she don't have anyone to sit with because she is the only outcast and I'm not.
And she needs to get her act and a better life together before something happens again.
She even had an ex-best friend named Rachel Bruin because she is the only girl she ever met in high school and she always hate her so much.
And the only thing is that being friendless and an outcast is NOT a good thjng here jn Massachusetts and it's very unacceptable. So don't be like Melinda Sordino, be smart and be friends with someone in hjgh school because love and passion is always a #1 priority.

Anonymous. 1/23/2019.
Created a poem about Melinda Sordina from Speak The Graphic Novel.
Ryan Bowdish Jul 2013
Shannon, Mariah, Serena, Maria
Meridia, Midian, Sharon, Alliah
Rochelle, Camille, Rose, Halo
Trenna, Jessica, Ashley, Georgia
Marla, Olivia, Sofia, India
Daniella, Diana, Christina, Caroline
Isabella, Amelia, Amanda, Matilda
Nadine, Haley, Bailey, Francine
Eliza, Annabelle, Kathryn, Sandra
Melinda, Audrey, Aubrey, Emily
Tara, Emma, Ginny, Kathleen
Josephine, Helena, Charlotte, Laura
Chelsea, Arkady, Megan, Kelsey
Kayla, Karliah, Moana, Vivien
Kaysea, Macy, Stacy, Lorraine
Theresa, Felicia, Cecilia, Darlene
Holly, Brianna, Alexa, Ariel
Marianne, Miranda, Jennie, Coral
Korra, Daisy, Penelope, Rayne
Zoey, Cassandra, Grace, Stephanie
Female names are beautiful. Poetry on their own.
Kelle Feb 2012
I called them our divorce beds
Every night after we cuddled and couldn't
longer stand the claustophobic cover of our sheets
we found ourselves in seperate beds

divorce beds.

You slept on sheets covered in pink owls.
I slept on teal sheets covered in stars.
We were a twin bedroom dream.

Taking full advantage of a single dorm room
Our nights consisted of heavy whispers
Trains that fled our lungs and vocal chords
in search of the next station

Before sleep hit our barren chests
We'd lay awake and listen to our breaths
Sometimes mine turned into snores.
You hated that

Snores reminded you of your father
Something about expanded vocal chords
creating a symphony at night
scared you

Your father never married
Mine found safetey in a women
in a polka dotted dress
Who could transform his symphony of snores
Into an orchestra of love

Your father was bound by his only son
His nights spent in distress
Echoed a chorus of tears

Until he met Melinda
He called her beautiful
Words that hadn't left his lips since his son emerged into the world
A women full of desires and hopes
too large to fit underneath fitted sheets

You told me about her.
The way your father described the outline of her lips
parallel to the lines of stars that filled the sky
Her freckles constellations of undiscovered stars
Some nights our divorce beds
Felt too close for comfort, and
you would disspear in the morning
Claiming there was monsters in the walls
and that my snores were your fathers

You loved your father
A man who kept his word
Even when his life wedged tradegy into his veins
and his heart wanted to collapse into the inside of his chest
Your love for that man
could never be compared to anything

My father
Foud his life strewn apart into carefully
strung pieces of literature.
Words lulling women into the secrept compartments of his home
With authors no one had even heard of
Except himself.

The only advice my father only said was
“Two wrongs don't make a right”
But it is so hard
When you are throwing rocks at my glass house of confidence
I would shout

Shattered by your slurrs
Skipped rocks don't even miss
the walls that were carefully sculpted
into beautiful stained glass

My father was an artist
I told you about how his conductor
was a women with lips blood red
and kisses so sweet they could make his canvas bleed

You laughed
The differences between our fathers
Two men who believed in two different things
Two men who were in a constant search
for something other than the normal routine

As you laughed underneath your **** pink owl sheets
You told me to hurry up and fall asleep
You felt better listening to my breathing pattern lullabyes

Sometimes when those lullabyes turn heavy
and my chest rattles beneath my teal starred sheets

Please don't leave.
Don't flee.
There is too much hope living under our
divorce beds.
An unfinished work for a poetry class.
Aseh Dec 2012
You are a fox, she said.
I looked down and saw that indeed, I was.

Your hair is pretty and red, she said.
I looked behind me and noticed that indeed
The red from my hair was dripping down my bare back
And sliding down my shoulders and forming
Pools of vivid red beside us.

Suddenly everyone wanted to touch my hair
But I began to cry and said stop.

