The Secret Ninja Sent To Kill Our Beauty
NOOOO!!!!!
The Stranger
Clawing Off The Cat
Ever since childhood, I have been exceptionally shy. My mother said that on leaving the womb, instead of producing a shrill loud cry to announce my existence, I blushed and tried to cover myself up. With that as my start in the world, it is no wonder that I have never been a conversationalist and small talk is most definitely not my forte. It’s just not who I am. I have never seen the purpose of discussing the fact that it is raining for several minutes, or conversing on whether Superman or Batman would win in a fight.
Nonetheless, the world of the chatterbox intrigued me more than I was willing to admit, and so I decided to settle my mind once and for all. I decided that on Tuesday 21st October I would wake up and start talking, then not stop until I went to be that night.
The prospect of what I was going to do both terrified and enthralled me. On the one hand, I would often be faced with the choice of talking to anyone about anything or talking to myself and looking like an escaped lunatic. Without meaning to seem crude, choosing whether to kill my mother or love of my life would have been easier. That bastard is always leaving the seat up. Yet there was still the fact that this day could wash away my stifling shyness and teach me the act of being sociable. This meant I may actually be able to go to parties where I didn’t know anyone! Golly, what a thought!
Tuesday 21st soon came, and I woke at 7:30 to not the best of starts, as I completely forgot what I was supposed to be doing until 8:00. Let me make it clear, however, that after realising and cursing loudly, I put my best tongue forward into my continuous talking. Or should I say continuous bollocks?
Besides singing along with my itunes, I got creative that day by producing my own lyrics. There was the “brushy, brushy, brushy” song, which caused me to spray Colgate all over the bathroom, and the “crunchy, crunchy cornflakes” song which I sang while eating my rice krispies.
My younger brother Ryan accompanied me on the walk to school. Socially, Ryan and I are opposites. Mixed-race Ryan could walk into a Nazi camp sporting a skull cap and be best friends with every soldier in 5 minutes. He is simply a people person. Ryans incessant talking would normally drive me insane, but on that day, he was a Godsend. We never ran out of anything to talk about, the journey was flawless and I didn’t even need to talk to myself.
School registration went as well as I expected, seeing as it contains 3 of my best friends, a few other friends, some acquaintances and a couple of people that I could just about bare to talk to.
I also had positive expectations of French, my first lesson of the day which lasts 4 periods. I had figured that Madame would be pleased, as normally she spends her timescreaming “PARLE, PARLE, PARLE” and now I would have no choice but to parle, parle and parle some more.
I walked into the common room to see Emily Thomas sitting at the main table, surrounded by seven people whom I would normally have spoken to.
Emily Thomas had been in my high school. The strange thing about Emily being in the common room was that she didn’t even go to my sixth form, she was at a college in London that was behind a newsagent and students paid an extra £45 if they wanted to be taught in english. Baby Jesus knows how she got in as, at a very leggy 5ft 11, she’s hard to miss. More to the point, I despised her with every fibre of my being. We had never got along and she stole two of my best friends away from me two years ago. Without meaning to seem like an immature 7 year old, I normally would rather have dug out my intestines, tied them around my neck and used them to hang myself from a cliff than go over and speak to her or anyone near her.
Throughout these musings, the table of doom got closer and closer, and then further and further away. I had walked straight past it and sat in the corner of the common room. Cursing myself under my breath, I pulled out my books and started to pretend to do some work. Hence Baby was left in her corner, and there she stayed.
Staring at the empty page before me, I was faced with a strong sense of self-loathing. This was far from the first time I had sent myself to the corner to avoid speaking to people. In my dip into depression, I had forgotten to keep talking and realised after about 5 minutes that I ha just been staring into space and had failed.
Filled with less disappointment than I expected, I shrugged and swore half-heartedly. I had tried, and the sweat patches on my jumper could prove it, but I couldn’t do it.
On reflecting my failure, I came to a simple conclusion. I don’t “do” random people or strangers. I stick to my close and personals and let time break away my shyness. It had worked for me for the lat 17 years and had meant that I never had to socialise with fake people that I knew didn’t actually like me.
