Shatter

Millions of them, falling, falling, to the ground. The eyes, the horrible, horrible, eyes mocking perhaps, what we would call a mirror. The delicate glass floats in the air—a portal to our past—a dangerous trap, that one.  They attempt to lure us to the dark side, and they will, unless we wait, wait, for them to… shatter.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

Broken Trees

In this sliver of nothing,

Absence,

It holds everything.

Demons,

They try to cut normality,

Shape it,

In their unwilling, vastly envious,

Hands.

Shape it,

So that the insanity,

Might fall through the cracks,

Of their wisps we call fingers.

The memories,

Held up by long, ever stretching pillars,

Trees,

That, in the making,

Seem to lost themselves.

And,

Like a cell,

We are enclosed in strips of irrationality.

Memories,

Of broken trees.

TEA!

Author’s Note: In this word choice and context piece, I tried using parallel structure with punctuation from Edgar Allan Poe’s piece “The Tell Tale Heart” to try and add the same… madness to this piece. Using symbolism, metaphors, and other syntactical devices also added to the insanity of this well known character.

TEA!—clean cup, clean cup—move down!  Time—time, it marches on its stomach—we have got no time! No time. None—none! 

They look at me like I am—what?—insane! Their deranged eyes penetrate through me as if they are inflicted with some kind of madness—yes, madness indeed. Their lopsided smirks trying to bring me to—to the-- the insanityness of the world. Their rather wonky hats sit atop their askew heads. Indeed, two negatives make a positive—does that imply that their crooked hats don’t sit atop their crooked heads? That their hats sit atop their heads? I contemplate—NOT!

Especially that—cursed, yes, cursed!—rabbit! “Late I’m, late I’m, late I’m goodbye, hello, say to time no, date important very a for late I’m late I’m!” Surely he too is mad—he carries a pocket watch telling time two days slow, of course he is late!—the watch is full of wheels! Can you believe it? Wheels and springs—tickers and tockers! I fancy jamming the bloody thing with butter—of only the best—tea, mustard—yes, but mustard?! Don’t I be silly! LEMON, lemon—yes, that’s different—indeed that’s…

Tea... immaculate, immaculate... move down.  Time... time, it marches on its stomach... we have got no time. No time. None... none.

What is the hatter with me?

All Since

Author's Note: This is a comparative essay used in Social Studies to compare the book "My Brother Sam is Dead" to the movie "The Patriot". Enjoy!

What if you were living in a world where you had to worry about wars starting in your own backyard? Or if you had to take over the responsibilities and obligations of your older brother who had just abandoned you and your family to fend for themselves as he fought for the American Country? What if, given the circumstances, you were forced to change from an immature, young boy, to a sensible man in a matter of months? Both Thomas Martin from The Patriot, directed by Roland Emmerich, and Tim Meeker from My Brother Sam is Dead, written by James Lincoln Collier and Christopher Collier have dealt with these issues since their older brothers have gone to war.

Both Revolutionary War based stories start with Thomas and Tim torn between two sides of the Revolution, and two sides of their families.  The fathers of each family, Benjamin Martin and “Father” Meeker, don’t necessarily support the King’s devious actions, but at the same time, want to keep their families together. They do not support their eldest sons, Gabriel Martin and Sam Meeker, leaving the nest to face so many dangers. Thomas and Tim are left undecided between two sides of their now separated families—brother or father…. All since their brothers went to war.

No matter what side both brothers choose, they will always have that admiration for their brothers that all siblings have for each other. They will stick up for one another no matter the circumstances, no matter the cost, and this theory is portrayed perfectly in both stories when Thomas and Tim stick up for their older brothers. Thomas Martin’s older brother is practically captured by the British after a small fight at their house, and Thomas tries knock the British off his brother, and in return, costs him his life. A less tragic version of this happens in My Brother Sam is Dead, when Sam is sentenced to death, and Tim musters enough courage to talk to the General, and try to release Sam. Lives are taken, all since their  brothers went to war.

