“Broken One.”

 

I’m about so go somewhere and I was just playing around on my uke and put this together. So yeh.

“Do you remember the days? 

“Of the girl with straight across bangs?”

“Used to dance in the garden, with the fairies”

“With that six year old grace.”

“Do you remember the days?”

“Where she used to dance around?”

“Having no care in the world,”

“What others were talking about.”

—–

“Now she hears her name,”

“Flitting around the room, like a butterfly,”

“A little shard was ripped away,”

“From those nonchalant times.”

——

“Now she’s a broken one.”

“Now she’s a broken one.”

“A little youth is faint,”

“She’s now a broken one.”

“I’m a broken one.”

“I’m a broken one.”

“If only she could see who she became,”

“We’re both the broken ones.”

____

“With just one face,”

“And a little space to break,”

“To take up,”

“To mess up a brain.”

“Is a recipe for a storm,”

“Little girl never saw before,”

“Someone missed the enough,”

“And the unmeasured wrath hit the core.” 

___

“Now she’s a broken one.”

“Now she’s a broken one.”

“A little youth is faint,”

“She’s now a broken one.”

“I’m a broken one.”

“I’m a broken one.”

“If only she could see who she became,”

“We’re both the broken ones.”

___

“Help her,”

“I whisper,”

“But my mind’s overtaken with little dreams,”

“So sweet,”

“That turned bitterly,”

“The together one who used to be me.”

___

“Now she’s a broken one.”

“Now she’s a broken one.”

“If I could tell the mirrors, not to crack,”

“I may not be a broken one.”

“But i’m still a broken one.”

“I’m still a broken one.”

“Takes me back, to fairyland,”

“Of the together one who used to stand.”

“Look at us, the broken ones.”

____

I write deep stuff.

I wrote more than half the song right here.

There you go.

-V

Heavy Eyelids 

Another song I made. Sorry you can’t hear the way it’s supposed to be sung by reading it, but we hope to record some of these songs as soon as we can.

You’d think after all these years
Of practicing every night
I’d be little bit better
At getting to sleep

My eyes droop down
Then flick back up
As my brains gears
Twist and turn

My mind begins to drown
In darkness
But then a thought
Rouses me back to life

Why do you give me this strife
I just wanna sleep
Staying awake in the night
Just makes me want to weep
I just want no more light
No more bright to seep innnnn
I just want to fall into a deep sleep
Before the morning sun begins to creep
Over me.

Right as I begin to lose my grasp
On consciousness I’m hit with a flash
I reawaken with a gasp
And my sleep fizzles like fresh ash
The fire in my brain
That is being awake
Reignites itself miserably
Fighting against the sleepy rain
And I’m right back where I lain before
I got to sleep

Staring up at the ceiling
Wondering why my eyes gravitate up
My ears are hit with an indistinct wailing
It’s me, my minds meak rhymes are leaking
Sound pollution into the air around us
To everyone else it’s no big fuss
But to me, it’s all I hear
The sounds of my sleepless melodies
Echo around the empty chamber of my mind
Sleep winks at me, but it’s just a tease
As the sounds bellow in my skull
I wanna know what kind
What kind of person hears that
My eyes start to feel a bit dull

Why do you give me this strife
I just wanna rest
Staying awake isn’t right
sadly the sleep was a jest
Yet with all of my might
All my fight I can’t close my eyes

And the morning sun is up
Against my face is its gleam
And then I realize
I did sleep
This was all just a bad dream

Ahahahahahhahahahahahahhahahaha

If you got down here, tell me which one you liked better, this or Hi-Fi in the comments.

Thanks for reading all the way to the bottom :3

Baiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 

Sonnet and serious stuff LAY #2

And by serious stuff I mean chocolate

Hi I’m Jamesblonde123, a horribly inactive author who still posts more than Maz.

Welcome back to life and you, where I talk about my life and talk to you!

*This is a really long post.*

Today I will be talking about one of the best things on earth. Chocolate.

So much sad stuff is in the news lately. Donald Trump, the tragic passing of Andy Marte, Donald Trump…

So I thought I’d lighten up the mood and talk about (among other things) chocolate.

