I'm not sure I'll be posting on here any more. I don't really see a reason to.

"Entwined"

-I use a style similar to Chaucer in this one. I like it a lot though. I had a lot of fun writing it.

I can’t help but believe,
Somehow, you and me,
We’re bound together,
Be it by souls or desire.
The fates have conspired,
You and I are linked
By something that surpasses
All that is physical,
That becomes tangible
When we touch.
Don’t you feel it too?
By chance, our futures
Have been twisted together
Like vines on a villa.
Intertwined, weaving
Like over the porch
Of an old sea home
Out on Long Island.
Like bodies on a bed,
Flushed with passion.
Their energies ebbing
And flowing like a tide.
Enveloping one another,
Absorbing the sweet taste
Of the most pure element;
That which links all life.

-Matt

"Save the Last Slow Dance"

-This is not my best. But here goes:

Before the night comes to a close.
All the dancers leave the floor
And I’m searching the crowd.
For that single, solitary face,
That embodiment of beauty.

My heart races with your embrace,
The music swells and we begin to turn,
Around and around, just like before.
Swaying slowly to the music,
Oh, I’m lost in your arms.

Could we forgive it all?
Put aside all the fighting,
(We fight for understanding.
Being able to forgive, shows we love.)
Just for one song, one simple medley?


The last night on earth,
When all the people start to dance,
When that slow song playing through,
All our hearts starts to sing,
Would you save the last one,
Would you save it for me?

-Matt

An Essay thing I did for School.

-This is a completely fictional story, written for my narrative essay assignment for the writing class I am in. I am very pleased with it.

"Raise Yourself"

The day I learned to stand up for myself was a cold, rainy day in November. I stood under the ramshackle, bus stop booth, scowling at the rivulets of rain dripping from its roof. From where I was, I stood no more than five blocks from my house. The trouble was, I had to walk past Terry Davies and his gang’s favorite hang-out spot in one of the maze-like alleyways created by chain-link and clapboard fencing, and ten-foot hedges. It was a wonderful spot for degenerates to collude in private, stand around, have a smoke and chatter about “who is doing who.”
I heaved a sigh as I put my headphones on, picked a song (“Puddle Splashers” by Cap’n Jazz) on my iPod and stepped off the sidewalk. My shoes made that dissatisfying “squish” noise with each step. The thin, ripped, dark green canvas of my Chuck Taylors did naught to protect my feet from the rain. I walked on, head swiveling under my hood, scanning the deserted city-path for possible ambush. My heart pounded in its bone-cage, and my toes were bitter cold as my ears strained to distinguish the sound of heavy footfalls splashing in the muddy alleys.
I rounded a corner and there, amidst a stand of trash cans and stacks of old, cardboard boxes, was Terry and his cronies. The former stood at roughly average height, with a shock of curly red hair under a black hood, his leering brown eyes caught mine as I halted in my tracks. His mouth twisted into a smile, baring yellowing teeth as he nodded in my direction.
“Hey guys, check it out. We have company.” His henchman turned to see me rooted to the spot as if my Converse All-Stars had fused to the earth. He began to lumber his husky frame past a smaller boy with a crew cut sticking out at awkward angles from underneath a New York Yankees ball cap, and a tall boy with buzzed blonde hair and a piercing in the middle of his lower lip. “What are you doing here, huh?” His voice was like ice water, cold and numbing, but placid and smooth. It had the curtly ness of a person with no remorse.
“Uh…um, I was-uh…” I stammered. My knees felt like they had rusted in place. “I was on my way home. I uh, have to go this way, because…” He was suddenly inches from me, his face close to mine. Those soulless brown eyes boring into me.
“You know this is our territory. What are you doing here?”
“I-I know it’s your territory and-OOF!” I doubled over in pain, Terry’s goons took up his flanks, grinning broadly.
“Well, guys, it looks like we have a rebel, here. I think we’re going to have to teach him a lesson, huh?” The brown haired boy and the boy with the lip piercing both jeered in approval. I struggled to catch my breath, but felt a kick at the back of my knee. I stumbled to the ground as my headphones fell in a puddle a foot or so from my left shoulder, and felt another kick in my ribs. Then another in my back. The blows kept coming, all over me. They kicked me in the chest, the back, the stomach, my legs, I was even kicked in the face once. My bottom lip swelled up, and I could taste blood between my teeth. I feared I might lose consciousness when a particularly well aimed (or lucky) blow landed on the back of my head. And then, suddenly, they stopped.
I was lifted by the front of my sweatshirt, slightly dazed. Terry’s cold, predator-like gaze shot through me like cold steel. “Next time I catch you here, we won’t be as easy on you. You get me?” I gazed at him blankly, through blurry eyes. A look of disgust crossed his face, then he spat in mine. He let go of my collar and I collapsed in a heap. As he started to leave, Terry paused a moment and turned to where my crumpled figured lay. “Oh, and by the way. If you call the cops on us, I’ll kill you.” I gasped, and a spike of pain shot through my chest as I coughed, and spat out blood. With a slight chuckle, he added, “But we won’t have to worry about that. Won’t we, coward?”
At this, hatred burned deep within my gut. It flowed like liquid metal through my veins as I forced myself to stand. “You know what, Terry?” I choked. The bullies turned, nearly taken aback by my sudden speech. “I did nothing to deserve this. I am not going to stand for this, anymore. I am tired of being prey all the time.”
“That’s brave talk from such a weak little, bastard.” His words were like gasoline to my contempt. It raged inside me now, an inferno of disdain. Regardless, I stared him down. “Do we have to give a second lesson this evening?”
I snorted reproachfully. “I am above your petty violence. Though I make take the brunt of your beatings, words will always have more power than any cudgel. I shall not lower myself to your level. I would be no better than a bully for doing so.”
Terry’s face was contorted into a look of pure bewilderment and confusion. I was now numb to the pain that racked my body, as I took a step forward, towards my attackers. I thought of nothing but walking through my front door, of dry socks and a hot shower. As I reached them, I expected more blows, but there were none. Terry’s expression of confusion turned to defeat, as he finally comprehended he no longer mastered my fear. The boy with the hat lowered his head, and the one with the lip piercing scowled at me. But I remained unharmed as I passed them.
I walked home, head held high. A sense of victory and pride swelled within me. I never had the capacity to believe I could stand up to Terry Davies and his gang. For the longest time, I had thought his reign over me would last until I went away for college (and had an excuse to run away). I stripped off my soggy socks and a thought struck me. I realized it was true that I didn’t need to stoop to violence, as I feared I would need to. I felt a thousand times more triumphant knowing I had bested him by being the better person.

