A Poem

Edgar Allan Poe, the poet
Always had a brilliant scheme, the theme
Of his works was pain, insane
They called him, just a whim.

People who really know Poe, the poet
Knew why he had to hide; no one to confide
In, he did not need a shrink, the drink
To him, ruined and saved; he was depraved.

The works of Edgar Poe, the poet
Sold for a shoe, he bade adieu
To all he cared for, nevermore
Pain and sadness, neverceasing madness.

Edgar Allan Poe's birthday was on the January 19, and I meant to post this back then but I ran out of time.
I think my poem is pretty confusing. Let me explain a bit.
Edgar Allan Poe's parents died when he was pretty young and ever since then he had experienced the death of many of his other family members.
He married his cousin who died of tuberculosis, the same disease that had killed his mother.
He took up drinking. He actually stated he never liked it, but drank because it took him away from real life for a little bit.
His most famous manuscripts were bought from him for very low prices. He was always struck for money, even though his foster father inherited a large fortune. Edgar Allan Poe was written out of his will.

He's my favorite person. Ever.

This is what happens when you use the same tune over and over

The Confused Actor:
Tell me quickly what's the story
I will run him off his feet,
You were lodging here last night
Let him answer to Javert
That inspector thinks he's something
When he learned about your flight
Could he be the man I've hunted?
And God's blessing go with you.

Why? Try singing all of this.

Tell his reverence your story
Let us see if he's impressed
You were lodging here last night
You were the honest bishop's guest
And then out of pristine goodness
When he learned about your flight
You maintained he made a present of the silver
That is right

So monsieurs, you may release him
For this man has spoken true
I commend you for your duty
And God's blessing go with you

Tell me quickly what's the story
Who saw what and why and where
Let him give a full description
Let him answer to Javert
In this nest of whores and vipers
Let one speak who saw it all
Who laid hands on this good man here
What's the substance of this brawl

She will answer for her actions
When you make a full report
You are rest assured, monsieur
That she will answer to the court

I have heard such protestations
Every day for twenty years
Let's have no more explainations
Save your breath and save your tears

Could it be he's some old jailbird
That the tide now washes in
Heard my name and started running
Had the brand upon his skin
And the girl who stood beside him
When I turned they both had gone
Could he be the man I've hunted
Could it be he's Jean Valjean

Let the old man keep on running
I will run him off his feet
Everyone about your business
Clear this garbage off the street

That inspector thinks he's something
But it's me who runs this town
And my theatre never closes
And the curtain never down

Oh, David.

I expect this to be quite short. I was doing this report thing for history on Michelangelo, so I went back to my history textbook to get some info. When I stumbled upon a well-placed post it note, I couldn't help but laugh.

See? Haha. Awkwardly awesome. Anyways, that's it.
Talk to you later, sugar bowls.

Old Dead Role Models (mostly)

Bonjour!
Hola!
Ni Hao!
Hi guys!

Where are all my commenters? My blog is crickets...
Donde esta mi commenters?
Ou est mes commenters?
I forgot how to say that in Chinese!!

So, I have a bunch of random things I want to tell you but I didn't want to create a WHOLE OTHER POST for each of them so they're just here.

First is this really cool word I learned called sapiosexual! Apparently I am a sapiosexual but gender matters. If you don't know what it means... you should look down. Its so cool! :D

Also, there is still nothing about the name game! *le gasp* You guys suck!! Seriously!! I did some valid imitations of characters! I FEEL LIKE PETER PARKER!!! (the ORIGINAL. Toby.)

Ke$ha invented a new style of music! It's called rap yodeling. "OHOHYEEOH! OHOHYEOOH!"
"BLOOOOOYOOOYOYOYOYOYYOOOYOOYOOW!"

I have this strange Kreayshawn addiction. It's weird because she's such a terrible role model because  she dropped out of, like, 5 high schools. She raps and it sounds really autotuned, but her voice is so catchy. It's weird. She swears out the wazoo but listen to the clean version and tell me what you think.
LA.LA.LA.LA.LA.LA.LA.LA.LA.LA.LA!!!!

Oh, and apparently my blog isn't appropriate for children because parental controls has blocked it!!! What the heck!!!
I'm not amused. -_-

I was updating my profile for my F~fiction and I had to put some of my role models! And I thought that was really cool since most of them are dead and have composed awesome pieces of work! So here they are and why.

1. Michelangelo- Michelangelo is awesome, he was a loner, and he made beeeeaauuuuuuutiful art!
2. Shakespeare- Do you seriously need an explanation?
3. Ben Franklin- He's only, like, the most brilliant inventor ever!!! Ever since I did that report on him I've been interested about him.
4. Victor Hugo- He wrote the coolest classic book ever! And it took him over 20 years!!! And it's over 1000 pages! And it's heavier than a brick!
5. Edgar Allen Poe- Quoth the Raven: POE IS TERRIFIC!!!!!!! AAAHHHHH!!!!
6. Daniel Handler- *sniffle* You left your last book on a cliffhanger! I hate you!! Nah, I could never hate you.
7. Kevin Emerson- He's so cool and he's the only author who replies to my emails! And his books are to die for. 

So...yeah! I think I have some valid role models.
Tell me yours if you want!
And come back soon Bailey because I miss your comments.
:*
-Bookworm

Tuneless prose

You and I were friends.
I never thought I'd feel this terrible.
It saddens me.

Why, you ask?
I don't know.
I know you wouldn't want me to feel this bad.

You were too nice.
You never had to try.
You had big dreams...

Nothing ever lasts.
You're living proof.
At least, you are now, but you're not living.

I can't help thinking.
I think about the things you'll never do.
You'll never play another soccer game.

You'll never turn fourteen.
You'll never graduate.
You'll never get married.

Have you even had a girlfriend yet?
No.
I feel sorry for you.

I cry for you.
For all the things you'll never get to do.
And now it's worse.

It was just new year, my dear.
Would you have been fourteen by now?
I don't know.

I never bothered to get your birthday.
And now I will never be able to.
I know your path will be one I'll never cross again.

Every night.
You keep me up.
How can I sleep when you're asleep forever?

I loathe waterfalls.
They steal away from me.
People don't even notice.

And why should I tell them?
They'll think I'm crazy.
But I still think, on my own.

It's been four months.
I'm plagued by you.
It comes out at night when no one's watching.

I'm anguished.
I didn't know you that well.
We never kept in touched when I left.

But if I could go back, I'd keep you forever.
I'd steal you away so you would stay here.
Breathing. Thriving.

You had success in you.
It was waiting for the right moment to be unleashed.
That moment never came and never will.

What can I do?
Nothing.
I want to do something, but I can't control time.

I'm going to do something great.
I want to make a difference.
You'll never see it now.

You'd never read the book dedicated to you.
But it will be.
Because I'm going to make a difference for you.

I wonder if you're happy.
Are you happy?
If your soul is floating around and reading this, I hope you are.

You deserve it.
You were brilliant.
I miss it.

Even if I didn't keep in touch, the thought that you were there is what counted.
I just feel empty.
I didn't think about it.

And when I search your name, things come up.
All the stories about two boys drowning.
At the waterfall.

I found your Youtube.
I see you've not been active since August.
And I know why.

But what can I do?
Of course I've thought about joining you.
We could be happy.

But now I know the pain.
And if I left like you did, others would feel that.
I can't bear to put such a pain on them.

Just know, if you're out there.
I care.
And I cry.