Despite my positive conclusion, I couldn;t help but think that I was still too quiet. I was still unsociable. I was still unfriendly. I was still everything my father had scolded.
Tammy Vindula
ONE MONTH!!!
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Themes!
Nursery Rhymes: REWRITTEN!
Humpty Dumpty
100 word review: Cloud Atlas
How to write a Haiku
Love, Ted
Poo!
Heartache
That's not a statment,
That's a fact.
My life is killing me, slowly, I need you back.
Sometimes it makes me angry that I'm still
Caught up on you.
But, it's the way you move, talk breath...
It's the little things you do.
Everyone's heart beats- it's what keeps us alive.
It stops. We all die.
My heart, it beats for you
Each emotion you feel, I feel it too.
I break down,
Crying
On the random sometimes.
It's because of you,
And the things you do to me...
It should be made a crime.
You ignore my exsistence.
Each time I die,
A little bit more inside,
All I need is a 'Hello' or
'Bye'
All I need to know you care,
To prove to myself,
That
Some
Sort-of
Love
Is there.
You have the worlds longsest
History of 'My babyee'
When, will it be my two weeks?
I know I don't have much to offer.
I'm noy blonde or 'gawjus'
or something
or other.
All I can promise is that
You know you will have my heart
Stick with me, we can never part.
This heartache is rediculous, stupid and vain
You could never love a girl like me
This is insane.
My heart is
pouring out to you
alover this page.
My pen burning through thr paper
Praying you'll stay.
But you won't,
Why should you?
When your 'Babyee' is one your arm,
With,
More girls queuing
At the door,
When you turn on the charm
This poem is for you,
My dear,
My Beloved
I Pray...
Someday...
You will realise...
All you need,
All I need,
All I want...
Is
You and me.
The the heartache will end.
Symone xxxx
The Match
Here is our second piece sent in by one of our followers, who goes by the name of Ananda!
I always want to love you. Will you match that?
I can’t promise a lifetime, only every day of my life.
I always want to kiss you. Will you match that?
Soft and slow, long and hard, stopping only to inhale.
I always want to hold you. Will you match that?
I dream of being held by you and laying in your arms.
I always want to share with you. Will you match that?
Share my dreams, my hopes my desires and my concerns.
I always want to make you laugh. Will you match that?
Watch you smile, hear you giggle, listen to you laugh out loud.
I hardly know myself around you, always around you as myself.
What God has bought together let no mind tear apart.
My Hat!
Viola
Or so thought by dear old nurse
Alas to be shielded from your greatest desire
Is many a young womans curse
Medicine forced down to protect and refrain
May hold off love fro your duckling
But daily spoonfuls of moral and ethics
Won't keep this swan from loves calling
So bring on this illness and make me a dog
For i wish to be guarded no more
I'm at loves command for better or worse
To live by inks sweet lure
I've courted the plays
I'm poetry's divine, the muse of every sonnet
But pen and paper provide only so much
And so lies the bee in my bonnet
No man has cast deep eyes upon mine
From across a crowded room
No Rosalinds been pushed aside
For my far fairer bloom
No hardened hand with softened touch
Has stroked my hair and skin
No soft damp lips have brushed on mine
And revealed the feelings within
So i play the waiting game
For the Shakespeare of my heart
Only to discover
True loves no spoken art
It started as a friendship
The best a girl could find
But love with this sweet simpleton
Was far from my young mind
He knew not what a sonnet was
He tried to rhyme with purple
Yet something in those big brown eyes
Left me only capable to gurgle
That something was what i had longed
Since my younger years
A man who loved me for all my worth
And for me would face all fears
To him i am true beauty and grace
Though he wouldn't know how to write it
But a single glance from his eyes to mine
Meant more than Billys old dog shit
It seems that literature was my loves dawn
Now he has brought midday
I pray the sun will never set
And my love be taken away
Robyn xxx
16/08/2008
A Night To Remember
Here is our first article sent in by a reader!!! Here Sarah has sent in her true story....
