tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137885287801359652024-03-05T10:54:56.465-08:00Nothing but Real.You, yes you; Because of you, I am inspired.Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-50798289734527172842012-01-09T21:16:00.000-08:002012-01-10T22:49:31.899-08:00If you really knew me.I'm going to miss this Creative Writing class.<br />
It hasn't been enough time and I wish it wasn't ending.<br />
I saw but merely a glimpse of what your lives are like.<br />
<i>And you barely saw enough of me; because you don't know me. </i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTEwkIUN9hf_2hcFiVrYwmX6mpSeMSr5UFiJc0Bq6Rw8q10HBeXKhu5g2B3hf8lUYcGMgApYYN7T9ZTTD9RP51TFH_w9b9rgCZVOOUNYzxoid5jXVNg7zD8KtWZ-i6cvQb-Jtxr_7HHPw/s1600/Taking+chances.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTEwkIUN9hf_2hcFiVrYwmX6mpSeMSr5UFiJc0Bq6Rw8q10HBeXKhu5g2B3hf8lUYcGMgApYYN7T9ZTTD9RP51TFH_w9b9rgCZVOOUNYzxoid5jXVNg7zD8KtWZ-i6cvQb-Jtxr_7HHPw/s1600/Taking+chances.jpg" /></a></div><br />
If you really knew me, you'd know that I want to be creative and inspired and I rock out to Justin Beiber on my spare time.<br />
You'd know that I love<b> writing</b>. I love <b>music</b> and talking to people, getting to know them.<br />
If you really knew me, you'd know that I look on the <i><u>inside</u> </i>of people, not the <u><i>outside.</i></u><br />
You'd know that I'm a 'go-with-the-flow' type of person.<br />
You'd know that I wish I wasn't so shy or socially awkward.<br />
If you really knew me, you'd know that I love<b> cheeseburgers</b> and that my parents are split and I don't know where my life is going; no freaking idea. <br />
If you really knew me, you'd know that I <b>dream </b>of changing the world and understanding everyone.<br />
<br />
<br />
<u><b>But I'm scared.</b></u><br />
<br />
<br />
I'm scared of heights and making wishes I know won't come true.<br />
I'm scared of taking chances and sinking to the bottom of the ocean that's blue,<br />
I'm scared of writing this poem<u> because I've forgotten what it means to be real.</u><br />
I'm scared of <i><b>everything.</b></i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;">But we have to be scared so we can push through</div><div style="text-align: right;">and discover things we never knew</div><div style="text-align: right;">and change for the better and make ourselves new.</div><div style="text-align: right;">and for a moment, If only you knew,</div><br />
<br />
If you knew me, You'd know that I want to know you.<br />
And I wish we had more time.<br />
<b>But we don't, and that's it.</b><br />
A shout is useless unless that shout is meant for love.<br />
Shout for what you love, who you love and don't <u>ever, ever</u> <b>stop.</b><br />
Because if you really knew me,<br />
You'd know that I shall never cease to shout for love.Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-46573832305617318792011-12-20T12:09:00.000-08:002011-12-20T12:11:27.902-08:00Jealousy.<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15405" target="_blank"><span style="color: red; font-size: small;">My Father moved through dooms of Love</span></a></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqhyphenhyphenQ2UyG7FXitlC9WVrNqstDIFZ_EqTOYTM6xq99S2HJyXaS8yQYJ3U9DillM_Ka6BDLZW7m7_24IUO9oV2SU_SgdaH-THyCsfzYq-kpGPWFqmWhvAzGyTlBBI9UH5BH18KYMvkYnmHkn/s1600/love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqhyphenhyphenQ2UyG7FXitlC9WVrNqstDIFZ_EqTOYTM6xq99S2HJyXaS8yQYJ3U9DillM_Ka6BDLZW7m7_24IUO9oV2SU_SgdaH-THyCsfzYq-kpGPWFqmWhvAzGyTlBBI9UH5BH18KYMvkYnmHkn/s1600/love.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>- E.E. Cummings</strong></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>"and nothing quite so least as truth<a href="http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15405" target="_blank">.</a><br />
--i say though hate were why men breathe--<br />
because my Father lived his soul <br />
love is the whole and more than all"<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
This was a long poem, but I couldn't stop reading it. The way E.E. Cummings writes, makes you want to keep reading and figure out exactly what he's trying to say. I think it's talking about how good love can be when you feel the different emotions when you love someone; also how horrible love can be. The main point though, is no matter how bad or hard you love someone, you can't protect them from hurt and things that you can't control.<br />
<br />
I had no idea what this poem even meant. This poem has so many different sides to it, it has deeper meanings and he says things without saying them; it makes me want to write like him.Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-1498633679168703622011-12-11T22:46:00.000-08:002011-12-11T22:46:36.817-08:00This is for You.This is for you.<br />
<br />
<br />
This, this is for the undecided majors. This is for the loners. This is for the teenagers cursed with love. This is for the heartbroken. This is for the greasers and the preps and the jocks and the nerds.<br />
<br />
<u><b>Stop and breathe.</b></u><br />
<br />
This is for the fat girls. This is for the skinny guys. This is for the anorexic. This is for the bingers and the geeks and the police chiefs. This is for the heartbroken mothers and the brothers out fighting in war. This is for the tear drops and the failures.<br />
<br />
<u><b>Stop and breathe.</b></u><br />
<br />
This is for the people who used to believe in love. This is for those who still believe in love. This is for the people who gave up. This is for the sinners, the winners. This is for the liars and cheaters. This is for the criers and the believers. This is for the stoners and those who let their dream fall right through their fingers.<br />
<br />