*Originally I was going to make this episode a comparison about price for quantity of chocolate but realized I don’t have the budget to buy chocolate*

But because I want to keep you reading, you have to wait until the end of the post.

Or scroll down I guess… *face palm*

So first I want to bring up a little UPDATE/SELF PROMO for my new podcast with my brother (The Nerd and his Brother)

We are still set to roll out on Feb 17 on Blubrry. Our website is experiencing some technical delays

Image result for technical error

But will hopefully be out before the 17th.

We are working really hard to get this right so I hope that you enjoy!

Even if you don’t read my posts and read Riley’s, he will be a recurring guest so listen for that if nothing else.

Next up I want to share that I just got a Pichu in Pokemon Go! For the dozen of you still playing, you know how cool and rare that is. But for all of you who don’t, lemme break it down.

They just added baby pokemon in Pokemon Go. Pichu is the baby version of Pikachu, and he is SUPER rare. But I found in an egg and I was so excited.

And now we talk about a great new game that my friends made.

It’s called Lunch Special. It is a wheel that you spin at lunch with your friends. Whatever it lands on, you do. It could land on an accent challenge, personality switch, or a good old truth or dare.

It is just in beta testing, but we will have it out to the general market soon!

Lol Just Kidding for those of you who don’t get sarcasm.

But yeah credit to Simone, Victoria, and Jordan for creating it.

Moving On!

We have these annoying things at school now called restorative circles. Basically you pass around a ‘talking stick’ and answer stupid questions from the teacher. It takes up class so we get behind and have to do the circle in the first place. We talk about ‘talking from your heart’ and ‘listening from your heart’. Riley wrote a post about it but it is just SO BAD!

And now a word from our sponsors

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Lol Just Kidding for those of you who don’t get sarcasm.

So now for the cool stuff.

Today it is this:

Avengers-Inside-Out by CuddleswithCats

I just love that there are enough people in the world that awesome stuff like this happens.

And for my penultimate trick, I will talk about chocolate.

Most people love chocolate. But I want to know which people prefer.

I like dark chocolate myself, but some like milk, semisweet, or even *shudders* white chocolate.

Or you could like a particular candy, or type of candy (Peanut Butter M&M’s).

What ever it is I’d love to know which is a favorite, and I will make a dish on my other blog Cooking with Jamie on the one that gets the most votes.

So comment your favorite type of chocolate!

So now as promised a sonnet I wrote. It is basically a complicated love poem, and this one is from mickey mouse to minnie mouse. I hope you like it.

Minnie, I love you as any mouse loves cheese

 

Like the taste that always fills me with joy

 

You are as nice as a warm summer’s breeze

 

And a beauty that makes me say “Oh boy!”

 

You make our lives so complete with your smile

 

Lighting up even the darkest of days

 

And making me sing “Hot Dog” for a while

 

Your kind patience never fails to amaze

 

Donald, and Daisy and Goofy are fine

 

But even they cannot compare to you

 

Because you are the one that I call mine

 

The one who cheers me up when I am blue

 

You are without a doubt a swell, fine mouse
And an amazing part of our clubhouse

 

So that’s the post. If you want to be in the next LAY write your question in the comments!

 

Also thanks to Victoria for joining the blog. She has posted twice already and they are great. So go check her posts out here.

Thanks for reading and as I always say:

A day in the life doesn’t really create enough pizza for a party of 5

Hi-Fi

This has a punk rockish tune with a slow part and a rap 😀

I miss my life with Wi-Fi 

Ever since December, Sixth Grade
I’ll really have to try
To get this song done and made

The boredom’s sometimes enveloping
And sadly fooor me,
Google Fiber’s still in developing

*musical stuff*

The nothing manifests itself
In a form that I can’t see
Silent but prodding
It pushes us towards our destiny
Some think it’s asiety
Some think it’s insanity
I think it’s CREATIVITY!

Now back to the chorus

I miss my life with Wi-Fi
Ever since December, Sixth Grade
I’ll really have to try
To get this song done and made

I know this song is full of crambo’s
That means inferior rhyme oh’ s
I stare at my old modem
Hoping it will flick to life
But when nothing happens
I get bored and write this song!!

