The Song/Poem/Writing Thread

[Jorgi]

we're nothing more than hopeless

 

 

*****

 

 

woah, don't you dare to stop

i met my maker at the corner shop

he held my hand there

the way he touched my hair

the way he smiled as if to tell

someone they did good

 

yes.

[my.heart.]

yes i've posted or yes ftw

[Jorgi]

...both

[my.heart.]

...both

 

haha sorry i lose track.. i need to get writing again though. beats revising but i've only got 2 more exams left so expect some new stuff soon.

[Jorgi]

ah 3 exams here... can't wait 'til they're over.

 

anyway, good stuff, lookin' foward to it !

[my.heart.]

round of applause for all involved

that was the most spectacular heartbreak

i've ever seen

and well i couldn't have done it

without you

 

take a bow and take a seat

take away your attention from me

settle down, settle in,

i won't be here when you get home

 

gather round and buy yourselves a drink

and enjoy every last second you'll ever see

i could've helped out an stepped in

now step back

 

settle down, settle in

i won't be here when you get home

 

drink up, drink it down

your head'll hurt less without these memories

drink up, fall down,

fall down,

i won't be here when you get home.

 

reminds me of rihanna's take a bow.. but more beautiful.

[Guest Arya]

I love it, Jorgi!

[Natasha]

i love it too!

gosh jorgi.

yer still amazing.

:]

[Jorgi]

Thaaankks

 

'nother one cause i'm bored, basically. and no, this one's not happy either; DEAL AVEC CE.

 

we fell into this disaster

damaged, and unafraid

little did we know

it all comes down to this

as i scream, stop and walk away

all i asked for was everything

 

who's to say who stays

disheartened, and disillusioned

the little things were everything

and all i knew

but not enough to pause, think and turn around

and search fr anything

 

little did we know

it all comes down to this

little did we know

it all breaks down with promises

we never knew

[Defiance]

fuckin emo

[MarMaramore]

^shut it alex. it's amazing. don't mind the twat boy. you rule jorgi.

[my.heart.]

i'm writing a book. as you do

 

untitled, opening paragraph; for your eyes only.

 

Untitled.

 

Chapter 1.

 

I stared at her from across the table. Breathing; 1, 2, 3.. She had that look about her, something that displayed fear and uncertainty but also a great deal of stupidity and contempt. Eyelids fluttering, she bit her bottom lip down hard, flushing a rosy pink through purple and when finally released a white not unlike the pallor of my own sickly skin. We're all the same when it boils down to human flesh. I remember all her ticks at this point, all things I meticulously noted down throughout the months and now, face to face I saw them at their best. I felt proud for a moment; proud that my compulsive, meticulous notation of human behaviour had finally been of benefit. I was smirking disgustingly inside, but on the outside I showed as much emotion as a psychotic sociopath having been arrested for the last of his brutal killings. After 9.26 minutes (I counted under my breath; she noticed) I lit a cigarette and she opened her mouth. Like a fish it just kept opening and closing, she looked incredulously dumb I thought as I continued to count my breaths, this time calculating the time it took to inhale and exhale the dense grey matter; clear it completely from my lungs. I don't smoke, except when the scene calls for it. At this precise moment in time I felt that the seedy bar, absent with any smouldering, husky female puffing on French cigarettes wasn't worth anyone's time, so I filled in for Miss Golightly and, lowering my vintage sunglasses down over my eyes, I broke the silence.

"It's the anniversary, you know." I wasn't particularly sure if I even cared, but nothing else seemed to come to mind.

"Of what?" I love that look of panic on a face; makes me feel more at ease.

"John Lennon. He was shot 30 years today. Shame really." She blinked, eyes filling with pools of murky green.

"It's over, you know. The test was positive." She countered. I paused, blew out the last cloud of smoke and stubbed out the cigarette. We sat for a moment in silence, mourning the loss. Her for the loss of innocence, loss of a life headed no where in particular. Me, for the loss of the last thing to make me feel real, and that was her perfection. From here on in, I decided to live in fantasy. After all, what was the point in living in reality when you could have your own overwrought battle royale of faith, love and disassociation everyday?

Nice chap really, odd nose though I must admit, and quite a tragic dresser.

[MarMaramore]

^Oh. My. Fish!!!!!

I love it. MOREMOREMOREMORE!

[777]

I feel depressed, so I'll use it lol.

