Description Passage from College

A small description of an image in my mind.

Pink explosion, passion flying around him. His black hounds of hair painted red classing against a broken sky. above, the heavens rip at the gods anger, fury, decision. flames brake out sweet smell, sour smoke. Opening to the door of death, of destruction, of creation in the recycled recurrence of place. Ring of death worming around his strong hands, his thick finger as he helps me up. Blood, burns the stench of flesh as rememberably cruel world says goodnight.

A poem of death from College

This poem has to do with death and people close to you dying. I hope you like it...or not but in a good way.

Poem:

Unloved by family
disconnected from reality
cladded in armor
so bold
fire and passion born of twin blood
a doctor to be
mountain of black and red
love for both female and males
heart-broken lover
a crossed ocean of heart
shatter the glass
shatter the memory
outlook the mount
fire
death
forgetness
in flame of memory
spirit of love
lust
hope
mine guardian flame
my minds eye
eye to the spirit realm
the tomb of death
swirling darkness
nothingness
immortal reality
the last blood dripping
dripping in goodbyes.

G.I.G.O. - Work from Poetry and College

here are the random words, in order, that i came up. Don't think this is a poem or something. Just my thoughts.

Words:

black
nothingness
untouchable
reincarnation
death
space
destruction
materialization
darkness
invisible
creation
remembrance
hope
life
hopeless
unimaginable
colors
greys
wilt
willow
without
unneeded
heartless
heart-broken
disgrace
stars
constellation
power
weakness
disconnection
unliving
blood
drop
lust
lover
unwelcomed

New Poem from College

After reading my last poem to class i wrote another one.

Poem:

Against the Night Sky

Stars
Monotony
a painting of catastrophe
explosions beyond the light

"What a night what a night
upon the mountain,
sittin, singin, whishin the stars away"
said the black furred boy
his fur a spike and smooth
curls, rosemary, a blush of touch
as ivory stature looks up at his fur

"Destruction, construction
the continued recycle of place
catastrophe, apathetically.
the world continues in cruel disgrace"
say I the voice of velvet smooth reality
a relaxation, a water ripple in the sky,
the air,
a creation of the stars

White wings, smooth and shining
wilt upon the dark
blackness, nothingness, completion
wings of leathery smoothness
kneed the constellations of I, the ripple of remorse
looking down the world below

My mountain, my home
ivory and fur contort, counter
with grip, with a fist that
slams upon the skys
stars explode
the night grows bold
the night grows old

"Who are you
What are you that
destroys the night with a fist of just"
says a silent statue, a sleepy eye

"Are you god, a being true.
An angel of the devil hood"
fur growls with a wolfish
sneer
his body cortex and clear

"I am no god, no devil too
I be I of velvet eye
Behold me, my night ling home"

My voice fades,
my world destroyed
as the cross of stabbing
lights contort the
dark
sunrise upon the world
untouched.

Fire Eyes - Art Inspired for College

This is a piece inspired by a picture of eyes surrounded by flames drawn by me today.

Short story:

Fire Eyes

Darkness. So disturbing that is strikes the soul in a crushing blow. Nothingness surrounds everything. I see the destruction of light as a wicker destruction begins. Above me in this isolation of creation is nothing but stars. Those small lights give me no hope in igniting my way. The clouds cover the moon, the darkness divine light.

A sound. A roar like thunder comes from around me. Am I surrounded? Where am I? Why me, where me, what me?!

Scared, frightened, I jump up. My paw-padded feet catching upon a burned wooden plank.

What is this place?!

Again the noise rings about me. Safety, warmth, life is no longer reality. I know my fate. I do not accept it!


A creature, a being of smell and taste but no mind fell upon my campsite. Its feverous wines annoying and unneeded. I grab my gear, its cold harsh surface inviting, a delight upon imagination, upon communication of the death that is to come.

Creeping slowly, i stalk the creature as it would stalk me. My steps slow, quiet. Until i step upon the wood of a tossed fire. A yelp escapes a dog from an earlier hunt. Fearing it would scare the creature, with it so close by, i shot it between its eyes. A fine reason for death.

My gun ready, powder filling my nose as the scent of a shot rises around me. The crackling of fire nearby startles me. I thought only my candle back at came was left a burn. The smell of destruction, of evaporation, of ash covers the area where I knew the beast would be.

