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| Acmlm's Board - I2 Archive - General Chat - Any writers lurking about? |
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more than meets the i Goomba Level: 8  Posts: 13/21 EXP: 1596 For next: 591 Since: 01-31-05 From: NYC Since last post: 253 days Last activity: 251 days |
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Well. I haven't seen a place to post any poems/lyrics/stories/random odds and ends.. So if you write poetry or just anything at all. I'd love to read it. Share a poem or two if you'd like  . If you don't write just add constructively to the thread- or post something you read that made you think or that you enjoy.Let's get this road on the show..  The spark that ignited the ocean I saw the dim lights reflecting off of the chemicals And how you failed to inhale the sparkles of your own creations I noticed myself feeling like I wanted to push you off into the sea And let your sad sorry excuse for a soul drift away with the debris Confessions wrapped around my fingertips we all took advantage Of the hand-me-down smiles given to us from generations before Slipping away was the best thing you have ever done It served as a conversation piece for months to come Maybe I |
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Nebetsu Shmee Level: 55 Posts: 1016/1574 EXP: 1291130 For next: 23059 Since: 09-01-04 From: Nebland Since last post: 3 hours Last activity: 1 hour |
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| Muffin Avenger - Chapter 1 To start this story: there's me. Muffin. That's what you need to know. I am Muffin the muffin and if you have a problem with that, then you should probably stop reading now. I am not like all the other little muffins, for I have chocolate chips inside of me instead of fruits and vegetables like potatos and walnuts. These chocalate chips give me a courage and power that all the other little muffins and panacakes didnt like, so I was scorned by my pathetic fellow foods. Little did they know that the evil Ham Sandwich was going to take over the vast reaches of Pieland and decree that 90% of all the food would be sentanced to death by Tabasco Sauce... Ham Sandwich's rise to power would leave the land in devestation, famine and ruin. His influence would and corruption would reach far into the reaches of Kitchenland, the country in which the province of Pieland is located. Enough with the introduction: here's the story. It all started at home in my town of Breadil. "I dont want to wash the cheesecakes.", I grumbled under my breath, glaring up at my mother. Why does she make me wash the cheesecakes? Why can't she do it herself? I'm guessing the next insult to my intelligence is going to be her reminding me about the two measly crackers I get for my allowance. Doesnt she know that I cant buy anything GOOD with that kind of money? "You have to do something to earn the crackers I give you every Fryday." reminded my mother. "But I dont care about crackers. It will never be enough to get that Knight Of Pastrami action figure I've been wanting all my life." I replied. Ok. A little teenage angst never hurt anyone. The steps of mother's feet taking her out of my site echoed in my mind. Who does she think she is anyways? It's not like she's my real mother. My real parents disappeared mysteriously soon after I was born. People say they just got up and left without telling anyone a reason. People are sceptical of whether or not they're still alive. Personally, I dont care. They left me with my aunt who forces me to think of her as my real mother. She tries to break my mind. She tries to make me into her pathetic view of "normal". I sighed and returned to washing the cheesecakes. "Miserable cheesecakes. If we didnt have the pathetic requirement for nourishment, we could probably do WITHOUT cheesecakes to eat off of.", were the words that echoed in my brain. I found myself focused more and more on the flaws of the nature of the beings around me... and myself. Seeing my own evil firsthand sickened me to no end and brought a sort of self loathing that your pathetic misshappen brain wouldnt believe. I was done washing the cheesecakes. As I walked to my room, many thoughts rushed through my head. Mostly about how everyone is generally has the nature to do wrong and will never overcome that nature. Also there were thoughts about me having that nature. It's a reoccuring thought. There is nothing I would like more than to be free of this mind that I am enslaved to. I looked around my room one last time. There was my gravy lamp. I got it for Candyfest a couple years back. Sometimes I still just sit back and stare at it's mysterious beauty. Sometimes I stare for hours. I glanced my Singing Corn poster on my wall. That was my favourite band until I got interested into better bands from other countries like Berryvine. I saw my computer on my desk. It only had a 600MHz cookie processing unit. Oh well. At least I know someone with a 400MHz CPU. I looked at my video games: Chocoman, Applio, Kandy. I must have beat all of them a million times. Finally I looked at the window. The window: my final escape from the life that I now lived. A new beginning. The death of the old and the birth of a new. This window was the key to happiness. The key to escaping my evil. The key to the end of my suffering. These are the lies I told myself on a daily basis. Today I choose to believe them. Today I look out and let the longing to run away consume me and take me whole. I climbed out the window and walked away from the house. I looked back at the house as I got out of Breadil, thought a final "Good riddance", and let my feet take me to a new future. That's the last time I saw Breadil alive again. |
