Codey

Do I Dare? a poem by Codey Sitting stareing at the screen should I push the button? What will I be today? What will be the name given by those who don't know me? Who will pass judgement on my life without living it? Who will disparage my deeds without knowing them? Who will condemn me for a label they have given? Who will hate me with the hatred they preach against? Blind hatred Practised hatred Perfected hatred Who will demean me for differences while defending their own? Who will dismiss my ideas as evil because they disagree? Who will judge and ridicule me while demanding they not be judged? Questions can have many answers and problems many solutions. Who will not help solve those problems unless the solution is one that they choose? Who will use words to injure and hurt thinking they're proving a point, forgetting that after the anger is gone the words will still remain? Who will berate those taking different paths and call them hurtfull names, while ignoring shared goals and dreams? And so here I sit, before this screen, looking at the button. Will it be more of the same today or will today be different? Will I be seen for who I am or as what they wrongfully percieve? Will I be judged based on what I do or for not going along with with their beliefs? Will my presence and ideas be welcome or merely tolerated? Should I push the button? I wonder if I dare.

beautifully done and amazing Joey

I had the same problem with it....IE would display it but Firefox wouldn't. I solved the problem by uninstalling Firefox and then reinstalling it. Now it displays fine. This is the second time I've had to uninstall and reinstall Firefox because it wouldn't load a site. I think I'm going back to IE and just beef up my anti virus and security. Codey

This is VERY GOOD and very true. You should do more Pete. Codey

I know that's a nasty couple of words to any writer but with a lot going on lately I'm having trouble writing. How do you guys handle writers block? I'm not sure what I have even is writers block. I'm having ideas but a lot of trouble carrying thru and writing. I always thought writers block was not having ideas. Codey

I voted for the Civil War story because I'm a historical fiction fan. I think you shoud do them all though. Just do the one I chose first or I'l lay in the floor and throw a temper tantrum...I might even hold my breath til I turn blue. Codey

I'm more than ready for a few good days like that!! Codey

a really good argument for building your dreams and hopes on a solid foundation of facts and logic. Wishful thinking and daydreams can leave you with a handful of wet formless nothing. I think this is really good!! Codey

Elecivil, that was awesome. It brought to mind someone I know. I'm glad he turned around and stepped down. You sound like a good friend to him. Hang in there with him. Codey

I haven't written much the last few weeks, so I thought I'd share the first poem I wrote that I thought was good enough to keep. I was eleven at the time and had just read a book about the battle of Gettysburg. ****************************** UNTITLED a poem by codey The drums beat The bugles roar An army marches off to war Countless young men with unquestioning duty Leaving countless young women with blossoming beauty They march to die You foolish men with foolish dreams Forget your plans and wasteful schemes Heed at last this final call One life with love Thats all *********************************

I'd like to add my thanks to The Dude. Without a site like this, I'd still be sharing my poems with a few friends only. Dude has given me an audience and that audience has forced me to work harder to improve and to try new things. This site gives us all a place to read quality gay fiction and also a place to have serious discussions as we did in the "questions" thread earlier this year.Those of us new to writing have the workshop to ask questions of more experienced writers and learn the difference between to, too and two. LMAO (Thank you Ben!) Codey

Hi everyone and thanks for the good thoughts and wishes. I got back home this morning and I'm doing good. This was by far the easiest one so far. If I've stopped growing or don't grow more than 2 1/2 ", I won't need another replacement. Now that the final (we hope) knee is in I can be fitted for braces to lock my knees so I won't be confined to the chair. Of course that depends on learning the shuffle I'll have to do with a walker and eventually crutches lol. The best thing is I'll be able to see the top of things so there'll be no more hiding things from me on top of the fridge LMAO My staples come out Monday if I'm healing ok and the Dr says he may let me go back to school on Tuesday If I promise to be careful. Promises are easy to make if you keep your fingers crossed. Now that my physical needs are taken care of, I'll work on getting rid of these spring blahs and get back to writing soon. I have a few ideas but can't find the initiative to get started. Thanks again everyone!! Codey

