Your Creations Thread

[hairballxavier]

Originally Posted by AIG

Well, I once made a dino rap in the 9th grade and it went something like this...

Roar Roar Roar
I'm a Dinosaur!!

I forget the rest.

When I was in the 1st or 2nd grade I wrote this classic...

Here comes Spiderman
Swinging on a rubber band
Along came Superman
Knocked him in the garbage can



Apparently it was an early protest song expressing my disdain for several of my classmates who contended that Spiderman was more powerful that Superman. (That was a very controversial subject at the time)

[lillywilliam]

They are very nice and beautiful man,,,,,

[Q of U]

Earth girls are easy
Wouldn't it be fun to have a jet car that could run
so fast so high swoosh swoosh zoom zoom touch the sky.
It's night in the city and here I come a Judy Jetson out for fun.
Come on will cruise the stars maybe check out the social life on mars
How about that handsome wookie or maybe that studly Klingon he looks like he might need a heavenly body to lean on.
You may find this poem a little sleazy but hey us earth girls have a rep for being easy

[zechariah1]

Originally Posted by ultranet

Posts your creations.. anything

Poems, sayings, designs anything...

Anything? I came across this the other day...won't encourage those from LA.

Julian and the Enchanted Forest (Fantasy)

Deep within the Southern Continent lies a forest undiscovered, unseen by low orbiting earth satellites. A forest as old as the founding of earth itself lies undisturbed by the foot of man. Trees of great towering height stand as guarding sentinels surrounding the sanctuary of this Inner Temple. Deep glacial lakes dot the interior, reflecting the crystalline purity of the heavenly blue sky. Lawn like meadows of some unknown grass overspreads the lowlands, rich green in color that almost hurts the eyes. A sweet dampness entices the nostrils. Warm spring like sun falls agreeably on the plants filling the gently rolling hillsides with a profusion of varieties.

The land hosts uncounted myriads of birds, songs resonating from gate to gate entering and leaving the Sacred Sanctuary, heard only by the invited. Giant oaks interlocked at the Granite Gates to repel the invader. Only within the circle of the sanctuary can one hear the almost imperceptible music of the land. Once beyond the gates only the rasping grinding of earth can be perceived. The sweet gentleness of the forest vanishes as night at first light.

Julian cannot remember how he found this valley or why he awoke standing at the Granite Gates entering the Pleasant Valley. He was not frighten but curious,

“How did I come to be at this place?” he suddenly spoke aloud. His memory of past events seemed far from him now, lost, with no desire to recall the time before the present. He was here and that was his only thought, his only reality.

He entered the valley through the Granite Gates as a child enters his familiar room. The coolness of the land whispered its welcome. He felt a kinship with the land, the waters, the verdant hillsides. The trees with broad leaves dappled the earth with a kaleidoscope of shadows, as tho chasing one another. Julian was sure they had spoken to one another…or to him, he could not be certain.

He traveled along a river which seemed to lead to a highland lake. The waters transparent, gliding over smooth stones of colors he had never before experienced, they too seemed almost transparent.

Julian was near the highland lake now, trees of great height and strength surrounded the waters. He walked the shores until he arrived at the river again.

No animals appeared in the valley only the birds which refused to cease their sweet symphony of song. They complimented one another as in an orchestra, woodwinds giving way to the strings, french horns sounding the advance of the brass, percussion underlying the company giving a finality to the composition. Julian was please with the songs. He found no fault in them. They gave the valley its meaning, a haven, a place of rest.

Julian napped under the giant tree until dusk. He had not known he was so weary, he felt he had come a very long way but could remember from where. The dusk dissolved into twilight, the canopy of stars appeared, such as he had never before imagined. He could not name the stars of his boyhood here in the valley. All were new to him, sparkling stones in a black abyss.

Julian greeted night fall with a sigh of resignation. It had come at last…as he always knew it would. He welcomed it. A quietness and peace arrived with the expansion of the nightly heavens.

“I belong here,” he whispered to himself.

“I was always to come here,” he thought.

Julian closed his eyes in sleep, unafraid as a child might fall asleep in the arms of a loving mother. He dreamed he rode the curvature of the earth, flew into the semi darkness of the firmament, soared over the mighty waters of the oceans.