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more than meets the i Goomba Level: 8 Posts: 19/21 EXP: 1596 For next: 591 Since: 01-31-05 From: NYC Since last post: 253 days Last activity: 251 days |
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| A meaningful story in disguise.. .. I like it alot. If you've written any more chapters either post them or just let me know. I was really getting into those last paragraphs.. that's some great stuff you have there. |
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Nebetsu Shmee Level: 55 Posts: 1019/1574 EXP: 1291130 For next: 23059 Since: 09-01-04 From: Nebland Since last post: 3 hours Last activity: 1 hour |
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| I want to ask you: how can it be improved? What can I do to make it better? I cant go on with more chapters until I have the foundation down. | |||
Anya The Exile Ultima Mezcla de Yin Yan Level: 98  Posts: 4313/5337 EXP: 9530313 For next: 124040 Since: 03-15-04 From: South Florida Since last post: 2 days Last activity: 2 days |
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To answer your question, yes, but I won't post my work here. Why? Well, for one, its on the other compy and two, I really don't feel like it.  I've been writing since I was in the 5th grade, me thinks. Started out with poems and short stories. Started to write more in middle school, had about 100+ poems, started a series, and later on, that series branched into what will be three books (one is already finished) and also what tends to happen in the SF from time to time. I've also had my poems published about four times, and won a few awards here and there. |
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Prier Archangel Administrative Priestess. NUCLEAR SUB WEEEOOOO Level: 119  Posts: 5257/8392 EXP: 18790939 For next: 138352 Since: 03-15-04 From: Nerima Dist. - Tokyo, Japan Since last post: 1 day Last activity: 1 day |
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| Two places you can go to for this: A) Modern Art. Works of writing can usually be posted there. The only problem that I've noticed there is that usually there isn't a lot of feedback on most subjects. B) Story Forum. That, though, is geared more of a 'multi-player roleplay' though...that and it suffers a huge amount of misconception as 'spam'. As for writing itself...yea I've done some here and there. Majority of which you can see in the Story Forum / Sim-Battle as well as the profile threads there (forewarning on extreme length). Solo writes I haven't done too much of, but I have a barely started thing of about 27 pages (like two and a third chapters) sitting on my comp unfinished. (edited by Yomiko on 02-13-05 02:06 PM) |
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Zem You can be civil without being flowery, dipshits. Level: 49 Posts: 755/1107 EXP: 829398 For next: 54485 Since: 06-13-04 Since last post: 131 days Last activity: 131 days |
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Originally posted by YomikoNah, we just like to make fun of it... much like Canada. |
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Prier Archangel Administrative Priestess. NUCLEAR SUB WEEEOOOO Level: 119 Posts: 5270/8392 EXP: 18790939 For next: 138352 Since: 03-15-04 From: Nerima Dist. - Tokyo, Japan Since last post: 1 day Last activity: 1 day |
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Originally posted by ZemOriginally posted by YomikoNah, we just like to make fun of it... much like Canada. Ah yes, but making fun of Colleen is so much more fun. |
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alte Hexe Star Mario I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night Alive as you and me "But Joe you're ten years dead!" "I never died" said he "I never died!" said he Level: 99  Posts: 2978/5458 EXP: 9854489 For next: 145511 Since: 03-15-04 From: ... Since last post: 2 hours Last activity: 2 hours |
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| I write philosophical and Marxist discourses as well as historical fiction and essays. My preference to poetry is something in the style of Milton, Blake and Coleridge. Since some of my work has been published by organizations like the YMCA and the Government of Canada...I don't really go and post a lot of it anymore. Although I have a really good essay that I have been working on that I might post. | |||
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more than meets the i Goomba Level: 8 Posts: 20/21 EXP: 1596 For next: 591 Since: 01-31-05 From: NYC Since last post: 253 days Last activity: 251 days |