In some eastern NA tribes, there are summer children and winter children, depending on when you were born. Summer children grew strong and made great warrior leaders. Winter children were weaker but smarter and became tribal wisemen and shamans. I am a winter's child, born in the middle of winter. This poem has been rattling around in my head for a few weeks but never came together until I read this article yesterday. http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=stor...th_of_a_prodigy

Winter?s Child A poem by Codey Who are you, winter's child? What do you feel and see? Why are you what you are, winter?s child? How did you come to be? Will you ever find your place, winter?s child? Where do you belong? When will you find peace, winter?s child? Or is rejection to be lifelong? Trapped between two worlds, winter?s child, a child?s body and emotions, mind and thoughts of man. Accepted in neither world, winter?s child, despised by coevals, distrusted by sons of pan. The fates played their little joke, winter?s child, and tossed you among the sheep. You?re reaping a bitter harvest, winter?s child, from fields you did not seed. Your will and psyche are melting, winter?s child, leaking away, leaving a cold hollow shell. You?re bluffing your way through life, winter?s child, finding it hard to ignore the sirens? knell. You?re on a Quixotic quest, winter?s child, seeking the acceptance that you crave. The only acceptance you?ll find, winter?s child, is the acceptance you?ll find in your grave.

Damn...getting to the nail biting nitty gritty!!! Getting better and better!!

WOW

to quote a friend "fuckin awesome!!"

Looks like we're pulling the juggler towards the dark side. Soon he'll be a full fledged rhymeslinger...and a good one too it looks like. Good job elecivil.

Has anyone noticed Kieth Morrisitetes site is gone and that Johnny has a notice up on his that the scribblerspad is shutting down on This weekend? I hope this doesn't mean either is giving up writing. A Smokey Mountain Christmas is one of my favorite stories.

Guilt. Sometimes things happen in our lives that we have no control over. Some things are so bad that the only explanation is that we deserved what happened?that we are to blame for what happened to us. It doesn?t matter whether it was abuse or a tragic lose, the feeling is the same. I was never abused in anyway but after reading a poetry book by Rodney Timms, a survivor of terrible abuse as a child, I realized that how he felt was how I feel. (http://www.callingallhearts.com/index.html) I googled ?child abuse? and did some research and found similarities between my feelings and those of other survivors of abuse. Many, who are child abuse survivors, suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome as I do. I know what it?s like to feel undeserved guilt that you can?t control. No matter how many times we?re told that it wasn?t our fault and we shouldn?t blame ourselves, we know in our hearts we are to blame. We know in the same way you know the sky is blue. It doesn?t matter how many times refraction of light is explained to you and that the sky really isn?t blue, you know in your heart that it is blue. This guilt can be over powering at times. So much so that there seems to be only one escape. This is something all people with this syndrome live with on a daily basis. There is no real cure and this is something you live with every hour of everyday for the rest of your life. We have to put a stop to child abuse, of all kinds, and break this cycle. If my poem helps motivate one person to become involved in prevention, then it has done its? job. The poem is actually two of my poems that I combined into a single poem. The short verses were from a poem I wrote called ?The Kid Next Door?. It appears in its? entirety. The longer verses started out as a poem to show how we see little opportunities every day to help others but always find excuses to salve our consciouses, as to why we don?t. It didn?t want to be written that way and I struggled for a month with it before giving in and writing it the way it wanted to be written. About half way through it I realized the two needed to be together to give the poem more power. I made a few changes and I like the way it turned out.

