Just like every day, I come in for work. Going through rooms and cleaning to make sure each room is spotless and equal. I like the eerie but calming absolute nothing sounds that come out of the rooms. It gives me a break to relax. I have been a faithful employee for several years at the Stardust Hotel.
Although, today stepping into room 222 I was aghast at the wreckage of whomever used the room last. No one had checked in last night and I was just coming in to do my daily dusting. I stepped into the room and with every step I crunched on gray wrapping paper that was piled high on the carpet. Why would anyone want to put paper all over the floor? Glancing at the walls, I saw that the walls were covered in red that smelled like drying paint, which must have been part of the smell that wafted toward me when I first entered.
I made my way over to the bed and sat down next to a small collection of items. The first thing I noticed was a pretty pink case. I examined it, looking for any possibility that it had fingerprints. I wanted to figure out why someone had come in the middle of the night and trashed the room. I couldn’t find anything but inside contained a unique toothbrush that was collapsible. I had never seen anything like that in stores. It must have been a specially ordered brush for traveling. I think whoever left it will probably miss it tonight. Next to the brush was bandaging cloth that was almost empty. As if someone had dumped their first aid kit all over the bed. There were also cheap eye drops, Dayquil, and a used orange earplug in the pile. What went wrong and why did they leave it if they might need it again?
While I was contemplating this I started to head towards the miniature fridge. On top were several empty containers that were rinsed but not thrown away. I wondered to my self why anyone would set out empty containers. It was almost as if they were planning on using it again but had to leave in a hurry. Things just kept getting odder and odder. I scanned the containers. There was an organic soymilk container and an empty squished milk jug. Although, don’t usually people only drink soy or regular milk, not both? Among those were a pie plate, a coffee cup, and an empty raspberry Yoplait yogurt cup. I felt a little peeved that who ever had been here didn’t clean up after themselves. Its not that there isn’t trash cans, there are, it must have been on purpose that they were left nice and neatly on the refrigerator washed and in order while everything else is disorganized and messy. I felt frazzled just at the thought of having to clean up this mess, but at least they cleaned the garbage for me to throw away, thank you so very much.
I surveyed the rest of the room. Spread across the room were playing cards that looked brand new, trendy but pretty sunglasses that I thought I might sneak off with, a full container of cracked heel softener, a raggedy copy of the classic the Adventures of Tom Sawyer, an out of business promotional flashlight, two suspicious packages of parmesan cheese, and an extensive Wal-Mart receipt. They were on the bookshelves, in the dresser, on the side table, in the small bathroom, on the desk, and ultimately anywhere they could stash them. It felt like I was on a treasure hunt for a treasure that is unknown and a destination I wasn’t given.
I was a little frightened since I expected that any minute the person who made this mess might still be here and jump out at me. I tried to assess my situation, to think clearly about my options. I could leave it be and just clean up the mess and go on with the day, I could report it and have someone else figure out what to do, or I could do what my brain is screaming for me to do which is figure out what happened last night. So I did what anyone with an overwhelming sense of curiosity would do, I set off to figure out what had happened.
I would like to say I was brave enough to go alone in search of the Unknown Person, as I was starting to think of whoever was in room 222, but no, I was a coward so I went to find my cleaning friend. She too likes to clean rooms at the Stardust Hotel. I swiftly walked through the hallways looking into every unoccupied room. I found her in room 29 vacuuming. Trying not to startle her I knocked on the open door frame. “Hello Maria,” I said in a quiet voice as not to disturb any of our guests.
The room she was in was sparkling like a ruby ring someone had spent a lot of time working for. She looked peaceful and at ease. I could tell that we shared a rare passion from the beginning. It is extraordinarily difficult to find one who enjoys the solitary work of a maid. Despite my attempts to not frighten her, she made a little jump and quickly looked up. “Oh, good morning Sally, can I help you?” She asked. Excitedly I poured out my story, and by the end of it we were gleaming with the exceptional inquisitiveness that only was found on bizarre days like today.