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Originally posted by Nebetsu Warning: This will sound corny. Improvement lies within you, if you feel uncomfortable with something you've written.. go over it again and tweak some things here and there. Or simply write the whole thing over again how you remember it, and add some things. Or something ot that effect. I can't really tell you how to improve upon it because it's your personal work, and expression can't be dictated. Yes, corny indeed. I enjoyed your short story, but if you wanted to take it off in a different direction or change some things, that is entirely up to you. |
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Omega Red Paragoomba Level: 12  Posts: 56/56 EXP: 7117 For next: 804 Since: 01-18-05 From: The edge of the world, Cyberia Since last post: 261 days Last activity: 261 days |
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| I like to write poems and stories, but most of them must be translated to english.. | |||
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alte Hexe Star Mario I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night Alive as you and me "But Joe you're ten years dead!" "I never died" said he "I never died!" said he Level: 99 Posts: 2984/5458 EXP: 9854489 For next: 145511 Since: 03-15-04 From: ... Since last post: 2 hours Last activity: 2 hours |
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Ah, writing in another language. The bane of the poet. Especially with modern English. The most wretched language for poetry ever. I far and away prefer using German to write my poems...I suck at German though Latin is another great fall-back, especially when your influences are like mine  |
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Prier Archangel Administrative Priestess. NUCLEAR SUB WEEEOOOO Level: 119 Posts: 5308/8392 EXP: 18790939 For next: 138352 Since: 03-15-04 From: Nerima Dist. - Tokyo, Japan Since last post: 1 day Last activity: 1 day |
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| Okay...loaded up the Word DOC (text-only with line breaks, 10-point Courier New) and it's 35 pages. 15,680 words. I'd say that's not too bad for three chapters of something that's barely started that I'm just working on every so often. :\ | |||
JR11 Rex Level: 35  Posts: 394/533 EXP: 278666 For next: 1270 Since: 06-07-04 From: Po-Town, ON Since last post: 1 day Last activity: 1 day |
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Ah, yes... I remember in elementary school I used to write all kinds of great stories. I don't know what's happened lately though. Maybe I just lost interest in writing.  |
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Keitaro Iron Knuckle ウラシマ ケイタロウ Level: 54 Posts: 1027/1342 EXP: 1201569 For next: 32301 Since: 03-15-04 From: Hinata, Japan Since last post: 2 days Last activity: 2 days |
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| I had like, half an RPG written up in MS Word, but then I realized it sucked despite what everyone else said and just sorta dropped it but I'm not a half bad writier, I have a knack for using the English language in creative ways. (edited by Keitaro on 02-15-05 12:54 AM) |
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The Gift of Gabe Red Paragoomba Level: 13  Posts: 51/51 EXP: 8892 For next: 1375 Since: 03-16-04 From: Albuquerque, NM, USA Since last post: 260 days Last activity: 256 days |
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| This is non-fiction, actually it's part of a rant on my blog. But it's the best writing I've done in a long time, and even though I just posted it in the story forums it didn't seem like it fit there, so I'll just put it here too I guess. Enjoy. All of the specific events described in the second-to-last paragraph actually happened to either me or one of a couple of close friends who shall remain nameless (for obvious reasons). Enjoy! BTW if you don't know about these towns and cities just ignore them, they're all relatively close to one another (within 70 miles or so). Santa Fe is the capital of New Mexico, my state, and Albuquerque is the largest city in the state. It's about 50-70 miles south of Santa Fe and it's where me and my brother live. Most of you know him but I won't say who he is, although I did drop a few hints a year ago Anyway, enjoy and tell me what you think! ----------------------------------------------------- My brother said that he likes Albuquerque. This surprised me. Granted, he hasn't lived anywhere else besides home, and yes, I too fell in love with this city when I first came here in '01. People who seek the wild west in sleek new pickups at Texas rodeos are morons. Arizona was completely wiped clean of it decades ago. New Mexico is the only state where the old mentality still finds purchase, and even our capital has finally been purged of what to me is the essence that drove outlaws and outcasts here for generations before. Santa Fe is a cruel joke, a caucasian-culture pimple ripening to burst all over the surrounding area. Californians feed its mad stampede, bringing