Dedicated to Jernana

Oh god.

I well, kinda, remembered that it was Jernana's birthday yesterday and I had somehow managed to stumble away for some unknown reason--out of my life and consciousness (I swear that stupid unicorn song managed to hypnotise me into donut land for no reason)

Okay. I kinda wanted to make up for it but I don't really know how. T.T

JERNANA! HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY! ♥♥♥

Okay, that doesn't seem as fair to Eilun... So...
Jerry, share half of it with Eilun :D

Yay~

So I created tagline for both of you~

Eilun's one: EILUN--JUST WHAT THE DOCTOR ORDERED 
Jernana's one: JERNANA--THE ONLY SOLUTION

:D
yay~~~ :D
Oh yeah, some of the words are randomly highlighted to celebrate the yellowism.

So here's the cheer:

All the red, blue and purple wanna be like me,
YELLOWISM~ :D

For more yellowism, click here: YELLOWISM FRENZY

Sankiew!

Here, have a Banana-flavoured waffle :D

Dedicated to a Tennis ball

I just wrote a crappy song.
Crappy, but still.

This is dedicated to a tennis ball :D
...
...
...
To be sung to the tune of Friday(chorus) by Rebecca Black:

She's a tennis ball, tennis ball,
boing boing in the daylight.
like jellies, she wobbles--wobble boingboing wobble.
Tennis ball, tennis ball,
boing boing here and there~
Everywhere she's boing-ing,
here and there :D

________End of awesomeness__________

I know how awesome it is. Jerry, maybe we could write the whole song out :D
lalalalalala.

Oh, the tennis ball = the boxer

Dedicated to Phoebe -- Hope

They judge you with beady, narrowed eyes.

Yet as you fidget, they smile for a wrong move,

Click, reload, spill it all out on the pure piece of paper with black ink,

that engulfs the whole piece in sin.

They chuckle in delight and nod their head absentmindedly.

Continue, they croon with their abused lips that are drawn in an ugly snarl.

You smile lightly,

But the tension in the air is simply electrifying and it never relaxes,

The way their pen twirls in the hand pushes you away, further.

You know you can't trust them,

The whole crowd is chanting your name, lovely, they tap their foot.

You're nothing but a puppet, your strings pulled taut.

They wait for a performance to condemn you.

Enter, click, reload. The action repeats as their eyebrows rise in humour. They're waiting for a faux pas.

" Mr. Know-It-All

Well ya think you know it all

But ya don't know a thing at all

Ain't it something y'all

When somebody tells you something bout you

Think that they know you more than you do

So you take it down another pill to swallow"

You haven't got anything against them,

Since you've taken the stage,

Why not show them?

Don't fear their quills when they should,

Because all those lies made up

Will vanish when you shine and stand up.

So brave their sneers and hope

Shine and blind their prejudice.

Make them widen their eyes in awe

At how you'll soar and change their perspectives,

So I'll stand with you.

Let's hope.

__________________________________________________________________________________

This is dedicated to Phoebe, my dear granddaughter.

Inspired by :

The post Phobe wrote on 'Bullying' on our joint blog-- somehow her angst made me more cheery *shudder*

Also, Kelly Clarkson's Mr. Know-It-All.

Phoebe, don't lose hope. Life may be cruel, but as long as we have hope (and each other), the world can change. I haven't been writing poems lately, so I hope this one's okay! :D

I love you! :D Let's spread the love around! This world needs more love! :D

Cheerio!

Ollie :D

Dancing in the rain-- Dedicated to Ken

She spins around in wild glee, her white silk dress draped around her slim frame. Her hairband falls out due to her rapid turns, releasing the strands of reddish-brown hair that swing around her head. She is laughing maniacally, her head thrown back and her arms outstretched, as though she had seen the most ridiculous scene ever. Rain was pouring, the little transparent droplets mercilessly attacking her figure, breaking away at the slightest contact and then soaking into her skin. The cool touch of the droplets against her burning skin makes her shudder, but she giggles away the discomfort.

But she continues to dance. She skips a little to the left, her eyes firmly shut, that smile never leaving her face. She kicks into a puddle, then continues to jump in the puddle like a little child. She claps her hands together, the blissful look on her face still. Her actions have attracted the attentions of the other passers-by. They look horrified at the teenager who is wearing boots with a flowery nightgown dancing, scratch that, jumping around in happiness. Some gasp, and try to cover the girl with a cloak or an umbrella, but she merely gently pushes them back into shelter and bows before resuming her own parade. Others shake their head and remark on how silly the girl is, walking away with a kind of indigant look which clearly states, "I am so apologetic to see such a deranged girl, yet I am sure she has the sense, or perhaps her parents, have the sense to take better care of her."

The girl had lost her sense to even think in the weather, flinging herself out into the street and kicking her legs, putting her hands in a position above her head like a ballerina. Her boots are already brown with the mud and are still wet due to the fact that she had been jumping into any puddle regularly. To dance in the rain was a joy, something that no one would even think about before they disapproved. It was a secret kind of happiness for the girl to do so, to enjoy something immensely without the others' knowledge of its fun. She acted like a maniac to them, although it was just the behaviour of a young child in her, to have fun and enjoy nature in its best state. She has never tried to pull anyone into dancing with her, since she knows how fake all of them are. They cover their vain and ugly bodies with expensive cloaks or silk dresses, putting make-up all over their hideous faces to hide the scars, walking with a false air of elegance. They are always concerned about their outward appearance, whether they have gotten their high heels dirty, their dresses wet.