“How do we find out who it was?” Maria asked with uncertainty. I wasn’t sure how we would find the Unknown Person. Would they come again? Would I be prepared if they did? Did I want it to come again? I had many inquiries but no resolutions. Maria and I sat on the maroon bed, identical to the one in room 222, and waited for an elongated time just for a pinch of inspiration. When abruptly Maria jumped up and exclaimed “Eureka!” I animatedly sprung up next to her waiting for her to enlighten me with her wisdom. “Let’s catch him!” She proclaimed. “Or her,” I clarified. I was slightly skeptical of how we would entrap a person. Though, the more I contemplated on the theory the more potentially achievable it seemed. So I seized a piece of paper from the room’s desk and snatched a cheap pen and Maria and I started making our plans to capture the Unknown Person.
We soon became aware of the fact that it was problematic to try to even attempt to detain a person even for a split second. Although, after inspecting all of our diverse options we conclusively determined that simply opening all of the first floor windows and setting up video cameras in each of the rooms and then running to which ever room had someone in it and then hopefully tying them down with durable rope.
Subsequently we put up the veiled cameras and we set up station in the hall. Maria was on one side of the floor and I was on the other. Via internet we communicated how things were going in our sections of the floor. As a result of it being late at night there was no one at the Stardust hotel. Which was advantageous seemingly as anyone gazing towards us would be understandably perplexed.
I lingered for a long time when I out of the blue had to go the bathroom. I typed to Maria “I will be right back, I have to go to the restroom.” Just after I pushed enter I heard my computer start beeping, declaring that there was someone in room 223. So I typed, “Meet me in room 223.”. I dashed to room 223 in pursuit of the Unknown Person. Little by little I turned the door knob so not to alarm whoever was in the room. Creeping open the door I saw a seven-year-old adorning the room with sparkles, paper, and whatever the little boy had in his sack bag. Originating a room of magic and love.
Maria appeared next to me but not quite in the same quiet way that I had. The boy startled, looked up and started heading to the door. Maria, the best lassoer the world has ever known, lassoed the little boy in ropes. He began to weep and wail. I felt compassion for the stray soul. We tied him to the antique mahogany desk chair with the deep fern green cushion. I tried to make him as cozy and relaxed as possible. I put some classical music on and lit the fireplace next to him. I turned on a lamp so it had soothing luminosity.
I took Maria out to the hall so we could converse about our options. “He is obviously an orphan Sally, but he can’t stay at my humble abode,” Maria said in alarm to even the thought of taking a petite child home with her. I was living by myself at the moment and I was making enough money but could I, in actuality supervise a little boy? Without prior to thinking about the question I found myself saying, “I’ll take him!” I don’t know why I accepted him in the first place but I knew without a doubt it was meant to be.
So walked back into room 223 and the situated myself on the bed across from the little boy and explained the situation. By the end of the conversation he agreed and whispered in the tinniest voice I’d ever heard, “Thank you.” I unraveled him, took him by the hand, and walked home. I can now comprehend why someone might have turned room 222 into a muddle. It was because it was home to a starving orphan and it was the best place he had been in for a long while. For that I am tolerable for having to clean up room 222 and any abhorrence I may or may not have felt in my heart has been replaced with affection to my new son.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Short Story
I would like to be able to say I am an actor but no, I am just a regular ole mailman. I have been waiting for someone, anyone to recognize me and send me work. I hate being a mailman; it’s like living in a box your whole life although I am getting way ahead of myself.
I am Jared, a regular, plain, sit-on-the-couch type of guy. I wait by the phone when I get home each day for my agent to call with work but the only person who ever calls me is my mom on Tuesday afternoons. Which is sad for a 40-year-old man.