<u><b>Stop and breathe.</b></u><b> </b>Take a minute to soak it all up. Because all this, is the reality folks. When you're dying to change and changing to live instead of die. When you're fighting against the pain and can't help but ask if you're still sane. When you are trying to forget all the bad and ignore all the rotten things in your life; Stop and breathe.<br />
<br />
Don't waste another second of your freaking life.<br />
Yeah, you're barely above the surface, but you're not dead.<br />
So, stop and breathe.<br />
It, will be alright.Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-34642714683843596032011-12-04T21:33:00.000-08:002011-12-04T21:33:32.956-08:00Inspiration from Gandhi.This is probably something you have heard before. Something everyone else says because, at the end of the day, we are all the same.<br />
<br />
<i><b>But we're not all the same. </b></i> If we were all the same, it would be a pretty boring life....<br />
If we could all rhyme like that one guy,<br />
or all jump off a cliff and fly.<br />
If we could all sing, cook, dance, and play the sax,<br />
It'd be boring to the max.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQXkjNPQGQwoHBz5ZOhPyjD-1XUv1gPkWu1dvc2mJHItlMih4jnjOrYYFlAPCliHfK-wUgmBew73KdZgBv9dwnBFMFsXr1dvMN8YUuwtzZxrkfHZMQTKh0fXD9q0J8ylPtDtzRrIvrNIS/s1600/at+the+end+of+the+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQXkjNPQGQwoHBz5ZOhPyjD-1XUv1gPkWu1dvc2mJHItlMih4jnjOrYYFlAPCliHfK-wUgmBew73KdZgBv9dwnBFMFsXr1dvMN8YUuwtzZxrkfHZMQTKh0fXD9q0J8ylPtDtzRrIvrNIS/s1600/at+the+end+of+the+day.jpg" /></a></div><br />
We wouldn't be able to call ourselves unique.<br />
But who is unique in a world full of seven billion people?<br />
<br />
I keep forgetting to be <u><b>different.</b></u><br />
I keep forgetting to be the one to speak out to you.<br />
To be the one to stand up and say something's not okay.<br />
I keep forgetting that sometimes, you need to be out of your comfort zone. <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><u><i>I keep forgetting to be real,</i></u></span> and I want to be real, for every second of my life. For every second that counts.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">Because it's so easy to blend in, so easy to not be seen, because there are so many people.</div><div style="text-align: right;">When do we own ourselves completely?</div><div style="text-align: right;">Because we're too busy trying to be like everyone else. Too busy trying to be normal and avoid being a minority.</div><br />
You know, no one has this whole life thing figured out.<br />
But let me tell you something.<br />
<br />
At the end of the day, I don't want to be like everyone else. <br />
I want to own myself and not rely on what people think of me.<br />
At the end of the day, I want to be just me. Something no one has seen before.<br />
<br />
You may have heard something like this before; it's because it's the stuff that makes us a little bit different yet the same.<br />
<br />
<u><b>Inspiration.</b></u><br />
And tonight's not the last time I'm gonna see the light.Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-89522921191119236292011-11-26T14:01:00.000-08:002011-11-26T14:01:35.423-08:00My Journey<b>Oridinary World: </b>I live in Spanish Fork, barely have any friends, I'm a freaking weird kid.<br />
<br />
<b>Call to Adventure: </b>I move to Cedar Hills. Gain lots of friends and I'm still a freaking weird kid.<br />
<br />
<b>Refusal to Call: </b>Jr. High/High School. It's a pretty socially awkward time frame and you don't really know what to except or what's going on. At least it was for me.<br />
<br />
<b>Meeting with Mentor: </b>is God my mentor? hmmm. I guess that counts....<br />
<br />
<b>Crossing the Threshold: </b>trusting many people.<br />
<br />
<b>Tests, Allies, Enemies: </b>Lose some friends, still very shy. Lose friends to drugs. Gossip ruining people's lives.<br />
<br />
<b>Approach: </b>Deciding whether or not to try out drugs, kind of defining who I was at the time.<br />
<br />
<b>Ordeal: </b>Parent's divorce, being insecure.<br />
<br />
<b>Reward: </b>Living through hard times and realizing it will be okay in the end.<br />
<br />
<b>The Road Back: </b>Seeing old friends and old habits and trying not to get into those things. Knowing I don't need that crap in my life.<br />
<br />
<b>Resurrection: </b>Standing on my own ground even if it's not what my friends or family like, doing what's best for me and having a better life. I create my own life.<br />
<br />
<b>Return with Elixir: </b>Knowing to never, ever give up.<br />
<br />
Hero: Me<br />
Mentor: God? haha.<br />
Threshold Guardian: friends.<br />
Herald: Mother<br />
Shapeshifter: drug friends<br />
Shadow: Rumor friends<br />
Trickster: Boys, haha.Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-78226277596755065812011-11-21T20:26:00.000-08:002011-11-21T20:32:54.349-08:00Film Analysis<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Forever Strong.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkl5o85xYODbqwDHiPH4GacqR3nE6JtxRzw_Tfkct7oKhr6e8AdRwydjn5QoeLMcgTspvtOB5DAqBaoNwO19TkvxLDvIJKhNzn4b8BuX6BUP-yPKhS16qGacONdTKq6GCp8J3wc39qWHtG/s1600/ForeverStrong-film.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkl5o85xYODbqwDHiPH4GacqR3nE6JtxRzw_Tfkct7oKhr6e8AdRwydjn5QoeLMcgTspvtOB5DAqBaoNwO19TkvxLDvIJKhNzn4b8BuX6BUP-yPKhS16qGacONdTKq6GCp8J3wc39qWHtG/s1600/ForeverStrong-film.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Oridinary World: </b>Rick lives in Arizona where his days consist of partying and drinking with his friends and girlfriend, he plays rugby with his distant father as his coach. His family life isn't ideal.