Fay found a frog.
It was green and bumpy and shined rainbow in the sun.
It was actually a toad.
I cried because I thought it might die
And if it died the world would most definitely be over.

I held it and I felt its heart beating in my hands
And I thought there could never be a more beautiful precious thing
Ever
In the entire world
Again.
The heart was beating louder and faster and I couldn’t take it
Until I began to cry again.
Fay came and the frog disappeared.

My heart felt heavy.
My mind went “Hm.”
It went “What should I do now?”

I should eat a cherry, I guess.
So I did.
I ate a cherry.
I didn’t feel satisfied, so I ate another.

Meanwhile Melinda,
My golden haired friend,
and I couldn’t talk because of my purple shirt.
She said, I can’t talk to you while you are wearing that purple shirt.
And I said, Do you want me to take it off then?
And she said, You look like a grape.

And when I laughed I couldn’t stop
and I couldn’t stop stop stop
until I was crying again with my head in my hands.

Then my heart felt heavy again so
I went outside and looked at some trees.
The sun was hot and my arms were getting tired.
But I wanted to get burned.

At nightfall I went upstairs and looked in the mirror.
Makeup dripped down my face and I wanted it off.
I began to scrub.
Mitchell Nov 2011
Shuffling through the rain
I start to feel that pain
That pain that there's something inside a me
But someone's telling me its different
A pain who's face says they've got nothing to gain

Sister Mary can you sell my misery?
Had enough of it, how about Ol' Brother lee?
I ain't stuck Mary, no I ain't whining
I got myself a brand new creed
And it isn't the speed
It's this brand new thing I found on my own
So listen close cause' this bus is leaving
And I don't want to hear you grieving

Brown toed boots battered down to the sole
Saw this morning my only bowls got a hole
My bedroom window is broken so the wind blows in
And my only girl Melinda has turned cold
And sold my best shirt and run off with my friend Bert
Now all I ask if for a little love now and again
A lake where I can walk and maybe take a dip to swim
I'd like to find a girl where we all we'd do is laugh
Run from the law and avoid every kind of tax

But luck was never my strong suit
Every cleaner seemed to mess it up
No courage was never a trumpet I could toot
Found a beautiful woman turned out she was flute
And when she came around town dressed in a gown
I cleaned up my act fast n' dusted off my old crown
She smiled like a woman but acted like a sun flare
Now I know what life is like when you breathe in n' dare to dare

People around me don't know my name
And I'm still feeling about the same
I see her chestnut hair every now and again
Her milk drop eyes and her neck like a cranes

Fitting into places and people was never my way
When people would asked why I wouldn't know what to say
Skies open up and rain starts to heavily fall
These wicked ways in the end will be my only pay

All my credit is gone and used up
And I lost the leash to my only pup
Each hour that clicks passes right by me
Time moves on as I still lean on a splinterin' crutch

She said she'd be back in a minute or three
Everything round' here you can't get for free
All the presents are wrapped up
But the bows cost you an extra dollar fee
THE ALLAN FAMILY STORY PART 4




YA SEE, I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A LITTLE COOL KID TO THE FAMILY