I have one friend, Aegean, who is extraordinarily spiritual and finds himself deeply connected to his Native American roots. Though, I mostly tune everything out after that. Not that I am not supportive of my dear friend but I just don’t have much interest in the topic. We hang around his tribal cemetery on the weekends and go to festivals on his tribes’ reservation. It is really nice to at least have company even if I do end up wearing a costume for the traditional dances. I think it is just a good excuse to see people dance around oddly and to dress up.
I am usually reflecting about my life. I never feel like I have done anything to show for my life. If I died right now no one would know my name other than the people I can count on my crooked fingers. Yet, I also have not made any attempts to change that, so I suppose it is my own fault. I tend to avoid the topic all together.
My life is full of disappointments. I never had many friends, I have never gotten married, I never got my dream-acting job, and I’ve certainly never felt alive. The only thing I am good at is being a chameleon, a person who you never think twice about. I think I would be a good undercover detective. I could be super cool if I tried although then I wouldn’t get to watch the next episode of Lost. Which would not be one of the perks to being a detective.
I wake up to find the sun shining through the curtains, my flowers growing up in a spiral fashion, and my body a bit stiff from sleeping like a log. I stretch myself to the four corners of my queen-sized bed and breathe in a deep breath. I roll out of bed and fall on the floor with a thump. This is practically the only way for me to wake up because the water relaxes me, the alarm clock reminds me of the multiple times I dance to the beat of the drums on the reservation and wear ridiculous costumes, and having my mother yell at me to wake up is not going to happen. I am way to old for that.
So stiffly standing up I hobble to the bathroom and swiftly take a shower. The water is cold and I make no attempt to warm it up as by the time it started warming up I would have to be out the door and in my take-out shaped business vehicle. So I put a dab of shampoo and conditioner in my hair and spread in through my short curly brown hair then rinse it thoroughly just like the label on the back tells me to do. I jump out of the shower and dry off while brushing my teeth a combing my hair. Racing through my room I snatch my work outfit and my big bulky brown shoes with a stinky smell to them and through them on my self. Skipping a step I speed down the stairs grabbing a box of chips and a Pepsi to get moving. This is a familiar routine and I often do it in my sleep. I wish I had a different job.
Putting the Take-Out Car into reverse I drive into the street and then switch naturally to drive. I stop by the mail station and drive through my assigned neighborhood and open and close mailboxes, putting stacks of mail in each with the occasional one that I skip because they have no mail to receive. It is automatic at this point, which makes it easy money.
After a long day at work I drive to Aegean’s tribal building and park. I step out of the Take-Out Car and I feel relieved at being able to move out of the uncomfortable box. It feels good to be out as the sun starts to set. The sky illuminates with radiance as the sky fills with varying hues of yellow, orange, red, pink, purple, and blue. The clouds reflect the staggering sight and the cloud’s lining glisten and glow with delicate tinges. Transitioning from day to night, the most beautiful time of day, blue hour.
I linger in the parking lot till the sky starts to dull. I push open the glass front doors and the high ceiling is marvelous. I appreciate architecture even if I can’t create it. I love to bring a cotton blanket and lay on the floor gazing up at the arched ceilings with paintings depicting Natives eating, dancing, and being content as well as peaceful. I could gawk at the dome for an elongated age.
Chief Daughten finds me and greets me with an astute smile. I feel at ease with the elders. They have a profound look in their eyes and I know they understand my soul. They never criticize me or try to mortify me, they just nod their head as if they know exactly I am thinking and then smile their knowing smile.
“Greetings,” the Chief tells me as he approaches me. In a relaxed way I reply, “Hello Chief Daughten, do you know where Aegean is?” All of the tribe lives together like a big family, interconnected like a web. Pondering this he explains “I think he went to the fields to pick some fruit, you may join him there or wait here.” I say good-bye and head out the doors and take off my shoes so that they don’t get muddy. Stepping out, bare footed, I jog to the fields in search of Aegean. I look through rows of bushes and trees to find him sitting on the ground happily munching on what can only be blueberries, his favorite.