<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Call to Adventure: </b>Gets a DUI, seriously injures his girlfriend and gets sent to Juvi in Salt Lake City. He is asked to join the Highland Rugby team, his home rivals.<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Refusal to the Call: </b>Rick beats up some one in Juvi and has no desire to change himself.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Meeting with the Mentor: </b>Marcus, his mentor, tells him he needs to change, he can't go to Arizona the same kid. Another mentor is Coach Gelwix, the coach of the Highland team.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Crossing the Threshold: </b>Starts to play with the Highland Rugby team.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Tests, Allies, Enemies: </b>Friend from home sends drugs in a Rugby ball. He has a problem with Q, a teammate. He becomes Captain of the Highland Rugby team.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Approach: </b>His old friends want him to play for the Flagstaff team, his home team. "I want you to be Forever strong on the field, so that you'll stay forever strong off it." - Coach Gelwix.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Ordeal: </b>His friend, and teammate, Kurt dies from being hit by a drunk driver. His dad picks him up from Juvi, a year later, fro his early release based on good reports from Marcus.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Reward: </b>He becomes captain and he is a Highland team member and he has found some place where he is loved and where he belongs.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>The Road Back: </b>His dad picks him up from Juvi, a year later, for his early release based on good reports from Marcus. His old friends are stupid with old habits. Rick has changed for the better. His friends get him arrested, because his "friends" framed him with drugs and alcohol. Rick and father have a fight about his past and what's going on.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Resurrection: </b>Tells his friends he's changed and how he is a Highland player now. He wasn't doing drugs or alcohol. "Coach Gelwix took away my life." - Dad. "Well he gave me mine." - Rick.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Return with Elixir: </b>His father stands up for him and gives him confidence. Rick and dad reunite. He is a Highland player and he is Forever Strong.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFUHJVqOtHc5LP-1ZQORwkEu5fU9Ron59siP64k_Fi060XV2wy_xEHWJHOOOQ0Yn0psMCBW1FzrDAYELw0aFZTULK0iQxpNgpcOj8dxJG_WGkCXncIIRU_zXBA7b3w5-Ex4WiROHsIEVN0/s1600/forever_header.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="95" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFUHJVqOtHc5LP-1ZQORwkEu5fU9Ron59siP64k_Fi060XV2wy_xEHWJHOOOQ0Yn0psMCBW1FzrDAYELw0aFZTULK0iQxpNgpcOj8dxJG_WGkCXncIIRU_zXBA7b3w5-Ex4WiROHsIEVN0/s320/forever_header.png" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><u><b>Archetypes:</b></u></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Hero: </b>Rick: learns to be a different person, forever strong.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Mentor:</b>Marcus, Coach Gelwix<b><br />
</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Threshold Guardian: </b>Coach Gelwix</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Herald: </b>Father<b><br />
</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Shapeshifter: </b>Old Friends<b><br />
</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Shadow: </b>Old Friends</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Trickster: </b>Old Friends.</div>Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-55422963408581318902011-11-13T19:48:00.000-08:002011-11-13T19:48:48.874-08:00Ordinary World.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrHh8VBQJQX7QP1_sxQ5cQ16hV3vey8zu59JUfU5ZQECZFxO8_xOB90lCl1EvPaC8czWD7J7foaquHScWf4uzr2rZPM14HUa9nKsh57QebH40zNe_zxxQaYuqJ9sKHlH8XGfYL0L926wpq/s1600/sick+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrHh8VBQJQX7QP1_sxQ5cQ16hV3vey8zu59JUfU5ZQECZFxO8_xOB90lCl1EvPaC8czWD7J7foaquHScWf4uzr2rZPM14HUa9nKsh57QebH40zNe_zxxQaYuqJ9sKHlH8XGfYL0L926wpq/s320/sick+tree.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Tracy's birthday was next week, 19 years old.<br />
<br />
She's pretty excited. She's young, and loving life. Living among the streets of Chicago and has the greatest boyfriend. She is a beautiful girl who has an impeccable imagination and creativity about life. Her life is art.<br />
<br />
<br />
She was unfathomable. She could draw anything; when she drew, she put her soul into it.<br />
<br />
She started to draw one day, what seemed to look like a tree. All of the sudden she had the sudden urge to puke her stomach out. After she did, she got another horrible sick feeling, but it was different this time.<br />
<br />
Travis was a regular 20 year old, with a killer intellegence going for him. He had a beautiful girlfriend and was loving life. Speaking of which, she was calling.<br />
It was so sweet to hear her voice, but it had a different tone to it. Worried, yet excited.<br />
Travis couldn't breathe.<br />
He dropped the phone.<br />
<br />
Tracy was back to her drawing of the tree. She doesn't have the same inspiration because her whole world had changed in 2 ways. She was pregnant, and her boyfriend was long gone.<br />
<br />
She draws an amazing picture of a tree being so strong and free on one side, and wilted and broken on the other.<br />
<br />
<b>Questions:</b><br />
<b>What will happen to Tracy and the baby?</b><br />
<b>Will Travis come back?</b><br />
<b> How will her life change even more?</b>Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-83500919284870314622011-11-07T21:09:00.000-08:002011-11-07T21:09:10.237-08:00Blurbs.<u>Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen:</u><br />