its upscale vanity and modern-art pretensiousness to a dizzying climax that you can feel inside the city, sickening any who are pure at heart. White women lathered with turquoise go to native dances and buy postcards to send home, retiring to their penthouse suites and fake adobe mansions still swimming in the illusion that they are somehow part of an ancient culture that they are really doing their part to finally destroy. Hippies strike it rich and come to Taos to trade designer hallucinogens and raise smug children into neurotic trust-fund babies, injecting an apathy and cynicism not seen since the mid-80's into our state. The police have locked the city up tight, and the once-rebellious children of the 60's, who have moved to Santa Fe to live in the same decadent opulence that they still half-heartedly decry, are glad of it. But the reason it's such a blasphemy to people like us, and the reason most of these despicable people's predecessors came there in the first place is that it USED to be a frontier among frontiers! Where there are art galleries, there once were saloons. Where there are black-tie gala restaraunts, there once were whorehouses. Where fat hotel managers cruise their beemer SUVs, infamous desperados once had legendary shootouts! And this shit wasn't about cowboys and indians, it was the hard-of-heart-and-mind who were cut loose from society that peopled this land. But now it's been plasticized, formulated, and fundamentally, cancerously altered from the outside in. So those of us that can't stand it anymore come here to dirty 'Burque, where the land is cheap, the rules are loose, and the cops can't keep up. There is a mentality here. If you've lived here long enough you know it, you possess it, but sometimes it's kind of hard to put a finger on. I think that somehow a tiny sliver of the Old west has survived here. The sheriffs in Bernalillo will take you for a mind-shattering joyride if they catch you late at night without any witnesses, and quite possibly kill you. New York doesn't have shit on us anymore in terms of per capita murder and other gang-related crime. We just don't get coverage in the national media because we don't matter. Our city is wide, but it is nothing. A poor semi-metropolis in the poorest state in the union. A place where you can be completely clean and be friends with gangsters, dealers, murderers, playboys, schizophrenics, alcoholics, college kids, dropouts, sorority girls and crack addicts and get along with them, because here, everybody knows that the rules don't have to apply, no matter who's making them, the courts or the people. No ex-hippies stammering about the inherent worth and dignity of every person from an adobe den in a 900,000 dollar home. No tourist board trying to convince airline commuters in both coasts to drop in for some green chile. Just direct eye contact, a handshake and an easy smile, a friendly argument, an illegitimate transaction, maybe a ride across town just for the hell of it. A thug, a gun nut, a drug addict, an investment broker, an artist, and a gamer out in the foothills for a hike to a nice blunt and a view of the wasteland to keep it all in perspective. The cold ring of a gunshot outside the window at 4 in the morning. We come to understand that the rules are bent so that we can all live in relative ease, as long as we keep a small chip on our shoulders. It's not necessarily who you know, it's how you carry yourself, what you've learned, what you can do, how you react, or how well you bluff. It's getting mindfucked by somebody you give directions to. It's a meth lab in a children's nursery, or in a camper cruising the freeways. It's joining the army after being brainwashed on 9/11, snapping out of it in boot camp, then smoking weed in the barracks and refusing your duties until they throw you out in disgust. It's the most hardcore skating in the nation, without need of recognition. It's stopping to talk to an old girlfriend in front of the university while you and your childhood playmate are smuggling an AK-47 in a guitar case. It's seeing REAL (but needless) fear in the eyes of every man in the riot squad when you're at the front of a ten-thousand-head peace mob flooding Central the day we start bombing Iraq. It's getting assaulted a block from your house. The more I describe it, the more I lose track. You get the idea. There's still a vibrance here, a lust for life that many people in this country only know in formulated doses administered by an ever-encroaching media. People here are not docile, nor are they stupid. The harder they come, the more heart they have to throw around. It's no wonder the glory of this kind of life is romanticized by the popular culture of our nation, because when you live in a place like this, you can feel it. ---------------------------------------- If you liked that you can check out my blog if you want, I rant on there and also put up any freestyle writing that I do, which is kind of few and far between these days. But considering that I'm up at 5 am reposting this I guess maybe it's something I like to do occasionally |
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