I join Aegean on the ground and start I start picking blueberries myself, his dark skin reflecting the moonlight and night sweeping over the sky like a blanket. He stands up and guides me to a tree and he climbs it, helping me find footholds. We find a branch and look up at the luminous moon. This is our sacred spot together. I remember many summers when we sat up here. It makes me feel like a child again, and I embrace it.
“Isn’t it so peaceful, it brings the whole world together,” Aegean is always in awe of nature, and sometimes he makes me feel the same way about the world. “Nature is what we all have in common,” I quote from a saying I’ve heard from Aegean before. He hints a smile of praise. It’s the best reward I could have asked for.
“Why haven’t I done anything worth while in my life,” I wonder aloud, not expecting an answer. We sit in quiet, listening to the hum of life all around us, for a long time. “What is worth while?” He says ponderingly. “I don’t know…” I admit. I have been so focused on getting an answer I haven’t really thought about the question. I wish I knew.
While I was thinking Aegean pounced out of the tree and looked up at me expectantly. I look down. There is a good ten feet below my dangling feet. Finally I suck it up and jump knowing it can’t be much worse than rolling out of bed. Although, I am sadly wrong. It hurts when you don’t know how to land well and are getting old. I’ll have to ask for some pointers from Aegean later.
After I’ve gotten up Aegean starts running to the tribal fire pit. I sprint with him, feeling like I am cutting through the wind like scissors. We walk up to the fire where people are sitting in meditative pose. Aegean walks up to his father and pulls him to the side talking in hushed voices they discuss something that I can’t hear and don’t try. His father comes to me and tells me to sit and try to sing along. Letting my thoughts loose I do as he says. Not feeling anything until my head seems to spin through time. Spinning around and around. Not daring to open my eyes before I stop spinning.
Slowly I open my eyes to day. Had I slept all night? Then realizing that everything looks different. Older. I don’t see any lampposts and my car isn’t in the parking lot. There isn’t even a parking lot. Trying not to get hysterical. I go to the main building. I see someone who resembles Chief Daughten. I rush up to him and hug him. Happy to see a friendly face I say “Hello Chief Daughten!” His face contorts in puzzlement. Slowly he explains “Daughten’s my great grandson’s son.” My face falls.
As if in final recognition he takes me to Aegean and my special branch. Settling he asks me what I feel about my life. Admittedly I tell him “I want to do something that is important.” He smiles slightly “Just by living and loving you already have, and he who waits finds that time is not, so live your life and good will come to you.” I am about to tell him thank-you when my head starts spinning and I find my self back in my seat, back near the tribal fire.
Everyone around the circle smiles at me as if they know what happened. This time I smile back, knowing I have gotten my answer. In silence Aegean and I stroll together and I think only about right now, this moment. I feel at peace for the first time.
I am Jared, a regular, plain, sit-on-the-couch type of guy. I wait by the phone when I get home each day for my agent to call with work but the only person who ever calls me is my mom on Tuesday afternoons. Which is sad for a 40-year-old man.
I have one friend, Aegean, who is extraordinarily spiritual and finds himself deeply connected to his Native American roots. Though, I mostly tune everything out after that. Not that I am not supportive of my dear friend but I just don’t have much interest in the topic. We hang around his tribal cemetery on the weekends and go to festivals on his tribes’ reservation. It is really nice to at least have company even if I do end up wearing a costume for the traditional dances. I think it is just a good excuse to see people dance around oddly and to dress up.
I am usually reflecting about my life. I never feel like I have done anything to show for my life. If I died right now no one would know my name other than the people I can count on my crooked fingers. Yet, I also have not made any attempts to change that, so I suppose it is my own fault. I tend to avoid the topic all together.