What a debatable, beloved song this is. It fights between the meaning of life, love or deeper meanings. A deep song that does in fact, move you. When every thing is left cold and broken, all you can say is, Hallelujah.<u></u><br />
<u><br />
</u><br />
<u>Miserable at Best by Mayday Parade:</u><br />
Katie loves Dave, but when it comes down to it, she thinks she can do better, but Dave knows this, so he thinks she will leave him for that other guy, he can live without her, but without her, he'll be miserable at best.<br />
<u> </u><br />
<u>Old School by Hedley:</u><br />
Remembering the good old days of when you were young, and taking that adventure before you grow up. Every one clings to their youth, so don't close your eyes, or you'll fade away.Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-40769132528344918362011-11-02T18:25:00.000-07:002011-11-02T18:33:40.805-07:00My Story.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifHgwMgfqztsEbYhAyVKDhnZO2rSejFyJNE4zha9wcAAJ_DCcB4D6yiyDa338w6dD6fPl3ps-L5uKddZ8UC0vTS8ffhLoxxqkgyJA5WiKHm-6Uk22mmVpQiCym29-5VPr-JFa7sVMrULJ7/s1600/coffee+love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifHgwMgfqztsEbYhAyVKDhnZO2rSejFyJNE4zha9wcAAJ_DCcB4D6yiyDa338w6dD6fPl3ps-L5uKddZ8UC0vTS8ffhLoxxqkgyJA5WiKHm-6Uk22mmVpQiCym29-5VPr-JFa7sVMrULJ7/s200/coffee+love.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> <span style="font-size: small;">Hey, what's up? yeah, <span style="color: red;">you're</span> 17 and <span style="color: red;">you're</span> almost an adult? I don't think so. I don't like that idea. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Do you remember <span style="color: blue;">when</span> <span style="color: red;">you</span> <span style="color: lime;">were 7</span>? And your <span style="color: red;">friend </span><span style="color: blue;">told</span> you that <span style="color: red;">she </span>won't be your <span style="color: red;">friend</span> unless you <span style="color: blue;">walked bare foot over broken glass.</span> <span style="color: red;"> You're</span> not stupid, that's gonna<span style="color: blue;"> hurt</span>. <span style="color: red;">She</span> never really <span style="color: blue;">spoke</span> to <span style="color: red;">you</span> again, but she was <span style="color: blue;">crazy</span> anyway, so it's okay.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Remember when <span style="color: red;">you</span> <span style="color: lime;">were 6 </span>and all <span style="color: red;">you </span>did was <span style="color: blue;">chase</span> <span style="color: red;">boys</span> around the <span style="color: lime;">playground</span>? and then they told you you<span style="color: blue;"> had bugs in your hair and teeth</span>? See, now those were the good, fun times.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Remember <span style="color: blue;">when</span> <span style="color: red;">you</span> <span style="color: lime;">just turned 15</span> and your <span style="color: red;">parents</span> got <u><i>divorced</i></u>? Ya, that was hard, still is. Remember <span style="color: lime;">when</span> <span style="color: red;">your </span>group of <span style="color: red;">friends</span> <u><i>split up</i></u>? yeah that was hard too. Remember<span style="color: lime;"> those times</span> <span style="color: red;">you</span><span style="color: blue;"> felt </span><u><i>lonely</i></u>? Ya, that sucked.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Remember <span style="color: lime;">how</span> <span style="color: red;">you're</span> <u><i>shy and awkward</i></u>? How it's so <u><i>hard to <span style="color: blue;">talk</span> to <span style="color: red;">boys</span></i></u>. Yeah, now that's more stories for another day. Remember how<span style="color: red;"> you</span> <span style="color: blue;">found</span> flowers on your <span style="color: lime;">door step</span>? Ha ha, good day. Remember <span style="color: lime;">that day</span> <span style="color: red;">you</span> <span style="color: blue;">looked inside</span> your coffee cup and the foam made a heart? It <span style="color: blue;">was too cool</span> not to take a picture.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>It's those little things that life's all about. Looking back, <span style="color: red;">I</span> believe the theme is love.</b> <span style="font-size: large;"><b>Love is all you need. </b></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Over-all, you get bits and pieces of <span style="color: red;">my </span>story. <u><i><span style="color: red;">My</span> story seems too average though.</i></u> <span style="color: red;"> <b>I'm</b></span><b> just another <span style="color: red;">person</span>, with another story.</b> So why am <span style="color: red;">I</span> different? Get to know <span style="color: red;">me</span> and <span style="color: red;">you'll </span>find out.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><u>Or maybe, <span style="color: red;">I</span> am just like every one else... </u></i><b><span style="color: red;">I </span>HOPE NOT.</b> </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>KEY:</b></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">Red: Character</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: blue;">Blue: Plot</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="color: lime;">Green: Setting</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="color: lime;"></span> </span></span><b></b><i>Italized </i>and <u>Underlined:</u> Conflict</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Bold: Theme</b> </span><b></b></span></span></span></span>Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-6785061093145362832011-10-23T20:42:00.000-07:002011-10-23T20:42:36.375-07:00Found Poem.Writer's Inc. 003:<br />