 

 

I have my family, But I have no friends

And you kids think you're sad

But look at all the friends you have

Or you had

In my own history theres no one

What was it I did wrong

Maybe it's because I'm not cool

Enough for you

You knew, I liked you

But you still shoved me away

Wheres all the nice people

Where did they go

Because thats where I want to be

 

 

Edit: this isn't for the forum, It's for the kids you see at the mall and school's teasing other kids.

[MarMaramore]

^ that's very nice.

I mean it's good.

that's what I mean by nice. some people think it's "zinging" them

[777]

^ that's very nice.

I mean it's good.

that's what I mean by nice. some people think it's "zinging" them

 

What is Zinging?

[Echelonforever]

Intro to something I'm currently writing....

 

My angel isn't perfect

She is flawed in every way

yet my life she seems to save

everytime i hear her sing.

 

anyone wanna guess who it's gonna be about??

 

 

I feel depressed' date=' so I'll use it lol.

 

 

I have my family, But I have no friends

And you kids think you're sad

But look at all the friends you have

Or you had

In my own history theres no one

What was it I did wrong

Maybe it's because I'm not cool

Enough for you

You knew, I liked you

But you still shoved me away

Wheres all the nice people

Where did they go

Because thats where I want to be

 

 

Edit: this isn't for the forum, It's for the kids you see at the mall and school's teasing other kids.[/quote']

 

I love this, it's so true!

[MarMaramore]

What is Zinging?

 

a zing/zinger/the act of zinging is joking or saying sarcastic words. In my house, my mum isn't very smart, so she doesn't get sarcasm, so I have to say "ZING!" after every sarcastic thing I say so she doesn't flip a biscuit!

[777]

a zing/zinger/the act of zinging is joking or saying sarcastic words. In my house, my mum isn't very smart, so she doesn't get sarcasm, so I have to say "ZING!" after every sarcastic thing I say so she doesn't flip a biscuit!

 

eheheh, Awesome!

[UrLittleDecoy]

an old one...

 

 

It was only a hot summer night

But i never felt myself alright

He broke my heart apart to pieces

I never looked up again to see his

Eyes,his cheek,his hair,his adorable face

All the things i ever loved and now i hate

The moment i saw him with that girl

Broke apart my soul,my heart,my world

The pain i feel,it's simply unfair

I would never do the things they dare

I will never understand how could he be this cruel

I just cannot believe that he tricked me like a fool

I see his dignity though,there's guilt in his eyes

He really wanna undo this,he's sick of his fights

He was scared,he lead the wrong ways

He can't believe the things that he says

He is a victim but also his the blame

He's just shouting and repeating my name

But i'm not here anymore,there's enough hate

He's trying to stop me but it is too late...

I'm running away with my desperate thoughts

I want him to suffer,to handle his faults

I'm seeing the last way,i'm seeing the lights

Now my life is over,it's not more,only lies

My life is done,my brain is all mad

I'm saying his name with my last breath...

[Defiance]

^shut it alex. it's amazing. don't mind the twat boy. you rule jorgi.

 

she knows i love her really

[my.heart.]

^Oh. My. Fish!!!!!

I love it. MOREMOREMOREMORE!

 

haha thank you i'll post the next little bit tonight.

[Jammer]

I was listening to a lot of Rage Against the Machine when I wrote this.

 

Fist to the Face

 

Enough is enough

Time to take your stand

Pushed us to the brink

And watched us fall endlessly

But now we turn the tables

And stand on our own feet...

 

Time for a change

Nothing a fist to the face

Couldn't solve

Left the pacifism behind

Relying on a fist to the face...

 

Never took much note

Of the political soup we stew in

Until it shoots you in the foot

Taking down the beuracracy

By any means necessary...

 

*chorus*

 

A fist to the face

The holy grail

That can't be silenced

Politeness only gets you so far

In this crazed world of ours

Pick your moment

And explode in their faces!

 

Exploding in their faces!

Exploding in their faces!

Exploding in their faces!

 

*chorus*

 

Take this fight to the end

Nothing like a fist to the face

Wouldn't you say?

 

Hmm.

[my.heart.]

next part of my book. scroll back for the opening if you want to read it

 

My hair hung across my face as I searched through my drawers. The blood had rushed to my head from being perpetually vertical, but I liked it; I stayed there for a further 5 minutes, and just as my whole upper body began to feel numb I heard a knock. Slowly swinging my head back onto it's stand and unfurling my body, everything around the room was flecked with white and blue. I made my way to the door, barely making it around the bed as my head pounded surreptitiously, punishing me for my moroseness.