My life is full of disappointments. I never had many friends, I have never gotten married, I never got my dream-acting job, and I’ve certainly never felt alive. The only thing I am good at is being a chameleon, a person who you never think twice about. I think I would be a good undercover detective. I could be super cool if I tried although then I wouldn’t get to watch the next episode of Lost. Which would not be one of the perks to being a detective.
I wake up to find the sun shining through the curtains, my flowers growing up in a spiral fashion, and my body a bit stiff from sleeping like a log. I stretch myself to the four corners of my queen-sized bed and breathe in a deep breath. I roll out of bed and fall on the floor with a thump. This is practically the only way for me to wake up because the water relaxes me, the alarm clock reminds me of the multiple times I dance to the beat of the drums on the reservation and wear ridiculous costumes, and having my mother yell at me to wake up is not going to happen. I am way to old for that.
So stiffly standing up I hobble to the bathroom and swiftly take a shower. The water is cold and I make no attempt to warm it up as by the time it started warming up I would have to be out the door and in my take-out shaped business vehicle. So I put a dab of shampoo and conditioner in my hair and spread in through my short curly brown hair then rinse it thoroughly just like the label on the back tells me to do. I jump out of the shower and dry off while brushing my teeth a combing my hair. Racing through my room I snatch my work outfit and my big bulky brown shoes with a stinky smell to them and through them on my self. Skipping a step I speed down the stairs grabbing a box of chips and a Pepsi to get moving. This is a familiar routine and I often do it in my sleep. I wish I had a different job.
Putting the Take-Out Car into reverse I drive into the street and then switch naturally to drive. I stop by the mail station and drive through my assigned neighborhood and open and close mailboxes, putting stacks of mail in each with the occasional one that I skip because they have no mail to receive. It is automatic at this point, which makes it easy money.
After a long day at work I drive to Aegean’s tribal building and park. I step out of the Take-Out Car and I feel relieved at being able to move out of the uncomfortable box. It feels good to be out as the sun starts to set. The sky illuminates with radiance as the sky fills with varying hues of yellow, orange, red, pink, purple, and blue. The clouds reflect the staggering sight and the cloud’s lining glisten and glow with delicate tinges. Transitioning from day to night, the most beautiful time of day, blue hour.
I linger in the parking lot till the sky starts to dull. I push open the glass front doors and the high ceiling is marvelous. I appreciate architecture even if I can’t create it. I love to bring a cotton blanket and lay on the floor gazing up at the arched ceilings with paintings depicting Natives eating, dancing, and being content as well as peaceful. I could gawk at the dome for an elongated age.
Chief Daughten finds me and greets me with an astute smile. I feel at ease with the elders. They have a profound look in their eyes and I know they understand my soul. They never criticize me or try to mortify me, they just nod their head as if they know exactly I am thinking and then smile their knowing smile.
“Greetings,” the Chief tells me as he approaches me. In a relaxed way I reply, “Hello Chief Daughten, do you know where Aegean is?” All of the tribe lives together like a big family, interconnected like a web. Pondering this he explains “I think he went to the fields to pick some fruit, you may join him there or wait here.” I say good-bye and head out the doors and take off my shoes so that they don’t get muddy. Stepping out, bare footed, I jog to the fields in search of Aegean. I look through rows of bushes and trees to find him sitting on the ground happily munching on what can only be blueberries, his favorite.
I join Aegean on the ground and start I start picking blueberries myself, his dark skin reflecting the moonlight and night sweeping over the sky like a blanket. He stands up and guides me to a tree and he climbs it, helping me find footholds. We find a branch and look up at the luminous moon. This is our sacred spot together. I remember many summers when we sat up here. It makes me feel like a child again, and I embrace it.
“Isn’t it so peaceful, it brings the whole world together,” Aegean is always in awe of nature, and sometimes he makes me feel the same way about the world. “Nature is what we all have in common,” I quote from a saying I’ve heard from Aegean before. He hints a smile of praise. It’s the best reward I could have asked for.