IN MY MUM AND DADS EYES, AND I USED TO PLAY SHOWS LIKE THE COOPERS

FAMILY, WHICH IS ABOUT RON AND SALLY’S QUEST TO OPEN A FAMILY BUSINESS

IN A HOSPITAL, WHERE THEY HAD A SON, DAVID, AND HE MARRIED RAELEEN

AND THEY HAD A BOY NAMED DON COOPER, AND THEY HAD A DAUGHTER NAMED

SUE COOPER WHO MARRIED BIKIE JOHN PRENDTH, AND HAD A LITTLE BOY NAMED

FRANK PRENDTH, AND I WAS GETTING INSPIRATION FROM MAGAZINES AND TV

ON HOW TO BRING MORE CHARACTERS, LIKE JACK RUNNING THE BAR, JEAN AS THE COOK

AND MARTIN TATE, AS THE AMBULANCE DRIVER, WHO WAS A BIT OF AN ALCOHOLIC

WHO WAS IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH MENTAL HEALTH NURSE, MICHELLE TATE, AND THE

THEME SONG WAS, AIN’T SHE SWEET, SEE HER COMING DOWN THE STREET

I ASK HER VERY CONFIDENTIALLY, AIN’T SHE SWEET, AIN’T SHE NICE

LOOK HER OVER ONCE OR TWICE, I ASK YOU VERY CONFIDENTIALLY AIN’T SHE NICE

JUST CAST AN EYE, IN HER DIRECTION, OH ME OH MY, AIN’T THAT PERFECTION

I REPEAT, I THINK THAT’S KIND OF NEAT, I ASK YOU VERY CONFIDENIALLY AIN’T SHE NICE

AND I PLAYED BEWITCHED, AND MY BROTHER SAID, DO YOU PLAY IT, THAT IS SO STUPID

BUT IF I WANNA PLAY A SHOW, I WILL PLAY A SHOW, I DO WHAT I WANNA DO, IT’S LIKE THIS

WRITING, AND I ENJOYED TWITCHING MY NOSE TRYING TO ZAP MYSELF 1 MILLION DOLLARS

OR TO A REMOTE RESTAURANT IN THE HEART OF TOWN,

MY NEXT SHOW, I PLAYED WAS LIVE STOCK, ABOUT A VET NAMED MARK SARGENT, COMING TO

START A PRACTICE IN CLAXTON HILL, AND EACH EPISODE HE WENT ABOUT HIS ROUNDS AT ALL

THE FARMS IN THE DISTRICT, AND ROBBO’S PUB, WHERE MARK OFTEN WENT FOR FRIDAY AND

SATURDAY NIGHT DRINKS, AND A LOT OF THE KIDS OF CLAXTON HILL, WERE OFTEN GETTING INTO

PROBLEMS, I GOT THIS IDEA, FROM A MIXTURE OF ALL THE SOAPS IN THE 80S AND ALSO THE VET

SHOW, CALLED, ALL CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL, EVERY NEW YEARS EVE, I WILL PLAY A NEW YEARS SHOW

FEATURING THE NEW YEAR TIGER, AND THE CAST OF ALL MY FAKE TELEVISION SHOW CHARACTERS

AND ONCE AT MY GRANDMAS HOUSE, I PLAYED A CHRISTMAS SHOW IN HER BACKYARD AND I WAS A LOUD WILD DUDE

I SANG WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS, WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS

AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR, AND SOME KIDS CAME TO ME, AND SAID, CAN YOU SHUT UP, WE WANT YOU TO SHUT UP

THIS WAS BECAUSE, I RAN AWAY FROM TEASERS AS A KID, CAUSE I WAS A TAD SCARED, MY BROTHER WASN’T THOUGH, HE STAYED

WITH THEM, AND THE KIDS SAID WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS

CAUSE WE’RE TEASING YOU, YA SEE I THOUGHT I WAS A REAL MANS KID, YA SEE I THOUGHT JUST BECAUSE I WAS A SPORTS WATCHER

IT MEANS I GET LEFT ALONE, IT DOESN’T SILENCE ME, IF I WANT TO PL;AY SHOWS, I WILL DO IT IN MY ROOM, AND ALL THE ADULTS

WERE WORRIED, CAUSE THEIR PERFECT AURA WAS RUINED, AND TO THESE KIDS, I WAS A REAL SHY PERSON, BUT I USED

TO TEASE AT SCHOOL, I NEVER WAGGED UNLESS IT WAS THE LAST DAY AT SCHOOL, BECAUSE, I LIKED MY MATES AT SCHOOL

THEY WERE ALL SO NICE TO ME, I JUST ENJOYED THESE POOR LITTLE KIDDIES, IN THE BACKYARD OF MY GRANNY’S HOUSE

AND I PLAYED AUSSIE RULES IN THE FRONT YARD, YA SEE, I PLAYED MY WEEKLY MAFL TOURNAMENT, AND MY BROTHER PLAYED HIS COMP

YA SEE, WHEN MY BROTHER WAS AT A MATES HOUSE, I DID MY MAFL TOURNAMENT, AND DAD CAME OUT AND SAID, YOU HAVE TO

LIVE IN THE REAL WORLD, BRIAN, CAUSE, THIS ISN’T A FOOTY GROUND, IT’S A FRONT YARD WITH A GARDEN, AND MUMMY WANTS

TO GROW FLOWERS, SO I WILL TAKE YOUR FOOTBALL AND BAN IT FROM YOU, I KNOW YOU ARE A KID, BUT, MUMMY WANTS

TO START A GARDEN, AND I USED TO GET TEASED, BY PEOPLE WALKING PAST, SAYING, I ACT LIKE AN IDIOT OUTSIDE, AND I

SAID, I AM NOT SHY, I LIKE PLAYING FOOTY WITH MY BROTHER OUTSIDE, I PLAYED JAILBIRD AT MY SCHOOL, WHICH IS ABOUT

TWO BIRDS, JAIL BIRD FLIES AROUND THE JAIL CHECKING ON EACH INMATES WELL BEING, AND FREE BIRD, CAPTURES THE

CRIMINALS TO BRING THEM TO JAILBIRD TO BE LOCKED AWAY, AND MY SCHOOL LOOKED AT IT AS ME TALKING TO THE TREES

ME AND MY BROTHER, USED TO PLAY FRONT YARD AND BACKYARD CRICKET, MY COUNTRY WAS MYTH WITH PLAYERS LIKE
DEAN MASSEY, ASHLEY MONDEY, AND MYSELF, MY BROTHERS COUNTRY

WAS ETHIOPIA, WITH PLAYERS LIKE TRINNEN, BOTANY, LAITLAT, AND MANY MORE, AND THE STREET USED TO COME IN AND

PLAY YARD CRICKET WITH US, I ENJOYED THIS, MY MATE LYLE WAS A REALLY WILD BOWLER, I CAN HARDLY HIT ANY OF HIS BOWLS

THEY ARE SO **** FAST, I START TO THINK THAT LYLE WAS A VERY FAST BOWLER IN HIS PREVIOUS LIFE, I ALSO PLAYED

WATER CRICKET IN THE SWIMMING POOL, AND THIS WAS EVER SO FUN, BUT ON A HOT DAY, AND THE BALL WAS HIT OUT

OF THE WATER, IT WAS HARD FOR EACH OF US TO GET OUT OF THE NICE COOL WATER TO FETCH THE BALL,

I PLAYED SPORTS SHOWS WITH MY BROTHER, AND WE GOT IN MANY FIGHTS, LIKE NORMAL KIDS DO, AND

DAD SAT THERE WATCHING TV, SAYING ME AND MUMMY DIDN’T REALISE HAVING KIDS WILL BE THIS HARD

LIKE HE CRAWLED UNDER A ROCK OR SOMETHING, I WATCHED FAMOUS FIVE AND SECRET VALLEY AND

I WATCHED SKIPPY, WHERE KIDS WERE GETTING ******* ALL THE TIME, AND I WATCHED YOU CAN’T DO THAT ON TV

AND SAW KIDS IN A DUNGEON, YEAH HYPED ME OUT, I BOUGHT MAGAZINES, AND PUT TEXTA GAGS ON KIDS MOUTHS

AND TEXTA DRAW ROPE AROUND THOSE KIDS, MY BROTHER SAID TO MELINDA, WE SHOULDN’T TELL OUR PARENTS EVERYTHING

I DANCED TO POISON AND EVERY SATURDAY MORNING I WATCHED THE RAGE TOP 50 ON ABC TV, AND EACH WEEK

I WROTE THE CHART DOWN, LIKE I HAD AUTISM OR SOMETHING, AND AFTER THAT, I WENT TO BOWLING

AND I WATCHED THE CHART WITH MY BROTHER, WHEN HE GOT OUT OF BED, AND WE PARTIED TO THE CHART SHOW EVERY SATURDAY MORNING

THEY STOPPED DOING THAT IN 2008, BUT I LOST INTEREST IN DOING THAT, WHEN I FOUND OUT ALL MY PROBLEMS ARE A RESULT

OF SCHITZOPHRENIA, AND I PRETENDED I WAS A BIG TV MANAGER, GOING FROM PUB TO PUB, WHAT IS ACTUALLY WRONG WITH THAT

BUT I WAS PRETENDING TOO MUCH, 1 2 3 4 DO THE SCHITZOPHRENIC FROM MY FIRST DIAGNOSIS TO MY CURRENT SITUATION

I AM ON MEDICATION, NOW I AM REFORMED, CAUSE THIS SHOWS THAT I AM A FAMILY PERSON.
A shout out to Bill and Melinda
the philanthropic magic tricks
20% ROI African sterile vaccine
baptism by shots black eugenics.
I am old and ripe to be deaded.
Save me from your mathematics.
Rachel Keyser Nov 2016
In 1972, the Fourth Dragon King of Bhutan created the concept of Gross National Happiness, a new index measuring different areas of life quality. He said, “the essence of the philosophy of Gross National Happiness is the peace and happiness of our people, and the security and sovereignty of the nation.”

