Up In The Moutains

There was once a man, who lived way up high in the mountains. High up where he belived nothing bad could happen to him. He had made a home for himself in a small wooden cabin. With only a small bed made out of large oak tree branches he tied up with rope, a chimney. He had many many blankets and his only companion was his dog Chester a old jack rusell. 

Chistopher, was yet a young man of 20. Lived in a small town right by the outsides of Ohio. He posessed the most beutiful chocolate brown eyes one could ever lived to see, and his perfectly wavy short black hair complementedhis chizzled face. Every girl in town wanted to own his heart. One day while walking he crazed a chocolate sundae

Ilusiones

Silly, silly me.

Beliving in ilusines.

beliving that in things that aren’t real

Beliving in people, that don’t belive in you

beliving that you would suceed, but failing miserably

silly me beliving in friends that were not

beliving Iwas  included when I was actually excluded

beliving in fantasies

silly me

Chapter 1

The swarms of people rushing past me, the street lights blinding me. Something was wrong, something had to be off. My brain pounded agaist my skull my my heart was racing. I was scared trying to run away from something, but I didn’t know from what. Maybe it was all in my head, maybe i’m going crazy and losing the sense of thing. I need to go home I kept telling myself, I need to go home. Tommorow all this confusion will go away I’ll make myself a capuchinno maybe read a chapter of 50 shades of Grey take a tynelenol and put myself to bed. That seemed the most logical thing I could do. I needed to go home but my insticts told me that wasn’t safe that I just need to keep going to keep blending in. I gave my head a full turn and obseved my souroundings. The movie thether the was a line of people waiting to buy the movies, then there was that new french resturant with a large banner reading something which i can’t see clearly since the letter are all blury I then forget about my sourrounding and feel the world spinning around me and it dosen’t stop it just keeps on going. Then out of nowhere it happens, she comes. Everything stops spinning. Follow me she says just follow me. So I do she seems lost and confused her blond her flys agaist the wind and her cheeks are moist from all the crying I follow her agaist all common sense because from some reason I know she understands me. So I follow her she runs and she drags me by the hand I close my eyes and just run along with her. We finally stop and reach a old rusty red pick up truck. She helped me up and then everything blacked out.

To be continued… 2/14/2012

Dreamland

I dream away to dreamland

where faries and unicorns abound

dreamland is where I belong

and as I sit in this hour, in this minute, in this second, in this moment

I see how the butterfly’s fly

and how the flowers bloom

in my cottage far above the city and deep into the mountains

I see it all yet I do not feel it all

with crayons,markers and books I dream away

to a far away dream that I can smell that I can touch yet

it isn’t real, so I ask how could this be?

In the mornings I eat but I do not taste

don’t you see? i’m dreaming

in my cottage high above the ground  I lose myself

from what is reality

and indulge myself in far away fantasys that are nothing more than silly ilusiones

for I am human, I live on this planet, I eat, I see it all,

but yet I live in dreamland.

Words

It’s a passion, an art, painters paint pictures, musicianes make harmonys and songs, but we? we tell stories, we portrey abstract thoughts into a paragraph, we make people laugh we make them cry our inspiration comes from the universe. Being a writer is a way of life that uses our excess of imagination and turns it into a complex art , with the poems we write what lies beneath out frigid surface  we write for the mute we write to save ourselfes and for a moment to forget this ploblematic world that we use as an inspiration . We might be weird but we could be normal but we are for sure diferent word choices is the key. Imagination is the fuel but passion is the heart of it all.

Bullying

A sword to the heart

are those  cruel, trechures words as

the tears stream down your face while

heartless humans try to

break, push you, tear you apart but don’t they see that

they won’t suceed

because that pain you feel deep in you

will transform you into a star shinning  that brights up those dark night

and during all  those lonely nights

you slept  with a broken heart

and tear filled eyes

will be forgotten as you sail on to the future

and your pain filled past will be left a reduced to a forgoten shadow

the stars will protect you as you walk to the dawn with your vurneble yet  unbreakable self

so keep your smile because when you do the sun will shine in your life

and so as you walk to the dawn of a gleeful day

the wound the sword made in your heart will be healed because

that sword will never kill you

Vacio

Mi mente esta en la oscuridad del abismo

solo gritos que nunca fueron gritados encuentro adentro de mi corazon

y mientras que camino en esta noche fria

mis cachetes estan secos de lagrimos que nunca fueron deramadas

mi alma esta negra y vacia no siento dolor ni felicidad lo unico que siento es un hueco sin fondo

estoy atrapda en un abismo no tengo miedo ni ansiedad no deseo salir no deseo nada 

solo supongo que la primavera vendra

con sus flores y amor 

pero sin ningun tipo de esperanza.