"Read the bold statement above, read it again; repeat it after every meal; have it tattooed on your arm and by all means remember it every time you write.<br />
Let this statement be your constant reminder that when you write, you are often involved in uncharted thinking and exploring. <br />
For example, at the beginning of this process, you may be searching for possible subjects that related to your assignment. <br />
At another point, you may be experimenting with different ways to write about one of these subjects. <br />
Later on, you may be searching for the perfect idea to tie all your main points together."<br />
<br />
<br />
Found Poem<b>: Remember, you.</b><br />
<br />
The beginning of every main idea is a <b>bold statement.</b><br />
Remember when you write: experiment, search and<br />
<br />
<b>BE DIFFERENT.</b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Remember,</span> Let it be.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;">Read </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">it</span> AGAIN.<br />
Remember that l a t e r on, you'll change it for the <i>perfect </i>words to TIE it all together.<br />
You are involved in an uncharted process called literature.<br />
<b>Remember it's yours.</b><br />
<br />
Remember to <u><i>always</i></u> search for<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> another way <span style="font-family: inherit;">to write it.</span></span><br />
So your statement is bolder than ever.<br />
Begin.Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-84027788719679337972011-10-16T21:15:00.000-07:002011-10-16T21:18:24.305-07:00Looking through the Glass.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsHA0DsmJ3HCmad69diYEa2iUNvFMwdL6Sf60_0lQFV5u5XQbIrCahaCUwgYhVkZgm6857AHcMDKwIzgFqP6-kEmJ1JrY8gVefiwMoyneHSM_elMwRy_LLYmqNodVqUm8jxHDf99SPwkT/s1600/an+old+swing+set.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsHA0DsmJ3HCmad69diYEa2iUNvFMwdL6Sf60_0lQFV5u5XQbIrCahaCUwgYhVkZgm6857AHcMDKwIzgFqP6-kEmJ1JrY8gVefiwMoyneHSM_elMwRy_LLYmqNodVqUm8jxHDf99SPwkT/s200/an+old+swing+set.jpg" width="134" /></a> </div><br />
A fragile, petite girl was swinging on her old swing set for the last ten minutes that she could; tracing her fingers up, down and through the cold chains.<br />
<br />
She hasn't spoken in almost four days.<br />
<br />
And she doesn't want to leave.<br />
<br />
The moving vans just finished packing up. She lived here her whole life, but it was too painful to be here anymore. She didn't want things to change so fast.<br />
<br />
She's terrified.<br />
<br />
Her Daddy pulls up in the black car. <br />
He walks towards her holding back tears.<br />
"Have you got everything sweetheart?" he said in a gentle voice.<br />
"Yes, but I'm not going back inside that house" she said her high, sad voice.<br />
"Okay, I understand" he said softly.<br />
"Are you ready to go?"<br />
<br />
She looked up at him with tears of heartache rushing down her small, angelic face and whispered,<br />
"Daddy, I don't want to go."<br />
Tears erupt from his sad, blue eyes as he embraced his small angel.<br />
<br />
They wept together in a sorrowful hug.<br />
<br />
He carried her to the car and slid into the back seat as Grandpa backed up the black car.<br />
The fragile, petite girl looked through the glass at the sad house.<br />
"I love you Daddy, and Mommy" She breathed.<br />
"I love you too, and Mommy" Daddy whispered.<br />
<br />
He hugged her tighter as they drove to Mommy's funeral.Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-45587992943932880792011-10-09T15:52:00.000-07:002011-10-09T16:18:30.818-07:00One Word.<div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><b>FREE.</b></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">Freedom is that sweet watermelon in the summer heat.</span> <b style="color: white;">Freedom is crying after you found out that he cheated.</b><b><span style="color: white;"> </span></b> <span style="color: red;">Freedom is eating 50 pounds of greasy food on a Tuesday night just because you're with your fellas.</span> <b>Freedom is moving out after graduation day. </b><span style="color: red;">Freedom is love.</span> <b><i>F</i>r<i>e</i>e<i>d</i>o<i>m</i> i<i>s</i> m<i>u</i>s<i>i</i>c.</b></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Freedom is <i>NOT</i> suicide. Freedom is <i>NOT</i> discrimination. Freedom is <i>NOT</i> money. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">being free is being yourself no matter what.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">being free is going for your dreams no matter how huge they may be.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">being free is allowing yourself to fall.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">being free is not free. But can't obtain being free, you can only be it.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">being free is dancing the night away.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">being free is never giving up.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">being free is... hard.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It seems so easy to do whatever you please, so doesn't that mean that life would be easy? well it's not. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Life is hard. You gotta be who you want to be.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We design our <u><b>dreams</b></u>, our <u><b>wants</b></u>,<u><b> fears</b></u>.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We design our<u><b> lives</b></u>.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then, just then,</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>we become free.</b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBKlmGw6YvgxAGa669PZGDywk1QMO27RmkxDGHLqwAV04KiE2BPBpJDthXjt7PN6PjD-NA_UcIB3ta_yVNPkteR8CGMP3PRsWdmTQ8_sUtwiTVpIq7yB9dwF4qSzzbPfe-0J28yAT2JzT/s1600/free.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBKlmGw6YvgxAGa669PZGDywk1QMO27RmkxDGHLqwAV04KiE2BPBpJDthXjt7PN6PjD-NA_UcIB3ta_yVNPkteR8CGMP3PRsWdmTQ8_sUtwiTVpIq7yB9dwF4qSzzbPfe-0J28yAT2JzT/s320/free.jpg" width="216" /></a></div>Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-33372617407291478342011-10-02T21:50:00.000-07:002011-10-02T21:50:22.526-07:00Rock out like That day has Arrived.You have been given a direct order to rock out.<br />
