Songwriters, Writers and Poets Unite!!

[octaves 4]

Hello!!  Here in this thread, you can basically share your poems, songs, and writings to Simtropolis!  Narrowed down...you can:

1. Criticize other people's poems/songs/writings.
2. Just read other writings.

3. Post a video of you singing/playing an instrument to that song you've written.
4. HAVE FUN and EXPRESS!! 

I'll post one of mine on here soon, once I get my notebook back.  Teaser; it's a song called Thursday Two Weeks Ago...

I think writing is a really good way of getting emotions out that aren't meant to be shut up inside you.  Most of the time, people write to get sadness, angst, depression, and other bad feelings out of their system (it really does help) but sometimes people write to express their happiness!  You can share those types of poems here too, definitely!    Writing is another good way of getting your mind off hurting yourself.  I know this for a fact...once those endorphins start going through your blood stream...you can't stop until you're lying there, dead.  Songwriting can make you feel better in a harmless way, though.

You'd be surprised to know some how many people actually do write songs and poems and stuff, there's this guy at my school, he's one of those tough and athletic ones and he's the type that never shows emotion.  He sits next to me in English and his notebook was open and I decided to be nosy and look in it.  It was full of very emotional poems and songs, and most of them were really good!  That's one example, so why don't you show Simtropolis YOUR sensitive side! 

So what are you waiting for?  Start sharing your writings to us fellow Simtropolians!! 

[BlondeTwiggy 43]

Im a writer, more of a poet actually

I do it in my spare time, but don't think I could make a living at it.... Spontaneous writing is the best, I'm not creative under pressure.

I might post some later, if anyones interested.

Its mostly just cheesey stuff though.

[IDS2 3,453]

Hehe...great idea...*waits for Firebird to enter at any minute*

Here's a little something I wrote...the characters in it are featured in my cj with different lives, and the company they work for is like the one in Run For Your Life.

CHAPTER 1

---

Ring! Ring! It was morning, and Bob's alarm clock was going off. Groaning, he reached over and hit the snooze button. Another day, another dollar, he thought glumly as he trudged out of his room. He walked over to his window, under which he had laid out an outfit the night before. He grabbed it and slumped into his bathroom to take a shower.

At approximately 8:00a.m., his friend, Creamte arrived at his door. Ding-dong went the bell that Bob had installed just a week ago. He rushed to answer when he remembered that he hadn't combed his hair yet. Oh well, it didn't matter.

"Hello, Creamte. What brings you here all of a sudden? I thought you had the day off."

"Aieeeee!"

"Oh, shut up."

"I do have today off. I just came to see if you did also. If you do, what do you say we hit the links?"

"Can't. I got a trainee from the arid extraction place over in Quamasota. Care to join me?"

"Yeah, right. I already told you I have the day off. I only have one a month, you know."

"Oh fine, be that way. I'll see you at noon for lunch. Meet me at the first hole in Quamasota Municipal after I get off work at 2:30.p.m."

With that, he stepped into his garage, started his car and he was off.

20 minutes later, he had arrived at Huang Arids, his new workplace. He hadn't been working here long, but he had a knack for picking up new skills quickly. He headed down the precarious stairway to the main drilling station. He started his routine, long and boring. At noon, he met Creamte.

"So, are things going smooth without me?"

"Yeah, the trainee must be gone today. Not that I blame him..."

"I remember when i first got a job offer from them, and I must say it's better than McDonald's."

"Yeah, right."

"How would you know? You've never worked there. I have, and I'm telling you it's not fun."

"Oh fine. I'll take your word for it, though I still think it would be better than Huang's."

He hopped back into his car, and sped off.

When he got back to work, the trainee had arrived. Oh great, he thought. Now he shows up, at all times. He ran over to his boss's office and hid behind a trash can that had been laying there from a recent storm. He thought it would be a good idea to ask his boss for advice. All of a sudden, he had a crazy idea.

Chapter 2

---

Five days later, the trainee had finished training and Bob was happy again. He had gotten good advice from his boss and had even worked overtime some days. He was starting to really enjoy his job, though sometimes he still wondered why he chose arid extractions. Just yesterday he had played his best game of golf ever, and he was moving from the tiny, crowded town of Quamsota to Ocatellop, a newer, more affluent community. He had also set up a vacation plan with his boss. He was so happy with Bob that he had agreed for him to take a week off. Bob was going camping in Rigid Camel National Park, about 75 miles west of Ocatellop. Creamte was coming with him for 4 days of the trip, because he didn't work as many hours as Bob did to earn time off. He had stopped his slow-working habits that only earned him one day off a month.