Suddenly he felt a slight jolt, the car behind him had gently bumped him moving slowly in the heat and welter of Los Angeles freeway traffic. Cars stalled for miles ahead and behind him.

Julian smiled and closed his eyes again.

[zechariah1]

Chance Meeting

Never in a lifetime did I ever hope to see Sarah Jane again and certainly not unexpectedly in the deli section of the local supermarket. But there she was, no longer the awkward 15 year old teenage girl next door, but in full bloom and standing in front of me with a sweet smile and a,
"Hi Frank...remember me?"

Yes, I did remember but the transformation was blinding, I was struggling for words for what seemed minutes but the words soon became clear and profuse.
"Sarah Jane, yes, of course I remember you...you were the girl next door who moved away in our sophmore year," he narrated thinking to bridge the years.
"What have you been doing in these past seven years, Sarah Jane?"

"Well, I graduated from that New England college Mom wanted me to attend, then there was a position with a Public Relations firm in Boston but I've moved back here, to the big city.

Frank chuckled, "well it has become larger than our years in High School but it is still far from the Big City. We're still the modest size New England town with the same central square, the same Old Town from the colony days but the streets have been vastly improved and there's a new park a few blocks from the one we played in as children. The High School has a new addition, not much to speak of but it is an improvement."

Sarah Jane remained smiling with her toothpaste ad smile she had even as a girl as Frank trudged on with his obviously nervous commentary, but now there was a certain confidence rather than that self conscious smile of years past, Frank was'nt sure if he liked that but her manner was the same sweet Sarah Jane and that, he did like.

"What have you been doing all these years Frank?"

"Oh, about the same, the local state college, Civil Engineering, working for my father's firm, thinking of a move to a larger city and hopefully greater opportunity but the town suits me so I suppose I'll stick it out."

"Is your wife a local girl" She probed skillfully?

"I am not married Sarah," he offered.

"Is your husband in the same business as yourself Sarah," he countered hoping the answer would the same as his confession.

"No," she slowly replied as tho a pause in her confession would increase the effect, "I am not married either."

Patrons cleared their throats to clear the path Frank and Sarah had barricaded, knowing smiles on their faces.

Frank suddenly was at a loss for words feeling his blood pressure rise in his ears. He was wildly attracted to her, an emotion he never experience when she lived next door during High School.

"Remember when you kissed me at the Fall Festival on my parents porch that October," Sarah asked?

Frank seemed to remember it was Sarah Jane who kissed him but no matter at this point.

"Yes...I do remember, it was right before you moved. I thought about it for months," he blushed.

Sarah Jane gave a slight giggle, just like the one when she teased Frank about being so broad shouldered. Frank laughed.

"We should have dinner," Frank suggested, "and then the Fall Festival starts tonight, or would that interfere with your previous plans?"

"No, I am as free as air this evening," she obligingly responded.

They dined early, walked slowly through the Festival attractions, making the trip twice talking, losing a consensual concept of time. They walked three blocks to the old High School, looked at one another for an eternity, slowly their lips touched, then the world was lost in their new found discovery of one another.

That was 52 years ago and they have walked the same Fall Festival every year since.

[zechariah1]

Preface

12 year old gifted protégé Juda Berkowitz is playing the last movement of Franz Schubert’s Ave Maria Opus 52, Number 6.

Berkowitz had been reared up as a Roman Catholic, his father, Jonas Berkowitz converted to Catholicism to escape the onus and periodic persecution of the Jews. Jonas had no true convictions concerning the Catholic faith nor did his father before him, a highly successful entrepreneur with questionable ethnics and business connections. Jonas Berkowitz’s one contribution to humanity was a gift from God, his only son Juda Berkowitz, who hearing the piano as his first conscious sounds, climbed onto the piano stool using a toy wagon as a step and began to touch the keys with tiny reverent fingers. At five Juda was playing intelligible pieces. At seven he was anointed as gifted. At ten he was playing with the Prague Youth Symphony as featured pianist. His future as a musician seemed secure. His gift was soon recognized attracting the attention of wealthy patrons of the arts. His precociousness came to the attention of Master Joseph Steinmitz, a 70 year old music teacher, lecturer and concert musician. This boded well for Juda, a master of Steinmitz’s qualifications meant Juda would receive the finest instruction in all of Europe.

