Saturday, November 21, 2009

The Tenth Daughter of Memory - If Geeks Ruled The World...

If Geeks Ruled The World...

If Geeks Ruled The World school uniforms would be costumes,
The scent of every woman would be comic book ink perfumes,
The light-up shoes of every child would have little rockets,
Our phones would be so small we wouldn't even need pockets!!

If Geeks Ruled The World we would have high-flying jetpacks,
Not guns, but phasers would line all our weapons racks,
We could teleport to everyplace around all the universes,
People would live forever so we wouldn't need any hearses!!

If Geeks Ruled The World Spock would be our ruler,
Kirk might be a Captain but Spock is way cooler,
Every single backpack would have little jets,
And every single person could have aliens as pets!!

If Geeks Ruled The World my poem'd be different, too,
It would have been written from another's point of view,
It probably wouldn't be so lame, that is probably true,
But the geeks ruling would be all that we knew,
And If Geeks Ruled The World (which they probably already do),
I'd write this telepathically, and I have no idea who
Would want to think of a different world that'd be so new,
Where Geeks wouldn't Rule The World, and we'd all be through,
So I nominate (as I said before) Spock from the Enterprise crew,
To be our ruler, now I bid you adieu!!

That's what would happen if Geeks Ruled The World!!

(Sorry it's so geeky haha)

Friday, November 20, 2009

"Billie Jean" by Spencer Bell

Live in Memory, man. You are missed.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Theme Thursday - Late

This may be a stretch, but it works!!! I've stretched stuff before, like rubber bands, sweatpant bands, and Flubber, so this'll work!!! Plus, I read this in school today, and it really reached me. Enjoy.

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some LATE visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!"

- The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

Sunday, November 15, 2009

You Gotta Love Sheldon!!!

Everybody knows I am a sucker for some good fan art (And if you didn't know, now you do, so stop wasting time and send me some!) Cal sent me the above image through Wings. There are nine images I found myself below, to give you a total of ten - count 'em - ten Sheldon images crammed in one post, plus a clip from tomorrow's brand-new episode. AND I recently bought The Big Bang Theory Theme by The Barenaked Ladies off of iTunes, and you can look that up on my new widget at the bottom of my blog that allows you to look up any song and play the full version, cost-free and virus-free! And while we're on the subject, I decided not too long ago to rewatch every episode of The Big Bang Theory, and here is a site I found most handy - Also cost-free and virus-free, this site allows me to browse through websites that will show me the full version of this episode, and only websites that are free and safe. No, I was not payed to say any of these things, I'm being honest. :D I hope you all check those out, too! Thank you, Cal! Happy Sunday! :D TBBT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Theme Thursday - Telephone

As I slid down the pole into the dark lair, a flood of childhood memories trespassed into my thoughts. Sliding in here time after time on my pole, and once on the other (Mr. Wayne was none too happy... that never happened again...), to slip into our costumes and go off to "fight crime", as the city so lovingly dubbed our wars with the evil of the world. For some reason, the evil of the world always seemed to place itself in the heart of Gotham.

Moving towards the Batmobile, against one wall, beside the coffins of two men I had loved, I saw a small pedestal with a gift box on top. Black wrapping paper with yellow ribbons and a vibrant sun-colored bow fixed on top. With a grim grin, I moved to lift the box, but failed. A red cord, curling into a crack in the cave wall, stopped me. I yanked the cord from the wall and skittered away from the coffins of Mr. Wayne and Alfred.

I trudged over to the waterfall on the far side of the cave and slumped against the wall. I pulled the cord through my fingers as I examined the texture, trying to locate one of my repressed memories that was telling me what this familiar object was. With a heavy sigh of failure, not being able to remember the object's name, I yanked on one of the ribbons and watched as all of them slid off the box, landing on the damp floor with numerous, light "thumps".

Eyeing the box with renewed suspicion, trying to determine what the old man could've left me, knowing it must be something either utterly ridiculous or boringly sane, I tugged on the bow taped delicately to the top of the box. Throwing it to the floor beside me, I ran my finger under the tape and one side fell open.

I dropped the box to my lap, and all four sides fell down. The lid balanced on top of the mystery object, then slid off to the side. I shut my eyes, and remained still for several minutes. Slowly, ever so slowly, I opened my eyes and glared down at the object. The Batphone. With a smile, I stood up, kicking the remains of cardboard, wrapping paper, and ribbons into the water below.

As I turned to leave, I heard a scuttling in one of the far reaches of the cave. Sitting, the vivid garnet-colored phone beside me feet, I crept along the wall. When I reached the corner, I leapt around the side, crying "Ahhh!" as I whirled around, looking for the threat. Seeing nothing, I shrugged, and moved back over to the Batphone and bent over to pick it up.

As I reached down, I heard more footsteps behind me. I spun around quickly, but not quick enough. A heavy figure launched it's sharp weapon - a sword, I believe - into my chest, and pushed me. I tumbled backwards down the waterfall, into the sharp rocks below, bleeding profusely.

Everything went black.

(Ta-da! Keep reading these - I love writing them! And here's a picture I stole from Picture Is Unrelated that fits the theme "Telephone", but has nothing to do with the story. Hope you enjoy the picture, and hope you enjoyed the story even more! Happy TT!!)

Wednesday, November 11, 2009


My new HOTM (Header Of The Month) submitted by Wings last month!