Not only are both Thomas and Tim torn between two sides of their families, and they both are willing to cost their lives for their brothers, but both of these pieces end in death of the older brother. Although Thomas is already waiting for Gabriel, Tim has the burden of not only living his life knowing that his older brother is dead, but to make matters worse, is awed to watch his brother die. Even after their families were ripped apart, and everyone had to make sacrifices because of Sam and Gabriel’s leaving, they both ended up dead whether or not it was fair… and all since their brothers went to war.

All since their brothers went to war, families are broken. All since their brothers went to war, lives are taken. All since their brothers went to war, tragic stories are released. All since their brothers went to war, their fathers live a life of regret. All since their brothers went to war, six year old girls live with death lurking around them. All since their brothers went to war.

All since their brothers went to war.

Here Today POV

     Author's Note: This is my POV piece using the book "Here Today" by Ann M. Martin. The first section was taken from the book (pages 195 to 197) from Ellie's point of view, and I used this text to change the point of view to Doris's view. Please leave feedback!


        Ten minutes later, the five Dingmans, some of them groggy, were seated at their kitchen table. Doris wore an apron and walked around the table, serving doughnuts as if she were Lorna the waitress.
       "Isn't this nice?" she said.
     Ellie looked out the kitchen window at the dreary day. A fine drizzle was falling, and a mist had set in. She peered at the thermometer outside the window. Forty-two degrees. And she shivered. But she had to agree that sitting around the kitchen table with her family, a plate of doughnuts, and Kiss leaning against her legs, was very nice indeed.
       "It's great," said Marie, her mouth full of chocolate doughnut. "Can we have doughnuts every morning?"
       "Well, hon, I don't know about that. I guess it will be up to your father."
       "Up to Daddy? Why?" asked Marie.
       "Yeah, why?" echoed Albert.
     Before Doris answered, before any words left her mouth, Ellie felt her own mouth go dry. She set her half-eaten doughnut down on her plate and looked all around the kitchen-- at the cupboards with the chipped green paint, at the plate shaped like a fish that had been hanging over the doorway for as long as she could remember, at the section of counter between the oven and the refrigerator that the Dingmans had called the Messy Corner-- but she couldn't look at Doris. Ellie let her eyes droop to her plate again, to the remains of the doughnut and waited for Doris's answer.
       "Why?" repeated Doris. "Well... because-- because of my exciting news!" Doris pushed her chair away from the table. She stood up and began to speak. As she spoke, she moved around the table standing behind each of the Dingmans in turn, her hands on their shoulders. "I've been doing a lot of thinking," Doris said. "That's where I've been the last couple of days. I needed to think."
     "I can think in our house," said Albert.
     Doris removed her hands from Albert's shoulders and leaned around to look into his eyes. "Well, I couldn't," she said. "Not about this."
     She moved on to Marie. "It's hard to know where to begin."
     "Begin at the beginning," said Marie, tipping her head back and smiling at Doris.
     And Ellie thought, She doesn't know. Marie doesn't know that this is bad news.
       "It's even hard to know where the beginning is," said Doris. "I think the beginning was a long time ago. Maybe before you were born. But the thing is... what I've been thinking about..." Doris drew in a deep breath and moved on to Ellie. "The thing is... life is short." (195-197)



