So Many Topics.... So Little Time

Rather, I've got so much time it's not funny! I think the real point of Wild Roses is that it doesn't have a point because love doesn't have a point either. We can never explain why we truly love someone because we don't know why we love them. {whoo words of wisdom!}

On another point, thank you for noticing the change of layout, I figured what the heck, I'm not really depressed anymore [except for at school] so I am now out of the whole depression stage. Thus the change in layout!

Ahhh.... one of the other poems is coming soon..... I'm still working on Blood Red Romance. I've not made it SRTAGNE enough [anyone who can read it isn't stupid!]. Well, my minions, I must leave.

VORTICAN TODD:
Heather emailed me and said that she coulldn't read my work because she promised not to read anything unpublished.... OH WELL!

Saranam, Minions,
A.A.

Wild Roses

SO I decided to make something comepletely different. Even now, I'm not so sure what this is about, but I'll find out soon. *clink* you champange classes... Here's to Wild Roses.

WILD ROSES

Burgundy roses
Under the full moon.
A girl making poses
In the month of June.

A time of loving
Of beauty and dispair.
A time of burgundy roses
A time to hate and dare.

What are we looking for?
Do we even care?
I see a girl in the dark, plaiting a
Love knot in her hair.

We are so vain.
We don't see the wild roses.
We're sitting there in the moonlight.
Making stupid poses.

I was there at midnight.
Thinking of things to do.
I take great delight.
When there's nothing much ado.

Now I see burgundy roses.
I say I never knew.
How they meant beauty.
How they meant you.

Now I think that all things are lost
Under the blood red sky.
Seeing black birds
Let out a screeching cry.

That's all for now....
Saranam.
A.A.

Wild Roses

due to my friend, vortican tod's um.... request, i shall soon post Wild Roses.
It is my truly romantic song about a person reminicin over the time said person spent with their gf/bf in a forst where they found... you guessed it.... wild roses.

ttfn.
saranam, minions,
A.A.

Bbbbbbooooooooo - rrrrrreeeeeedddddd.....

bored for anyone that can't read. im at school and totally bored.

saranam

A.A. <3<3<3

MINIONS

More Answer's

ello minions.

again in my latest fan, vortican tod [aka one of my bffs] asked about the famed sexy chicken dance.

well, its the chicken dance, but sexier.

nuf' said.

saranam,\

A.A.

My Blood Red Romance

My Blood Red Romance

coming soon.......

very very soon.

that is a song, very depressing,
romantic, unleashing.

g2g minions. [took that from Heather Brewer, author of The Vladamir Tod Chronicles]

saranam,

A.A.

Answers

hello minions! in answer to vortican tod's repeated comments, TISH is making a band [though it seems like that'll happen when hell freezes over] and i think he will object to... the 'tish' patrol. where did you get that? Snow Patrol [<3<3<3].>
saranam.

A.A.

I hate matchmakers

first, i HATE matchmakers. wat's with people and trying to get me hooked up? wat did i do wrong in life to deserve a bunch of Matchmakers!
secondly, ive tried to make a series of poems:

if my brother's band makes it, i want them to have
The Alphebetic Album
featuring songs from every letter:
All In My Memory
Becoming Me
Can You Do It?
Destined To Be
Everybody
Friends For Love
Great For You
Happiness is a Wish
I Don't Need You
Just Like You
Kites Across the Sky
Lugubriously
Mearly an Aquantince
Nobody's Here
On Top of the World
Please Leave Me Alone
Questions I Want Answers To
Recession
Stupidity
Tonight Is The Night
Undeniably You
Very Red
Wild Roses
X-tinct, a Charmer
You Know Best
Zoo's Are For Kids

Great poems, but to write them out of my head will be a chore. As i finish them ill post them, i promise.
thank you to everyone who has ever made a difference in my life.
ttfn.

Saranam,
A.A.

In answer to many questions...

my friend, vortican tod, wanted to know detail's so here they are:

the government in which Mitchell Alengo lives in is communistic. the school buses are diffrent colors, depending on your social status. the [stupid] president thinks and does have the right to decide who marries who and how many children [or even if they are allowed children] they are to have. any woman that he thinks is georgeous, he um.... yeh well, you know. Mitchell Alengo was the object of his attention lately, but after some serious swearing, Mitchell gets him off her back. the president decided to get back at Mitchell and puts her in the same room and one of his soldiers... but the soldier is disguised as a super-duper hot guy [not saying he aint].

Mitchell finds out that this isn't really him but that the soldier is Kevin Harrison's older brother Alexander. Alexander is pretty much normal but he cant see in one eye; that make him deformed in the eyes of their government, but Mitchell loves him... ahhhhh sweet romance!!

THE Freedom Fighter Society [the stands for To Hell Enthuse Freedom Fighter Society Enthuse is their contry] fights with all their hearts. they have destroyed the president in more ways than one. they are the reason the president has a fear of oil and the reason he is known as the Masked King. put two and two together.

wish me luck.
A.A.

THE Alternate Ending

[this starts here]

..." then her fingers moved in the moonlight.
her musket shattered in the moonlight,
shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him - with her death."...

