Flying

I jumped out the window to get to the parking lot
I'm writing this little song on my way down
Never in my life have I felt a heat so hot
I had to get out

Such a lovely day to go flying
Sky so clear the sun is shining
Fate has given me wings
Such a terrible funny thing

I was gathering up my nerve to ask out Carmen
She glanced out the window
Oh my God
The room it went away
Now we're holding hands
Just not the way I planned

I jumped out the window to get to the parking lot
I'm writing this little song on my way down

I hope you both feel more life-affirming now than when you wrote those poems?

I didn't write Flying. Just thought a depressing song called Flying would compliment a depressing poem called Falling.

I never read poetry, but that was pretty cool.

Avril Lavigne-like

I don't mean sounding like an asshole, but that was so contrived.

Someones Passed


�We�re all relics, destined for someone�s past.�
He sang in peace then drifted off alone.
His ballad born within a silver flask,
Its wisdom surely could not be my own.
But clouds around me whispered through my grasp.
�In wand�ring far you�ll find the wrong way home.�

Lost I was, though ne�er before been worried.
Feelings cold and anxious fell upon me,
And it seemed such little hope was buried.
For now I knew the man was not a dream.
Warnings that no fantasy could muddy,
Infused my soul with fatal urgency!

Moments later fate had seemed to hover,
When cloudy tendrils held the moon at bay.
Its arc frozen, I would soon discover,
Timeless minions gliding amidst the shade,
A sight from which I never did recover,
�If life be done, God keep my soul,� I prayed.

The shades grew darker in their silent greed,
My legs held fast though I was rendered numb.
By force of will I faced this time of need.
�Not so!� I cried, �My time is yet to come!�
But dying soon became my only deed,
A twinkling star hushed sweetly, �It is done.�

No man has known such cold as follows death,
Or darkness in the absence of all life.
Though hope is lost it struggles to find breath,
And hopelessly it searches for the light.
But silence will confess the truth we dread:
Man cannot win a war he didn�t fight.

What�s this, a glimmer! In a sea of black!
A brilliant glow enlightened me once more,
The wrong way home, indeed, I�ve got a knack.
I humbly begged, �My quest to me restore�
�Oh ancient brethren, send this trav�ler back.�
Beyond then cast me grateful to the shore.

there is a good and a bad way to critique something they are sharing with a group of people.

you might try the good way next time.

I know. I'll do better next time. Sorry for being too frank. I had to deal with such "poetry" all the time in high-school. I used to write the same sort of poetry though. (In the sense of stereotyped teen angst and depression) I'm certainly no better at poetry, and I'd call my poetry in retrospect contrived as well. I suppose a good start for anyone would be to read Sylvia Plath. I promise not to be a jerk next time. Again, I really apologize. Don't get discouraged like I did, MallyMal.

I still miss Ca$h the jerk.

Why is that?

Haiku for MacNN:

omac brought me here
he is gone, i still remain
posting in this thread

Thank you for the concern, Madam V., but I am just fine.

I'm glad. And thanks for sharing.