"We have grown, we have grown." Double Fantasy trickled from the speakers in my living room, which was twice the size of my apartment in new york but still felt too small for me. When you do eventually have the opportunity to grow up, the more you do, the bigger you feel. Eventually you just feel like you're taking up entirely too much space and that everything that was once normal is now fit for only a dainty doll's house. I stood behind the door for a while (note that I wasn't counting; just waiting, as if I had nothing to gain and less to lose), blindingly aware that I was standing in a men's collared shirt, the striped white cotton barely covering my milky thighs and two different socks, charmingly mismatched.

Behold the emaciated weirdo in Apartment 27. I realised that people perceived me as little but an 'artist' type, living on coffee and cigarettes and the thousands of old movies in my antique cherry cabinet. I finally decided after an indeterminate amount of time that whoever was on the other side of my door would at best want to take me to a shrink, and at worst be deathly boring with nothing of interest to talk about. I sat down and began watching Carnivale, curling my feet underneath my warm body. I hadn't felt warmth in months, despite the blistering California heat outside. There's a point when you become so drained of feeling that you lose your languor; after all, part of feeling alive is the want to give up, and when that happens you become cold. Perhaps because your body is waiting for the go ahead to pack up all together. Right now, my body was warm, indicating that I was living too much in the real world and not enough in my world. The pounding in my head reminded me that I had been filled with intrinsic motivation only moments before, and I abandoned my love of The Great Depression to re instill this. I continued to dig through dresses, the occasional feathered hat or bejewelled stiletto, I even kept a vintage wedding gown in an old hat box under my desk incase I found someone worthy enough to take my last name from me. I enjoy my last name a great deal. Eventually I found it.

A brown suede jacket, elbow patches and all, tailored to fit a tall, thin man whose presence lived in his clothes. The kind that you would have loved if you'd been alive 80 years ago. Sliding it comfortably over my bony shoulders, my appearance felt suddenly complete, albeit the glare of bare flesh from the waist down.

My blood had run cold once again.

[notoriousfat67]

next part of my book. scroll back for the opening if you want to read it

 

My hair hung across my face as I searched through my drawers. The blood had rushed to my head from being perpetually vertical, but I liked it; I stayed there for a further 5 minutes, and just as my whole upper body began to feel numb I heard a knock. Slowly swinging my head back onto it's stand and unfurling my body, everything around the room was flecked with white and blue. I made my way to the door, barely making it around the bed as my head pounded surreptitiously, punishing me for my moroseness.

"We have grown, we have grown." Double Fantasy trickled from the speakers in my living room, which was twice the size of my apartment in new york but still felt too small for me. When you do eventually have the opportunity to grow up, the more you do, the bigger you feel. Eventually you just feel like you're taking up entirely too much space and that everything that was once normal is now fit for only a dainty doll's house. I stood behind the door for a while (note that I wasn't counting; just waiting, as if I had nothing to gain and less to lose), blindingly aware that I was standing in a men's collared shirt, the striped white cotton barely covering my milky thighs and two different socks, charmingly mismatched.

Behold the emaciated weirdo in Apartment 27. I realised that people perceived me as little but an 'artist' type, living on coffee and cigarettes and the thousands of old movies in my antique cherry cabinet. I finally decided after an indeterminate amount of time that whoever was on the other side of my door would at best want to take me to a shrink, and at worst be deathly boring with nothing of interest to talk about. I sat down and began watching Carnivale, curling my feet underneath my warm body. I hadn't felt warmth in months, despite the blistering California heat outside. There's a point when you become so drained of feeling that you lose your languor; after all, part of feeling alive is the want to give up, and when that happens you become cold. Perhaps because your body is waiting for the go ahead to pack up all together. Right now, my body was warm, indicating that I was living too much in the real world and not enough in my world. The pounding in my head reminded me that I had been filled with intrinsic motivation only moments before, and I abandoned my love of The Great Depression to re instill this. I continued to dig through dresses, the occasional feathered hat or bejewelled stiletto, I even kept a vintage wedding gown in an old hat box under my desk incase I found someone worthy enough to take my last name from me. I enjoy my last name a great deal. Eventually I found it.

A brown suede jacket, elbow patches and all, tailored to fit a tall, thin man whose presence lived in his clothes. The kind that you would have loved if you'd been alive 80 years ago. Sliding it comfortably over my bony shoulders, my appearance felt suddenly complete, albeit the glare of bare flesh from the waist down.

My blood had run cold once again.

 

I am loving this, i really wish i could write like you.

 

Im kinda reminded of the character in fight club

 

Behold the emaciated weirdo in Apartment 27.

 

especially that part.