A fire ignited as i entered the area. It's burn harsh, reds of crimson orange engulfed me. A noise. A leap. I turned to see the eyes of the beast in the fire.

Poem from College

This is a poem made for our lesson 'Inspired by...'

I hope you all like it!

Poem:

Nightmare

Inspired by: Jump Mama by Kurtis Lamkin

Pretty summer day
goin far away
to where the snow needs
meltin
and the sun don't shine

harsh stormy day
laughing mockingly
as the world around is
destroyed
an' the heart of a beast is tamed

lil' girl follows the summer day
her pigtails wagin as her body
dancin
dancin around the warm hot day

she sees a bird
a big ol'bird
sittin on her bench

Scat bird!
she shouts as the clouds roll in

the bird tads off
a laughin starts
and the bird comes back
again

Her look turns scared
her eyes openin
Wide
as the clouds fight the day

lookin to the bird she
screeches
lightning hits the birds beak
sparks fly all around the boilin sky

fried lil' bird engulfed
in black light
becomes an
old woman

lil' girl looks scared
again
old woman laughs
girl tries to run away
old woman grabs her sayin

You can't run! Your too old!
girl turns
Mirror reflexes the old woman
She is

Crackle of thunder
awakens her
from a Nightmare

Picture Story for College Class

If you read my other work you'll find out more on why this piece is written. [http://life-without-creativity-is-normal.blogspot.com/]

Please take no offence from this piece. It is purely fiction and is not meant to offend anyone. I do not know if all of this is true as my research on the subject brought little information.

Short Story:

Mustala looked out her window and deep into the night sky. The stars above glittered across the sky in a painting of ancestral eyes. She thought back to her day. her mother and father had earlier stated she was to prepare for her wedding starting the next morn. It would be a long, pain-stacking task of prepare. Each day she would be stripped of every impurity until her skin was reddened raw. she would not eat the day before her wedding to avoid any embarrassment.

Her last moment of childhood ended when the sun rose. With a sigh she undressed from the sacred cloth that enveloped her, her body, her spirit, her youth and innocence. She let out a throaty sigh as the cool night air graced her body in a loving embrace. Resting her head upon the cloud that was her dream, she drifted off into the nights sleepy calling.

She awoke early the next morning, the sun barely peeking over her window ledge. Quickly, she dressed in the color chosen for the third day before her wedding, blue. Just as her father waling in, she covered her face in flawless grace.
"Mustala, it is time to begin."
"Yes father." She did not look up at him as she started past him. She stifled a gasp when he touched her shoulder.
"...Happy 16th Birthday, Mustala." In shock and awe she stole a hidden glance at him.
"Thank you, father." He nodded and left. Quickly, hoping to hide her delight at her fathers kindness, she rushed to the purity room where her mother awaited her.
Her purity, her torture, began.

The three days had passed quickly. her body swore and her hand on her growling stomach, Mustala looked to the stars once again. Looking into the glittering ancestral eyes that seemed to be her only hope, she prayed to Ala. She had never met her husband to be, she wouldn't meet him until it was too late to back out. Not that she would ever have the choice of backing out.

Small trails of semi-dry tears were vibrant against her deep brown eyes. The stars, her hope, slowly disappeared as the sun awoke upon the wedding day. Mustala was already dressed in her black garb, awaiting the final purification. her door slowly creaked open and she looked up as her mother entered. Silently, the two embraced. Tears flew from her mothers eyes, making Mustala's stop. She became still and clingy, like she had turned to stone by her mothers rare emotion.

When the embrace ended the two went for the last time to the purification room

As she was brought to the wedding chamber, the smell of desert roses engulfed her. For a moment her mind flashed to her childhood friend, Behalan. Quickly, she corrected herself. She was not to think of another man on her wedding day. She stood upon the alter of Ala by her father. A sly smirk was on his lips as he called the groom in.

Mustala almost lost her footing when she saw him.
Tears welded in her eyes as her long time love walked up to her.

On that day, Mustala married Behalan Alhe.

Short story from Writing Class in College

If you read my daily blog you'll see that I am in a college writing class [and art] right now. I've decided that if they like it in my class, I'll post it on my blog so here goes!

Tell me what you think!

Prompt: I like cheating with other guy's girls. & I am afraid of Clowns.

Short story:

It was April Fools day, 1996. I thought the day would be fun. Boy was I wrong.

