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Cricket's Chirpings [Stories and poems]
Welcome to Cricket's Chirpings! Where Cricket will post his drabbles, poems, and such just because he can. Series-related short stories will probably be posted in a thread devoted to said series later on down the line. All that aside, I'd like to put a little bit about my style in this post, so here it goes. My writing style changes. Some stuff in here ill be older, so keep in mind that my style changes and if it seems messed up it's probably because it's an older story or poem. My poetry is inspired by many different things. Something I saw on television, something I heard in conversation. It could be inspired by something that I read, a roleplay I'm part of, or something that I see outside. They are also often inspired by songs I hear. The same goes for my stories. Feel free to post now, I'll just be posting more stories and poems as I go along. If you're planning on reviewing a specific story or poem, please make sure you refer to the story/poem you're replying to. ^_^ |
Reserved just in case I need it later.
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Lovely Disease I knew we'd never make it. But I tried anyways. Magic horses galloping on wings of hope can only last so long. We didn't, did we? Sixteen years feels as if it were only a handful of moments. Remembering those days takes my breath away. Leaving me suffocating on my own divine memories. All are false. It wasn't pleasant, my years with you. You'll haunt me with heavenly misery until the day I die. Rotting in the corpse of our emotional rollercoaster ride. And I'll love every moment. |
Wrong Day I woke up in the wrong day today. I woke up to find that you'd gone away. The clock said that it was a quarter 'til eleven. The computers said it was Friday, when you were still on vacation. I looked outside the window and it was like twilight, even though the sun should've set hours and hours before, and sunrise wasn't for many hours more. I heard the rumbling of the ghost car that haunts the streets. I heard loud movements outside, and wild animals thundering with anger. I tried to reach out for you but I couldn't. Nothing could reach you, nothing at all. I called and called and called, and when I called others they only laughed. The train was deafening loud, thundering through the back yard and all up and down the street. Then I heard a gunshot and the train was deathly still... For over two hours I was trapped in this strange place between the past and the present. I laid down for a few minutes to rest my head and fell into an odd form of sleep. My eyelids were like rocks and I could barely breathe. I managed to pry my eyes open again and looked around... Darkness, as it should be. The twilight was gone. The night was silent, so silent that it pressed in against my ears and sent shivers down my spine. I sat up, and it was Monday, and it suddenly all made sense. The living room is ice cold by the window, even when the heat's on. That didn't ease my panic one bit. But at least I know what day it is now. And why I cannot reach you. Because you're a state away earning your wages. I'll sit here, wide-eyed and horrified, waiting for your return. Please don't let me sleep again... I'm afraid of what'll happen when I wake up. |
The Floor Remember the first time you found me laying on the floor? You were so confused. I wasn't crying. I wasn't even upset. No, I told you why I liked to lay on the floor. You didn't understand it. I said that I belonged on the floor. You didn't agree, but you found it interesting. I like the way the wood feels against my body. It's cold and reassuring that there's something there to support me. You got down on your hands and knees, slowly lowering yourself to the floor next to me. At first you were uncomfortable, which was understandable. Then you laid your ear against the floor, and by the look on your face, I knew you felt it too. The humming of the air through the vents underneath us. The gently calming sound of water flowing through the pipes. You could feel the electricity coursing through the wires in the walls. Oh, but it was so much more than that. You could feel the footsteps of the masses, the roar of vehicles on highways miles away. You felt the Earth move, her inner workings buzzing like busy bees throughout the world. The look on your face was the same as mine: love. And lying there together in our audible silence, the world moving around and underneath us, we fell in love all over again. And I knew that you knew that you belonged with me, laying here on the cold wood floor. |