When they arrived in Rigid Camel, the first thing they did was set up camp near Hump Falls, the widest waterfall in the park. There was a thin trail leading up to the top of the falls where there was a visitor center and overlook.

Hump Falls was about 300 feet tall and 1,500 feet wide. It narrowed to 700 feet wide and continued flowing down a crevasse in a huge boulder of basalt. About 1/2 mile downstream came Camel Falls, which was much more tall and slender than Hump Falls at 1,370 feet tall and 60 feet wide. 2 miles down from that came the third waterfall on the Hump River, Rigid Falls. At 200 feet tall and 50 feet wide Rigid Falls was the smallest of the three but many agreed it was the most beautiful. Over 30 types of trees grew in the area because of a soil and silt deposit from the bordering Lake Ranferds, which the Hump River flowed into. The Hump River originated from the top of Dromedary Peak, the tallest mountain in the area at 6,984 feet. There were seven different lodges and restaurants on Lake Ranferds, along with a skiing and snowboarding area just east, used only in the winter, when there was snow.

Bob was a big skiier and was in paradise with the skiing area. Creamte was more of a hiker so he took the trail from camp, near the lodges, up past Rigid Falls. After picnicking in the beautiful scenery, he continued up the 3-mile trail to the visitor center, also accessible by road. Creamte, after touring the museum, realized it was 3:00p.m. and knew he had to continue hiking if he wanted to make it to the top of Mt. Dromedary by the end of the day. He would camp overnight, and Bob would be staying at the warming house in the skiing area.

The trail from the visitor center up Mt. Dromedary was 2 3/4 miles, but Creamte was a fast hiker. If there was something he didn't want to miss but didn't have time to see at the moment, he attatched a video camera to his backpack and watched it later. By the time he reached the top of Mt. Dromedary, he was exhausted but satisfied. He walked over to the origin of the Hump River, which, luckily for him, was nearby. He heated up some beans, ate, set up his tent and went to bed.

Meanwhile, Bob was having fun with brand-new ski gear and fresh snow in the ski area. Mt. Dromedary wasn't as high as the ski area, though, so it didn't pick up any snow. Bob didn't bring any money for a meal at the warming house, though, so he had to stick with his insta-food packages that he nicknamed soylent green because of its green color and limey flavor.

---

That's the first 2 chapters of it so far...like it?

---

But other than that, allI've done was change some Beatles songs into jingles dissing SLB teams.

[Firebird 40]

IDS2: Haha, thats right! I wont post anything to do with my book in here, but, I'll post random bits of stuff such as poems that I've thought of.

Nice bit of s story, btw. It'll be interesting to see whats next.

BlondeTwiggy: I'm interested.

---

Thought of this one just after a fight at PE the other day.

Rain, rain,

Oh drop drop,

falling on,

this strange cop.

Running down,

the wet sidewalk,

chasing this guy,

who thinks hes on top.

Little does the guy know,

the jailhouse's coming,

he trips and falls,

why keep runnin'?

[octaves 4]

Wow!  This was more of a success than I thought!

BlondeTwiggy: I'll be looking forward to it, cheesey or not! 

IDS2: That's awesome!  Very descriptive, interesting and realistic!  I want to hear more now! 

Firebird: Cool...really does capture the moment perfectly, kind of dark almost...

---

Here's mine...it's probably crappy compared to all your guys' stuff...It's the song I was talking about.  I have better songs...yet most of them swear...and some of them are a little too hardcore to share here... Anywho...

"Thursday Two Weeks Ago"

Sometimes it gets so painful

To see what I've become

I guess it's shameful

Fourteen years to a gun

But you're the only one

Who doesn't make me feel like a criminal

A hateful dried up miserable being

Like I already am

(Chorus)

I need you in my life

And I need your arms around me

I wish your love could surround me (now)

Once again like that Thursday two weeks ago

But if there's nothing left

I'll still be here beside you

We'll go on to the end (The end)

And we'll make it back my friend

I can only talk to you

I am only comfortable upside down

In a twisted perfect place I'm here with you

I don't care whatever you do

(Chorus)

Count my angry tarnished scars

From holding it inside

Count the lightly speckled stars

In your perfect eyes

You saved me

You saved me

From killing me

That beauty inside

Saved me

Saved me

Oh I'll always thank you for...

