smallscale_mind_games

I saw once a rainstorm

wild in its glory

like poetry in free-form

such a different story

A roaring path

pounds through the air

A kind of wrath

unclouded there

A writhing horror

proud and strong

a rainstorms fury

is like a song

It's pretty crappy...just a first draft, but I HAD to write something. I love thunderstorms so much. I had trouble putting it into words. ANy advice? Oh please let the electricity stay on...

gonna run outside and watch now

Just for amusement, let us compare our clumsiness. Now I'm sure some of you are quite surefooted, but I am probably the most graceless thing you'll ever meet.

I tend to knock things over-breakable things, and things filled with liquid

I trip over my own feet a LOT

I've sprained my ankle three times and twisted it about seven-to-nine times. I have weak ankles now. <_<

I run into doors...

or get stuck in doors-hey is it my fault that my flute case has so many darned straps?!

Just now I tripped over a chair, and I think I sprained my elbow!

Can you even compare? Share your klutziness with us...I want to know that I'm not the only one

*rubs elbow*

*cackles* oh but Sam, the south WILL rise again! As will the USSR! *is dressed all in red for the nonexistant 'communist appreciation month'* So anyway, lovely story, I have very little doubt that you will be accepted! ^^

The book is called "You Are Special", I believe. My dad got it for my little sis. It's such a cute book.

@Jareena: You could have totally screwed this up. You didn't. Good job.

HEE! *explodes with laughter*

Explains kangaroos, the sky, and why cocroaches are so angry! ALL AT THE SAME TIME! WOO!

"Yasuo?"

A young voice called from the direction of the bushes.

"There's a small cat talking at you. Hey kitty, hey there, you wanna cookie?"

A five-year old fox-girl stepped lightly from behind the hedge, offering a slightly dusty oatmeal cookie.

"I dropped it, but it should still be good..."

Because we CAN. Duuhhhhh.

Lol, j/k, I have no idea.

"Ehhh...sorry about going through your brother. How was I to know that I was going to become suddenly intangible?"

He shuddered nervously, eyes haunted.

"Did my head explode while I was out?"

Mordekai whispered weakly, slowly regaining consciousness about five minutes after Cole and Malakye had disappeared into the distance. His head was pounding as if someone had hit him repeatedly with a meat cleaver.

-He bit his lip-

"You'll watch Mordekai, then?"

-He said, looking a bit insecure. Without waiting for an answer, he took Malakye by the arm, supported him, and began to walk.-

nnn...*basking in the awesomeness* I'm not even gonna try to figure out what it means...I will unquestioningly read and re-read.

I like commenting on people's stuff...can you tell?

I wasn't trying to imply that you're ancient! But I feel so dreadfully immature! I mean, I'm over here talking to people online, and you're-oh wait, you're doing that too. Nevermind...but still, I feel pointless and juvenile!

(ya think it might be 'cause I AM a pointless juvenile?)

Yowch! Stinging irony! Very well done.

I feel so juvenile in comparison, being forcefully reminded of how much younger I am than many of you Pen-children.

"My name is not 'dude bleeding from the nose' "

He muttered faintly

"It's Mordekai. If my map is correct, there is a village about ten minutes up the road. There should be a healer there."

With that solemn declaration, he promptly fainted dead away on the ground. Cole furrowed his brows and growled.

"I'm not carrying all three of you."

"ummmmm..."

The twins intoned simultaneously. Mordekai huddled into a tight ball-nose STILL bleeding profusely. The blood-loss finally seemed to be getting to him, as he couldn't bring anything into focus for more than a moment or two.

((Yesh, FREAKY it's true! Hold a sec...*crosses eyes* Do YOU have my Burning Brides CD?))

Neat! Like I said, I love it! *tosses candy*

Shameless Plug: Join my poetry competition!

((OOC: here you see the overall disturbing result of my muse hitting me like a ton of bricks...I HATE THIS MOUSE!))

