FGHT Club "What is the first rule of FGHT Club?" John pronounced it "fight.""Talk about FGHT Club!" his compatriots shouted back eagerly."And what is the second rule of FGHT Club?""Talk about FGHT Club!""And what is the third rule of FGHT Club?""Never sacrifice comfort for control!""With these rules, I open this session of FGHT Club." John banged his inflatable squeaky gavel once and then laid it aside. "Now, before we start our games, I do have some news."The two other members of the club stopped reaching for their bags and controllers and looked up."As you probably know, the school board gives every club a small budget to spend on tri
Here's what I can see: Everything holding onto the world so tight,Everyone holding each other upright,Everybody standing close and standing tall,Every color, every orientation, everybody.Holding hands and stronger for it all.
Security Bandages I wake up every morningwith my joints wrapped ankle to wrist,knowing what the day brings:more pain, just like this.I woke up yester' morning,expecting nothing new,but when I unwrapped to rewrapmy body came unglued.I left my left hand lyingon my pillow all alonewhile I went to work that day,my plans still unknown.I didn't rewrap before bed,my left hand still laid aside,and when I woke this morn,another fell off in the night.This time it was the elbowthat pains me on to lean,now I have spare bandages,but no way old ones to clean.When I lay me down to sleep,I fear what comes the morn:not for my shoulde
S-Oh-Well Mate I don't fear loneliness, or being alone, or much of anything. I think I'd be okay living like this for a while, where my social life is limited to my coworkers.I'm fearful of the thought, not that there isn't anyone out there for me, but that there once was, and she slipped through my fingers. That I ruined us (even though I know that I didn't) and now that she's gone, there's no one out there for me anymore.It doesn't help that I'm good at ruining things for myself. Why should this be any different?I try not to believe in soul mates. I try to force myself to believe it's a dream for hopeless romantics, forgetting for a moment that I'm
Destination Uncertain The arches stood before me, And I stood before just one. Each held a gate and a destination,And I soon too would be gone.Was this my true place?Something feels amiss.I check and recheck my plans,This feeling I can't dismiss.Everyone around me is fallingTo a plague I cannot see,Coughing fits are the only sign,Sharing the air that they breathe.I don't know why I'm here,'Cept to go to someplace else.All I can see is where I am,Everything external to myself.
Choose Your Own: D.I.O, Ch 2 PLEASE READ CHAPTER 0 and CHAPTER 1 FIRST--I sat for a long while, thinking about everything. The choices I'd made to come here, not just here here, but this vacation, this point in my life.I'd made a good hobby out of dream studies, good enough to suppliment my income, and I knew my personal weak points in those fabricated realities. I knew the which dream signs worked for me and which didn't. I gave them a run through, and then a second time. By the third time, I was checking out those that normally gave me false-positives (or false-negatives).I didn't try a fourth time. There was no point. Besides which, a glow was starting to rise
Choose Your Own: D.I.O, Ch 1 PLEASE READ CHAPTER 0 FIRST--The music was building slowly, and I bolted upright. I recognized the music. The fog had gone while I slept, and I saw a rolling hillside out my driver's-side window, below my mountainside.I pressed the eject button on the player, and out the disc came with no funny business this time.Shit.It was a data disc alright, something my CD player should not have been able to read. But it wasn't just any data disc, it was a video game disc.Nothing etheral had put it there, this was one of my own, a game I was well familiar with. Chance would have it that I had flipped to the wrong page in the case, and grabbed
Choose Your Own: D.I.O, Ch 0 The gas tank on the dashboard was starting to flash empty, despite that I topped off at the last depot, too many miles back. My car was loaded with supplies for a long vacation for myself in the wilderness, and getting lost on the way was part of the plan, though certainly not /this/ lost.A fog crept up around me as I rode the switchbacks higher into the mountains. I fumbled with the CD player, popping out a warm and tired disc and tossing it down into the box on the passenger-side floor along with the past listening history, before grabbing the next one randomly from my CD case. With my eyes still on the road, I pushed it into the built-in
Dream, Morning of 20 Feb 2012 Started flirting online with two women, both attractive, both living in the same area, a 34-minute drive south of me. One is at the lower end of my target age range, and the other at the upper end. Both invite me to their place to meet them, and I find out that they're mother and daughter, living in the same house.I comment on that, and they say they hadn't noticed, but come on down anyway, and maybe one or both will work out.[I kept rolling over and resetting my alarm to keep the dream progressing, but now I can't any longer, have to get up and go to work.]
