#writingshenanigans

[bleufeenix]

Oh boy, I may have written more poetry. 

[bleufeenix]

Gah! Biggest struggle of the day is coming up with a title for the poem I wrote today. Have quite a few titles in mind, so many choices, which one will make the final cut? It’s a tie between Hallelujah & Photograph at the moment, I think. Alright brain, back to warring with yourself.

[bleufeenix]

Writing Shenanigans & Time Capsules

You know how everyone talks about time capsules and placing one and unravelling it a decade or 2 later? I found my time capsule & I didn’t even realize that was what it was until I was perusing through the things in there. My time capsule is a lil’ storage bin that contains all my writing since High School. I kid you not, that box is overflowing with books and file folders. I lost all the stuff I’d written between Middle school & High School and once we’d moved and I was halfway through High school I started storing my hard copy written pieces. First it was just a good ol’ binder, then it exploded into multiple other things. I honestly can’t believe just how much this box is holding right now. One day I’m going to go through all this stuff and I might just get my next story to write :).

[bleufeenix]

Writing Shenanigans: The Eager Beaver

She never knew any better than to sit all the way at the very front of the class. Force of habit, less distracting, focused learning she convinced herself, constantly repeating her rationale them like a mantra in her head. Keener, a know it all, that’s what everyone else whispered and called her, completely forgetting that at the end of the day she was just like them, just another human being curious and constantly in search of company.

[cognitivecapricorn]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Another place where I write my sins

[cognitivecapricorn]

moonrose71 is a fanfiction author that has written 10 stories for Super Smash Brothers, Soul Calibur, Vocaloid, Homestuck, Shingeki no Kyojin/進撃の巨人, and Naruto.

My Fanfiction account for anyone who wants to look

[bleufeenix]

Writing Spark Shenanigans

”Hey it’s me yet again...I had no other choice. If this is the only way I can hear your voice, then so be it. I don’t care if I’m directly responsible for filling up your voice mailbox, but to hear your voice again it’s worth it. It’s been 3 weeks, but it feels like a lifetime...How can you live lifetimes in the matter of a few days? By that rationalization then, we age everyday and we’re all much older than what we think we are when we reach old age right? It’s funny, almost ironic even, since I last saw you I have no concept of time anymore. Me the stickler, the one who tracked every minute of my day is no longer a time-keeper but timeless. Every minute of every day without you sucks. There’s this pressure and vacuum in my chest that seems to grow with every passing minute. Every single morning I wake up thinking today that pressure in my chest will dissipate, but it’s growing worse, so I was thinking of going to the ER, my antacids don’t help. I wish you would tell me what to do, you always had the better ideas. I..”

*BEEP* To save your message press 1...to replay your message press 2....to delete your message press 3....to record your message press 4....

[bleufeenix]

Poetry Shenanigans - Core Resuscitation

There are no perfect solutions, but there are options and counter solutions. Keep working through and maybe you will break free and find your breakthrough. It’s been a shit-tastic day, but, I guess inspiration sometimes just doesn’t take time off and is what you need to get through phase 1 of dealing of rubbish that comes your way. Well that, combined with this really really really amazingly well written piece I came across yesterday sorta drove this poem.

Core Resuscitation

When the only scars you see, Are the ones that never cease to bleed. Where the only pain you feel, Is the one without relief. When the only voice, To help calm your nightmares, And soothe you to dreamless sleep, Is yours and yours alone. When the only one, To put out the fires Of your raging, beating, wild heart, Burning white hot, With rage, desperation, And all the things You’ve been told, That makes you different, Keeps you apart, Is nobody else but you, Partially burned, Permanently scalded. When the inky black darkness, You were guaranteed To be sucked and swirled into, And lost unto for eternity, Is more permanence… More comfort… You’ve ever received, Than the tall tales and taller lies Of human compassion, love and empathy, Softly whispered by hollow voices, In to desperate ears, Yearning for the melody and harmony, Of belonging and being. Though all that ever was, And now all that remains, Are the hisses and snarls, Of abject jealousy and raging envy, Of sharp criticism, And unfathomable anger, Hurled, tossed and thrown at you, Like stones, hot coals, Cutting and biting, Through the roots and foundations, Of all those things, That have defined you. Disowning you, And breaking apart, Piece by piece, Brick by brick, Dream by sordid dream, All that you, Ever yearned to be.

SJ