Is there any such thing as a fresh plot idea in any form of literature today? Almost every conceivable idea has been explored and written about by countless authors in every genre. It is the authors responsibility to color a plot with his ideas and thoughts. These different viewpoints are what make a story or break it. Just as everyone who witnesses an event will tell what they saw from their viewpoint, an author, whether prose or poetry, must write from the heart and express his views on the subject from his personal beliefs. I think many stories that fail, fail because the author is trying to write from what he considers, someone else?s feelings. You can write from a number of viewpoints but the feelings have to come from you. For us younger gays, these different opinions and ideas show us options and give us warnings we?d never realize on our own, until too late in some cases. If the story isn?t boring then the theme shouldn?t matter. Who cares if you?ve read a hundred stories about someone?s coming out and what happened? What matters is the story about this persons coming out and how he and the people around him handled it. If you stop to think about it, The Illiad, The Odyssey and Jason and The Argonauts are all the same basic plot but each is a great story in its? own right. Authors, on this and other sites dealing with gay literature, need a place to practice their craft and improve their skills to the point they can produce great gay themed literature. They need feedback from readers to improve and increase their skills. If you enjoyed a story, or didn?t, you should let the author know and give him the reasons so he doesn?t get into any bad habits with his writing. If you can spend a half hour reading a story, surely you can spare three or four minutes to tell the author what you think about his work. BTW?poets like feedback also!!! <big grin> Codey[/i]

Get A Clue a poem by Codey When finished shopping and leaving the store, you saw the basket there by the door. you paused for a moment and silently read: 'food for the poor' is what the sign said. Being in a rush, tho you weren't going far, you walked on by and hurried to your car. Dinner was at five and not wanting to be late, you didn't have time to stop and donate. The kid next door was out in his yard wrestling with friends, no holds barred. Giving it his all in all that he did, happy and playful, a typical kid. You recieved a call from a leader of your church, some people had cancelled and left him in a lurch. But with prior commitments and things you'd long planned you tried to explain, so he'd understand. At another time on another day, you're sure you'd be able to find a way. There's no chance tonight and for a good reason. It's Monday night and football season. The kid next door was taking out thier trash, battered and bruised from a bicycle crash. He wanted to talk tho stiff and sore, but you walked away before he could say more. A fellow worker has a child with cancer. She needed time off and awaited an answer. She was always on time and got her work done. Could she please have a day to spend with her son? You discussed it with management during a leisurely lunch. If you gave her time off, it would leave you in a crunch. You really couldn't spare this hard working clerk. Giving her the time off would cause you extra work.. The kid next door has his arm in a sling, broken in a fall from his backyard swing. As he told you the story, he didn't look you in the eye. You didn't think he wanted you to see him cry. Your servor had crashed and you had to work late and the traffic was heavy on the interstate. An elderly couple was changing a tire, partially on the road, their predicament was dire. Stopping and helping would not take much time, but you were out of shape, no longer in your prime. While changing a tire wasn't such a great task, Risking your health would be to much to ask. The kid next door sits stareing at the ground and silently weeps, if no one's around. You wonder what it is that's making him sad? To make this boy cry, it must really be bad. The shouting was loud from the house next door. It was getting more frequent and harder to ignore. You awoke with a start...you must have been dreaming. It couldn't have been a child you heard screaming. Closing the windows stiffled the noise of the fight, so you never heard the sirens or saw the flashing lights. And tho you couldn't sleep, try as hard as you may You never saw the ambulance take the kid next door away. . The kid next door is dead at seven years of age, beaten to death in an uncontrolled rage. You feel so helpless and don't know what to do. If only you could have helped him.... if only you'd had a clue. .

This was the best chapter yet Gabe!! Codey

I have another question about this. Why were the grandparents reading the kids private journal? This is an invasion of the boy's privacy. When it's all over he needs to get the hell away from those ppl!!! They don't deserve grandchildren!! I know it sounded like I was complaining about my punishment but truthfully it was as light as they could make it and keep up apperances. The school recognized it as a harmless prank that went wrong. My stupidity about computer networks is almost as big a joke as my post. I really do go to a great school and am proud to be a student there. Codey

Nothing a poem by Codey I hope you liked this one!!!