As she dances, she is not concerned with the emotional pain she has felt from the whole dark world. It stings into her crumpled heart, but the rain and physical pain she feels is enough to wash them away for now. She chuckles at their shocked expressions, their mouths hung wide open and eyes blinking in mere disbelief. But they don't know that to dance in the rain, in a way she is taking refuge, to forget, to let the cooling water droplets wash away all her pain and guilt. She feels fresh and pure after every dance, it awakens an inner child within her. She loves dancing in the rain.

Soon it stops. The rain droplets stop falling. The grey clouds slowly edge away out of the stage behind the curtains and the light shines. The sun reappears and it shines a lovely, rosy light on the girl. She smiles for a moment, stretching her arms as though to embrace the warmth, but she later snaps out of her own thoughts and shrieks.
She can't be recognised by anyone now. It might cause her to lose her job. She needs to hurry.
With that, she runs out of the street, twisting and turning into different alleys. But she knows, that as soon as the rain starts to pour, she will continue to dance and she will wash away all the guilt, pain, shame and humilation that she has bore. That'll be her next date, to dance in the rain.

___________________________________________________________________________________
AWESHOM! I've finally finished it! This is dedicated to Ken, for some strange reason that I mysteriously forgot... >.< 

I'm so sorry, I didn't really do that well on this piece. There're sooooo much repetition! UGH!

Ollie

Five Steps --Dedicated to Pikachu :D

First Step.

“Life is cruel, isn’t it?”

Those were the very first words you spoke to me, your voice barely a whisper as we trudged out of the tunnel, the reverberating echoes trailing behind. The light was blinding and warm, after so many years of darkness, icy flailing fingers waving about, hovering like a lost soul. You simply smiled when I asked you why, and for once, I thought I could see the knowledge accumulated over the years in your eyes, vast and brown. Warmth, I thought immediately. Like a leading hand, I grasped onto you for support, even though my weight kept you down, you continued to march on, confident as you strode forward, occasionally looking back at my fragile, pitiful and pathetic frame.

“Come on.”

Second Step.

I could see a mirror of my weak frame in your clouded eyes. You were worn out, physically, mentally and emotionally. I was still as young and naïve, clutching onto your black blouse as I stared up. I thought I could see something hidden behind the happiness, but no, you kept it well, a secret. Sometimes I would catch you looking at me, as if unsatisfied and curious. You would seem to hide a deeper meaning within your words, laced with sarcasm. Was there empathy, too?

“Yeah, two peas in a pod.”

I could never understand why you would use that phrase, of how different we were. You, the confident, astute, beautiful and courageous adult that would appear to solve every problem, not hesitant or agitated. You were always masked with composure and calmness, something I could never imitate. How could you be compared to a small child, immature and childish, ugly in more than one way and so timid, afraid of the dark, everything? I did not understand, not at that time.

Third Step.

The first time I saw you cry.

You were huddled at the corner of your dimly-lit bedroom, sobbing uncontrollably, and tears leaking out. I wondered if I were dreaming, how could someone so strong break down? Apparently you had snapped, for once, your frame shaking, eyes red. I stood in the doorway, staring, hugging my pillow, afraid. You looked up, saw me, and stumbled forward. Shock filled me, robbing me of my speech. You were always so graceful, prancing across the room, but this time, I thought I could see the lost child in you, reappearing. You stumbled and fell into my arms, my frail borders of fence. I felt like a grown up, our roles reversed. For that night, we hugged and cried.

I did not know why I cried, perhaps that my childish mind thought that something bad and evil was coming and it was horribly terrifying, because it caused you to cry. Now, if I were back in that situation again, I would understand why you cried and I would have cried with you again, this time, for different reasons. You were hanging on like a thin strand of rope, about to break anytime, and you were so tired of having to continually shine your bright and seemingly carefree smiles on us.

“It hurts.”

And I thought that the monster hurt you, so I tried to hold you back in one piece, to prevent you from crumbling.

Fourth Step.

You looked at the skies, as we sat on the balconies, and you laughed without humour, your eyes hollow as you stared out, and I imagined your beautiful soul slowly spreading its wings as it flew away. You had aged, mentally and emotionally. You were tired, so tired of everything. Even though you had a smile on your face, beneath that cool façade, you were sighing. You thought I could not see anything, but I could. Still, I pretended to be that young and innocent child. I stared blankly at you, then on impulse, reached out to hold your hand, to stop you from having silly thoughts.

“Oh, and you still haven’t grown up. Now, what monsters are chasing you, again?”

I had grown. But I kept a sheepish smile and shrugged. You scrutinised me with your eyes, suspicious of my actions. That was the second time I had such a long look at your hazel eyes. Now the sparkles had faded into the background, and your pupils were looking faraway, blank and unfocused. I could see pain arching out, slowly burning you in hell. I squeezed your hand and you sighed. You shut your eyes and smiled. I wondered what you were thinking about. As I thought more, my stomach contracted.

Fear seized me once again, and I squeezed your hand, to stop the monsters from coming again.

Last Step.

You’ve gone. I tried to hold you back from falling over the edge, but you merely smiled, something so real and stunning that I momentarily let go of your hand, and watched you crumble away into pieces, the ghost of your last laugh still on your face.

...

I saw another girl stuck in darkness and I am reminded of you and myself again. She is lost, desperately calling out for help, but is ignored by those around her. I walk up to her, wearing your black blouse and she stares at me, blankly. I smile, and the first words I say to her are,

“Life is cruel, isn’t it?”

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I love this :D It was written quite some time ago and it caused quite a stir in a small part of the class; Because I published it on my school blog and dedicated it to someone, so they started discussing on who it was... Ha. It feels kind of funny to watch them discuss it, yet not daring to ask me at all. I shall let them continue wondering who it is dedicated to. Actually, there was no meaning in dedicating it to the person, I just wrote it for fun, but there may be an underlying meaning behind it.. maybe... :D

Have fun reading, Pikachu :D