A song that makes no sense

Came up with it on the spot. Has a rhythm, have it all down, just not here.

 

Doing some 딴짓 and I don’t know why,

Gotta do some homework and I don’t wanna try

but I have to do my homework it’s my duty to do

and I don’t want to do that homework to do

because it’s boring I have a lot I have a test

I sleep late and I’m tired even though I try my best

and it’s ‘cause of that I’m tired every single day

I’m scared it will last to may.

no june.

noooooooooo

I hate this life

I hate this life

end it with a knife

oh no

don’t hurt youself

just deal with it

but I really do need something to hit

to express my anger.

towards life.

why me out of all the living things on earth

why me out of all the things that can’t be heard

why me out of all the things that want to be heard

ohoh why

why

me.

Fonts

So I’m testing out this font that I’ve downloaded on Windows Live Writer to see if the fonts shows up online if I use this font here when typing the post.

Go to www.sugarfrogfonts.com or something like that to find an awesome website with cute handwriting fonts! For ABSOLUTELY FREE! And it’s so prettyful.

:D

I love it.

And with this awesome new laptop, I feel I can do almost anything in the world. I feel so achieved. I have my own private laptop to do things with. It’s a wonderful feeling.

It is.

 

I’m making cookies tomorrow, so I’m probably going to post some pictures. Yummy oatmeal cookies for youth group in church! C:

 

Some people say it’s going to snow tomorrow, some people say it’s going to snow a lot.

All I Know is, if it ever snows, it’ll be pretty--

for sure.

It’ll be like flakes in the wind, gently touching against the skin of Mother Earth,

beautifying anything it blesses to touch.

Snow is pretty on anything

everything

when there’s that thin, crystally layer,

when the snow comes down ever so steadily,

that you have that urge to bend back and stick your tongue out.

Snow is pretty on everything,

even grass, even benches, even trees, even the earth-damaging, air-polluting cars.

It’s makes everything so naiive and beautiful,

so that it covers everything

and shields it with a layer of pure

white

and beauty.

Snow is pretty on anything and everything,

but it doesn’t last long.

It goes away,

because of the roaring trucks

and people mushing it up,

turns into brown muddy snow,

that beauty corrupted,

I can go on forever with this,

so I’ll stop now,

Because I have to work on my speech,

Adios. Hasta luego. Tengo que hacer mi tarea.

Poetry Mix Collection #3`

These are what I made in school. But some of them are pretty good, so might as well share it.

Untitled
If you were just some ten yards tall, you’d need no ride to school.

Your teardrop splashing on the ground would make a swimming pool.
Your crumb of cake would be our feast,
And last us seven days at least,
Though you yourself would seem a beast,
If you were ten yards tall.

If you were really ten yards tall, you’d never fit a door,
And it would be impossible to go down to the store.
Our bed too small to be your bed,
Your strand of hair some yards of thread,
If we were stepped on we’d be dead
If you were ten yards tall.

A roaring blast would seem as just a little faint sound hum,
You couldn’t hug your mom ‘cause you’d just squeeze her ‘till she’s numb.
And writing would just be a fright,
The ink splattered ‘cause held too tight,
(So you should never try rewrite--
this poem’s just way too long).



Original poem “One inch tall” by Shel Silverstein

If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school.
The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool.
A crumb of cake would be a feast
And last you seven days at least,
A flea would be a frightening beast
If you were one inch tall.

If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door,
And it would take about a month to get down to the store.
A bit of fluff would be your bed,
You'd swing upon a spider's thread,
And wear a thimble on your head
If you were one inch tall.

You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum.
You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just have to hug her thumb.
You'd run from people's feet in fright,
To move a pen would take all night,
(This poem took fourteen years to write--
'Cause I'm just one inch tall).




(GAHH COPY PASTING DOESN'T WORK. sorry, for now it's only one poem. stay tuned for the next batch of fresh home-made poems!)
;D

Poetry Mix (Collection) #2

So today, I wrote some poems.

I don't like poems that have those exact rhythms and the iambic pentameter or whatever.

because honestly, those sound so cheesy and simple.

I like free forming, poems that are just how they are. No rhythm. Just meaning.

So here goes.


For the first two poems, I made them all into one paragraph, as you can see...

Poem 1:
Life is like a roller coaster. Get on the ride, with ups and downs and side to side, soaring low and soaring high, reach into the sky... a quick ride, and when you get off, you're not sure if it's time to leave, when the ride has already ended.

Poem 2:
Look at the flowers sparkling in the sun. Look at the flowers swaying in the sun. Look at the petals swirling in the sun. Look at the fresh smell in the air. Look at the flowers smiling in the sun. Then look at the flowers,, burrowed under, hidden under, the snow.