Fan Fiction: The Hunger Games

For the last twenty years there ceased to exist a day when I didn’t think about Gale Hawthorne the boy with the blue seam eyes and the olive skin with out him going back to the meadow or simply seeing the forest from my home in the victors village just gave me a sense a melancholy and sadness but the forest was still the same i could still go there to free my mind. I always knew Gale loved me but I could never forgive what he did. He killed my baby sister Primrose the only person on this planet that I knew I truly loved. Yet I know there was no other way to free Panem from the claws of the capitol he did his job he won the revolution , he brought peace to this grief striken country but he killed Primrose and he will always be Primrose´s murderer and that I will never forgive. I miss him in a strange way but I do

It has been twenty years and today I saw him while walking by what used to be the seam he wasnt the same I knew he saw me but yet he didnt remember Katniss Everdeen the girl who protected him whom he loved the girl his best friend. He just looked at me with a empty soul with nothing left I couldent bear it I just couldent go home and face Peeta like this I shouldent be feeling like this my mind went blurry my head was spinning inside I ran ran ran to forest I didnt stop I went to the only place that brings me sadness but yet protects me and liberates me . The forest I then blacked out I lost conciousness and fell asleep . The leaves are roufeling I hear people whispering I slowly open my eyes and then I see them beady black eyes burnt faces strangely colored hair this cant be they cant exist thier mouthes are as red as blood and smell like fresh roses its all a dream. My heart is beating sweat is drenching through my rain coat i cant breathe this cant happen . im screaming my ears are ringing im starting to convulse they must be here for revenge. The capitol is back they are back to kill the face to brought peace and hope they are here to kill me Katniss Everdeen.

When I opened my eyes I only saw white  ,I couldent move there where straps this is a dream this is not real I belived that if I kept telling myself this it would be true. and that this is all a dream and right beside is Peeta trying to calm to smooth me while I emerge my self in this torturing dream except that isnt true I am in a white room screaming my insides are buring my flesh isdevoured by fear then it happened…the smell that brought such sense of tragidy in the past hunted me again i was choking the tears were bliding my eyes my ears where ringing then In saw them white roses memories flashed back through my weak mind my father dieing in the mines, Peeta almost dieing, Finnick the revolution Prim and the way i thought I was safe but now im facing death torture, inexplicable pain , the way those roses suffocated me i couldent breath suddenly I heard footsteps a dark, deep shallow monotomes voice with no expression asks me in a cuestioning voice, are you Katniss Everdeen the spark that wasant contained? I have to make a sound I have but i didnt the i am blinded the voice this time a little bit louder asks again are you Katniss Everdeen yes yes! I am Katniss Everdeen I heard the footsteps again  I hope you realize what you did to Panem do you not Katniss or should I not say Mokingjay? I stayed silent my palms were sweating it was nesesary for me to take control of the situation but yet i couldent i my mind was blocked i couldent hear the words the man was speaking then the yelling started… you have transformed Panem into a anarchy controlled country were there is no organization were peace is low and every day more and more people are dieing because of you. I have to figure this out whats going on and escape.

silence

Silence kills

no words

just silence

everything seems shallow

its all too bright

in silence

I walk

by the meadow

I see people laughing

I see people smiling but dont they see

its all just a fantasy

its not real

its just a dream

a dream

with colorful flowers

and giant green pine trees

I must speak but I can´t break a silence

it´s the curse I cant break

I look and see that the silence is in us all

in the children in the dieing ones and in the living ones

in this world there´s a curse no one can break

because of the fear thar

someone might hear

someone might tell

someone could hurt

someone could kill

you better be quiet

because silence saves