The Dragon King was brave with his wisdom. He spoke the truth against the prevailing myth of our time. He dared to ask questions sage in their foundations. What does it mean to live a fulfilling life? What does a successful community look like? How do we answer these questions knowing what we know about our own humanity?

Asking those questions was like coming home again from the rain, and wondering why you had ever left. An act in response to the desperate yearning to be human. A truth so clear, it has been embraced by dozens of other countries.

But not by the United States of America. We are big, and we influence others, not the other way around. We are powerful, and everyone knows it. We are successful, and we know it.

We worship, and ask, and measure the things that matter.

As Adam Smith said, “No society can surely be flourishing and happy of which by far the greater part of the numbers are poor and miserable.”

We measure the things that matter.

What is the essence of the philosophy behind Gross National Product? In the words of Robert Kennedy, “It measures everything in short, except that which makes life worthwhile.”

We have defined success by that which we are able to hold in our hands. We have done so to our very core. We have done so to our most vulnerable. We have done so to our most educated.

In 2011, Amy Chua (the Tiger Mom), laid a truth so bare we could not look away. By her own admission, her tough tactics were simplified and misunderstood: “If I could push a magic button and choose either happiness or success for my children, I’d choose happiness in a second.”

The Tiger Mom would choose happiness for her children, and yet they still would not be successful.

We like to pretend that we don’t play this game, but she played so fervently, we could not look away. We like to pretend that perfect SAT scores, endless club affiliations, mastery of languages and instruments, athletic prowess, social grace, and an unwavering commitment to the community—that those things come naturally from the pursuit of a well-balanced, genuine teenage life. We like to pretend that we are not Excellent Sheep.

But we believe that we measure the things that matter.

From the Stanford-Binet IQ, to the Army Alpha Test, to the first ever SAT in 1926 we have used our creative engines to reduce our humanity to the likes of a No. 2 pencil. After the 1936 invention of the IBM 805—the first electronic test scanner—we would ever more become distinctive only in our conformity.

Uniform in our goals and our language, and everything else that comes in between. Echoed again and again, Bill & Melinda say, success in education is to obtain labor-market value. At least we’re honest about that. What other kinds of success could we imagine without other kinds of values? There is no magic button, there is only the stark white wall of reality that will hit you, hard, when you’re 16 or 18 or 22. And you better be prepared.

But did you know that statistically people are equally as happy one year after winning the lottery as they are one year after becoming paraplegic? Despite our 3lbs brains and large prefrontal cortexes, we are not good at imagining the conditions of our own contentment. We are only good at imagining the future of the stark white wall and the non-existence of the magic button.

Maybe, then, before we imagine anymore, we need to remember. To remember what it’s like to come home again from the rain, and wonder why you had ever left.  Maybe, then, we can finally be brave, and ask, like the Fourth Dragon King of Bhutan, What is the root of the root and the bud of the bud?

Maybe, then, we will measure the things that matter.
Chris D Aechtner Nov 2021
There are few impossibilities, one of those being the ability to follow science. Pure science is too far ahead to be followed.
That which is left in the resulting wake of exploration isn't scientific. Science isn't claims made by News Science and marketers for trillion $ industries. Science isn't a scientific research paper funded by The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation or The Rockefeller Foundation: That's simply business as usual, and it's been like that for centuries.

“Follow the science” is this era's “Sol orbits Earth”. Can you do science or do you merely script and parrot slogans and opinions. Are you capable of writing your own research paper or do you merely read the research papers of others.

Science on its own teaches nothing, and nothingness; experience teaches.

A scientist isn't a labcoat, beakers, and sponsorships. I've had some of the most adept scientific mentors on the planet come to unanimous consensus that I'm too idealistic for this world. I was ******* from the get-go lol. There isn't a universal constant and universal law that I can't conceptualize and understand inside-out, and I now know less for certain than I did when I was 5 years old. But, every second person claims to be scientific. *******.

Knowing how macromolecules chain into larger polymer chains, and how those polymers chain together to cause a tangible “object”, so to speak, is being an eternal Padawan Apprentice following a creek bed in the bedrock of an echochamber canyon that reverberates to the choir. Knowing how the tests, medicine, drugs, cosmetics, foods, and most everything else that people absorb and use, function and interact, and being careful to snot mistake co-relation for direct-strength causality, is a very alienating existence in society. Most everyone supposedly knows most everything: It has the atmosphere of a morgue and slaughterhouse merged into a box for this Brave New World.