I had it all planed. Garret was going to come over and we'd call up my girl, Jess, for a little prank. When the phone hung up the night before, Garret was already awaiting the morning sunrise. At 10:00am sharp Garret started pounding on my front door. Waking me up from my usual lazy nap, i answered the door. He was so excited that he was bouncing around like the Easter bunny a month late for Easter.

I quickly got ready, putting on my tank and ripped jeans. After a cup of hot, black coffee, left on the counter, I called Jess. She was happy to come over. We had it timed good. It would take her about twenty minutes to here. At nineteen we started our show.
"Mich, how have you been?"
"Great, Gar! I've been having the time of my life lately."
"Whys that?" This all sounded a little too rehearsed but, hey, it was just a joke.
"Gar let me tell you what! I have recently found out that I like to cheat with other guy's girls."

Just then the front door slammed open and a furious looking Jess walked in. Her black hair rippled around her like the snakes of Medusa. Her bright blue eyes perching my soul, making me stumble and slapping the laughing smile from my face.
"How dare you! I-I..."

She stormed off. I ran after her, leaving Garrett to laugh by himself in the dark room. Jess was fuming. I should have know better. She started to run, her long legs moving in a blur as the track-teams star flew away from me.

I knew I'd never catch her on food so I ran back to my garage and jumped on my Harley. The sound of the reeving engine could have told any near-by cop that I was about to speed way past the speed limit.
And that's just what I did.

I was at Jess's house in under ten minutes. She wasn't there so I started ridding up and down the streets looking for her. When she wasn't at the park or the library, I finally figured out where she'd be. Going back toward my house, I stopped at Garrett's. In his backyard was a old abandoned tree house. Quietly, I climbed the rough, rotted wooden planks into the small shed like structure above me. When I opened the creaking latch door it was oddly dark.

I pulled myself up into the tree house. Shuffling came from the far corners. Suddenly the windows were uncovered and I saw it. Coming toward me slowly was a Garrett sized Clown. I yelped, falling from the tree house and falling onto the hard, rooted ground.

I awoke to the bright, painful lights of a hospital room. In the corner was stifled snickering. Garrett and Jess were laughing, i just knew it had to be them. I found the button that moved the bed into a sitting-up position. As I thought, Garrett and Jess were sitting in the blue padded chairs by the windows.

When they saw me awaken and heard the bed move, Jess rushed over to me. She kissed my forehead softly. Her soft lips made my heart flutter and I knew I wasn't asleep any more. I pulled her close and whispered softly in her ear.
"Good pay back prank. You know very well that i'm afraid of clowns..."

Technorati

I just joined this site, Technorati, to show my blog to the rest of the blog world.

If you have a Technorati {or are interested in what the heck i'm talking about} please feel free to add me to your favorites [if i'm special enough that is!]

I hope everyone likes my blog!

Best wishes,

Angela N. Tharp

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Creativity, the Longevity of Life

This post will be short, I promise!

I just wanted to tell everyone that I've started a website for all the forms of Creativity!

This site has areas for Writers, Artists, Photographers, and Musicians/Composers.

Feel free to join, and tell me of any other areas that I should add. Within a few days I'll start a blog for the site also.

Hope to see you all there!

http://cryptofthecreative.forumotion.net

Creative Process

So, for all the writers out there, what do you do when you want to write? How do you get in the mood, or set a theme around you?

Do you put on music? Is there a certain kind of music you listen to depending on the scene your writing? Or maybe a TV show/movie?

Share what you do depending on your mood and the scene.

Personally, I listen to songs from bands like My Chemical Romance, Metallica, Linkin Park, Cradle of Filth, Alice in Chains, and Staind. These bands tend to have beats and lyrics that really have meaning and can inspire me no matter what scene I've started writing.

Besides writing there is also art. For those that draw, sketch {i do both and see a difference in it}, paint, photograph, [or any of the millions of other things you could do] do you do the same?

Any songs or music you listen too? Or a TV show/movie you watch to get you in the mood for it?

Again, I'll share what i do.

When I'm alone, or upset, i always grab my sketch book. I'll draw whatever comes to mind. An example would be that right now I'm watching a television show called I didn't know i was Pregnant and I've started doing a portrait of a pregnant woman.

What about everyone out there? What do you do? It doesn't have to be writing or art, anything creative counts!

Please tell me, and anyone that reads the comment, what you do to get in the mood to do something creative!