Misconstrued Thoughts : Yesterday's Misconstrued Thoughts Today

I can supply a poem about an old man who tried to kill his cat! It goes something like this:

There once was an old man named Hiram McDowney

His wife's cat looked like a diseased, faded little brownie

She loved that cat to death but it's shrill voice made McDowney hate its very breath

Then one day, it was time for the feline to pay so McDowney set out for a plan in a grim sort of way

When he and the Mrs were away on a day cloudy and gray, the old man found a wrapped dish and tainted the cat's favorite pate'

Unbeknownst to the elderly plotter, the injected meat was not really the kittie's fodder

Come the following brunch, McDowner sat down 'stead for a little lunch

Biting into his apparent meatloaf sandwich, unbeknownst he was to be finished by a case of 'which is which'

Too late when he realized this was actually the meat he had toxically tried Old Man McDowney....keeled over and died.

-Dylan

Call this post free form prose, but Jeremy, didn't they just find proof of a black hole? Come on NASA boy! Where's the inside info!?!?

D.....AAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa................

(That was me being sucked into a black hole...creativly)

i just read an article about that. seems that the chandra telescope witnessed a black hole tearing apart a star. it was pretty cool. oh yeah...creative writing...um...i'll get back to ya on that ;)

--sarah b

Creative Writing Day returns!! And one person participates? Not to fear, I've always got something written. Here's what happened in Econ the other day:

Hate, love rugs and cardboard,
these walls, these nails, the game board,
we play we roll we decide,
at last we concede or coincide,
I cry, you laugh they deride,
you kill, I kill, overly committed suicide
they cry, we died, why else did we try?
the truth, the matter, it was to kill time.
I get it, you get it, but we don't understand.
in and out, you see, its my two year plan.
I will, you'll know, but I'm still the man.

I wrote a poem just for today......

But i forgot to bring it to work with me....

So i was creative.......

And i did write......

Imperfection just got the best of me.......

Next week its on........

Kegs are good...

Kegs are fun...

Kegs for everyone...

--kC

>

Yeah, i'm all late and out of fashion...

Ya know. Nothing makes we feel weirder that standing on a campus i am not a part of, using a computer to post odd musical lyrics on a webpage. Proof you can get away with all kinds of things as long as you look like you know what you are doing. **Now, imagine relatively happy music playing. And think of the song as a song of independence, not intimidation. Of revelation, and self preservation, not of negativity.*

Bloodguilt Dance

I close my mind off to you
Don't hear a word you say
Don't want to talk about it
Not taking lives to save
You tell me that you love me
You say it's me you need
Then slit your wrists the wrong way
And pray to God above

But i let you bleed out/ on my marble floor Then i took back my red cells/ you don't need them anymore

Then i began to clean up
Everything that you coat
I couldn't help the screaming
To clear my cobwebbed throat
I tried to be creative
Looked back at all i wrote
There was nothing about you
But you are all i've known

But i let you squeeze out/ of my perforated heart
I try harder to end what/ I tried so hard to start

So here i have this letter
Call it our bloodguilt dance
To tell you where we stand now
Give you another chance
For you to lie your "Sorry's"
To tell me how you'll change
But we both know the truth dear
You're gonna stay the same

But i let you bleed out/ Of my jaded mind
me made complex descriptios/ of each others kind
Now i'm walking away dear/ to put myself first...

That's a strange thought today Love...

**-* my disclaimer to the song

Poems? I love poems....
Here is a short one I wrote....

Well, I'm the type of guy who chicks can't resist
I stand out in the crowd, I am not hard to miss.
So when they come to see me, they're sure to find out,
That I'm that same 'ol guy they've been dreamin about,
They call me The Beau Man
Yes, I am the Beau Man,
I get around, around, around, around.

***NOTE***
This poem can be sung to the beat of the oldie "The Wanderer."

By the way....I know my short poem would have me appear to be conceited. I am not conceited however, just convinced!!!

Another poem.....

My thoughts are misconstrued,
And hidden in a Knoxville file.
Some think that I am rude,
While others think I'm wild.

I'm sitting here at work,
waiting for the bell.
While some may call it work,
I just call it.....heaven.

So its time for me to leave,
And start another day.
I am already sick of this poem,
in its own misconstrued way.

-The Beau

Ode to a Jeremy

I met this guy named Jeremy
He said "Hi I'm Jeremy"
I noticed he had curly hair
For whatever reason
I was expecting Blonde

I was thinking he'd be a yokel
Then he copped an accent and said
"Hellooo, I'm a local!"
I laughed and wondered
if he'd been across t'pond

And then i sang a song a wrote,
I wonder now if he took notes?
he said it'd be good
in a nightmare

All in all a very nice guy
Proof that with the right people
Time will fly
Perhaps a trip will be made
to see you out there!

and that's it for the 4am free verse poetry spot on www.misconstruedthoughts.com