*Merry rushes about, taking things out of her truck, which she acquired from NOWHERE in particular, building what looks like the set of a game show. After ten minutes of frantic activity, the set is done, complete with a bunch of podiums, chairs for a huge audience, and many many interesting prizes. This done, she jumps onto a podium and shouts into the mic, bizarre soundwaves of spooky telepathy broadcasting all over the society of the Pen.*

"PEOPLE OF EARTH! Or people of terra, whichever you prefer, I would like to propose a proposition. We shall have a POEM-OFF! Basically, someone, anyone, no one cares who, starts by writing a poem about WHATEVER THEY WANT! Then anyone else who feels like joining in, responds somehow, either by agreeing and augmenting the opinion or theme of the poem, by arguing with the opinion or theme of the poem, or even by continuing the poem! I think 'twil be fun.

REMEMBER: Peredhil will agree here: Be polite. No out-of-verse put downs, example: "your poem sucks!" you hear me? none of that. I don't want to be hated because I instigated some hideous flaming battle on the Mighty Pen.

I haven't yet decided how to determine winners and non-winners (no losers here), so I guess if you really like someone's poem, PM them with a "prize" or something. For instance: "Your response to so-and-so's poem really rocked my socks! Have a magical pat of butter that allows you to fly!"

Nothing too serious going on as far as winning and prizes, just have fun with it *shrug*

*leaps off the podium* LET THE (polite) BLOODBATH BEGIN!!!

advice: Some of the rhythims seem to falter a bit.

ego-booster: *big sparkly entranced eyes* wooooow...I love it. It has such an innocent feel to it.

I use a bic roller-ball gel pen-the big chunky kind. It works spasmodically, but I love it.

I hate any papermate pens, because of a traumatic experience in the eigth grade.

I like mechanical pencils in 0.7 or 0.5

I hate markers and mostly avoid them like the plague.

That's all!

Faaaaasssccciiiinnnaaaaattttiiiiing.

LoL, ignore my hyper-ness, that's just me. It's a great story, though it seems to wander in circles a bit. Still I liked it much, though I would like to hear more, have more details, etc, etc, CHEESE!

Strangely, Cole's mouth twitched in a sort of half-smile, despite the dire situation and his own discomfort. The leaking water pipe that Mordekai had rescued Jareena from wasn't the only one...

Mordekai looked at the ceiling over the Shadow Servan's head, and muttered

"Five...four...three...two...one."

At that exact moment, three powerful streams of boiling water hissed directly into the Shadow's face. Both the twins decided that it would be good to attack in the momentary confusion, but were unsure how to go about it. Mordekai swung his flute, to clout Kisama in the back of the head, and Cole leapt with his steak-knife, stabbing in what he hoped was the general area of the chest, though it was a bit hard to tell with all the steam...

Angst Flakes-You can just SMEEEEELL the misery!

Theme song: Dancing Through Sunday

YEESH I'M SO HYPER!! NYEEEEEEEK!!!

I should probably listen to "This Time Imperfect" a few (hundred) times to calm meself down. BUT O WELL!

*glomps everyone within shouting distance*

"Weapons?"

Cole inquires blankly, his brain brought to a temporary stop by the ugly buzzing he hears in the back of his head. A moment later it switches back on, and he rushes off somewhere, returning with an assortment of kitchen knives.

"Sorry, best I could do."

He pants, bracing himself against the table. This mental 'noise' is obviously getting to him.

Mordekai remains as calm as ever, despite having noticed both Calondiriel's slight gasp of pain, the elf's odd behavior, AND the horrid thrumming. He stashes the giant harp in a closet, and in its place holds a small silver flute, not looking in the least prepared for violence. This done, he offers a cup of tea to his distinctly ill-looking twin, who accepts it gratefully. The brothers' motto seems to be 'when in doubt, drink tea.'

Merry sneaks in the back, just in time to hear Proffessor B's lecture, and claps loudly at the end, feigning rapt attention. She hastily signs up for the next lesson.

I likees!