(Chorus)

Once again like that Thursday two weeks ago

[IDS2 3,453]

Firebird: There you are! Haha, very nice. I like your poems.

BradMacD: Hey, that's really good! That's a nice rhyme as well...

---

Anyway, here's chapters 3 and 4: (all i got so far)

CHAPTER 3

---

When he woke up in the morning, Creamte felt refreshed and rearing to go, though he was starting to feel dissatisfied with his hike up the "puny" Mt. Dromedary. He had forgotten all about the huge mountain range behind the skiing area. When it crossed his mind, he wondered why he hadn't thought of it earlier. That's why the skiing area was covered in snow! Of course, it would take some work just getting down the mountain. Creamte decided to hike down Mt. Dromedary to the visitor center, then catch a shuttle to camp.

When he arrived back at camp, he entered his tent. Bob wasn't there. Must be skiing, thought Creamte. He put on his heaviest coat and set out on his excursion to the top of Snockshurm, the tallest mountain in the range behind the skiing area. This was his other favorite hike, though he had only done them both only once before.

The hike was 5 miles long total. Creamte was going to hike half of it today, taking him halfway around the loop-shaped trail. Tomorrow, he would end the hike at a visitor center near the end of the trail, then take another hike east for one mile, where he would meet with Bob. Bob would hike back with him to camp, and Creamte would leave the following day. Bob would then get in his car and drive to the other end of Rigid Camel, where there was another great skiing area that he was anxious to try before he left.

Creamte was now hiking up the one-mile stretch of trail that would take him to where Bob was skiing. When he arrived, Bob was waiting for him near the top of the hill. They proceeded down the trail back to camp. By that time it was 4:00p.m. They realized they didn't have any dinner, so they grabbed their fishing rods and went out into the river on a boat Creamte rented. Bob caught a handsome sunfish, while Creamte caught a nice small pike. They were nearly famished, and they ate nearly everything.

The next morning, Creamte took one last hike around camp before catching a Greyhound home, which was a 2-hour trip. He got home at around noon, took a short nap, then headed over to Quamsota Municipal Golf Course. He didn't play as well when Bob wasn't around, he noticed. after nine holes and a score of 67, he left, only part satisfied. He would be glad to get back to the old grind tomorrow, but he kind of missed hiking in the mountains of Rigid Camel. He would go there again soon, he thought. He and his wife, Nicole, headed over to their favorite restaurant, Hansen's, and ate until they were bursting at the seams.

Meanwhile, Bob was heading out to the other side of Rigid Camel. He saw many sights in just the first few minutes, a mother eagle returning to her nest, a black bear cub playing in the grassy meadows, a winding stream with a few happy fishermen. He was somewhat lonesome without Creamte, but he knew he had been doing his own thing while Creamte was hiking like crazy. He couldn't wait to ski tomorrow.

When he finally reached the welcome sign, it was 7:00p.m., so he decided to stay in the large ski lodge that was just recently built instead of trying to pitch a tent in 20-degree weather and near darkness. As he crawled into bed that night, he smiled. Tomorrow was going to be a great day.

CHAPTER 4

---

When he woke up the next morning, Bob was eager to get started, but all of a sudden, the crazy idea that he thought of one day at work popped into his head. A wide grin spread across his face. I want to do it and I want to do it today, though Bob.

It turns out the crazy idea was pretty crazy after all. He wanted to ski the largest mountain in the country, Kennobosh, which was 20,500 feet tall. He wanted to do it, though, and he wanted to do it soon. He would need help for almost everything, even accessing the mountain, though it was so close he could see it out of his window.

For now, though, he would stick with the smaller hills, for practice. Call it coming to senses or whatever, but he wasn't as good as he thought. His crazy idea was coming closer every second...

---

And that's where I have to cut off. I have to write it farther before I can share more of it.

Enjoy and keep up the good work!

[octaves 4]

Nice!  I really like the realisticness, really isn't one of those fake, never-gonna-happen stories.  Good work!

[BlondeTwiggy 43]

I'll read your story in a second here, ids2

firebird, your poems are always insightful. 

that song sounds nice, brad

I posted this somewhere else, so, sorry if you've seen it before.

Kind of from a personal experience:

The Answer

Heart slams against my ribs,

Prisoner beating for escape;

I'm caught in a suspended time,

Breathless, for an eternal wait.