Cattle life is but a blue screen dream to merrily row through to the hypnotic beat of North America's nightmarishly silent screams.

Apex power and hyper-philanthropists
could've been transparent, dropped the
Technocratic Wizard of Oz horseshit act,
simply asked for Martyrs who “follow the science” to step forward in the name of science, progress, and duty to free society and the good of the whole,

and most of the denatured cowards,
heartless tin soldiers, and dumbed-down scarecrow double agents for Empire,
would've come forward in lock-step, lined up along the fool's gold brick road to receive
the shots of Kool-AIDS in a sense of duty, piety, virtuosity, and self-righteousness,

regardless.

Could've been transparent, explained that
the Fiat economy crashed, that it's being held
up with strings as illusory slop for the trough, that The Fourth Industrial Revolution is being ushered in, and 75% of the global population doesn't have Golden Tickets to The Great Show.

I've always promoted and advocated for medical ethics and proper informed consent.
11 13 2021

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/33113270/

The Novavax NVX-CoV2373 COVID-19 vaccine doesn't use synthetic computer coded digital mRNA and petroleum-based synthetic lipids and nanotech such as PEG 2000 and GOgel.
The NVX-CoV2373 primer is derived from cloned sl9 moth cells instead of cloned human/chimpanzee/other, and the booster is an adjuvant derived from tree bark. The NVX-CoV-2373 vaccine helps to build immunity towards variants of virions and bacteria. The NVX-CoV-2373 vaccine doesn't include ingredients that the big brands use, those ingredients often being neurotoxins and highly volatile xenobiotics that damage cells, nerves, and eco-systems.
A shout out to Bill Gates on
his philanthropic magic tricks
20% ROI African sterile vaccine
baptisms of fire black eugenics.
Melinda Mar 2018
Sit there for a moment, just a moment.
There, now, now I can see your reflection.
It is so clear to me now, why didn't I see it before?
Why did it take until this year to finally see it?
I shouldn't be surprised, but I truly am.
You are beautiful, pretty on the outside and strong on the inside.
You are smart, work hard, a doer and dreamer, and that scares people sometimes.  
When you smile, others smile.
When you share your thoughts, others listen.
You were always a leader, never a follower unless you choose to be one.
Even though you thought you were, you are not invisible.
You are right here, never forgotten, never alone, because you had yourself all along.

Melinda
A poem about seeing yourself worth.
Maddy Jan 2020
I have been in darkness and Shades of Gray
My words protect and comfort me
They saw me change my course and live my life as completely and happily as possible
No longer an enabler or co-dependent
My wish is that you find your path and come through to a happier side.

C@rainbowchaser2020
katiushka Jun 2018
Being an outcast
Is the stream
That runs through my veins.

My soul is trapped
In forest of darkness,
No one will find me,
Even if they tried

My heart turns black
as more labels come forward
like
Black, white, immigrant, nerd, *******
People judge me
like
Friends, strangers, mom, dad, even myself
People misunderstand me

I met Melinda in The book Speak
And I found my soulmate,
We hide from the light,
The beautiful colors,
The air of nature,
Biting our lips,
Pretending We don’t care of being hurt,
but deep down we want to disappear.

My dreams are just dreams,
My opinions are just opinions,
Shut up little girl, you don’t have a vision
Says the teacher in the room that thinks he knows who I am
Like
You cause too much problem,
You’re always alone, reading books
Probably planning to hurt somebody,
I will be watching you  little girl,
Stereotypes and stereotypes
Just cuz I want to work independently
Doesn't mean I trying to hurt the Humanity.


I am a person,
I don't want to be just one blade,
I want to be an Swiss Army knife,
SO I CAN CUT MYSELF OUT OF THIS BOX
And be the key to be free.
I want to be successful,
I love to Run, read, dance, skate
But I need my own privacy
and my own escape.
Hope yah!! Like it
For General Robert E. & Captain Henry “Light Horse Harry” Lee I
whip out my Jackson to **** 17 soufflé cups of job drug-testing ***
at the base of this ancient Bell telephone-pole-straight live oak tree,
so as to remember mi hermano-alemán surely mucho older than me
who fell for Kubrick's moon hokum & G.M.'s power-train warranty
& Astrid Allwyn's once-upon-a-time-**** daughter Melinda O. Fee
and Yukio Mishima's The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea
that featured not Astrid Allwyn's younger daughter Astrid Vicki Fee

— The End —