I was meeting my best friend Tom with my boyfriend, Raj, and we were going to hang out in the local park while it was still light. When we saw Tom, he asked Raj to go buy some cigarettes down the road for him. Tom and I waited, wondering what was taking so long. Raj returned with the cigarettes after about 20 minutes and his mood seemed to have taken a terrible turn: As we made our way to the park he walked ahead punching bins and other nearby objects with a face of thunder but still not saying a word to Tom or I. Instead he called someone on his mobile was yelling at them down the phone, although Tom and I weren’t close enough to hear what he was saying. I tried many times to ask what was wrong but he just replied “nothing” so I gave up and stayed away from him and his terrifying temper.
By the time we reached the park, I was furious with him for being so moody and ruining the evening, so I stormed off towards home. Raj chased after me and asked me why I was storming off. I told him I was sick of his mood and gave him one last chance to say what was wrong with him. He stayed silent for a minute, looking at the floor, before saying quietly “Some Tamils sparked me.”
Now I had no idea what “sparked” meant and assumed it meant that they tried to start a fight with him. I now became angry with him for not telling me about it earlier and again stormed off after arguing about it with him. Tom went over to Raj and they began to talk about what had happened. While I had the moment to myself I realised I was being unfair and went over and hugged Raj to apologize. Suddenly, Raj became very heavy in my arms and I realised that he had collapsed.
Tom came running over yelling
“Raj, where does it hurt, Raj?” Tom helped me get Raj to lie on the ground and I put my jacket under his head. I was terrified as I still had no idea what had happened to him. As Tom kept telling Raj to look at him and keep his eyes open, I asked Tom what was going on, as he seemed to know. He said that the Tamil guys had hit Raj around the head with a baseball bat until a shopkeeper came out and chased them off. After that Tom and I sat trying to figure out our next move. We had no idea what injuries he had gotten and every time we mentioned “hospital” or “ambulance” he would try to sit up, exclaiming,
“no, no, no, don’t, no” until we soothed him and got him to lie back on the floor. After about an hour of us deliberating, Raj sat up with the assistant of an apprehensive Tom and myself and began looking wildly around him:
“they’re here...I can hear them.”
We were sat in an open green and could easily see everyone around us. We were alone. Despite us continually telling him that we were alone, he just kept repeating
“They’re here... we have to go...they’re here.”
He stood up, swaying a little, and began walking towards the park exit, grabbing my hand and still looking around me.
Raj walked me home, still swaying and saying a jumble of words rather than sentences, and refused to let me go with him. Tom assured me he would look after him, and he closed the front door, I rushed to my laptop. Instinct told me that if I couldn’t find out what was wrong through the hospital, I would through the internet. I knew it wouldn’t be the same but at least it was something. I found a website listing symptoms of head injuries, and called Raj to get him to answer yes or no to which he had. He had ¾ of the symptoms for a severe head injury and the cure was to seek medical advice immediately, but no matter how I pleaded, Raj refused. Instead I spoke to him until 3am to ensure that he wouldn’t get concussion and not wake up. Before I allowed him to hang up, I made him promise to call me at 9am. Before I fell asleep, I closed my eyes and prayed like never before:
“Please, please let him wake up tomorrow. I beg you. Please.”
I was up at 7 and sitting and waiting for his call. At 9am on the dot, my phone rang: “hey babe.” I laughed pure relief at the sound of his voice and a coherent sentence.
“You ok?”
“yeah...my head hurts and I can’t remember anything but I’m ok”
After a few more minutes of checking he was ok, I made him promise to go get checked out at the hospital as soon as possible.
“Sarah, I need to tell you something”
“What babe?”
“Those guys. I knew them. I haven’t seen them for two years, but I know them. They killed Kumal, my cousin.”
