As The Sun Rises Everything Becomes So Clear
The fog of life around my eyes
Prevent me from seeing through your lies
I'm thinking everything is clear
When the reality is there’s danger near
I stumble toward a fateful fall
For I miss this your wretched flaw
This fog that shroud my very mind
My deepest thought it keeps to bind
And even though its pain so near
Not knowing it is you I fear
I still have tingles of slight reason
And thoughts for your acts of treason
Now I come warn of your tactic
Don’t ever stop, forget of this fact it:
Add your creative writing!
My creative writing thing can be found here:
http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/886863
I forsee no one getting offended.
Posted by: Captian Jonathan!!! at September 30, 2004 09:34 AMMr. Folgers Gets Burned.
“So anyway Mr. Folgers…”
“The coffee tycoon?”
“Yes, that Mr. Folgers”
“He’s a real person?”
“Yes, shutup. So Mr. Folgers walks into this café somewhere in South America, this real nice one. But not like pretentious-snobby-nice-made-of-glass-violin-playing-kind-of-nice, but rather like a grass-hut-in-the-middle-of-unkown-jungles-that-by-reputation-makes-the-best-coffee-bean-related-drinks-this-side-of-the-equator kind of nice. “
“Well of course.”
“But so this Mr. Folgers walks right in, and you know he’s all dressed up in like a white suit, white hat, white wing tipped probably made of albino crocodile or some crap shoes on account of being this multi-trillion-or whatever-aire tycoon of the coffee industry, and he sits down at a table. Now this is a self made Columbian man, and people in those areas know who he is. Most of the coffee plantations being in south America, he makes jobs for a lot of these people picking and stomping beans or whatever it is that people do to get coffee.”
“I’m pretty sure you don’t stomp coffee”
“Whatever, So he sits down at this table. And all the workers there stomping beans or what have you are whispering to them self about this great honor, pointing him out to the younger ones asking ‘you know who dat ees?’”
“Speaking English with a crappy Spanish accent of course.”
“Right, well so finally one of the waiters or whatever asks him what will he have, all nervous like.”
“As he should be.”
“Well Mr. Folgers, this dark skinned, muscular man, with endless wealth smiles this inhumanly white smile…”
“You’d think his teeth would be darker, I mean with the coffee and all.”
“He says to the man he says ‘Give me a cup of coffee exactly like me.’”
“Right, right, strong, dark, and rich. Yet another coffee simile, ingenious.”
“Well this young punk brings back this cup of coffee, and like reverently bowing his head, genuflecting before this coffee deity, hands him the cup. So Mr. Folgers takes a sip, and with his eyes widening like so many caffeine addicted beings, he spews out his coffee as if it metaphorically embodied his rage and contempt, slamming down the mug. Looking into the almost full cup you could see the bottom, it was like dirty water almost!”
“…”
“Don’t you get it? The coffee was weak, transparent, and pathetic. It was like the ultimate burn! The kid ran out laughing, giving Mr. Folgers some obscene gesture like the spanish finger or whatever.”
“……that’s the story?”
“Yeah, that’s the story.”
“…”
“…”
“Get out of my shower.”
hmmm I say i found that one of your more interesting writings jon h...i actually found it entertaining... just the concept nice! now thats good creative writing..
oh ... and sounds like you should avoid face painting.
Posted by: itzjerm at September 30, 2004 11:01 AMI was a huge success, Jerm. I made front page of the local newspaper, and not a single lawsuit from parents. That is success in my book.
I heard you met a friend of mine on a recent trip of painful comestible delicacies. Ann Burnett. She E-mailed me and said she met you and Javann. Small world. Can't you feel the love, Jerm? I can feel the love.
Posted by: Jon Houser at September 30, 2004 12:10 PMi just thought that was hunger... i'm off to lunch (and maybe i'll get my face painted on my break).
Posted by: itzjerm at September 30, 2004 12:15 PMDress up like a pirate and return to work like that.