Feeling each minutiae second

Like a frozen year:

With each arterial pulse,

A hammering in my ears.

After that great gulf of time

(Although few instants' breadth

That felt like an eternity

To any hope that's left),

You move your lips and speak again

To my question long ago:

I asked you if you loved me,. . . .

And you have answered no.

-Twiggy

[octaves 4]

B...buh buhbuh buhhhhhhhh....

That was AWESOME!!!  So...descriptive and artistic!  It's like your mind in writing!  See THATS the way feelings are supposed to come out on paper! 

[IDS2 3,453]

BradMacD: Thanks Iwas trying to keeep it real. It was fun at the same time.

BlondeTwiggy: hehe, ok. Nice poem btw! It's quite inspiring. Rhymes well.

---

It seems writing runs in the family for me. I have a few relatives with published stories. (mind you, if I told you what book and their names you'd be able to find out who they are) but, anyway, hows about a  nice poem to mix things up.

---

My friend made up this song a couple days ago, it's not my writing, but it may make you laugh. let's see!

---

There was a duck

blagaga!

Who stole cheese

blagagaga!

from peoples' houses

blagaga!

without saying please

blagaga!

They'd say no thank you

blalagaga!

don't take our cheese

blagagaga!

he'd head to the kitchen

blagagaa!

and you hear an "oh jeez"

blagagaaga

he'd open the fridge

blagaagaga!

and take the cheese

blagaaga!

he'd fly out the window

blagagaga!

and fly through the trees

blagagagag!

He'd finish the cheese

ballagagg!

and come back to the door

blagagaag!

when they answer the doorbell

balaghaga!

he'd say "can I take some more?"

blagagga!

he'd grab some mroe cheese

balaahahagh!

and fly out the door

blaghagag1

stealing some more cheese

blagagag!

forevermore!

blagagagagagaaaaaaa!!!

---

Once again, not my poem. But I had to share it. Hope you enjoy it.   weirdest poem you'll ever hear. (or song, if you can figure out the beat)

[BlondeTwiggy 43]

Er.... That was interesting!!

nice story btw too.  It takes a lot to write ...

I have yet to finish a good story!! lol, they all just sit in my computer, half-written. 

Which  is probably why I write poetry instead ...

Thanks brad  

[octaves 4]

IDS2: Blahagha!  Lol  That was funny, and actually quite clever! 

BlondeTwiggy: Lol, you're welcome.

---

I think this one means a lot to me.  Its a poem called "While Angels Are Falling Asleep".  I just found it in the depths of my notebook last night.  Its mainly about...angst, depression, and at the end its about suicide.  Very dark I guess.  I remember the night I wrote this, me and my dad had a big fight and nothing was making sense during life then.  I guess you could say it wasn't a fun time of my life.  The poems about a month old, and I still love it.

While Angels Are Falling Asleep

By Brad MacDougall

I'm sitting in the strangest places

Seeing all these stranger's faces

The shadows are dying and I sit here crying

While my angels are falling asleep

I search for answers in hellish abyss

Crawling around but somethings amiss

Try to confide with what lyes inside

While my angels are falling asleep

I'm falling around in my remains

Of happy and laughing but now its just pains

I regret my decision for this last incision

While my angels are falling asleep

I dispose of these things but on the contrary

I realize these things are just primary

Gave all my heed to this desperate need

While my angels are falling asleep

I'm still sitting here, I stop my heart

I've been waiting for this right from the start

Say my prayers and avoid the stares

When my angels are finally asleep

[BlondeTwiggy 43]

Man, I know that feeling!! ... lol

Nice to know I'm not the only one who writes morbidly depressing poetry...

But I feel like all my own work is cliché...  

How do you think outside the box ??

I have another one, but I dont feel like typing it atm, lol.

[octaves 4]

Lol, I don't even know if I think outside the box (Lol!  Box...cough cough avatar) But I also think mines cliché.  But I do it anyway to see how descriptive I can be! 

[daniel01 0]

wow everybody that is really interesting to read

great work guys

you should be proud of yourselves keep up the good work

daniel01

[octaves 4]

Thank you, same goes for me.  BlondeTwiggy and IDS2 should be proud!!

[octaves 4]

*Cough*  I was just looking through my notebook and found this tiny little boring one called Disconnection.

Take a glance in the mirror

Can't you see it?

Blood takes the form of a tear

Can't you feel it?

