dispair
i shrink away
and hold my hair
breathe in the day.
remorse
I take a step
guilt clouds my course
I’ve nowhere to stay.
The hurt I caused
I feel myself
I put away my feelings
far onto a shelf.
Forgive my sinful nature
I do not mean to be
I wish for cotton and raibows
for streams and shouts of glee
now i am breathing regret
nothing they can do
can make me less upset
for all i want is you
dispair
i shrink away
and hold my hair
breathe in the day.
Mental is this, i am playing neopets, and reading books to my pet. I remember when they were everso cheap, tut.
This is my first snow day, yayness! It snowed yesterday four six hours! 144 schools are closed in my county, all the buses are frozen to the depot.
Just to clarify, I m a nice person underneath the scareyness. I think. I am not insane at all, but outsane.
Ok so im 15. I am a dork, honesty i am self confessed and a metalhead freak so dont touch my system of a down or H.I.M stuff. I dont care because i love me, yes i will say it, LOUD.
Im from the east of england, we just had the first snow of the year down here at three in the morning and it just started up again now all blizzard like.
I may possibly be snowed in. gulp
What a long strange trip its been to Candy Land
Preface
Does anybody even recall her? Whatever became of that fake-breasted faux-blonde perky pop princess? You must know the one I mean. She had that permanently-and not to mention annoyingly gorgeous-bare midriff. Her songs always were on the radio staying in your head all day; driving you insane. Im going to have to call her ‘Candy’ I wouldn’t want to offend her adoring masses-that were, anyway-as far as I hear she had a nervous break down or something similar. Hasn’t she been in rehab in Palm Springs ever since?
‘Scandal’, as Oscar Wilde once said ‘is gossip made tedious by morality’. This may be the case here but still, I heard she adored it so much in her lapses of dementia that she is planning on buying ranch right next door, doing it up in luxurious pinks and potpourri-calling it ‘candyland’. If we are lucky, she may just stay there and not come out. We can only hope that she will merely burst free in her late sixties to produce over-rated cabaret shows, just to prove she can still lip sync with the best of them, despite her obviously advanced age and drug-addled mind.
This is her story, the drugs, the scandals and the staging illusions that made her career first fly, and then die, into a withered and unremarkable obscurity.
Every artist has their trademark, a brand that would remain upon then throughout their lives. I shall give an example of a certain limber footed monkey owner, sporting one rhinestone glove. It is always something that will stick in the impressionable and slurred minds of middle society; however sickly pretentious or annoying. it was an image that stayed throughout those long days at the office, calculus classes or whatever.
For Candy it was her pigtails; two light blonde masses of jiggling extended hair. They were exactly the same size, at exactly the same place on either side of her perfectly shaped head. It was that hairstyle that ten year olds copied, forty year olds envied and all men drooled over. It is now that hairstyle, that now, nobody can quite remember, but nobody seems to have forgotten.
There was a time when she would appeal to all kinds of perky and up-beat beings, of course now she is only attractive to those who are fans of train-wrecks and reality television. Candy has now become a parody in her own right, a weird combination of both those things. In short a disaster on two toned tanned legs. Her supportive, and yet appalled family have made numerous television appearances within the last five years, shamelessly promoting and defending the barefaced star. It was a time when her career was coasting comfortably on the back of a fad, an explosion of pigtails across the world that brought back those preppy jingles.
It was a turn of fortunes that ensured-even after a full year of a recovery from a crashing end to the slippery slope that was her career-she made enough money to see her through the darker years; more of that later. Lets begin at the beginning
Her existence was clich from the very start. Candys proud and hollow cheeked parents had proudly boasted the she could dance before she could walk and so forth. This inevitably wound up to be a fictitious non-truth as the PR teams often called them; lie was such an ugly word. The last thing you want to do in this business is lie your ass off, its just not good ethics which is a ridiculous thing to say to a business full of phoneys and tragedies waiting to happen.
She had an impressive flair for the arts-well the art of prancing around provocatively and devoid of any clothes-it was a special knack for dancing, which was claimed to have been a natural talent. This was another one of those conjured-up sentiments made to impress any agents she may have crossed paths with before her breakthrough to the charts. They wrote that she was co-ordinated and flexible; with that flair beyond compare as the tabloids branded her. That was how she was known. She was said to have a had an amazing rhythm and innate gift. The years of lessons and blisters said different. Shoved into the limelight with a forceful arm, she bore the brunt of the ashamed family at an early age.