“Why haven’t I done anything worth while in my life,” I wonder aloud, not expecting an answer. We sit in quiet, listening to the hum of life all around us, for a long time. “What is worth while?” He says ponderingly. “I don’t know…” I admit. I have been so focused on getting an answer I haven’t really thought about the question. I wish I knew.
While I was thinking Aegean pounced out of the tree and looked up at me expectantly. I look down. There is a good ten feet below my dangling feet. Finally I suck it up and jump knowing it can’t be much worse than rolling out of bed. Although, I am sadly wrong. It hurts when you don’t know how to land well and are getting old. I’ll have to ask for some pointers from Aegean later.
After I’ve gotten up Aegean starts running to the tribal fire pit. I sprint with him, feeling like I am cutting through the wind like scissors. We walk up to the fire where people are sitting in meditative pose. Aegean walks up to his father and pulls him to the side talking in hushed voices they discuss something that I can’t hear and don’t try. His father comes to me and tells me to sit and try to sing along. Letting my thoughts loose I do as he says. Not feeling anything until my head seems to spin through time. Spinning around and around. Not daring to open my eyes before I stop spinning.
Slowly I open my eyes to day. Had I slept all night? Then realizing that everything looks different. Older. I don’t see any lampposts and my car isn’t in the parking lot. There isn’t even a parking lot. Trying not to get hysterical. I go to the main building. I see someone who resembles Chief Daughten. I rush up to him and hug him. Happy to see a friendly face I say “Hello Chief Daughten!” His face contorts in puzzlement. Slowly he explains “Daughten’s my great grandson’s son.” My face falls.
As if in final recognition he takes me to Aegean and my special branch. Settling he asks me what I feel about my life. Admittedly I tell him “I want to do something that is important.” He smiles slightly “Just by living and loving you already have, and he who waits finds that time is not, so live your life and good will come to you.” I am about to tell him thank-you when my head starts spinning and I find my self back in my seat, back near the tribal fire.
Everyone around the circle smiles at me as if they know what happened. This time I smile back, knowing I have gotten my answer. In silence Aegean and I stroll together and I think only about right now, this moment. I feel at peace for the first time.
Reflective Essay
I am abstract in every way. I think and see with just the idea and the outline. Sometimes I wonder if being semi-blind would change much, as long as I could see the main idea. My art medium that I prefer is oil pastels and watercolor with salt. My favorite thing to do when I hear art is get out my oil pastels and just rub. It gets me out of my perfectionist self and helps me come to terms with being imperfect. Briana is who I am known as and who I am.
First and foremost I am a lonely wolf. I sit like a chameleon, in the back of the room. Watching as everyone goes about their life. I am not the type of person to be remembered, or to be taken pictures with and hung on a tack board with their friends. No, I am the one who is friends with everyone but not best friends with anyone. I sit in my room, reflecting on my choices, my wrongs and my rights. I am a night person. Just like a whisper in the wind.
I am a shy and intelligent person. I usually have a book in hand. Reading is my life. Stories even more so, I read them, write them, act and share them. I like to create something that I could never be or something so like me it is amazing. I like using better and more extravagant words and phrases. Books are like a brick wall that keeps you from reality and lets you take refuge.
I am simple. I just am. It is me. As well as I am it. I like it clean. I like it neat. I like it just the way it is. It must be bold. It must be dramatic. It must be unique. I think I would like it, if everything wasn’t so complicated. I could just be. And we could all just be together.
It might surprise you that while I can be lonely, shy, and simple I can also be loud, bright, and beautiful. Like a flowering daisy I can become. When the right people and the right circumstances are aligned I shine. If you are the reason, for my pleasure, you should be pleased to be so special. As someone may go a lifetime without that feeling, of being the reason. For material is not the key, it is being there, at the right time, saying the right thing and being in the right mood. When I am like this, I am as happy as a clam could be and sometimes even more than that. I can surprise even the most knowing people, because it is completely random.