And so began the relationship changing conversation of Raj’s past. Two years ago, a Tamil gang stabbed and killed Raj’s cousin Kumal in a fight in front of him. Raj had always blamed himself, but I had never fully known why, until then. A few months before Kumal had been killed, he called Raj asking him to help him in a fight against a gang of Tamils. Raj went and during the fight at least 5 guys were kicking and beating his cousin. Raj had no idea what to do and started panicking, until Kumal cried,
“Look in your bag”
Raj quickly pulled off his bag, saw what his cousin had put in there, grabbed and ran at the group, thinking of nothing but saving his cousin.
“You stabbed someone?” I looked at him with a face of pure disbelief. He had always been a weapon hating peace keeper, and now I understood why, although I wish I didn’t. “Did they die?” Raj shook his head, staring at the floor. I watched him for a moment, taking in the pure guilt shame and sadness that had ridden his body and watched the tears drop slowly off the end of his nose. He stabbed someone. But he was not a stabber.
A few weeks after the incident, it was in the news that the Police had arrested a Tamil gang in East London and since then, crime had fallen by 65%.
Sarah, 23
I Spy
My Lady
For none but she can bring the stirring in
My paunch nor calm he thundering of my
Seas of anger, fear and doubt. Tender soul
Hath she, yet her brazen fire spits sharp sparks
At the flesh of the wily wretch who dare come
Close to mine person. Lionnesses strive
To match her regal and powerful ways
But fail as badly as those who seek
To take this loyal servant from his queen
Death reigns supreme above life without her
Yet, when i am alone, darkness descends
Upon me, for there is no greater pain
Known to man than that of the broken heart
Robyn xxx
16/05/2008
How to write a sonnet
Grown
The soft blue skies and clouds of cream
Your fingers play the still clear air
Magic
Dust
You crane your neck, shut your eyes
Force yourself into the skies
Anything to erase
This overrated 'grown-up' phase
So tired of ills, of work, of stress
Who knew age could cause such mess
No.
Don't lose focus.
Go back to the dream
Ignore that frustrated inner scream
But time is up, the break is done
You've had your 15 minutes of fun
Now lower your head and open your eyes
Let out that longg exasssperated sighhh
Then turn around, go back indoors
Don't dare gaze back over the moors
Of 25 odd years ago
Of times of fun in sun and snow
Here lies the childhood of your soul
Whose cause of death you well know
Was when you walked into that bar
Wearing that damn wonderbra
Robyn xxx
10/06/2008
Gadgets!
Return
Still Playing
I like d0lls; they are fun to play with.
Keeping clean- no mess!
Suck suck... Play play
Funny how some things never change.
Still....
Family Guy's on. I like Stewie- Watch him go!!
Nobody can hear the baby's speech.
Silly little Stewie- how sweet...
TEEHEE!!! heha...
Can't laugh too loud,
daddy might wake, tired these days
working late, working
hard. Had to roll over last night,
needed my sleep. 'Tax returns won't do themsleves'
"Neither will I...' came the reply.
He think I'm a wife on a shelf
Up, down, up down.
I do nothing else.
I'm smarter than they think...
He should watch the accounts,
I do more than just stand there
and pout.
PARIS HILTON!!
we go hand in hand....
Leave,
the fairy tales,
on my real daddy's lap.
Silent baby- I play and nap
He lay me down
Walked out and closed the door...
'... bye daddy...'
How frustrating!!!
PLEASE if anyone knows a solution, give it to me!!!
Robyn xxx
Blind? We wish.
Has clearly not taken to mind
That what men love beyond compare
Has double D breasts and long blonde hair
Admittedly there are a few
Who'll want to know the inner you
But they're more likely to give their heart
To Stephen, Michael, Paul or Bart
Robyn xxx
17/05/2008
All Poetry is copyrighted
Poetry's on its way!
All our poetry is copyrighted, so don't even think of copying any!!!!! We're watching you!
We won't be doing any guides to writing poetry, because for us poetry should have very few set rules otherwise it loses it's creativity! What we will be doing is making posts about the different types of poetry out there for you guys to try!
Hope you like it!
Rob and Sym