       Ten minutes later, the five Dingmans, some of them groggy, were seated at the kitchen table. I bustled from place mat to place mat, serving doughnuts the way some women wear their makeup-- to cover what was coming.
     "Isn't this nice?" I said, maintaining the act. Man, I'll make it to "The Ed Sullivan Show" without a problem with this kind of performance!
      I continued to whirl around the kitchen, a tornado of doughnuts, OJ, and sticky hands. Only a few more hours and this will all be over, I thought. Although, doughnuts won't repair anything at this point-- I have already made my way out of this life.
       "It's great," said Marie, her mouth full of chocolate doughnut. "Can we have doughnuts every morning?"
       "Well, hon, I don't know about that. I guess it will be up to your father."
       "Up to Daddy? Why?" asked Marie.
       "Yeah, why?" echoed Albert.
     I paused, unsure of how to start. Utterly shamed. Oh well, it's not like I'm gonna see them again....
     "Why?" I awkwardly repeated. "Well... because-- because of my exciting news!" I stood up, and confidently pushed my chair away from the table. I began to speak. As I started, I moved around the table standing behind each of the Dingmans in turn, my hands on their shoulders. "I've been doing a lot of thinking," I said. "That's where I've been the last couple of days. I needed to think."
       "I can think in our house," said Albert.
      I removed my hands from Albert's shoulders and leaned around to look into his eyes. Motherly enough, right? "Well, I couldn't," I said, fairly irritated on the inside-- Why does he have to be so stubborn? "Not about this."
I moved on to Marie. "It's hard to know where to begin."
       "Begin at the beginning," said Marie, tipping her head back and smiling at me. Ugh, that ugly, toothy, smile... she doesn't know. She doesn't know what's coming. They don't know what's coming.
 "It's even hard to know where the beginning is," I replied. "I think the beginning was a long time ago. Maybe before you were born" Heck yeah, before you were born! Your birth made everything ten times worse!   "But the thing is... what I've been thinking about..." I drew in a deep breath and moved on to Ellie. Ellie knows. She always knew. D*** it, I have created a monster that has outsmarted me. "The thing is... life is short." 




Analysis: When this story is being told from Ellie's point of view, you as the reader feel pretty badly for Ellie-- from her point of view, she is being abandoned by her mom who had never stopped to care for her in the first place. Ellie has pieced together from her mother's actions in the past months that this is bad news-- "She doesn't know. Marie doesn't know that this is bad news." We also interpret, from Ellie's point of view, that Ellie is disappointed with her mother's lack of care-- "but she couldn't look at Doris." Once the view changes to Doris's interpretations, we see that Doris cares a lot about herself-- "I have already made my way out of this life."-- more than she cares about the upcoming of her kids. The changes were made from Ellie to Doris because both are very different characters. Ellie almost has a motherly instinct to her because of Doris, who is busy out in the world trying to "accomplish her dreams."


   

     

Come Home OneRepublic

Author's Note: This is a song analysis of the piece "Come Home" by OneRepublic. Enjoy!
Hello world, hope you're listening-- The artist is awakening the world,  preparing to show us beauty.Forgive me if I’m young or speaking out of turnBut there’s someone I've been missing-- Suggests that he is searching for someone-- something. He is searching for freedom in this war.And I think that they could be the better half of me-- He wants a free person, a free him, not someone who is told what to do, wear, be. He is nothing without a free soul.They’re in the wrong place tryin' to make it right-- Implies that other soldiers, fighters are "in the wrong place" (across seas, away from their loved ones) and they are trying to "make it right" (killing souls for souls) but...But I'm tired of justifying-- He is done repeating himself, done telling others that you shouldn't have to kill other souls for you in return to receive your own. The war shouldn't be fighter to fighter.
So I say to you, come home, come home-- Not begging to the soldiers, but rather, a plea to freedom to come home.'Cause I’ve been waiting for ya for so long, for so long-- A realization that this soldier hasn't been waiting for this war to end, He has been waiting for liberty.And right now there's a war between the vanities-- Refers to the competition between excessive pride.But all I see is you and me-- When the artist looks in the mirror, he can only envision himself as a free man and nothing otherwise.And the fight for you is all I've ever known-- All he has in life, all he wants, is his liberty, and he puts all energy into it. The fight is all he has ever known.So come home
I get lost in the beauty of everything I see-- This guy has feelings that are the opposite of the rest of the world's. We are obsessed with material items, but he sees beauty in life.The world ain’t half as bad as they paint it to be-- I thought of women in particular when reading this line-- Americans are the only country to shave our legs, we wear cakes of make-up to cover our inner beauty, we look to superstars for inspiration, we spend half of our time on the scale deciding if we should or shouldn't eat that cupcake, we strive for perfection, when in reality, we already have it. We paint a beautiful world with flaws and problems.If all the sons and all the daughters stop to take it in-- No matter what color, no matter what religion, no matter what size, all of the sons and daughters of God, everyone, will see the beauty of the world as this guy sees it.Well hopefully the hate subsides and the love can begin-- 
It might start now, yeahOr maybe I'm just dreaming out loud-- Isn't it sad that this person doesn't think that hate can subside and love can begin easily? He knows it will be tough, maybe even far from possible for the world to love.
But until then...Come home, come home'Cause I’ve been waiting for ya for so long, for so longut until then come home, come homeAnd right now there's a war between the vanitiesBut all I see is you and meAnd the fight for you is all I've ever known, ever knownSo come home, ooh
Everything I can’t be is everything you should be-- The audience changes from speaking to freedom itself to the citizens and the world he is trying to gain freedom for. If this guy is fighting in the war, he will probably never be free (he is taking the risk of death). He is fighting so that others in the country, others in next generations, will be free. Everything he can't be-- free-- is everything you should be-- free.And that’s why I need you here-- Now the artist narrows down the audience to specifically men and anyone willing to risk there life as this man is. He needs you here.Everything I can’t be is everything you should beAnd that’s why I need you here
So I say to you, come home, come home-- Not begging to the soldiers, but rather, a plea to freedom to come home.'Cause I’ve been waiting for ya for so long, for so long-- A realization that this soldier hasn't been waiting for this war to end, He has been waiting for liberty.And right now there's a war between the vanities-- Refers to the competition between excessive pride.But all I see is you and me-- When the artist looks in the mirror, he can only envision himself as a free man and nothing otherwise.And the fight for you is all I've ever known-- All he has in life, all he wants, is his liberty, and he puts all energy into it. The fight is all he has ever known.So come home, come home--  A last whisper in the night, the final plea-- come home.