Can't you see

That you're dying inside

And you're crying inside

You will see some day

Can't you see

That you're dying inside

And you're crying inside

You will see some day

You're worth my love <3

---

Here's another one...kind of personal but I'm pretty open right now...so yeah.  It swears...I'll just put a *bleep* where it says the eff word...are we allowed to say bell with an h here?    It's a song called Nostalgia.  This one goes out to my dad... Wait that smiley shouldn't be smiling... There we go!

You're like my suicide note

Complete but never written

You're like my angry pen, yeah

Worn out and over bitten

Get out of my freaking life now

Or I'll get you out myself

It's not right when you're around, oh

Wonder you haven't made me kill myself

(Chorus)

I have so much to say

Completely gone, forgotten

You never listen anyway

I never saw this coming at all

I stay in bed all day now

Waiting for you to come in

Waiting to get screamed at

Waiting to die a little

(Chorus)

Did you ever wonder

What the 'bell' goes on

Inside of my heart

Inside of my mind

Did you ever *bleep*ing wonder

What the 'bell' goes on

Inside of my life

Inside of my knife

Who knows how much blood is gone

Who knows how much love is lost

You don't know how much blood is gone

You don't know about me at all

Suffocate me again

Kill me inside

All because of you again

I'm dead inside

Say you're sorry

Or scream at me again

Or scream at me again

Or scream at me

(Chorus)

Never saw it coming at all

But you never listen at all

But you don't care at all

At all

You're like my suicide note

Complete but never written

But never written

But you never listened anyway

[ACEfanatic 7]

Ok, I'll bite:

Poetry first...

Again

Another day to make it through

And once more my thoughts turn to you

Never again will I feel that pull

Without feeling the idiotic fool

Closing the door is so hard

When that door is locked and barred

It must be done, that I know

But still I hate that it must be so

And so I delay it yet again

Hoping that we can be more than friends

Throwing away yet another day

So that we may grasp this fray

Such a hopeless endeavor

But this line I cannot sever

Without freshly tearing my heart

As part of this masochistic art

It's not fair to you or to me

This won't set either of us free

So why do I continue this charade

When it pains me at the end of the day?

-------

Abandon

sunbeams seep through the curtain

invading my blissful darkness

empty space surrounds me

illusion curtailed by light

before me stands a locked door

behind it rests the key

waiting for my keeper to enter

and gnawing at my flesh

saturating myself with pain

immunizing death

-------

Untitled (Mirror)

i saw you in my mirror

waitin' on some lonely day

to come wash your tears away

but they're here to stay

i saw you in that mirror

wastin' your life away

driftin' from day to day

now that it's gone away

i saw myself in this mirror

hopin' for some better days

wishin' i was so far away

'cause you're not here to stay

-------

Untitled II

rain splatters the window

shrouding your face

oblivious to your worries

the world ups its pace

caught up in the day to day

sometimes i forget

what you really meant to me

back when we first met

'cause water's streaming down

erasing memories in your name

shielding me from our past

guess it'll never feel the same

lost in a color photograph

sometimes i believe it's true

that we're standing side by side

and i can feel for you

-------

(Moral of all the above:  Love sucks.)

And one piece of flash fiction, inspired by a song:

LAST TRAIN HOME

Two hours past midnight, the station was silent, save the distant hum of surface traffic and the muffled voices of maintenance crews. I sat on the platform, legs dangling over the rails, staring down the mouth of the tunnel--pitch black like the barrel of a gun. Every now and again, I thought I saw some flicker of light in the blackness, but it was nothing but my imagination. The last train home was two hours gone. And so was she.

I'd never been one to pay much attention to love, having had no experience with it. At least until I met her, in the cozy little bar not thirty feet above my head. Introduced by a friend, something clicked. Sparks flew, worlds moved. And I fell, hard. But it wasn't to be.

When she'd left, I followed her here. "Why?" I asked her. "We were perfect."

"Yes, we were." She agreed. "Too perfect."

"Don't you believe in love?"

She shook her head sadly as the door closed between us. The rails squealed, and the last train home rolled out of the station.

-------

(The song in question being Lostprophets - Last Train Home.)

"Again" was just published in the latest Creative Communications Anthology.

More can be found on my site, the pigeonhole, including excerpts from my novel-in-progress, Cer

[octaves 4]

WOW!!!!  That was so emotional and well-spoken!!  Good job! 

EDIT: My 500th post!