Dream, Morning of 15 Feb 2012 part A Had two similar dreams, the first was simply about renting a second apartment in DeKalb (though "DeKalb" looked more like acombination between Normal and Waubonsee than DeKalb), paid for by my folks.The second was set several months later. I hadn't been to the apartment in a long time, so I could hardly remember where it was. It was still filled with my stuff that I'd been missing from my "primary" (real) apartment.But the second dream was focused on the door, which only had one measely lock through the door handle, no deadbolt, no security chain. The afternoon, an old enemy, DRD saw me entering my apartment, and decided he wanted a confr
Dream, 30 Jan 2012 Three boys in our class were looking to compete on a whole new level, since they'd tied on so many easier tests. They planned on a super-high altitude jump.Only the boys and I went into te plane, and I was there to chronicle the journey, their hopes and fears.When we got to the jump point, we realizedthat theyd forgotten somethingg, and i'd forgotten to strap myself down securely engought not to get sucked out of the plane with them. I hastily tied myslef with a long length of rubberedbungee to my laptop and the bolted legs of the row seats. (The plane was little more than a flying schoolbus)Then the driver opened the back door,, and th
Something Broken and Abused 7.I'd made mistakes to be with you,promises out the window flew,hoping the difference to save my soul,and, once again, I did feel whole.All you'd asked I did provide,until I let you too deep inside,burning bridges until alone,no garden here, no seeds grown;I stopped and apart we grew.IntermissionI'd chosen me and no one more,shut the blinds and close the door,hide my eyes until I seejust Her in front of me.Secondo FineNow I wait and watch and wait,knowing any moment I might break,losing hold of sense and realand touching only what I feel,reaching for a world with you...my spirit broken, my heart abused.
Goodbye, Big Brother I clambered down from the upper deck and looked around. It was solitude, sweet and simple. Silent solitude. I smiled, then worked my way to the electronics board, an entire wall that was a mess of displays, hardware, and equipment. Kicking some haphazard power cables aside, I eased myself over to the keyboard and sunk restlessly into the chair. On a nudge of a key, one of the terminals lit up, a blank word processor with the cursor blinking. On. Off. On. Off. I stared at it for a few moments, then bent over the board and began to type.Minutes, hours, or days later, I leaned back, flexing my fingers, arching my back, shrugging my shoulders.
FORTRESS RACE - PART 0 The forest was almost too quiet, aside from the shuddering tree in front of me. STOMP was retightening the winch on their catapult, and there was little Jess, Katie, and Laura could do. Team BLUE was almost finished. My perch was on the other side of their treehouse from the catapult, so there wasn’t much I could do about them. My slingshot wouldn’t be enough – too little, too late. And besides, I was their enemy too. The rope snapped. Another boulder came crashing our way, but it didn’t have enough power behind it, bouncing a few times and losing a lot of speed before it crashed into the trunk. Despite the lack of
FORTRESS RACE - PART 1 I received a flyer in the mail. One of those “You have been chosen!” outfits. Naturally, I dropped it into the recycle pile, went through the rest of my mail. Bill... junk... junk... junk... junk... someone I don’t want to hear from... junk... coupons! Oh, nevermind, I don’t shop there... magazine... junk. I flipped through the magazine, stopping at anything that caught my eye, reading until I reached the end or lost interest, eventually putting it down for further scrutiny later. The flyer caught my eye again. I picked it up, purely out of curiosity and entirely suspicious of its motive. “Do you remember playi
The Fortress Race A row of boys stood behind the starting line, and across a wide, sandy expanse grew the forest. The Fortress Race was about to begin. Some of them stood in groups, pooling their supplies and resources, already forming treaties and alliances. The bags they carried were large, numerous, and heavy. Occasionally, one or two would glance over at a single participant who stood alone and separate, ignoring the presence of the others, his pack small and light. A tone sounded and the boys spread out along the line, keeping themselves congested together to avoid association with the loner. A second tone sounded, and the boys crossed th
This Is My Fortress the darkness closes inas deeper I go,the tunnel lengthens;I see only shadow:they hug my shovel,and the walls as well.(it would seem a longway if one fell.)the branches spreadoutward far:a tree inverted,night without star.this is my fortress,my stronghold, my claim;and will save me frommy enemies' aim.
Learning to Understand butterflies in my eyeand caterpillars in my hand,landing on me,trusting me,in ways I don't understand.speckles in my corneaand light streaming from my eye,I trust I'll knowhow to live with the glow,and take everything else in stride.
A "Chance" Healing a poem can help to heal your souleven when you feel perfectly whole:hearts will blister before they break,and 'tis easier to fix a minor ache.even just knowing that someone's there,if there's anything you need to share,if you just like to be reminded someone's around,just in case your wings tire, and you start plummeting down.
