To my “bestest” friends, whom I could not be happy without.
You know I love learning, so teach me a song,
A song of what love is about.
You sing of being accepted, of living a free soul,
You strum guitars of happy, of hearts feeling whole,
You live with problems and heartbreak, and never ask a thing,
I hope there’s never a day, I do not hear you sing,
I curse and fault and worry, but you are just the same,
I’m always here to hold you, through blizzards or through flame,
I don’t care if I’m not the best, because you are here to guide,
You have now idea, when I think of you, my thoughts are filled with pride,
I know we’re not eternal, we will one day grow apart,
But for now, I am glad, I love you with all my heart.
From the rules I will bend,
From my heart that has no end,
From your “bestest” friend,
Some dream of becoming scientists, or speakers, or CEOs, or stars. They dream of becoming something special. But anyone can become a teacher, right?
Some dream of changing the world, or inventing something ground breaking, or being remembered by all of the world. Some dream of saving lives, or achieving greatness, or breaking down barriers. Some dream of making a difference. But what is making a difference? Is it changing the world or is it changing a life? Is it having ambition or is it giving hope? Is it learning or is it teaching? What if it was a simple as being good at your medium wage job in a unordinary town in a country none thinks of?
My teacher made a difference. She is the epitome of the saying “Catch a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day, teach a man to fish and he’ll eat for a lifetime.” She takes her job to another level, teaching kids ...
“Lollygaggers”- I think that this group would be a band of outcasts or juveniles, singing about very untalked about subjects by drawing from personal experience. Lollygagging means to dawdle or waste time, which is why I think their music would be really emotional, cause it ties in with the feeling of worthlessness that is popular amongst young adults and teens. It also comes into that subject of depression. The genre would be perhaps a rock take on classical music. I’ve found that a lot of people say majoring in music is a waste, that next no one will be able to profit from it. They also say that rock and classical music are dead genres, there’s no point clinging onto them. Which is the story of the band, they might feel that they’re wasting time, they’re a dead thing that doesn’t need to be revived. So, in a way, their music would be a way to prove themselves wrong. They would...
Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet,
The sun rose new,
The blue birds too,
The bright red treat,
Sweet, sweet, sweet.
Believe, believe, believe,
It sings with breeze,
It moves with ease,
It’s dancing leaf,
This living fruit,
This lively thing,
Red as cherry,
Push me to the edge of my tolerance, to test my patience and fire. If there is danger and harm, I will not allow you to sleep in safety. If there is restriction and discrimination, I will loosen the weak from you. If there is anything but what you promised should be, I will make you eat your words and with it, dirt. Nevemind, you told me to exceed expectations, so: Push me over the edge.
Dark as day,
Bright as night,
With the bees,
That have no bite.
As a writer, I would like to practice writing more poetry and abstract material. I would also like to dip into the daunting world of 2nd person story’s (ominous music intensifies).
In the coming year, I hope to include more perspective into my writing and to learn the world better through my words.
But ultimately, at the end of the year I want to look back and be able to say “I have improved.” Because to call this a successful year, I need to be a better version of myself in aspects of both my life and my writing.
This was the same pen I wrote my vows with. I’m in a black dress this time.
This sadness is nothing new. But with you by my side, I was surprised everyday, for surely the world couldn’t contain this much joy. Now cancer has claimed you. Greedy b*tch...
You etched your way into my heart and became me. No. I’ve learnt I am my own person. So are you. Together, we were more than a person. We were a bond that was strained and tested, but never broken. It never will be. That’s what I thought anyway. Rest in peace.
My heart yearns as I stand, a sad little puppy, outside our park. How? How did this happen? I did everything right- be a gentleman, take her on fun dates, support her, get her gifts, love her. Why didn’t she love me back?
“Did you want a lift home?” She smiles at me, her bright red hair blinding in this light. My eyes burn. “John?”
I forget how to speak.
I forget how to breathe.
I forget how to not be in love.
“Um... I’m fine... thanks.” I will not cry. I will not cry. Those peppermint eyes will not see me so vulnerable. They’ve seen enough.