[BlondeTwiggy 43]

wow great poetry guys!

I really liked , Nostalgia, Brad.

and the short story was great ace.

[octaves 4]

Thanks. 

[BlondeTwiggy 43]

no prob.(Does the 2 post rule apply here?)  To me it wasn't cliché at all.  and really stuck in my head... not the tune obviously cos i never heard it lol but the message.... That's what i'm always striving for in my own poetry. 

Here is the epitome of clichéness, however... (please refrain from tomato throwing until poem is completely read )

Confessions

A stab wound to the heart would have suited me better.

To be betrayed by the one for whom I set myself apart--

While I sacrified all other hope in mankind alone--

Is unbearable for my apathetic, scar-hardened heart. 

I speak to say this: thrice I have been left, alone,

Forgotten, for another, perhaps more worthy than I.

And although my soul with each day grows colder,

It sheds not a tear nor dares utter its cry. 

A vacuum called solitude has smothered my prayer. 

Confessions I pen in this silent despair:

While before, when I erred, my mistakes then I knew;

But I never realized how tortured I'd be without you. 

-Twiggy

[octaves 4]

Dude, thats awesome!  The descriptions are amazing and it really lets the message out and is also very artistic. 

Edit: No, the two post rule doesn't apply, because its a criticizing thread.  Feel free to post as many poems as you want!

[Craig-Abcvs 1,595]

Originally posted by: Brad-MacD

---

I think this one means a lot to me.  Its a poem called "While Angels Are Falling Asleep".  I just found it in the depths of my notebook last night.  Its mainly about...angst, depression, and at the end its about suicide.  Very dark I guess.  I remember the night I wrote this, me and my dad had a big fight and nothing was making sense during life then.  I guess you could say it wasn't a fun time of my life.  The poems about a month old, and I still love it.

While Angels Are Falling Asleep

By Brad 

I'm sitting in the strangest places

Seeing all these stranger's faces

The shadows are dying and I sit here crying

While my angels are falling asleep

I search for answers in hellish abyss

Crawling around but somethings amiss

Try to confide with what lyes inside

While my angels are falling asleep

I'm falling around in my remains

Of happy and laughing but now its just pains

I regret my decision for this last incision

While my angels are falling asleep

I dispose of these things but on the contrary

I realize these things are just primary

Gave all my heed to this desperate need

While my angels are falling asleep

I'm still sitting here, I stop my heart

I've been waiting for this right from the start

Say my prayers and avoid the stares

When my angels are finally asleep

quote>

 

This is what I read out at the service for my 17 year old nephew Paul after he committed suicide.  Thanks for reading. There is always an alternative, there is always someone who is willing to listen. Send me a PM or email (in my profile) - I will listen.

Paul’s Service 24 February 2001 - Craig’s thoughts

 

I’ve been thinking – a lot. I have spent the last three weeks as we all have, trying to come to terms with the death and the loss of Paul. There have been many words said and there has been much information to process and understand. I, along with everyone else have been grieving – which is a process we all must undertake. In watching family and friends grieve, I have come to the conclusion and belief that we are all wanting to answer the big question, – why? Why did Paul die?

 

I am not going to pretend that I can answer this question today or even tomorrow, for this question, can’t even begun to be answered, until we come to terms with some things that we all need to accept and understand.   I could talk today, about the Paul we knew and loved, but today I have chosen the tougher option, that is to talk about, the Paul we didn’t know. Only then can we begin to understand a little of Paul’s reality – as hard as that might be and therefore begin to answer the big question – why?

 

Firstly we need to accept that there were two Paul’s – the Paul we knew and loved and the Paul that we didn’t know – that is the hidden Paul. In fact, in some respects Paul had become a stranger to us. This is difficult for us to reconcile. It is difficult for both friends and family alike. But reconcile we must.

 

In the last three weeks I have spent a lot of time trying to catch a glimpse of the hidden Paul, that is the Paul we never knew. This has not been an easy task.

 

To help with this, I have been listening to some of Paul’s music, some of which we will hear today. The music expresses some of the words and feelings, that Paul was not able to express for himself. It is true that some of the lyrics of some of the songs make tough reading. But by listening to Paul’s music, which I believe he identified strongly with, I have heard the cry of his heart. I have begun to understand some of the hurt, anger, loneliness, inner turmoil and struggles, and also ultimately the feelings of deep, deep despair, that led to the tragic decision of Paul to end his life.  