Juda’s education as a young man who had abandoned his Jewish heritage adopting the Roman Catholic Religion, received the typical church curriculum of the day. He had been tutored in Catholic Church History, Physics, Mathematics, Philosophy and Logic. At 16 he was confident he had arrived at a state of deep self awareness.

His innate curiosity of the world around him outside the concert hall took him on long bus rides and walks in the forest with the Prague Youth Symphony hiking club. Juda loved nature, the small animals, the trees, the plants. He collected many of the plants, cautiously sniffing them then stuffing them into his hiking pouch with the lunch and water bottle.

He was always the first one out of the bus and the last one to be found at the end of the day, sometimes delaying departure until he could be found strolling oblivious to the setting of the sun. These early outings inspired his “Praise to the Creator” concertos. These were always composed in a major key except one, the “Haunting of the Vidrholec Forest” when he was lost for a few hours experiencing the terror of uncertainty for the first time in his young life. These early works were the precursors of his later mature period . None of his juvenile works were ever published nor did he want them to be, they were the possession of childhood to be treasured only by himself as an old man who had completed his course.

The Spring of 1932 found the the city of Prague turned out in force for the Easter Concert Season. New talent was to be showcased in three evenings of black tie patronage. All the young musicians and singers would be displayed for the consideration of the critics. Juda, calm as ever, feeling this was what he was born to do, perform for his fellow man with music he believed to be not only that of his own training and ability but something from outside himself. His Master, Joseph Steinmitz, had crafted not only a gifted musician into an even greater talent but had been able to make Juda aware of his rightful obligation of humility. Juda never lost this awareness. He continued to perform for audiences in Europe and a short tour of the USA in 1934. Then the dark days began for Juda and his people.

In 1941 he was arrested as an undesirable, sent to Theresienstadt Concentration Camp. There he served in the camp kitchen, played the piano in the adjacent camp meeting hall at odd moments away from his captors during moments of rest between meals. It was during a camp concert that Juda won his freedom. Camp Oberfuhrer Heintz Mueller a patron of the arts fascinated by Berkowitz’s rendition of Rachmaninoff’s Concerto Number 3 in D Minor sent for him after lights out offering him a new identity, a new suit, money and forged papers. Oberfurher Mueller while no lover of the sons of Jacob could not bear to see so great a talent consumed in the ovens of the Furher’s edict. Juda is sworn to secrecy then ferried into the interior with the promise that he would never reveal the camp or its purpose.

Several months later finds Berkowitz now posing as a common laborer his Aryan features masking his Jewishness, secured work with the public services brigade in his beloved city of Prague. In May of 1942 Juda receives the unexpected news that his SS benefactor has been killed by the Czech resistance forever severing the link between Juda and the camps. He is a free man, an unknown with a new identity with a voracious talent. His one purpose now is to survive the war.

[zechariah1]

(Fiction.,..,or is it?)

The United States Government nationalizes all essential Industries.

The "Future Scope" has revealed one of the perceived essential industries is the American fragmented real estate services. Lofty minded socialistic Washington planners have decreed that the real estate business in the nation would be better served and more profitable if "streamlined" into a National MLS Commission. The proliferation of electronic information gathering capabilities has convinced the Planners a new approach was needed during the Great Depression of 2010. In the future it will be the, "Planners" who will guide the policies of American business. Unknown and unseen the, Planners formulate never ending scenarios for defense, homeland security, transportation, health and welfare policies. Population control and infrastructure construction necessitated the need for real estate reform. The Planners ruled the exchange, sale and approval of real estate transactions must be funneled into the National Land Bank Administration data base. The NLBA now controls the American residential and commercial real estate market.

Fast forward to years in the future.

[Louisiana]

Following is a poem I wrote and first published last year at the time of Hurricane Gustav to commemorate the third anniversary of Katrina and the federal flood. It is in the voice of the mother of 8-year-old and 9-year-old boys who have a disabled grandmother. While fiction, it's based on things people actually endured during Katrina and flood and in the aftermath.


Storm Story

Now we're on a bus heading who knows where

anxiously awaiting Gustav--nervously

wondering what will be there when

we get back--and when we can--memories of

the flood--wounds still raw--tearing us apart.