Poem 3:
Life is a trap you can't escape.
But don't try to, you'll never escape.

Poem 4:
Believe
Believe in the sky.
Believe in the sun.
Believe in magic.
Believe in love.
Believe in hope.
Believe in hugs.
Believe in poetry.
Believe in music.
Believe in learning.
But never believe in hatred.

Poem 5:
Take a petal of a flower.
See its beauty.
Understand its beauty.
Take a part of a sunset.
See it's beauty.
Understand its beauty.
Take a child's mind, her soul.
See its beauty.
Understand it, too.

Peom 6:
Believe in colors.
Believe in gifts.
Believe in laughs.
Believe in love.
Believe in happiness,
believe in doves,
believe in flowers.
Believe in luck.
Believe in hugs,
believe ind reams,
believe in safety,
believe in promises,
believe in People.

Poem 7:
This poem explains the horror of war and the hope in children to fix it, which is always burned into ash.

Bombs fill the air.
Smoke fills the lungs.
hatred fills the mind.
Fear fills the children.
What has this world become?

Born to live,
born to prosper,
born to succeed,
born to kill.
What has this world become?

Shouts fill the air.
Suffocation fills the lungs.
Death fills the mind.
Hope fills the children.

Huddled in a corner,
just a little seed of hope.
A little ointment,
and a bandaid,
and a want to heal.
In every child's hope,
future,
peace,
innocence.

Ruined.

Poem 8:
From now on, the poems, I played with the spacing and the placing. I don't know if it'll show up right on the computer, but spaced it and placed it differently in my notebook.

In a field of flowers, of thorn hatred roses,
is a little flower seed.
Who knows what kind?
It grows to a bud.
green amongst the bloodred, the bloodred with thorns, old,
    yet emitting eerie beauty.
But this bud,
  with simple,
          innocent,
                    beauty.
It sits.
It shuns the roses, with its simplicity.
The way it is more free,
the way it has hope,
it might grow into
         a daisy, a
              tulip, a
                  crysanthemum.
But once it does grow into whatever it is,
its beauty dies,
it loses simplicity,
the beauty,
it gets shunned by the roses,
until it withers
     to the ground,
            regretting,
                   dying,,,...
                         gone.

Poem 9:

(hmm, don't try this at home   [;        )
Peer into the deep abyss,
mind void of hope,
of love.
Mind full of hatred,
of scorn.
Cuts and bruises
in the mind.
Loneliness
in the mind.

Peer into the deep abyss,
peer into the dark,
    red,
         evil eyes of
               Death.
Whisper words of hopelessness.
And fall into
      the peering,
              dark,
                    red,
                         evil eyes of
                               Death.

Poem 10:
Every mind sunken into a deep pool of Reality.
When first born, the mind bobs at the shore,
     taking gasps of
           imagination
                 and magic and
                         hope.
But as the mind gets older,
     it gets heavier,
           it gets less simple,
                it loses imagination
                         and magic and
                                  hope as it
                                           sinks
                                                    down
                                                                          down
                                                                                                down.

Poem 11:
Choking underwater
    suffocating
          losing the air,
               sinking . . .
                     down  .  .  .
                                down
                                          down
                                                  under the sea level of
                                                           individuality.
                sinking . . .
                      down  .  .  .

                                down

                                          down 

                                                   under influence.

Poem 12:

Grab that life saver,

     the little tube

           bobbing,

               floating.

Before you sink.

     underwater.

          suffocate.

               Die.

Some of them are slightly violent, as the reality of it goes, some of them are thoughtful.

As my favorite line goes, "Don't worry, be happy!"

oh and my other one is "Failure isn't failure; it's the path to succeed." but that's beside the point.

Poetry Mix #1

Okay, here goes.
I decided to make a new type of label thing.
You know,
how ITTY is "Inside Tips To You", and the "Amazity of the Day" and HLD (Hilarious Laugh of the Day), and IceCreamScoop (bits of my life), and Various Viewpoints... so added to that list is Poetry Mix.

Pretty self explanatory as when it comes to what it actually does.
Mix of poetry.

how itriguing.

So the description of this blog is already a poem:
There's no recipe to life. So just go with the flow, do what you know, stay away from staying low, and find the happiness below.
Here's the poem:
Life's a roller coaster. It's a crazy ride, has its ups and downs and side-to-side, the roller coaster just this wide, going to places with nothing to hide, and you soaring there, up high, having the fun of your life. That's life. Live it like a roller coaster. Nevous getting on, reluctant to get off at the end.

EDIT:

Okay, I know this font color will 'stand out' and all, but I'd just like to add for my own self:
These sort of poems were inspired from a book called "The Orange Houses" by Paul Griffin.