<br />
Rock out like it's 1979. Like it's a busy street and you're blind. Rock out like you won the lottery, like you won a free burrito. Rock out like a ride in that smooth Maserati. Rock out like it's nobody's business. Rock out like it's graduation day.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;"><b>Rock out like you'll never die, like there's no tomorrow.</b></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Rock out like the party never stops. Rock out like your parents were still together. Rock out like music's all you got. Rock out like you just walked on water. Rock out like you've never rocked out before! Rock out like you've never been told to. Rock out like a rebel, like you just heard your favorite song for the first time.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;"><b>Rock out like things never changed and things stayed the same.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmQ_ZcZxe99gF-5puuN0_A3K0v4PUTnKziDS9Sk_eEPRLL2mjKiDLThvuoZCD1saGb0jLOgpZNZeb7nasNvUQuV4Y4JW_EMxCE5Ar2ON3DGxUnzdypjn9QsSlFhatnYVUo0rPs6rDumY5/s1600/cliff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmQ_ZcZxe99gF-5puuN0_A3K0v4PUTnKziDS9Sk_eEPRLL2mjKiDLThvuoZCD1saGb0jLOgpZNZeb7nasNvUQuV4Y4JW_EMxCE5Ar2ON3DGxUnzdypjn9QsSlFhatnYVUo0rPs6rDumY5/s1600/cliff.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Rock out like you got the last twinkie in the box. Rock out like you just got transparent socks.</div><div style="text-align: right;"><b>Rock out like you felt like you mattered... to them.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Rock out like you don't know anything! Rock out like you know everything! Rock out like you made the winning touchdown. Rock out like your heart just broke for the first time. Rock out like you don't know yourself. Rock out like KISS rocks out. Head banging baabby. yeaah buddy.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Rock out like that day has arrived.</div><div style="text-align: right;"><b>Rock out like you don't know.</b></div><div style="text-align: right;"><b>Rock out like you've never lived.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Rock out like you were clean:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>from reputation</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>from drugs</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>from all the things you said</b></div><div style="text-align: right;"><b>from all the things you did</b></div><div style="text-align: right;"><b>from all the mistakes you made.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">Rock out like you have no regrets. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Rock out like you just jumped off the edge of a cliff, rock out because you can fly. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Rock out like you can break dance.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Rock out like you just broke out of jail.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Rock out like your dreams just came true. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Rock out because your scared to.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;"><b>ROCK OUT LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDED ON IT.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>because it does. </b></div>Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-11894884572162013492011-09-25T16:44:00.000-07:002011-09-25T17:03:42.996-07:00Dead.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUXMpnebObv5-gZdYkzS8gJm4L7foItaj3w44TnHYnObsuJa11t6JEtDeesc-POSfAoi7r6c7AX77KNmTjZ5xUM-J0YN6HxR3fGsR0wJfta-7Rv6_ZKW-d4Dksrx_MgBvi6HeV1dyBvAj4/s1600/beach+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUXMpnebObv5-gZdYkzS8gJm4L7foItaj3w44TnHYnObsuJa11t6JEtDeesc-POSfAoi7r6c7AX77KNmTjZ5xUM-J0YN6HxR3fGsR0wJfta-7Rv6_ZKW-d4Dksrx_MgBvi6HeV1dyBvAj4/s1600/beach+pic.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">Life is Beautiful.</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span">I don't know what it's like to lose someone very close to me, but I feel for all you out there that has lost someone dear. We don't realize what we have until it's gone. Recognize the beauty in EVERYTHING and EVERYONE.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Dying:</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">1: Physically losing your life.</div><div style="text-align: left;">2: Emotionally or mentally oblivious.</div><div style="text-align: left;">3: Gone.</div><div style="text-align: left;">4: Without pleasure or purpose.</div><div style="text-align: left;">5: On the verge of any of the above.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I don't know about you, but I'm freaking scared of dying. So what am I gonna do?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #444444; color: white; font-size: large;">Live.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I'm gonna <b>rock out.</b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I'm gonna <b>dance.</b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I'm gonna be<b> stupid, </b></i>because you don't get <b>smart </b>without <b>experimenting.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I'm gonna be <b>smart.</b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I'm gonna tell them how I really feel and hope I don't get rejected.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I'm gonna <b>hope.</b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I'm gonna take <b>chances</b>.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I'm gonna <b>fail.</b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I'm gonna spend time with <b>those I love.</b></i><br />