The once well identified clan had faded into a lesser known dimness. Packaged with the has-beens and wudda-beens. They desperately grappled for a flake of recognition. Candy was the key, her supple and shapely body was the prototype for a craze, and so began the climb of Candy. Fans had already thronged to the unknown teen, who they had named as being their teeny-bobber legend to-be. She bounced around on well decorated studio floors, stadiums and stages, as gyrating pre-teens sang along religiously. Candy smiled, her pink attire hanging slackly from her sculpted calves.
She smiles, although to each one of them. It is one of those smiles that just says ‘you can’t stop looking at me can you?’. The kind of smiles that supermodels might have, or that some regular person might stand in front of the bathroom mirror-looking like an idiot-trying to imitate. She always smiled like that naturally. Candy wondered hopefully, whilst miming along to the prompter straight ahead of her. Her mouth moves convincingly to the shape of each of the words, with the flock that had surrounded her, craning their necks in awe, and desperation.
At this point ‘Candy’ had captured the conscious minds of most of Europe and North America, slanderous coverage from the press was at a minimum and publicity was at a high that could only have been dreamed of. In any case, Candy was becoming a rapidly developing success, from then on appearing on almost every prime time and entertainment programme available. She sold out venues full of precocious and admiring infants, and she took a limo to the bathroom. Told what to say and do in every instance, Candy was a well-oiled, engineered actress-playing well and up-keeping the part of a squeaky clean singer.
Two years later and on the back of two successful albums Candy was considering promoting a new and raunchier look. Her innocent image had sold well, but the market is now changing and her executives had the feeling that a new image would freshen the outlook upon her. They think it will give her a whole new target audience.
[Translation: The kids are bored with you, bare as much skin as daytime television will permit and hope that this time lonely old men will fork out for the next record you sell]. That is the point at which the well devised plan for her domination of the music industry began to unravel. As the content of her music became more than ever so slightly controversial, the window for criticism widened.
vantiy and sanity
have become so intertwined
if i dont remain perfect
i am bound to loose my mind
cruelty and beauty
are now almost the same
striving for attraction
is such a sickening game
silent night
quiet night
finding my way
the stars are bright
heavens lamps sparkle
to brighten my walk
heads cast up
nobody dares talk
hushed in the beauty of night
nobody fueds or fights
together at last
we forget our past
peace on eath came from the sky
have we not a reason why
not a clue or information
oh so grand is god’s creation.
To end all malice on land or on sea
doesn’t miss one person, not you or me
please remember this night
daunting but resinating light.
Crucifixion: An innocent conviction.
The colours on the cherry sky;
Are those of my Mind
Reflecting the wandering of
A torn Heart.
A dawning of death
And the beginning of an end.
I prepare for a fate
But will return
And with these marks upon me
But a few do mourn
For the loss of a criminal
The nails and thorns that bind me
Only restrain, can never change
The structure of my person
I can feel weakening.
This mortal human I’ve become
Crimson blossoms seep through my
Poorly drawn facade
The stigmata clear upon my palms
Crucified for my beliefs
Strung upon a cross
But once I was everywhere
And watched my world expand
The beings I created
So quick to throw their stones
Sent here with love to lead them
Only cast away and scorn.
Gyrating masses jeer.
I am their sculptor, but they are blind.
Fruit of the earth, they are all designed from inside me.
They blame me now
For a false preaching
For defying their god
The same god that I share
The very god that I am
I have no need for mercy
Now my journey is complete
And for this I shall forgive them
They are my family
My naive children.
The shadow of my soul,
Dissolves as the sun slips from the day.
Now I am an empty shell,
But I am filled with just one thing
My own sanity.
I am weak.
When I next see their faces
They will understand
That no longer am I guilty
Nor am I a man.
When I see them repent
For this crime they undertook
They will not be hanging here
For this injustice against me
I will not condemn as they have done.
I shall open up my arms to them
And they shall do the same
Everyone shall be free from guilt
Free from fault or burden.
Absolved from grief, they can recover.
We killed our father
Weep they who now wail regret.
Had they not a reason why?
This plan once was justice,
Now all it brings is fear.
They lost him to suspicion
And will find him through forgiveness
Have faith for he has not disowned us
We shall find him
When we too leave our lives.
In a place, somewhere much better
Where scars and wounds can heal.
Gates will open
And angels will sing.
The people will follow him once more
Follow Christ into eternity.
Shame of jurisdiction, with its iron fist.
Suddenly the world removes itself from me
I return to the land from which I was sent.
While my shell is placed in a tomb
My mind is with God.
the rain
a chance to run and jump and play
children dash then splash
then they stray
or is it perhaps a thing to be feared
as those dim grey clouds draw near
the homeless have no protection
from our harsh atmosphere.
finally the rain can be
a time of happiness and glee
for that small and beautiful flower
the rain has an amazing power…
to quench that thirst, in one big burst!