California And it's those nights that drive me wild Laying on our backs and playing Our little word games While we stare at the sky Took us fourteen years And we never found a word that rhymed with orange Remember those nights when we talked about our dreams? About how we were gonna get out of here Make a name for ourselves Get the better things? Well you're gonna have to miss me Because my bags are packed I'd take you with me But you're always looking back To the things that make you want to stay Unlike you There's nothing standing in my way So I'm heading for California I'm gonna to make it big I don't know what I'm gonna to do there But it's better than being here Maybe I'll be a movie star A famous singer in a band Maybe a pimp or a prostitute Or a celebrity's one night stand Something's gonna make or break me It's just a matter of time No matter what Nothing's gonna shake me So be ready to miss me Because this is goodbye My bags are packed I'm leaving To live in the bright lights |
Bad Week Frustration fills the air like a thick fog of poison gas when there's no wind from either direction. Memories from the past and worries of the future fill the air with the ungodly stench of impending failure. Thunderstorms and cold weather overtake hell's current location at the most inconvenient time possible. Distractions run rampant and are willingly followed in a desperate attempt to forget and escape. A soul-mate's arms bring sweet relief. Tomorrow looks like tears. |
Bottom of the List There's a waiting list a mile long And I'm stuck there at the end As soon as one person's been seen Their name gets put before mine again Stuck in a vicious cycle of silence and frustration I don't have it in me to fight my way to the top of the list anymore It hurts because it makes me feel Like everyone else means more than I do They're worth your time but I'm not You were my best friend Or so I thought But best friends don't treat others this way So I'm pretty sure you're not It hurts too much to think of you as a friend When you treat me like I'm not I know you pay attention to most if not all of the others But still I sit here at the bottom of the list So I have one last final thing to say For you to think about If you can't find time to talk to your friends Then you shouldn't have a mouth to speak with |
Snow Silly little snowflakes Falling from the sky They dance a little joyous dance Without ever knowing why They'll sparkle their whole lives long Until the warmth steals them away And when the cold comes back again They'll return to play Their color rivals the clouds they're born from The purest of all white Little flakes stick together Easily molded into bricks and balls Filling children with delight But the sun comes out again And melts the snow away But never fear, for Spring is here Time for the flowers to come out and play Spring dissolves to Summer Summer sheds to Fall Fall freezes into Winter Thick white and gray clouds drift over Sprinkling trillions of frosty gifts It's time to play in the snow once more Before the season's over |
Lost Dragon Looking back, it makes me stiff Thinking that people so close could so easily drift I have to say, you were one of the funnest One of the best, one of the greatest Our run was shorter than it should've been I tried to explain to you why I was mad But every time you just got pissed off and never listened to reason It wasn't about what you didn't do It was about you not keeping your word when I had done my best to keep my word to you Deleting you from online messengers can only go so far I knew you wouldn't talk to me I know I wouldn't talk to you, because it would just be the same thing all over again I would try to explain, you would get mad We'd fight And you'd do it again At least I tried to explain I miss you, really I do I never enjoyed talking to someone over the phone like I did with you Late night and early morning phonecalls full of sleep-deprived giggles and crazy thoughts You yelling at villains in video games Your brothers whining and fighting in the background You have potential as an author, don't ever lose it I doubt we'll ever talk You feel too out of reach So take care, oh mighty Dragon Keep the minion busy for me |
Angel's Demise The child screamed as the angel fell from his grace. The angel fell from his grace as the child was stabbed. The child cried as the angel's wings broke away from his back. The angel screamed as the child bled. The child prayed for the angel's soul. The angel wished for the child to live. The child begged god for the angel's life. The angel begged god for the child's life. The child died when the angel hit the ground. |
Superman: I'd rather be Batman 'It's times like these I stop and realize just how smart my son is. He's now thirteen years old, and still remembers a brief point in his life back when he had just turned four years old. My girlfriend at the time had moved back in with me. I hadn't had custody of my son before she moved out, and therefore he didn't know who she was. Now, just really quick, I'd like to clarify something. Although I call him my son, and he calls me his father, he's really my nephew. The son of my older brother. However, I will always call him my son, and though he learned at the age of eight that I'm his uncle, he has continued to call me father and accepted the explanation I gave him for why I was the one who raised him. Now, back to the story. My girlfriend