<i>I'm gonna <b>accept what happens.</b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I'm gonna kiss them, before I die.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>BEFORE I DIE.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;">What the heck.</div><div style="text-align: left;">We're gonna die. Eff.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Better make it count.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">I wanna run away</span>, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">I wanna have money</span>, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">I wanna find love</span>, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">I wanna be loved</span>, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">I wanna face them</span>,<b> I wanna be some body</b>, I wanna show the world that I can be some body who doesn't care what other people think, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">some body who wasn't afraid.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">BUT I AM AFRAID.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I am afraid.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm afraid of boring <u>people</u>, I'm afraid of <u>boring</u> people. I'm afraid of being alone forever, I'm afraid no one cares, I'm afraid that I'm shy. I'm afraid of loving someone who doesn't love me. I'm afraid of failing,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">NO. Wait! I'm not afraid of failing, because we learn by failure.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm afraid of failing someone of something, like trust.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I ' M A F R A I D O F E V E R Y T H I N G .</div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm afraid of nothing.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm afraid of<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"> HATE.</span> I'm afraid of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">LOVE.</span> I'm afraid of loving you, then losing you.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I don't know about you, but I'm freaking scared of dying. So what am I gonna do?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">We'll see what happens while I'm enjoying my life while I can. Peace.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnswohp48tZgjauZcIz9kmwYdHZFkQ_pRMyMmsKFcKCvpgagEi-Q50bjPHYOP1JhcGvjWrN67TL3cektFFQNBUKJEkOKT2IjA97DrP1yANwLBMT_4EZsD6Jm1yxLPGlJ5aF2jDRJGbW4Ug/s1600/Peace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnswohp48tZgjauZcIz9kmwYdHZFkQ_pRMyMmsKFcKCvpgagEi-Q50bjPHYOP1JhcGvjWrN67TL3cektFFQNBUKJEkOKT2IjA97DrP1yANwLBMT_4EZsD6Jm1yxLPGlJ5aF2jDRJGbW4Ug/s1600/Peace.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-30345592142204308462011-09-18T17:04:00.000-07:002011-09-19T18:14:07.321-07:00Boulevard of Broken Dreams.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs_gsrOZDrm3T9vTk_VO6SGf4VONSwh-S-mJymEK119gJ9TMCjgh6w8Hyo1xwJ6Pozy3YL-ldKxYZG4K3BRuAb70XwqoE9veJHIJWRkubxMY6ORyCZc1jIFB4CdtRnu6GEPdbFIpBNTWQ8/s1600/photographs-new-york-crowded-street-48-53-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs_gsrOZDrm3T9vTk_VO6SGf4VONSwh-S-mJymEK119gJ9TMCjgh6w8Hyo1xwJ6Pozy3YL-ldKxYZG4K3BRuAb70XwqoE9veJHIJWRkubxMY6ORyCZc1jIFB4CdtRnu6GEPdbFIpBNTWQ8/s320/photographs-new-york-crowded-street-48-53-12.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I walk alone.<br />
I walk alone.<br />
<br />
These streets are filled with people, scribbled in every space.<br />
Yet, <i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;">that doesn't matter.</span></i> <span style="font-family: inherit;">No matter what I try to do, no one can hear my vibrant voice.</span><br />
I see a <strike>BROKEN TYPEWRITER </strike>with nothing but a sentence written.<br />
<br />
I walk alone.<br />
I walk alone.<br />
<br />
<i style="color: red;">Broken buildings</i>, <b style="color: lime;">washed out streets</b>,<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">ruined cars</span> </span>are what I see.<br />
I see a jar of unspoken words.<br />
Billboards plastered with dancing people, because dancing with you is a broken dream.<br />
<br />
I walk alone.<br />
<br />
I see a broken stethoscope,<br />
a rusty needle,<br />
a split scalpel.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">A shattered heart</span>.<br />
I see a couple holding hands.<br />
<br />
I walk...<br />
<br />
Being a good kid comes with a cheap price.<br />
I feel gossip drip out of young people's lips like poison.<br />
I walk into a deserted Jazz lounge.<br />
I see a broken, <span style="font-size: large;">dusty <span style="font-size: x-large;">piano. <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><br />