Winter

The emotionless realm trailed with frost

Threads snowflakes and

Flurries of sorrow through the

Skies of ashen streaks.

Crisscrossed patterns engrave the ice

A wretched window to tomorrow--

A wretched window to tomorrow.

On the Cusp of Sanity

Author's Note: Melody and I decided to have a "Poetry Contest" and as I started to write my piece, Melody said, "Why don't we have the same title and see where we go from there?" So, let's see how this turns out! 

a poInt at which the directioN of a curve is reversed,
my cusp,
reverSed. 

i

 wAtch the shadows of night.

stars of day.

stagger to me

time balaNces,

on thE cusp,

cusp of sanity.

INSANE

Perceptions

Author's Note: This piece was supposed to use one of the lines or story starters off of the board in the Writing Lab, and I chose the line "Why should I care? It's not like he ever did anything for me!" But I never got to that line because I like this piece ending the way it does. Please comment with suggestions!

They walked down the hallway, hand in hand, love entwined together. The girl turns around, rolling her eyes with a bored sigh, for all of her friends trailing the couple to see. They stop in front of the girl’s next class, and he pulls her into passion’s embrace whispering in her soft, strawberry scented hair “See you at lunch, ok? Love you…” and to bid farewell, gives the girl a delicate kiss on the cheek. All the while, the girl mocks the boy behind his back, and the oblivious crowd “oohs” and “aahs” at the sight of adoration. As he left, his eyes glossed with love, searched the girl’s eyes for a response, and in return, received a glare telling him to go. The glare was perceived as a puppy dog’s eyes telling him that she loved him in return.

He too was brainwashed by the power of the girl.

2 and 2 makes 5

Author's Note: This is my theme essay using the theme of government control to compare the books 1984, The Giver, and Animal Farm. In this piece, I focused on trying to find unique subsections of "government control" and explaining them in creative and thoughtful ways. Enjoy!          

             Imagine living in your fantasy land, a place where all of your dreams would come true. It could be across the ocean, it could be across the globe, it could be across the universe. It could be a fictional place, or maybe a country just a few borders away. Where ever you may land, close your eyes and envision the society. Create everything—the people, the technology, the objects surrounding your everyday life. Now create a government for your community, and this won’t be any ordinary government, of course. No, this a kind of government that watches you intently, just waiting for you to screw up, waiting for you to be the hopeless, innocent creature you might call prey. They feed off of your guilelessness and brainwash you into their society. Wait, you may say, I thought this was my world… but the government will overpower you, and the only option for you to survive is corruption. In 1984 by George Orwell, and in many other novels alike, government control and misuse of power in government leaders is the overall theme.