I can be in a bubble sometimes, unreachable. Sometimes that is just me, holding everything at an arms distance and other times that is just where I am. Sometimes I am pounding my fists against the rubbery wall and other times I am in butterfly pose being content to just be.
I am abstract. I am a lonely wolf. I am shy. I am loud. I am simple. And I am in a bubble. Some things will never change. Just like, I will always be Briana. I am much more than just words. For words are just empty shells. When you put meaning into them, I feel I fit the description.
First and foremost I am a lonely wolf. I sit like a chameleon, in the back of the room. Watching as everyone goes about their life. I am not the type of person to be remembered, or to be taken pictures with and hung on a tack board with their friends. No, I am the one who is friends with everyone but not best friends with anyone. I sit in my room, reflecting on my choices, my wrongs and my rights. I am a night person. Just like a whisper in the wind.
I am a shy and intelligent person. I usually have a book in hand. Reading is my life. Stories even more so, I read them, write them, act and share them. I like to create something that I could never be or something so like me it is amazing. I like using better and more extravagant words and phrases. Books are like a brick wall that keeps you from reality and lets you take refuge.
I am simple. I just am. It is me. As well as I am it. I like it clean. I like it neat. I like it just the way it is. It must be bold. It must be dramatic. It must be unique. I think I would like it, if everything wasn’t so complicated. I could just be. And we could all just be together.
It might surprise you that while I can be lonely, shy, and simple I can also be loud, bright, and beautiful. Like a flowering daisy I can become. When the right people and the right circumstances are aligned I shine. If you are the reason, for my pleasure, you should be pleased to be so special. As someone may go a lifetime without that feeling, of being the reason. For material is not the key, it is being there, at the right time, saying the right thing and being in the right mood. When I am like this, I am as happy as a clam could be and sometimes even more than that. I can surprise even the most knowing people, because it is completely random.
I can be in a bubble sometimes, unreachable. Sometimes that is just me, holding everything at an arms distance and other times that is just where I am. Sometimes I am pounding my fists against the rubbery wall and other times I am in butterfly pose being content to just be.
I am abstract. I am a lonely wolf. I am shy. I am loud. I am simple. And I am in a bubble. Some things will never change. Just like, I will always be Briana. I am much more than just words. For words are just empty shells. When you put meaning into them, I feel I fit the description.
Battle of Quebec
A starry night,
A scheme a plot,
A fort atop,
A cliff; such an overwhelming sight.
James Wolfe,
In such a worry and hurry,
To make a victory,
To recapture for the British.
Quebec,
Impenetrable,
Impossible,
For some.
Thy hears whispers,
From those who know,
That weak point,
Be to the side.
Wolfe leads his troupes,
To many of their deaths,
Yet they raise their heads high,
And show no fear.
He lines them up,
On the great Plains of Abraham,
They are the representatives,
Of what could be,
And ultimately what will be.
They take them by surprise,
They show gallantry and heroism,
They seize the moment,
In which they will shape America for better or worse.
Marquis de Montcalm,
The French commander,
He who as established this,
Wall of stability.
They fight to the death,
Marquis and thy James,
Neither will gain nor lose,
But what they leave will change in numerous ways.
James dies then in battle,
Marquis dies soon after,
Courage,
And Valor,
Are they,
To risk they’re lives,
For the future,
Which is to become,
Our home.
A scheme a plot,
A fort atop,
A cliff; such an overwhelming sight.
James Wolfe,
In such a worry and hurry,
To make a victory,
To recapture for the British.
Quebec,
Impenetrable,
Impossible,
For some.
Thy hears whispers,
From those who know,
That weak point,
Be to the side.
Wolfe leads his troupes,
To many of their deaths,
Yet they raise their heads high,
And show no fear.
He lines them up,
On the great Plains of Abraham,
They are the representatives,
Of what could be,
And ultimately what will be.