 

These are hard words for us to hear and harder still for us to accept, but hear and accept them we must, for to do anything else would mean failing to try and understand the big question – why? 

 

Some of us may feel that we failed Paul, but we will only really fail him if we refuse to try and understand those inner feelings that were very much reality to Paul. Regardless of whether they were right or wrong, fair or unfair, founded or unfounded.   If we do try and begin to understand some of these feelings, then Paul’s life and his death will not be in vain and we can begin to answer that big question – why?

 

How can we do this? Where do we start? What do we need to do? Paul is gone and sadly we can not bring him back, but we can look after the people left behind. 

 

We need to love and respect one another.   We need to listen to each other more – even if we don’t like what the other person has to say. We need to allow others to freely express their feelings, both positive and negative and most importantly, for them to feel safe in doing so. This means not being quick to judge, blame or offer an opinion or a quick fix. We need to acknowledge both our own feelings the feelings of others.

 

We need to ask for help when we need it. We need to give help when it is needed. We need to offer comfort to those who need it and receive it when offered.

 

Finally I would like to say this.

(And this applies to me just as much as everyone else.)

 

Parents – Listen to your children. Talk with (not to but with) your children.

Build some bridges. Break down some walls.

Learn to say “I’m sorry”.

Young people – listen to your parents. Talk with (not to but with) your parents.  

Build some bridges. Break down some walls.

Learn to say “I’m sorry”.

 

Love one another. You can never love or care too much. 

This poem was written by a friend of mine:

Two Sons

 

It was a hot, sunny day, one February just gone,

I remember a cloudless sky

And a church filled with people, most unknown to me,

Hearts heavy, minds asking why.

 

Gathered to remember a much-loved son,

I sat, tightly holding my own,

Looking at children I knew from the past,

Marveling at how much they had grown.

 

I still don’t know the answer to the question we asked.

Perhaps I never will!

But each passing day I know more of the loss,

As my life, by my own son, is filled.

 

I remember looking closely at a photograph there,

A father’s son swept from under his wings.

Leaving behind a man still in need

Of the joy in his life this child brings.

 

This father would take his son’s storms for his own.

Take his sorrow and heartache too.

He would offer his own life that the child may live.

There is nothing he would not do.

 

Our Heavenly Father has known such loss,

As his Son bled and died on a cross.

Put to death by the very ones he would save,

The greatest gift was born from this loss.

 

As I look back and remember that February day,

Now my own son begins to grow tall.

I remember two sons that lived lifetimes apart,

Jesus Christ – and a young boy named Paul.

 

Chris – February 2001

Paul  

26th August, 1983 - 2nd February, 2001.

Paul died in Queensland, Australia, but most of his extended family live in New Zealand.  The photo was taken at the airport, just before he left.

[BlondeTwiggy 43]

That is so true, Craig, well said.

the poem is very touching as well!!

[octaves 4]

Oh my gosh.  That post made me cry!!!  That speech was touching, heartwrenching, and made me feel like I was almost a relative sitting in the pews.  My sincere and sadly belated condolences, abcvs.  Grieving over suicide is not easy at all...My friend's uncle jumped off the Princess Margaret Bridge in Fredericton, NB and (somehow) survived, but yet, he cannot speak, hear, move, feel, he is mentally disabled.  Now, that gave a lot of thought to me.  "Would it even be worth doing that, not even knowing if I would even die?  What if I just ended up like Jess' uncle!  What if I got stuck in an endless coma, only still dreaming of what could have been, what I could have accomplished...what I could have lived for.  Open your eyes, and live, people. 

I was going to share another poem here, yet I don't think it fits the moment...

Abcvs: That poem was awesome.  Tell your friend it was amazing and touching. 

[Craig-Abcvs 1,595]

A little peek at my serious side.... 

Aside: have you noticed that the new Google ads at the top are related to the thread topic?  Should click on a couple to help Dirk pay the bills.

[octaves 4]

I was going through my WMP playlist just now and remembered this song.  NOTHING TO LOSE by BILLY TALENT.  It's one of the best written songs in the world in my opinion.  I seriously thought it was written about me back when I first got it in February 2005.  Ever since then it's been my crying song and one of my favourite songs.  Come to think of it, I sang this with my band at Albert's Got Talent!  (A talent show at my school, Albert Middle)  The video packs a punch, too.  It's so relatable...I think this might be a little like Pauls music, no?