AND NOW THE EXCITING CONCLUSION...

But the highwayman never heard it.
for him, there was no reason to fear.
Even the readcoats - the filthy redcoats -
where nowhere - nowhere - near.

For the highwayman made a decoy
so he could run away with his love.
But there, with her head over the musket,
his beautiful, pure white dove.

He cried in the dawning, and at the coming of noo.
He cried before the tawny sunset and before the rising moon.
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looking the purple moor,
A redcoat troop came marching -
marching - marching -
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn door.

They cased him out on the highway, shouting a curs to the sky.
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high.
Blood red were his hands in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat;
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And je lay in his blook in the highway,
with a bunch of lace at his throat.

And in the still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor...
The highwayman comes riding -
riding - riding -
The highwayman comes riding up to the old inn door.

He takes her hand, and out to the highway they walk.
There they lie on the highway, when all is silent and dark.
And when the morning light falls upon the highway,
Blood lies on the dark dirt road to stay.

"The Highwayman"
[please excuse any misspellings and lack of capitalization]
PART ONE

the wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.
the moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.
and the highwayman came riding -
riding - riding-
the highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.
he'd a french cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
a coat of claret-velvet, and breeches of brown doeskin.
they fitted with never a wrinkle. his boots were up to the thigh.
and he rode with a jeweled twinkle,
his pistol butts a-twinkle,
his rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jeweld sky.
over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark innyard.
he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred.
he whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
but the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
plaiting a dark red love knot into her long black hair.
and dark in the dark old inn yard a stable wicket creaked
where Tim the ostler listened. his face was white and peaked.
his eyes were hollows of maddness, his hair like moldy hay,
but he loved the landlord's daughter
the landlord's red-lipped daughter.
dumb as a dog he listened and he heard the robber say -
"one kiss, my bonny sweetheart, i'm after a prize tonight,
but i shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light:
yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
then look for me by moonlight,
watch for me by moonlight,
i'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
he rose upright in the stirrups. he scarce could reach her hand,
but she loosened her hair in the casement. his face burnt like a brand.
as the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
and he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
[oh sweet black waves in the moonlight!]
then he tugged at his rein in the noomlight, and galloped away to the west.
PART TWO
he did not come in the dawning. he did not come at noon;
and out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
when the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
a redcoat troop came marching-
marching - marching-
king george's men came marching, up to the old inn door.
they said no word to the landlord.they drank his ale instead
but they gagged his daughter, and bound her, to the foot of her narrow bed.
two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets ar their side!
there was death at every window;
and hell at one dark window;
for Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.
they had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest.
they had bound a musket beside her, with the muzzle beneath her breast!
"now, keep good watch!" and they kissed her. she heard the doomed man say -
look for me by moonlight;
watch for me by moonlight;
i'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
she twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
she writher her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
they streached and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
the tip of one finger touched it! the trigger at least was hers!
the tip of one finger touched it. she strove no more for the res.
up, she stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast.
she would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
for the road lay bare in the moonlight;
blank and bare in the moonlight;
and the blood of her beins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.
tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! had they heard it? the horsehoofs ringing clear;
tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distanc? were they deaf that they did not hear?
down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill
the highwayman came riding-
riding-riding-
the redcoats looked to their priming!she stoop up, straight and still.
tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
nearer he came and nerer. her face was like a light.
her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
then her finger moved in the moonlight,
her musket shattered in the monlight,
shattered hir breast in the moonlight and warned him - with her death.
he turned. he spurred to the west; he did not know who stood
bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own blood!
not till the dawn he heard it, and his face grew gray to hear
how bess the landlord's daughter,
the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
head watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness ther.
back, he spurred like a madman, shouting a curse to the sky,
with the shite road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high.
blood0red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine0red was his velvet coat;
when they shot hom down on the highway,
down like a dog on the highway
and he lay in his blook on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.

and still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
when the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
when the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
a highwayman comes riding -
riding- riding0
a highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn door.
over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark innyard.
he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred.
he whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
but the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
bess, the landlord's daughter,
plaiting a dark red love knot into her long black hair.

The Highwayman: Alternate Ending.

so i was in literature class and we had this test on my favorite poem: "the Highwayman"
one of the questions/statments was: write an alternate ending to the poem. well so i decided
that i'd put the poem on here and then i'd add the alternate ending. my next post [which will be in about 5 minutes] is going to be the poem. and the next post will be the alternate ending.
saranam and good luck.
A.A.

Prison Cell: Mitchell Alengo's Memior

on recent spotlight, i have rewritten my super-sexual book by the name of Prison Cell.
each character, except the main one, has a new name:
Kevin Harrison: a super-sexy brown haired guy
Delilah Jordan: a copper haired beauty
Mitchell Alengo: a gothic gal who fights everything and everyone.

the main plot:

the trio: Kevin, Delilah, and Mitchell are stuck in prison because well... to be found out. The President tries to kill Mitchell, who is a Freedom Fighter and is trying to tear down the government. in the end, Mitchell falls in love with Kevin's brother, Alexander Harrison, and Kevin and Delilah get married. whoop whoop.

saranam,
A.A.