Thursday, November 5, 2009

The Tenth Daughter of Memory - Moon

I paced across the wooden planks, cringing at the sound of each creak. I ducked under the steep, slanting roof as I reached the north wall of the attic, then pivoted and paced back across the floor. I threw anxious glances towards the circular window on the east wall at regular intervals, waiting for the moonlight to throw itself in, unwelcome, casting it's hideous light upon my skin.

I crossed the floor to the little window and fidgeted with the curtain, trying to get it exactly right so the evil moon could not shine upon me. Stupid rags - they never worked. I tore off my t-shirt and covered the window with it, but my hands overlapped and they wouldn't stand a chance against that moon.

I sighed heavily and gave up on that. I pulled my t-shirt back over my head - the more skin covered, the better - and went back to wearing a trench in the floor. I turned my head to check the sky, which had turned a vibrant blend of blue, red, purple, and black. I could see the first star - twinkling, as though innocent, when I knew it marked the horribleness of night - and I sprinted to the corner of the damp attic.

I pulled my sweatshirt over my bare arms and tugged my hood tight over my skull. I drew my legs in to my chest and wrapped my arms around them securely, as I had forgotten to grab pants and had only shorts on. I turned my head and buried it into the corner of the wall. A spiderweb tickled my nose, and I sneezed, batting the web away with my human hands. Still human. I breathed a sigh of relief.

It took a little persuasion, but I finally convinced myself to peek at the window. I opened up the small hole between my arm and my chest to look outside, and saw the man in the moon beginning to cross the sky, a menacing look to his face. I shuddered and tucked my head back into the corner as I felt a strange tearing along my ankles.

I gasped and jerked my head around to look at my ankles. Once I saw my ankles, left sockless in my haste, had been struck with that sinister moonlight, I shrieked and hurried to cover them, but I knew it was too late. I shrieked once more, sort of a howl, and vaulted to my feet. I howled once more and tore at my ankles, trying to rip them off before the disease spread to the rest of my body.

I failed in my desperate attempts, and collapsed back to the ground as my veins began to burn. My feet bursted, tearing my shoes to bits and pieces that flew into the walls. My shorts went next as my legs exploded with my horrid disease. I tore off the hoodie and the t-shirt in time to see my chest explode.

My skull, something I once imagined to be my one safe haven, began to morph and crack with the transformation. I screamed, a blood-curdling scream, as my face changed into something so familiar, yet so hideous. I scrambled to my feet and crashed through the window, that traitor, that window who betrayed me when I needed it most, and now it's pieces lay scattered across the lawn, littering the damp ground.

The shards cut into my feet, but I ignored them as I fell to the ground and raced to the top of the hill on the far side of town. As I reached the top of the hill, I slowed, and pulled my torso up, like I was a puppet, so I could stand on two legs. I chuckled once, a snarl or a growl, really, at how... how... stereotypical this all was. Soon, the dark humor faded, and I reached the top of the hill.

I fell to my knees, threw my head back, and howled at the moon, as any werewolf would do.

Theme Thursday - Castle

Wandering the empty halls of my forgotten castle, I stroked the dusty walls, leaving finger lines in peculiar patterns where I touch. The empty rooms leave behind people's spirits, the ghosts of furniture, and the shadows of memories from years before.

An end table stands pressed against the wall, an end table that had been left behind when the old man passed. Opening the drawer, I noticed the familiar extra items he used - tools for his job. In case he ever ran out - he was always prepared.

Shutting the end table drawer, chuckling to myself, I walked down the hallway with my hands in my pockets, remembering when I used to run down these long halls and skid with my socks at the end, pretending I could glide like the old man could.

I come upon my old room - the one I stayed in for brief periods of time when I could, and extended periods of time when I had to. I really had no problem with staying here, but I'm 50 years old now, and the memories seem faraway. Part of someone else's life, so long ago.

I push back the familiar door, hearing the creak of the hinge I always promised to oil, but never did because of that old-feel noise, I walked into the small room. Computer in the corner, cot against the wall - I didn't want a bed, it made this feel too homey - and my old dresser.

Crossing the room to the dresser pressed up against the wall, pressed so tightly it seemed like it was trying to get away from me, I pried open the ancient drawers and peered in. The outfits, folded neatly, ready to be worn, sat there. They looked like Halloween costumes - bright colors, flashy designs.

Chuckling under my breath, I pulled the solitary mask out from the side of the drawer and pulled it around my skull. Acting like I would have in my younger days, I spun around, and chopped at empty air as though I believed there was an unseen attacker lurking in the dust motes swirling about.

I stopped suddenly, remembering that's not who I am anymore. I pulled off the old mask with a slow sigh, and tucked it back in the corner of the drawer. I softly pushed the drawer back into it's place, and turned to leave.

I reached my original goal - the place I had been trying to reach, where the old man had told me he left something for me. I hadn't come for it for so long, and now I should find it. Turning to the familiar desk, pulling back the top of the bust and pressing the button - something I had always wanted to do as a child - and seeing the bookcase pull back.

I looked around me, checking to make sure nobody was watching - no unseen attacker or curious visitor - and jumped down the pole as I had so many times before. I missed Mr. Wayne, but I would always have these memories.

I am Robin.

(Hehe another stretch for another Batman post but so worth it! Don't be all like, "Ooh, Robin died!" and enjoy the story! Happy TT!)