            Children are the most innocent beings of them all-- their lives should be filled with laughter and smiles bright enough to shine through all darkness. As Whitney Houston quoted in her song, “Greatest Love Of All”: “I believe that children are our future/Teach them well and let them lead the way.” Although not just people of today’s world recognize children’s purity, so do the government leaders of 1984 and The Giver by Lois Lowry, resulting in brainwashed children who will do anything to  follow the path of their leaders.  The book 1984 represents this thought completely-- "Nearly all children nowadays were horrible. What was worst of all was that by means of such organizations as the Spies they were systematically turned into ungovernable little savages..." (24).  The next couple pages in the book even discuss children who will turn in their parents to the society in order to be called “A Child Hero!” The idea of controlling children is also perfectly executed in The Giver , as well: "It was a game he had often played with the other children, a game of good guys and bad guys, a harmless pasttime that used up their contained energy and ended only when they all lay posed in freakish postures on the ground. He had never recognized it before as a game of war " (133). This quote in comparison to the one in 1984 shows that children are the easiest targets to brainwash and create a whole new way, good or bad.

            Not only does the government in the book The Giver use kids to indoctrinate an entire society, but they misuse technology, as does the government in 1984. Both communities consist of high tech tools that can see, hear, and comprehend everything and anything you do.  As a page in 1984 states: "To keep your face expressionless was not difficult, and even your breathing could be controlled, with an effort; but you could not control the beating of your heart, and the telescreen was quite delicate enough to pick it up" (79). This is the kind of advanced technology that doesn’t give society members an option to do anything illegal, much less give them the opportunity to corrupt. Another comparison between the two books is that the technology usually always has some kind of monotone voice associated with it as both books tell us—“... in the self-important voice that all Speakers seemed to develop, saying things like, ATTENTION. THIS IS A REMINDER TO FEMALES UNDER NINE THAT HAIR RIBBONS ARE TO BE NEATLY TIED AT ALL TIMES. He turned toward Lily and noticed to his satisfaction that her ribbons were, as usual, undone and dangling" (The Giver 23). "The voice from the telescreen paused. A trumpet call, clear and beautiful, floated into the stagnant air. The voice continued raspingly: 'Attention! Your attention, please! A newsflash has this moment arrived from the Malabar front. Our forces in South India have one a glorious victory. I am authorized to say that the action we are now reporting may well bring the war within measurable distance of its end. Here is the newsflash--' " (1984 25-26). As I learned from Mr. Mamerow, technology is any tool used to make our lives easier, but when there is a misuse of it, societies are stripped of their knowledge and freedom.

            The books 1984 and Animal Farm were two brilliant books both written by George Orwell, and it’s easy to tell. Although each book may have different stories and backgrounds weaved into them, George Orwell’s writing style in both pieces are almost exactly the same, and they give you the same perceptions of government control. To start, both books have one main line that is in bold and often quoted throughout the rest of the book. "WAR IS PEACE. FREEDOM IS SLAVERY. IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH,” (26) says the government in 1984, compared to the writings of the pigs in Animal Farm: "ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL, BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS,” (133). The government in both books gradually changes rules as well—the chocolate rations in 1984 are slowly reduced, and in Animal Farm, all of the rules are slightly altered little by little to fit the needs of the pigs, not the farm as a whole. Slow and steady wins the race, we learned from The Tortoise and the Hare, and in this case, very true. By gradually changing rules, bit by bit, society will do what you say. As Winston in 1984 says "And what was terrifying was not that they would kill you for thinking otherwise, but that they might be right. For, after all, how do we know that two and two make four?" (80).

            Now, imagine living in a world where you are forced to follow the rules set by insanity itself, have your innocence stolen from you, and you are constantly watched, listened to, analyzed. Envision your only spark of hope being corruption… not anticipating presents on Christmas, or waiting for that day when your big baseball game finally comes—no, you are excited about overthrowing the government.

            Imagine living in a world where you doubt that two and two make four…