at the time had just moved back in with me, and my son was four years old. At first he didn't really seem to understand why there was a new person in the house, and why she was sleeping in my bed. After coming home from school one day, he began to call her "Mommy." This startled me, seeing as he barely knew her, and she was even younger than I was at the time. It was awkward having a four year old calling an eighteen year old "Mommy." But, she seemed to deal with it alright, and we went on with our lives. Now this is the point when I'm going to give her a name. Not her real name, to save her the embarrassment of possibly reading this and having her realize who I am. She probably regrets ever being with me, and I can't really blame her. From this point on, I'll call her Phoenix. This way she'll know who she is but anyone she might be in a relationship with will be none the wiser. About a month and a half after Phoenix moved in, an incident occurred and I was hospitalized for a little over a month. When I came home, immediately things were going wrong. I held a little hope in my heart that night when I fell asleep, my son sleeping in my arms and Phoenix sleeping next to us, that things would work out and he could continue to have a mother figure in his life. Within days Phoenix had lashed out against a teenage boy that was living with us at the time, and had lashed out against a friend's younger sister, and myself. It was only a matter of time before she lashed out at my son as well. Everyone was upset, and I was miserable. My son had to go to the hospital to have his appendix removed, and that night I left my house, the teenage boy, the friend's younger sister, and the two pets in tow. We slept in the car that night in an empty parking lot, seeing as after a month of hospitalization, I didn't have the money for a hotel room. The next day I gathered up my pride and kicked Phoenix out of the house. About a week later I was on my way to pick up my son from my friend's house where he'd spent the night, and I was in a car accident. Some idiot ran a red light and totaled my Dodge Neon. The car was a loss, but I walked away with relatively minor injuries and a bad case of whiplash. Depression overwhelmed me for about a year after my breakup with Phoenix. Although we were only together for a few months, she was the first person I ever loved romantically, and to be honest, I still love her to this day. During my bought of depression, I couldn't figure out what to do with my life, and I must confess, I was a horrible father. Still, my son loved me regardless and I thank him for not giving up on me and for not letting my behavior scar him for life. Of course, I didn't act as badly as you'd think, by the way I talk about it. But I still feel incredibly guilty seeing as friends and family had to step in and make sure he was taken care of and getting the attention that any young child needs. Now, please forgive me for taking so long to get to the point of this article, but I had to make sure you had the full background story in order to fully appreciate how intelligent my son is. Last weekend my son and I were sitting down at the table, emptying out his backpack and taking out anything he didn't need, organizing his papers, and checking his homework to make sure he had done it all, like we do several times each week. It satisfies my OCD to make sure that he's organized and will have everything he needs for school. It was during this obsessive ritual that I was going through his English folder and looking through his past writing assignments, checking the grades he'd gotten. That was when I found it.' "Hey Dad!" Zack called, knocking on the door of the master bedroom. "Come on, I want to shoot some hoops before we go to the movies!" He'd grown into a fine young man. Gone were the days when his head was level with his father's hip, here were the days that he could just barely see over his father's shoulder. The door to the room opened up and Zaitsu stood in the doorway. His hair was long now, pulled back at the base of his neck. He wore glasses, thick black frames in front of those bright red eyes of his. "I can't at the moment. I'm sorry. My deadline's tomorrow. I shouldn't take too much longer though, I seem to be on a roll. If we don't have time to play before the movie, we'll stay up late and play afterwards, okay?" he asked the boy. "You promise?" Zack asked, giving his father a suspicious look, holding his basketball in front of his stomach. "It's a four day weekend, you don't have school tomorrow. Yes, I promise. And since Lissy is planning on spending most of the weekend with Iicha and Kitty, I'm all yours. We can do whatever you want this weekend." He couldn't help but smile. "Really!?" Zack asked excitedly. "Of course," he laughed. "Okay. I'm gonna go practice my jump shot," Zack said with a nod, heading down the hallway towards the front door. "Leave the front door open," Zaitsu called after him, before returning to his desk and his computer. He left his bedroom door open so he could hear Zack easier. He cracked his knuckles and resumed typing. 