"Nothing To Lose"

By Benjamin Kowalewicz; Lead singer of Billy Talent

Need more friends with wings

All the angels I know

Put concrete in my veins

I’d always walk home alone

So I became lifeless

Just like my telephone

There’s nothing to lose

When no one knows your name

There’s nothing to gain

But the days don’t seem to change

Never played truth or dare

I’d have to check my mirror

To see if I’m still here

My parents had no clue

That I ate all my lunches

Alone in the bathroom

There’s nothing to lose

When no one knows your name

There’s nothing to gain

But the days don’t seem to change

There’s nothing to lose

My notebook will explain

There’s nothing to gain

And I can’t fight the pain

Teachers said "it's just a phase"

When I grow up my children

Will probably do the same

Kids just love to tease

Who'd know it put me underground at seventeen

There’s nothing to lose

When no one knows your name

There’s nothing to gain

But the days don’t seem to change

There’s nothing to lose

My notebook will explain

There’s nothing to gain

And I can’t fight the pain

There’s nothing to lose

When no one knows your name

There’s nothing to gain

But the days don’t seem to change

There’s nothing to lose

My notebook will explain

There’s nothing to lose

When no one knows your name

There’s nothing to gain

And I just died today

---

Screw it, I'll post that poem I was talking about.  It's about a relapse in many ways...I don't even know why I'm sharing it, the subject is a little private, yet I love how the poem turned out.  Come to think of it, it's called "Relapse".  And it's not ALL about drugs, a little bit of some things I'd rather not want everyone on the internet to know.

"Relapse"

By Brad MacD

This hallucination has woken me

From the highs and lows

This drug is taunting me

Into darkness I'll transpose

As I am centered in my place

I am so unable to move

Feel the red eyes on my face

And the haters won't remove

So shuddering the rain is blowing

And the lines are spilling out

It's getting colder and now it's snowing

And to release I scream and shout

When the lights denounce me

I go completely insane

And the video shows just what I see

The birds flying cannot contain

A drink of water, a bar of soap

They know they aren't making easiness

And the know they aren't helping me cope

And all I know is this queaziness

And I submit to it again

The uncoordination sets in

It makes me scratch off my skin in pen

And this relapse lives again

Peace out - Brad

[BlondeTwiggy 43]

nice poems. the song.. Yeah, thats like the story of (most?) teenage lives. except for everyone I know... Who all appear to be normal. figures. lol

I can't really think of a poem to share..theyre not really as good as you guys lol. so its fun reading

[IDS2 3,453]

Heh, haven't been here in a while. I recently wrote a poem :

(it's corny but I was forced to write it)

Sky

Open sky, so purely blue,

From backcountry dirt road view.

Looking out so thoughtfully,

Passing the occasional tree.

Speckled sky of gray and white

Could indicate a stormy night.

Wind slowly blowing clouds all around,

Thermals rising from the ground.

Of course the greatest wonder of all

Has to be the blue sky so tall.

I've noticed I don't write as well, and this may go for everyone, when I'm being forced to write. Only when I do it at free will does it truly flow. It seems you all have mastered that.

And, of course, we've had a drought recently, so I made this up in about 3 minutes (literally, just now)

Monsoon typhoon

water flowing like a flume

but not today, sad to say,

scarcely comes a rainy day.

And so the blue is not so true

the splash of the non-sticky goo

which isn't goo, but rather gloss,

not that you could use it for floss.

No, this substance is a differnt kind,

the one that helps us control our minds,

For millions of years it's kept us alive;

from watering gardens to containing a beehive.

Tidal waves and hurricanes,

watering evything from lettuce to sugarcane,

keeping us alive in times of pain,

splattering on a windowpane,

An afternoon, a rainy day,

Makes you quite convinced to stay

in security of day,

on the couch, where we all pray,

For rain to come soon, but if not,

we may have to grow plants with what we've got,

Soon may come a rainy day,

where plants will grow and we will stay.

Enjoy everyone and keep up the good writing! I find music very inspiring a lot of times. Try it! We're songwriters too after all.

Brad, great songs...great rhyming...great feeling! Excellent. And Twiggy, you have some great work there. Very easy to connect to the plot. Feelings are very extruded and colorful. Ace, that work really brings out feeling! That's good! very good! And abcvs: oh my...that's...touching. That's all i can say. Fantastic work!

Good luck everyone! Keep up the great work. Looking forward to more!