"I've Been Dreaming"

-I think I'll make them into song lyrics for a mostly instrumental song. It would be fun. :]

At night, I lay in sleep as if,
you were there with me.
And I've been dreaming,
'bout the end of the world.
About nuclear war.
And I've been dreaming about you.

"This Morning"

-I'm pretty satisfied with this one. Although, I think the first stanza is the weakest part.

Dawn breaks over me
and I wake from a dream.
In which I chased you
all the way to St. Louis.
And in a grove of green
I did lift you off your feet.
We cradled one another
In the fading, golden eve.
Then you did whisper to me,
"With every fiber of my being."

Sunlight pierces through the blinds.
Open wide my weary eyes.
and I listen for a moment
as the radiator hums along
with the sound of the new dawn.
Weakly rattling in vain
to keep this tired morning soul
protected from retreating cold.
Then I welcome the sun
smiling through my window.

This is where I remember,
when the light-giver's rays
touch my skin so gently,
Your presence like the surf
at dawn breaking on the beach,
how it washes over me.
I recall the curves of your body,
so simple, yet sublime.
Your bronze skin, alive with light.
Chasing shadows away
With but the shine of your eyes.

This morning, I miss you.

"I'll Be There"

The rain pounds the windows,
makes them weepy with the drops.
And my heart is like this beach house,
empty, but for the things I could save:
Newspapers, some old books, the letters you wrote.

I look out at the churning sea,
and mutter, "Neptune must be angry,"
Then I wonder if you'll ever,
come walking back through my door.
God, I'd love to see those eyes again.

Lean against the glass,
feel the cold against my skin.
I sigh, the window greys with fog.
Trace the letters of your name,
In the cloud of condensation.

This is all I can do for now.
I could write it all down,
but I can't find a way
that doesn't lack purpose,
to tell you that I love you.

But even if you came around,
and I let you in again, would you stay?
Would you stay and let me know,
all the things I never knew?
Take me to places, I could never go?

I'll let you stay here with me,
lay your head on my chest, get some sleep.
You're so weary dear, it's time to rest.
No need to fear, sleepless nights again.
I'll be there, I'll be there.

-Herm...I'm kind of iffy on this one. I've been wanting to write something for hours, but I'm not satisfied with it. It loses its luster after the second stanza (or somewhere around there).