Those who weren't here would say about us--

we'd been warned Katrina'd come--so what

happened was our fault--but we couldn't

leave--no car, no bus--and besides we'd

thought we'd known for years our levees

would keep us safe--but they didn't--I

woke early that morning--sensed something

wasn't right--smelled shit, piss, vomit,

gas--other bad things I couldn't name--

maybe even death itself--I heard the

rushing water--got out of bed--it was

already up to my knees--and still

quickly rising--shook Noah, Jonah

awake shouting "Get upstairs--NOW!"--

Saw to Grandma 'Becca--their daddy's

mother--diabetes had robbed her of her

legs--we couldn't afford to buy her

new ones--I thanked the Lord I had

the strength to carry her--then

brought up her chair, insulin and

other meds--started going back for

food--but foul water was coming close

to the attic--found the ax I'd kept

there--cut a hole in the roof as the

boys made a flag--then each of them

and I took turns going out to wave

it--minutes turned to hours--we saw

helicopters but they didn't see us--

I'd check on 'Becca and give her her

shots and pills--it was sweltering and

I could tell that she wasn't doing

very well--and silently prayed the

Lord would see her through and that

we all be rescued--we were all hungry

and thirsty--rescue finally arrived--

asked me who all was there--"My sons

and their grandma--she's in a bad way,

you see--here's her insulin and all

the other stuff she needs."--they

took her and the boys--but not

enough room with others abroad so

they had to leave me--at first I

thanked the Lord 'Becca had been

rescued--and didn't worry thinking

the helicopter would be back soon

and that 'Becca and the boys were

going to be cared for--but it got to

be two long days before anyone came--

my city was gone--this brought tears

to my eyes--I just couldn't stop crying--

my neighborhood and much more under

water--wondering what had become of my

Mom, Dad, and sisters--had they gotten

out OK or drowned--and what about other

family, my friends, my church, the boy's

school, stores, my beauty shop--everyone

and everything else I'd known?--I just

couldn't believe what had happened to

my city, my home--where I've lived all

my life--I think I cried the whole trip

but then put myself together--they were

dropping me off on the overpass and

now I had to find 'Becca and the boys--

I first went to the Dome--but a guard

there told me it I couldn't go in.

"Well, do you remember a sick elderly

lady without legs, in a wheelchair--and

two boys--they're eight and nine?"--"No,

Ma'am," he said--"I'm sure I'd have seen 'em

had they got here on my watch."--then I

asked for food and water 'cause I hadn't

eaten for at least a week--he said they

didn't have any I could have--then said

I should go to the Convention Center--so

I did--on the way there was a store

where folks were taking what they needed

to survive--and I went in to see what I

could find--slim pickin's--hardly any

food left--but I was grateful for what

I could find--and at the same time

felt badly for having done what I'd

needed to do--so I left a note by the

register saying sometime I'd come back

and pay for what I took--finally I got

to the Convention Center where I was

turned off by the funk--in the crowds

I asked almost everyone I saw--"Have

you seen a sick older lady without

legs in a wheelchair and two school-

age boys?"--finally one man said, "I

think I seen 'em"--then took me to the

front wall of the Center where I saw

Noah and Jonah looking rather well--

aside from what they'd gone through--

but 'Becca's slumped over in her chair

covered in a blanket--each boy gives

me a silent hug--and Noah, on the

verge of tears, said, "She's gone--she

passed last night--nobody would give

her her shots or anything."--for the

second time I broke down--now only

had she been a wonderful grandma to

Noah and Jonah, she'd been like another

mother to me--soon after that was our

exile to Houston--now it's three years

later--I wish I could say our life is

cool--but both Noah and Jonah have

been having trouble in school--we've

all had nightmares, flashbacks--I've

nerves, low energy, feel very down--

overwhelmed--if I didn't know I need

to stay strong for the boys, I don't

know what I'd do--but I don't mean to

totally cry the blues--the good thing

in our life is we're back in NOLA--and

we've a home--now, it's with one of my

sisters and her remaining kids and gets

crowded--but I'm grateful we're not in

Houston where we just couldn't fit in

and got homesick rather fast--or

homeless--and though I'm saddened by

some things I see in this city--there

are other signs we're keepin' on

keepin' on in spite of everything--

those small baby steps NOLA's making

to come back--and today I pray

that we'll be able to return home

soon as now we're on the bus heading

who knows where anxiously awaiting

Gustav--nervously wondering what will be

there when we get back--and when we can....