They take them by surprise,
They show gallantry and heroism,
They seize the moment,
In which they will shape America for better or worse.
Marquis de Montcalm,
The French commander,
He who as established this,
Wall of stability.
They fight to the death,
Marquis and thy James,
Neither will gain nor lose,
But what they leave will change in numerous ways.
James dies then in battle,
Marquis dies soon after,
Courage,
And Valor,
Are they,
To risk they’re lives,
For the future,
Which is to become,
Our home.
I Am Who You Made Me
I am who you made me,
You gave me life,
You gave me knowledge,
I gave you laughs,
I gave you myself,
As a canvas,
You painted me with intricate detail,
With each stroke I gained,
I have gone farther in my quest,
To find who I am,
After you’ve made me,
I try to grow and spiral up,
Yet I didn’t want to grow,
I still don’t,
For what I am,
And who I’ve become,
It’s never enough,
To satisfy your needs,
Did you ever stop to think,
If I wanted to be smart,
Beautiful, and kind,
To be would mean,
I am never pleased,
With anyone else,
I take and take,
Everyone elses burdens,
For if I want it done right,
I better do it myself,
Although, I am better now,
I have been rewarded,
Ten-fold,
Like a dog given a bone,
The dog keeps coming back,
For the praise it was given,
Even though you created me,
I would never chosen anyone else,
To paint my canvas,
Into a light,
That will benefit all of man and women kind alike,
For I am who you made me.
You gave me life,
You gave me knowledge,
I gave you laughs,
I gave you myself,
As a canvas,
You painted me with intricate detail,
With each stroke I gained,
I have gone farther in my quest,
To find who I am,
After you’ve made me,
I try to grow and spiral up,
Yet I didn’t want to grow,
I still don’t,
For what I am,
And who I’ve become,
It’s never enough,
To satisfy your needs,
Did you ever stop to think,
If I wanted to be smart,
Beautiful, and kind,
To be would mean,
I am never pleased,
With anyone else,
I take and take,
Everyone elses burdens,
For if I want it done right,
I better do it myself,
Although, I am better now,
I have been rewarded,
Ten-fold,
Like a dog given a bone,
The dog keeps coming back,
For the praise it was given,
Even though you created me,
I would never chosen anyone else,
To paint my canvas,
Into a light,
That will benefit all of man and women kind alike,
For I am who you made me.
Halloween Poem
H- Haunted
A- Alley
L- Lots of candy
L- Luminous pumpkins
O- Oggly Boogly suprises
W- Witches
E- Eery
E- Eek!
N- Nauseating suspense
A- Alley
L- Lots of candy
L- Luminous pumpkins
O- Oggly Boogly suprises
W- Witches
E- Eery
E- Eek!
N- Nauseating suspense
I Have a Dream
I have a dream,
That one day I'll have children,
And for them to grow up,
In a sustainable world.
I have a dream,
That we may be reunited,
As a community,
And to learn to share with one another.
I have a dream,
That I will impact the world,
And bring a new era,
Of progress and accomplishments.
I have a dream,
That religon, race, and culture,
Won't define us,
And we will embrace our differences.
I have a dream,
That when I wake up,
I will understand,
The mysteries of life.
That one day I'll have children,
And for them to grow up,
In a sustainable world.
I have a dream,
That we may be reunited,
As a community,
And to learn to share with one another.
I have a dream,
That I will impact the world,
And bring a new era,
Of progress and accomplishments.
I have a dream,
That religon, race, and culture,
Won't define us,
And we will embrace our differences.
I have a dream,
That when I wake up,
I will understand,
The mysteries of life.
Cannibalism
Why do thy eat,
bird,
dog,
land,
water,
mammal,
Yet one can not fathome,
A main course,
Of a human?
bird,
dog,
land,
water,
mammal,
Yet one can not fathome,
A main course,
Of a human?
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