A collection of ideas-- My thread for... stuff

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uranusbluedanger1

New member
Thanks. And I checked my pm. Glad to see its working for you! JaK, I can honestly say that's an imposter. I think I'd know what I write and who I write TO. Why would I ask this random chick to write my chapter? The never of some people!! I have a mind to go there right now and set things straight, but it'll have to wait until Saturday evening 'cause I'm super uber busy.
 
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JaK89

New member
uranusbluedanger1;181768 said:
Thanks. And I checked my pm. Glad to see its working for you! JaK, I can honestly say that's an imposter. I think I'd know what I write and who I write TO. Why would I ask this random chick to write my chapter? The never of some people!! I have a mind to go there right now and set things straight, but it'll have to wait until Saturday evening 'cause I'm super uber busy.
Click to expand...

Already done for you...

The chapter was deleted and people will expect one to replace it. Good luck.
 
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uranusbluedanger1

New member
Pretend...

I don't pretend I know of things of which I don't,
Though half the time,
I only wish I knew more than what I know.
After all, it is only fair when midnight comes,
That my mind reach fair rest until 'morn.
Yet, something stirs.
Something believes...
In the capable ability within an insatiable need for...
possibility...

I don't pretend I feel what I don't.
I merely speak of what I know.
Fact is fact,
And soul is in the song,
I lost a long time ago,
Notion of what it is I long...

I don't pretend to cry for what I don't care for,
I merely understand, and accept it with disdain.
For who has time to care,
When this world is so unfair,
Amongst the crying there is nothing,
Except bitterness.

I don't pretend I'm real anymore,
The idea of what is real isn't appealing to us all.
Fact is fact,
And things come as they come,
So what is it that I yearn for...

I don't pretend that children are the key.
I was a child and I lost,
All sense of sensibility.
For I came to understand that sense and sensibility are different things.
They told it to me,
And I was never free.

I don't pretend I want to change the world.
I know of things that you'd go livid for,
And yet, remain untouched.

I don't pretend I have a pure soul.
It was tainted by the misery,
That which runs cold through blood.

I don't pretend this is a poem...
You merely assumed it so.
 
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uranusbluedanger1

New member
Someone asked me...

Someone asked me to smile,
And I did.
It is on instinct that I feel,
So I do.

Someone asked me to cry,
And I did.
It is my eyes that are dry,
So I do.

Someone asked me to paint a picture,
And I did.
It is my hands that drew a caricature,
So I do.

Someone asked me to think,
And I did.
It is mind that's on the brink,
So I do.

Someone asked me to realize,
And I did.
It is my heart that sighs,
So I do.

Someone asked me to sing,
And I didn't.
It is my soul that thirsts,
So I do.
 
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uranusbluedanger1

New member
The rules of saying I'm sorry...


There are rules to saying I'm sorry. I guess you never learned, or perhaps you never took the class, but either way, there are a few rules that come with being sorry and being able to say I'm sorry. Being sorry, feeling sorry and saying sorry are arts that are rarely mastered in their pure form. They are sometimes mastered in the cheap, masked copies that are so easily twisted into lies. They taint the career which so few take on, but many should at least have knowledge of. I met a proffessor on saying 'I'm sorry...' the other day, and the sincerety took my breath away. He knocked me over and instead of saying sorry, helped me stand up and gave me a smile of apology. Then, he looked me straight in the eye and whispered, "I'm sorry; I should watch where I am going more carefully, though perhaps next time you shouldn't write as you walk?" Saying sorry doesn't mean you take full blame, he later explained, and it all made much more sense. It is in human error to refuse to take blame for things, but to take full credit for things, thus, it is alright to take partial blame as long as the fault is accepted. I smiled and went on my way.

I then noticed that the guy's card was stuck to my book and I knew at once I had met a great man. I researched him and lo and behold, he was an expert in saying 'I'm sorry.' He had a class, too, and they had voted him teacher of the year. The freshmen in college said he was the teacher that had had the most influence in their lives. Not only that, but found his method refreshing.

I proceeded to looking at a work of his posted online.

And this is what I learned...

There are few rules to saying I'm sorry. They aren't many, but they go far.

  1. Always look the person straight in the eyes. Only the lying and corrupt look towards the floor. The shy are known to blush, and the conceited to smile. To say I'm sorry is an art that trangresses beyond who you are. Thus, you must step out of yourself and into the shoes of someone else before uttering the word. Look the person in the eyes to see into their soul and get to know who they are.
  2. Think carefully of the situation. There are many forms of I'm Sorry, but the words are only used when the heart of another cries out.
  3. Smile to break the ice, but do not laugh. A smile is fine, as long as it isn't done while saying the words.
  4. Do not be ashamed of the apology. And speak with all your senses, not just one.
And that was all it said, for I had to buy a membership to read more and I was flat broke. Gah, the things and lenghts people need to go to to learn the proper way to say I'm sorry... There is a book on absolutely everything, except the most simple and interesting three little words in the planet.

Ah, well, I'm sorry. I guess I wasted your time, didn't I?
 