Minnistry of Memories more than just a black and white,since by color we do not judge,but when the body cannot bear her soul,we can only provide the final crutch.come so far and learn so much,along this green, grassy road;where the cats don't care,the tennis balls don't wear,and experience is worth so much more than gold.her eyes are sad but for unfading glow,tragic intermission in her show.tonight her body will be laid to rest,and her brilliant soul set free;we wish her good journeys, all the best,and soon enough, again, we'll meet.
Dream 26-27 Dec 2011 There was a series bomber who hadnt been caught, but he left tips at all the locations that were going to get hit. Hats, with college initials, most of them from BFUN.My dad (who looked suspiciously like Nathan Fillion) was out golfing with two buddies (who looked suspiciously like the two sidekicks from Castle) were golfing in the woods, when they started seeing hats with the initials BFUN. They followed the trail and came out in our backyard (I hadn't moved out yet). There were dozens of hats in a large tree in our backyard, and the bomber rarely left more that five or so at a target. I knew the bomb was going to be big.(Gained control
page 007 scribe the story, once or twice,the art of the other hand, over fire, under ice.write your poem inside out--with their rules they'll sink your boat.throw me into the thick of it all.if progress dies then we all fall:so the changes made to the book continueand the art connects to you.
page 008 for joy and jubilation,for those who care--Here Is Art.reasoning under my hat,above my neck,behind my face.through my voice, hand,little openingsletting out Thought.
page 010 Give me tomorrow,I'll give you back yesterday.These lives we've livedOur Minds infused,A rose that bends your way.You are my mistress,My Poetess, my cause,My red rose of Today.
page 011 a rule that rules the fictionfor no rule can bind my diction.a change that changes my method,but it cannot hide the message.we are the human document,
Saran Character Introduction Saran looked morosely around at his garden, and shook his head. The rosebushes, newly replanted, had been trampled again. Obnoxious villagers. Why couldn't they leave him in peace? He completed the circuit, noting what could be saved, before clambering back up to his cave to drop off the day's earnings. Few enough coins, two halberds, and a freshly roasted haunch. It was enough to keep the bridge in good repair, but not to retire on. Saran, grimacing, turned his back on the hoard, rolled with only minor difficulty a boulder in front of the entrance, laid on the rocky ground, and slept.How many trolls rise early to care for their garden? N
Saran Meets Blue Saran carried the dented pail of clay up from the riverbank. The pail itself was rusted, rescued as it drifted down the river, abandoned or forgotten. He wished he had another, and a stave to balance them on his shoulder, weighted evenly. A pile of stones, scavenged earlier from the same riverbank, sat like a cairn beside the bridge. More than once he’d come this way and found a monk bowing his head over it and offering a blessing. They didn’t smell very good, but the wool habit made for a nice tarp for moving and distributing compost. He set the pail down carefully beside the pile, before walking carefully over to the first hole
Saran Introduces Blue to Greco Saran was checking the understructure of the bridge when he felt footsteps echoing across it. He let go, swinging on the rope tether that held him from plummeting to the riverbed below, and used his momentum to help him clamber up the other side. “Oh, it's you again.” The knight held a bag, heavy with coin, upright in his open hand. It was hard to recognize him otherwise, bereft of his usual suit of armour. “Nice to see you too.” Saran grunted. “If you keep stopping by like this, I'm going to need something to call you.” “Really? And why's that?” “So when you leave I can curse your name
Am I Falling? I can hardly tell if I'm fallingsince I don't know which way is up.wrap me in my arms so tight;solo will I be strong enough?
Real Trumps Artificial you will fall where you stand,tumble heavily to the ground,I'll help you stand again,then we'll begin another round.with working depth perception,who needs 3-D TV?we've got a world around uswith plenty for us to see.with an eye to the real,who needs to watch the fake?let's play the games we have,our shares, our turns, our stakes.
Return A Thousand-fold you can fill my heart with tears,and I'll weep for you every day,but there's more to passionthan being torn apart,let's fill me with something more...you can fill my eyes with wonder,and I'll never stop looking for you,but there's more to passionthan keeping you in sight,let's fill me with something more...you can fill my voice with meaning,and I'll always know the words to say,you can give my hands compassion,so I can make art in every way,you can fill my mind with inspiration,so I can capture and keep today.
Too Normal For Me we're in such a place,with such a normal face,I can hardly help but dream.the eyes of a child,still young and wild,know nothing is as it seems.
Installing New Software green as the day I first saw her face,green as the day you smiled,green as the day you set my heart racing and made my poetry grow wild.I found a place in my heart that was calling,where the software was finally installing,I wrote those words by those trees,and you smiled at me,while the ground could not keep me from falling.
Ink Stains ink dribbles from my pen,hanging above my paper road.staining the parchment with every stroke,leaving letters where it flows.whether I write to my love,to myself, or of my pain,ink still sinks into the page,keeping my words to be treasured again.
Sta.sh