*musical stuff*

I miss my life with Wi-Fi
With a hole in my heart

It was Decemeber, Sixth Grade
When Clear said oh ah wow I’m out

My Wi-Fi was wike a woyal dog
To meeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEĖĖĖĖ

Sorry for the cheap alliteration
I just needed to fit a bunch of figurative figuration into this bad rap situation where I continue to talk fast even though I have nothing to say but hey, how you doing today. Today’s a fresh start, out of the way of all the problems of yesterday, like losing my Wi-Fi. Without it, I can still read and write and talk with all my might, about the light and how I will continue to fight the boredom with my silent energy. Called creativity.
The energy helps me to tell you this.

NOW BACK TO THE CHORUS!

I miss my life with Wi-Fi
Ever since December, Sixth Grade
I’ll really have to try
To get this song done and made

If you didn’t know
I’ll tell you now
The secret to creativity is down low
Behind your router
There’s an outlet
With your lifeline plugged in

Once the plug is pulled
See how long you last
Before your singin’
And dancin’ along

I miss my life with Wi-Fi
Sometimes saying that is a lie
Sure I’d like it back
But losing it helped me get on trACK!

Hehehhee it’s horrible I know. I had to write this for my 7th grade English class (just like L.O.V.E.) using poetic figurative language skills.

Baiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 

L.O.V.E. poem

I wrote this poem for my 7th grade English class, after we went to our museum and picked a piece of art to write about.

The piece is titled L.O.V.E. And so is the poem.

L is for language 

For if you couldn’t communicate 

How would you two relate?

Without your words, you

Can’t give your solicitude


O is for out

As your compassion grows like

White flowers starting to sprout

Make sure you get your feelings out

Lest you bundle them and implode like a tyke


V is for Vestitude

Know you will be changed

Who you were will be gone

In a matter of tik toks from the clock

With love you can’t remain the same 


E is for Empathy

Empathy is the glue

That will keep your love true

Who wants to be heard,

When they could be listened to?


Language is basic 

Out of secrets is your second goal

Vestitude is starting to care

Empathy is the blossoming of real feelings 


L.O.V.E all together is the beginning of real love.

Thanks for reading all the way to the bottom :3

Baiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

Ode to Soccer Ball

You played well

Never splitting under pressure

I made lots of goals with you

And you humbled me

I will miss you, Soccer Ball ;-;

How To: Write a Haiku

​Now, I’m no expert, and about half I know about Haikus comes from a funny clip in Avatar: The Last Airbender where a character stumbles into a poetry school, and has a duel of words with the teacher, as all the students are laughing at him.

But anyways, based on my knowledge from that, and some book I read in school about poetry, I’m here to tell you how to write Haikus.

STEP 1: Come up with an idea. Just like when you’re writing stories, you can get writer’s block, so make sure you have a clear understanding about what you’re going to write, or you’re just gonna fail. Like I did the first time 😀

STEP 2: 5-7-5. Here’s the difficult part. After you have your idea, you have to kinda change your words around and find synonyms for words. Let’s say this is your original idea:

I have never eaten cheese

I’m no eater of food, for that’s EVIL

YOU ARE SO UNCOOL 

You have to make it so that each line comes up with a certain amount of syllables. Example:

5 – I do not eat cheese

7 – I’m no cannibal, of food

5 – You are not Gouda

There’s the perfect poetry lol.

STEP 3: Getting it out there. Psssst, making a poetry blog is much, much easier than other blogs, cause you are allowed to tag EVERY post with Writing and Poetry. Take it from me, those two words will bring you more popularity than a shout out from a famous blogger. Wanna know why? Think of the millions of people using WordPress, and to a greater extent, the internet, everyday. Writing, Poetry, Food, Music, and Humor are some of the most popular search terms.Other than PewDiePie.

So yep, thanks for reading all this stuff. I got more Brendan music heading your way later today.

Minecraft End Poem

I see the player you mean.

[Player Name]?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn’t matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them…

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player…

Use its name.

[Player Name]. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn’t you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, [Player Name].

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let’s go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother’s body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let’s go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player’s body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by…

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks “electrons” and “protons”.

Sometimes it called them “planets” and “stars”.

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words…

Shush… Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player’s eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

Some of the most beautiful poetry i’ve ever heard.

Link