“I’m going to head off now,” Her smile disappears as she lays her hand on my shoulder. “I hope you can understand. It was never my intention to hurt you.”
For the last time in my life, I watch her walk away from me. She gets in her silver Sudan, grips onto the...
Shhh.... I’m only a couple weeks late ^_^
Do you still live where you were born?
No. I was born in New Zealand and moved to Australia when I was about three.
How many languages do you speak/study?
I speak English. I learnt a bit of German in primary/elementary school and recently started learning Japanese. I will probably learn Maori when I’m older.
Do you consider yourself a good student?
Probably, yes. I’m alright. I’ve gotten a student of the year award every year since year one, got best all rounder for my grade, I’m in the XL (nerd) class and get good grades. I’ve been nominated to attend a few comps and workshops over the years and got the Michael Crandon MP dedicated commitment award.
Do you sport?
Yeah. I’ve been playing touch football for a few years and I do good in cross country at school.
Are you religious?
Am I? I don’t think so. It’s weird. I’m...
Adam looked up at the dark ominous sky, the stars sparkling in his hazel eyes. How beautiful and empty the night seemed, it made him feel still, despite the bitter winter winds shoving him. Adam raised his hand, reaching out for the moon and signing as he fell short once again. The distance made him feel helpless. Just like Sam.
A sharp pain embedded itself in Adams broad chest. It bring him and his ambitions back to earth. The landing was unpleasant and Jarring. He turned around and walked back to his car, being guided by the headlights and feeling guilty to leave the moon alone in it’s eternal spot in the sky. He picked up the steel urn from the back leather seat and spun on his foot, making the gravel fly in all directions. Back at his spot at the cliff side, Adam brushed a piece of golden hair from his face and with it, a tear.
With Infinite Love and Dreams.
Music, rhythm, beat. They have etched themselves into every small movement, into every loud thought. In no particular order, in no one genre, in no definite time period, here are twelve songs that would make up my perfect mixtape. At the moment.
Music. Why do we listen to it? Why does it help to calm us? Why do rely on it to make us feel better? Maybe it’s because the sound, loud in our ears, seems to drown out the noise of our thoughts, our worries, our realities. Maybe it’s because the soothing beat, lyrics and emotion of the sounds make us feel like we are not the only ones feeling these feelings. Maybe it’s because the happiness and energy of the song makes us feel happy and energised as well, even in our darkest moments. The feeling of the song, the rhythm, it brings to our lives the order in chaos, it makes us realise the light buried in darkness, it takes us out of reality for just a moment. We listen to music to forget the stress, the sadness, the loneliness, the madness and the doubt that plagues us. We are transformed into a brand new world that is perfect...
Every second Thursday I forget. Every second Friday I have the joy of remembering. With the card I keep safely in my bag and the school bus that takes me to the shops down the road, I run down the side of the road, through the park, to the place where the mobile library awaits. All of a sudden, I diasapear.
Every Friday I go to “Macca’s Friday” with my friends. Every second Friday, as we walk to the basketball court to sit around and do whatever useless stuff we do, I run off. I know the doors are automatic, but it feels like magic, watching them open to embrace me. The cool air conditioning brings the smell of coziness and relief to my nose. The Australian heat, the idea of walking home in the sun, the shouts of friends, they’re far from mind. What will I find today?
Every second Friday, although I don’t know them, nor do they...
Questions plague my mind. This is probably why. Why I decide to create these worlds. I am stuck in my head and my head is stuck in the clouds, the only thing that unglues me is this pencil. The pencil that weaves my thoughts, my questions, into a fake reality. The pencil you see, isn’t just a pencil. The pencil makes it so I am not me. This pencil makes a world that does not have rules nor boundaries. This pencil makes me not stuck in my head. And that is why I keep it, to recount the adventures my newest self has enjoyed, to weave once more with my pencil. If I didn’t, how would they ever get me out of the clouds, or how will anyone join me.
Words fill my heart. This is probably what. What inspired me to create these worlds. My nose is stuck in a book. The book becomes apart of me, my life,...