Posted by: Captian Jonathan!!! at September 30, 2004 01:07 PMArrr matey... tis Jeremy Sailing the Seven Seas of the Heavens... arrrr... schiver meee Titanium plates.
Posted by: itzjerm at September 30, 2004 01:30 PMLove is the only thing that there is just too little of. Jon, Jeremy. I love you guys. Love somebody, love them now...DO IT! LOVE THEM! LOVE THEM NOW!
Posted by: Jon Houser at September 30, 2004 01:57 PMI love me too. I mean, seriously. I'm so cool. You're right, Jon. This love stuff is alright. I shoulda been doing this years ago. Loving me. And I love you, too, Jon. Man, this like a festival of love and joy. Jeremy, you know what I'm gonna say. Oh yeah. You do.
Posted by: Captian Jonathan!!! at September 30, 2004 03:17 PMSo here's a poem I've already posted on the site, but I'm sure nobody saw it but Jonathan. Don't have a name for it yet...
One day
I will be
A better man,
A better father,
A better friend...
But not today...
Today
I fall...
Today
I fail...
Today
I reach
For immortality -
And break...
Tomorrow
I might
Try success...
Tomorrow
I might
Strive for more...
Tomorrow
I might
Find my strength
And rise above my worth...
Yes, tomorrow...
Always tomorrow...
"Festival O' Love"
Oh how I want,
Oh how I need,
A festival
On which to feed...
I'll hug a dog,
I'll hug a man,
I'll whoever
I think I can...
So, Jeremy,
And Houser too,
And Jonathan,
Oh where are you?
I need my hug
From one and all...
How 'bout some mail,
How 'bout a call?
Why don't you join
My Festival.....
can't finish - have to work.....
Posted by: keats at September 30, 2004 04:00 PMnice ... seth.
uh
i dont think i have your number...
send it to me i'll give ya a call...
and we shall have a festivall...
oh and yeah i do remember the other, see someone else read it...
Posted by: itzjerm at September 30, 2004 04:38 PM Wow, I'm surprised anyone could even find it! Yeah, I'll email you mu number and we'll throw a festival for everybody...
And maybe someday I'll finish that Festival poem....
There, I finished it....
"Festival O' Love"
Oh how I want,
Oh how I need,
A festival
On which to feed...
I'll hug a dog,
I'll hug a man,
I'll whoever
I think I can...
So, Jeremy,
And Houser too,
And Jonathan,
Oh where are you?
I need my hug
From one and all...
How 'bout some mail,
How 'bout a call?
Why don't you join
My Festival?
You know it is
So sensual!
Come join the fun!
Invite your friends!
A festival
That never ends!
Fiction waits, and will defy gravity
Upside down, the dim dum hull of machinary
Pixillates, churns and slides to meet you
Fibrillate and notice where the heart line stops?
Tonight
Tonight
Tonight
Ellaborate
Posted by: D.A. at September 30, 2004 09:15 PMThe burdens on my shoulder
keep getting heavier every day.
And each time I try to shift for comfort
more uncomfortably will they lay
I try to ask for assistance,
but an angered voice will say,
"I have enough of my own,
I'm tired, go away!"
But, you look young, fresh and strong;
If you would like, you may
Pick a burden... any one...
They are two for one today.
I remember Ann. Nice young lady, though she almost ripped my shirt. When she plays freeze tag, she really doesnt play. Anyway, sorry for the late entry but here goes:
So many nights you were alone,
and as you sat and stared at the phone,
Ever wonder why I wasn't there?
Ever think maybe I didn't care?
I saw you bleeding the other day,
Did you notice that I walked the other way?
Ever wonder why you seemed so insignificant?
Ever think maybe I didn't care?
Then there was the time,
does it matter, the point is you're nobody,
I'm everybody
and that's how it'll stay.
Oh and by the way,
I'm not sorry,
was I supposed to love you?