30.9.09

Arm is busted (FREE VERSE POEM)

It just hurts.
Tonight, I was at a sports day program.
It was soccer.
A ball flies over my head.
I attempt to kick it, and obviously fail.
The force of me throwing up my right leg makes my left leg fly to.
I fall and land on my left arm.
Atleast that's what the witness accounts tell me.
The elbow hurts, I can't flex, pull, push or lift.
If I go to the doctor, it will be pointless.
The arm isn't broken, I can move it.
It just hurts.

29.9.09

This. Is. A. Revolver!

Hi. Please disregard all other "Web Journals" by me. Notice I don't call it a blog. Blog sounds stupid. Web Journal sounds stupid too, but hey, who's really here to judge? I started this journal as a creative net for the spout that is my imagination. The bathtub was becoming too clogged with potential ideas, so I had to pull the plug (Normally 'pull the plug' means kill someone if they are on life support, but here I mean make a journal to get the ideas out), and thus I set forth so many ideas that a whirl-pool was caused and everyone died.

No, they didn't actually die, but it sounds very dramatic doesn't it? How many people have actually liked any stupid movies? How many idiots have liked smart movies? Who is in between this analogy? You. The reader, that's who. Get your head out of the gutter and listen up. Trouble's a brewing and we need to stop it. Addiction is something bad. My brother tells me I'm addicted to computer. I'm not addicted, I'm addicting. Whoops, I didn't mean to make that sound so... terrifying. Well, laters, hope you check this place out soon.