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Below are the 8 most recent journal entries recorded in Pres Creative Writing Club's LiveJournal:

    Thursday, June 16th, 2005
    11:16 pm
    i'm in desperate need of a prompt.

    haven't written in so long it's KILLING me, so reply or mention one to me in person, and i'll really appreciate it...
    Saturday, April 9th, 2005
    10:41 pm
    I wrote these over the weekend.

    This one uses quotes from "Tale of Two Cities"
    "Dickens' Revenge"
    "A murky red and yellow sky,
    And a rising mist from the Seine,
    Denoted the approach of darkness."
    And you stood there
    Like a black and white photograph
    Still and intricate like revenge

    But only Dickens says it best:
    "It might be twice
    Or thrice running...
    The delicate foot
    Mincing in this slough of blood and dirt"
    For revenge is delicate;
    Sharp as a blade,
    It cuts deep

    Black crayon lines
    The eyes of deceit
    Pretty lies decorate your words
    A delicate cliche
    A weird contradiction

    And you stood there
    Like a black and white photograph
    Still and intricate like meaninglessness
    You wink, you smirk
    You feed, you devour
    You pretend
    And Dickens again,
    "Like a shadow
    Over the white road"
    You die

    Like a hook dangling
    Above the water
    You tease the victim
    Then lower for the kill
    The perfect recipe for revenge

    Flip the table
    Throw down your hand
    It's a losing game
    And you're spiraling downward
    Into a pit of yourself

    And you stood there
    Like a black and white photograph
    Still and intricate like nothingness

    The next one was written after we came back from the graveyard. While there, I saw a grave with the birth date "Aug. 20, 1866" and a death date "Aug. 21, 1866" And a grave with the date "Blah blah 1912" with no death date (meaning they were still alive; they saved spots for themselves by putting tombstones up). So I wrote this.
    "Puppet Master"
    Belief pulls questions
    Out of the soul
    Our minds try to cancel out
    What our eyes can't see
    And the Almighty Puppet Master
    Reigns above us

    Cutting strings
    Tying new ones
    Playing with His dolls

    His dolls that He crafted
    With His own fingers
    His blood used for paint
    This conceited Puppet Master
    Paints each face like His own

    Each hopeful face
    The painted-on smiles
    Quickly fade
    Once they realize
    Ropes disintegrate,
    Burn, break

    This Almighty Puppet Master
    Glows with joy
    As the puppets bow down
    And worship and beg
    That their ropes remain intact

    The Puppet Master laughs at their cries
    Slicing cords randomly
    As the puppet falls to the floor
    Sprawled across the wood
    The painted eyes look on
    A lifeless doll
    A painted smile

    Some live a day
    Some live forever
    It's all in the luck of the snip
    The puppets pray
    The blade steers clear
    Of their ropes

    The puppets pray in vain
    And the Puppet Master gathers His toys
    And plays with His dolls

    The puppets' eyes gleam
    As He lowers another doll
    But the eyes begin to fade
    When a birth means death

    Wood clangs to the ground
    With a metallic thud
    The other puppets sit and stare
    Until the ropes move
    And the playing continues

    The puppets live
    With a lie in their heart
    As their sewn bodies dance
    They tell themselves with false assurance
    That they are guaranteed another day

    The puppets dance like gypsies
    At the command of their Master
    A dancing body
    A corrupted mind
    A weeping soul
    A bleeding heart

    We're the puppets
    And He's our Master
    And He's getting out His scissors
    Monday, April 4th, 2005
    11:16 pm
    I have only received responses from two people so far on whether we should let Pres girls who are not in CWC join this community. We are having a little three person discussion over heeeere. Feel free to join in!
    Friday, March 18th, 2005
    2:49 pm
    Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

    ~Robert Frost
    12:42 pm
    x-posted in my writing prompts community
    I found a really cute form that's kinda fun to play with. It's called a "triolet" and it consists of 8 lines that repeat and/or rhyme. Kinda cute. Here's the directions:

    Line A
    Line B
    Line a: End rhymes with Line A
    Line A: Repeats Line A
    Line a: End rhymes with Line A
    Line b: End rhymes with Line B
    Line A: Repeats Line A
    Line B: Repeats Line B

    Monday, February 28th, 2005
    8:57 pm
    Prompt! (okay, so not really...)
    Should we allow non-CWC pres girls to join?
    Thursday, February 24th, 2005
    11:34 am
    Writing prompt!
    "If I were president of the USA, I would..."
    Wednesday, February 23rd, 2005
    12:26 pm
    heres what i wrote about my loathed roomate and her geeky boyfriend:

    i sit across the room
    in my small
    twin sized bed
    and i hear you two speak of convergence
    of natural numbers
    and of functions

    and as strangely
    foreign as your
    locutions seem to me
    there seems to be
    a deeper romance
    in the numbers
    and equations
    shared between you two

    perhaps i am blind to the beauty of numbers

    you sit
    propped amongst
    our books
    and scribblings
    smiling and discussing
    logical remedies
    and practical applications
    for sich apparantly
    useless knowledge

    the pictures on my walls
    and the dust on my desk
    and the only
    increase of passion
    i can sense
    is teh intensity
    with which you pursue
    the persistence
    with which
    you use your
    pink rubber eraser
    to blot out
    the signs of error
    on your notebook page

    there is a distinct possibility
    that these differences
    are irreconciliable

    i cannot
    even to a fault
    begin to understand
    your contentedness
    with sitting
    searching for answers
    that are written
    in the back of a book

    give to me a pen
    and a blank piece of paper
    i will give to you
    unexplored worlds
    full of possibility and troubles
    that no man has yet dreamt of

    my answers
    my passions
    will never be
    neatly confined
    to the back pages
    of a thick
    musty texbook

    there it is. waiting for dissection. its really rough, ive not done anything to it, in fact, i just wrote it last nite. i love/hate my roomate. for now i must go, i have research to do on exorcisms and adolescent behavior. i will be in touch.

    argot the littlest.
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