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uranusbluedanger1

New member
Consider this for a change

I never considered what it is I am, or who it is I am.
After all, what is time if not a way to measure the transgression of space and change over a period of set limits?
Just the same, what am I, if not the creation of something that is greater than myself?
I never considered what it is I want to do, or what I should do.
After all, who knows whether tomorrow exists?
Just the same, what is today if not a momentary relief?
I never considered where I am to go, or why I should go.
After all, what is a place except a blank slate colored by many men?
Just the same, what is home if not the revelation of my inner self?
I never considered why I write, or who I write for.
After all, isn't inspiration merely an affliction to the soul?
Just the same, isn't it the reason I live and love?
I never considered what I love, or who I love.
After all, isn't love an emotion lost once your breath is gone?
Just the same, isn't a mirage of my deeper hope?
I never considered what it is I consider, or who it is I consider for.
After all, what is a consideration, if not the devolution between faith and fact?
Just the same, what is a subject if not the study of an art?
I never considered what the world is, or if it exists.
After all, who questions the reason to exist?
Just the same, what is reality, if not a deviation of sobriety?
I never considered who is insane, or what it is.
After all, what is sanity if not a measure derived from a nonexisting equation?
Just the same, who measured it and locked in a jail?
I never considered the end of this riddle, or what else it could be.
After all, what is a mystery if not the fleeting feet of misery?
Just the same, what is a life if not a fantasy?
 
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uranusbluedanger1

New member
Star Child

Star child, sitting on a ray of light talking to the moon, what is it that you talk of, why do you laugh so? My sweet tender star child, will you come down to Earth? I've been meaning to ask you a question, but you're so far away. I've been praying really hard for you to be a shooting star so that I may catch you in my hands.

Star child, jumping on the waves singing to the fish, what is it you sing of, why do you smile so? My sweet tender star child, will you meet me by the shore? I've been meaning to ask you a question, but you always run off. I've bought a boat to try and catch you with a net, but each time I try, you jump higher up another wave.

Star child, weaving rays of light to sprinkle them over your hair, why do you stay up there, why do you admire Earth so? My sweet tender star child, will you meet me at the horizon? I've been meaning to ask you a question, but you're never around. I've stopped sleeping to watch you grow, and now my heart aches so because you've left me at the bay of a broken dream without hope.

Star child, sleeping on a cloud counting stars left and right while you frown, why is it you frown so, where is it you go? My sweet tender star child, will you meet me in a dream world? I've been meaning to ask you a question, but you're sleeping right now. I've made for you a crown to wear during the night, so that you may sparkle even more right amongst the stars...
 
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uranusbluedanger1

New member
The Toys that Time Forgot

Tick tock went the clock once midnight came. The numbers then decided that it was time to play; and so they marched away from the plate that held them in their place, and danced their way down the hands of time and reached my bed, instead. I peeked from my place underneath the sheets and watched what took place then. It is a strange sight to behold when china and wax dolls start to sing, and when the Teddy Bear becomes marshall of the band of wooden toy soldiers that suddenly start to march, shying away from their formation at the front line to protect the other toys from the infamous rats that sometimes lurk in the corners of the dark. And if you've ever beheld a procession of toys, you'd know that at the end is the ever infamous wooden ducky with its bright red wheels leading it down the wooden floor behind the noisy clattering of the tea pot followed by her little tea cups. The duck looks around and quacks every now and then, signaling for toys underneath the bed and inside the closet to come on out. And somewhere in the middle are the marbles rolling their way around in unison with their pretty inner ribbons shinning for all to enjoy. At the front of the group was the famous rocking horse with its mane well combed and a pink ribbon to boot, neighing every now and then that the floor decided to creek. The music box provided sound and life to all I saw, yet it never moved seeing as the ballerina was twirling in her pink tuttu. Yet, somehow she oversaw it all, and winked at me a few times as if she and I beheld a secret only she could understand. But just as soon as I sat up to look at things in another light, the numbers sped down the hallway in an arrangement of light and the toys were no longer alive. All that was left of the enchanted moment was the ballerina twirling in her place, and then I noticed that her hair had fallen off the bun that always held it in place.

For a moment, though, they had become the singers in a band that played at midnight after children have hours ago said goodnight. But best of all, for that one second in time, they were no longer the toys that time forgot...
 
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uranusbluedanger1

New member
A part of me died today

Go, I bid my soul,
Somewhere, bury yourself amongst the snow,
To become part of its glow,
And then fly high and tell sol
That the moon has died today,
And the stars weep silently by the bay.


The boy

This same time back in early May,
He sat somewhere by the bay,
And cried a river of despair,
And changed his name to L'hiver.

He was a rose,
Who talked in prose,
And in full bloom,
Spoke to the moon.

He was a boy,
Who loved a toy,
And like a king,
Began to sing.

He was a dove,
Who flew for love,
And touched the dawn,
With the fingers of a fawn.

He had these wings,
Such tiny things,
And a sparkle to his eyes,
That matched only the stars.

He had a pain,
And he was slain,
By the misery,
Of lost liberty.

He was a flame,
Without a name,
A wilde-rose that break'd
Only for love's sake.

O how his heart with passion'd soared,
When he found the grace of the Lord.
And then he fell, and lost his way,
Never to come back another day.
 
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uranusbluedanger1

New member
A question of time.

If we kill time,
Where will it go?
Will it go faster,
Or slow?
Will it not go
Anything at all?
Or does it simply
Die?

Do the minutes
Simply run away?
Do the seconds
Merely flee in shame?
Do they complain to Saturn,
Or do they cry
Above an urn?

What happens,
To a day?
Does it live?
Or does it end?
Does it live in heaven,
Or rot in hell?
Does it hide in darkness,
Or in light?

If we kill time,
Where do we go?
Do we feel free,
Or simply lost?
Do we believe
That it is gone,
Or do we search
For it at all?
 
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uranusbluedanger1

New member
Shadows

Shadows dance because they can.
On light feet they twirl and jump,
Because darkness hides them then,
While light hides like a frightened girl.

Shadows hide alongside light.
Jut because they fear the dark,
Though their own skin is black as night,
And amongst them light twinkles like a star.

Shadows sleep because they can.
In a dream they like to laugh,
Because light is always there,
While dark hides like a frightened girl.

Four stanzas

I pledged to one...
And it was a promise to none.
I pledged to infinity...
And it gave me beyond.
 
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