<div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Keys on the floor, crushed.</span></span></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;">I walk outside, I can't see those lovely stars.</span></span></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;">A raindrop splashes my face; cold as the Arctic Ocean.</span></span></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;">I s e e a n a b a n d o n e d w e d d i n g a l t e r with wilted, white roses and thorns <b>intertwined.</b> </span></span></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thorns jostle my heart and dreams.<b> </b></span></span></span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>I walk alone.</b></span></span></span>Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-49441799506284146522011-09-11T20:31:00.000-07:002011-09-11T20:42:43.937-07:00I'm thinking about you.<div style="color: white;">You asked me who I think about.</div><div style="color: white;">Oh, how I wish I could say, I think about you.</div><div style="color: white;">I'm thinking about you like people think about money, like bears think about honey.</div><div style="color: white;">How the Joker thinks It's funny,</div><div style="color: white;">how much I think about you.</div><div style="color: white;">I think about you like artists think about art, like love thinks about hearts and hearts think about love.</div><div style="color: white;">Like cupid thinks about love. How kids think about mud.</div><div style="color: white;">No, I don't know what love is or how to explain it, but I know I love thinking about you.</div><div style="color: white;">I'm thinking about you like misery thinks about happiness, like the sky thinks about stars.</div><div style="color: white;">How paparazzi think about stars, like aliens think about mars.</div><div style="color: white;">I'm thinking about you like guys think about girls and girls think about guys.</div><div style="color: white;">Like Juliet thinks about Romeo, like those kids who love the song we know.</div><div style="color: white;">I'm thinking about you like yesterday dreams about tomorrow, like dancers think about dancing and surfers think about the waves and fish think about the ocean, how girls think about drama and actors think about drama and how sluts think about karma?</div><div style="color: white;">...</div><div style="color: white;">It doesn't matter what the comparison is, <b>I'm always thinking about you.</b></div><div style="color: white;">You felt the awkward, long pause and you asked again who I think about. </div><div style="color: white;">I replied, "I could be in a room full of people and feel alone, until I'm thinking about them."</div><div style="color: white;">Until I'm thinking about you.</div>Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-41804636769259989872011-09-02T07:39:00.000-07:002011-09-10T11:14:35.900-07:00Love is....Love is a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #9fc5e8; font-size: large;"><i>w a t e r f a l l.</i></span><br />
Love is a<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">football game.</span></span><br />
Love is <b>music.</b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Love is dancing.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">Love</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f4cccc;">i</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">s</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e06666;">a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">m</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">o</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;">v</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">i</span>e.<br />
<b>Love is a</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">hurricane</span>.</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;">Love</span> is a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">l</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">o</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">v</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">e </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">s</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">o</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">n</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">g.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">L o v e i s a r u n a w a y t r a i n .</span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Love is a rock concert.</span></b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-size: xx-small;">Love is a hairless monkey. (unexpected.) </span><br />
<b>L</b>o<b>v</b>e <b>i</b>s <b>a</b> g<b>a</b>m<b>b</b>l<b>e</b>.<br />
Love is a <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e; font-size: large;">memory.</span></i><br />
<u>Love is walking on tight rope.</u><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-size: large;">Love is a</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-size: large;"> </span>tangled chain.</b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">Love is a busy street.</span><br />
<b>Love is goodbye.</b><span style="color: black;"></span>Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-113788528780135965.post-58523221501351670212011-08-28T21:48:00.001-07:002011-08-28T22:01:42.684-07:00IntroOne can describe high school as the best time of their life. Others would disagree. In my perspective, it's one crazy, unexpected ride, but it's worth it. Dispite all the rumors, lies, labels, lost friends, and bad reputations; you gotta love high school. Creativeness is perhaps not only an antidote from dullness, but a gift. A gift each person has and can expand their imagination endlessly. Each person has their own views and ideas which make our world so wonderfully diverse.<br />
<br />
So get ready for a Reality Check, because I sure hope this is mine. A place described as surreal, yet real, from inside myself (Cheesy? Yes.)Lindsi Rae Burrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01957560868796117641noreply@blogger.com1