'It was a writing exercise that he'd been assigned for English class. The instructions were to choose one of your parents and a super hero, and to write about how that parent is like that super hero. The title of it was what first caught my attention, "My dad is Superman." I double checked to make sure I wasn't seeing things, then looked at my son for an explanation. He told me it was for class and that he'd been given a week to write it. When I asked him why he never mentioned it before, his answer was simplistic and the kind of answer that children are so famous for that is a kick in the ego no matter what size that ego may be. I must admit, I laughed. After all, children are here to kick us when we're on our high horses and bring us back to reality faster than you can shoot a bullet from a gun, and they're here to pick us right back up again in our worst of days. Take my word for it, my son has taught me that lesson many times, and still does on occasion. After my son had gone to bed for the night, I sat in my room at my desk, tapping a pen against the spacebar of my computer, trying to think of something to write in time for my deadline. My thoughts began to stray to the paper my son had written. So I got up and took it out of his backpack, settling back at my desk with the essay and a hot cup of tea, and began to read. It started out with the way I was around the age of twenty-one, back when he was four and I worked twelve-hour days and two jobs, while trying to balance law school. I attended every parent teacher meeting, and was only late picking him up from school once. An act that to this day I still feel a pang of guilt about whenever I think of it. He wrote that he realizes now that there are very few twenty-one year olds that would take on the responsibility of taking care of their four year old nephew. I moved from my apartment into a four bedroom house with a big front yard and an even bigger back yard, making sure he had enough room to play and grow. He mentioned when I was injured and in the hospital for that long, trying month. I was touched by his words: "My father almost died that month, and I went to see him every chance I could. All I wanted was my father to come back home. He fought Death and won. When he came home, even as weak and sickly as he was, he had proven that he could overcome even the worst odds. I decided right then and there that my father was the strongest man on Earth, and I stand by that belief even now." I was fighting back both tears and laughter at the same time. I'm the farthest thing from the strongest man on Earth that you can get. I'm not exactly what you'd call brave, and I believe that every time I've been severely injured, that my survival was just a fluke in the greater plan. Ah yes, here I am, typing this, a glitch in the computer program that is life, like somehow managing to draw the Princess Peach card in the mini fortune telling game in the special edition of Super Mario Brothers for the game boy color. When you draw the card before starting your game, it gives you five extra lives, if I remember correctly. My life has consisted of random one-up mushrooms just in the nick of time. Unfortunately, I don't just go back to the place before I died and continue on like nothing happened. No, it doesn't work like that, much to my dismay. As I read on, he mentioned the car crash, saying that no matter how many times Death would try to claim me, that I wouldn't leave him. I wasn't sure what to think of this. Over the years I've become increasingly stubborn when it comes to injuries and illness. Unlike in my younger days, I don't just try to brush things off anymore. No. If my cat so much as scratches me I scrub the wound, apply ointment, and put a bandage on it. If I so much as wake up with sinus trouble, I call my doctor and make an appointment for that day. I have a habit of getting hurt, though minor, and I've gotten better over the years. However, once the problem is being treated, I become stubborn and brush it off like it's nothing. I'm determined not to let anything phase me or cause me to lose my composure. Of course, this doesn't apply when my children get sick. Yes, I said children. I have a daughter as well, though like my son, she's really the child of a relative I ended up raising. I don't regret it, either. When my children get sick, I take them to the doctor immediately. I don't believe in the "Just wait it out" method. No. My daughter has taught me several times that often if you wait and see, by the time you realize it's something much worse it's already too late and you can't spare the child any pain or suffering. I wonder when my son will realize that his "Man of steel" is really just a man well armed with a first aid kit and a cellphone. Then the essay came to the part that described kryptonite. I must say, I wanted to put it down and stop reading, I was afraid of what he'd written. But I needed to know what my son saw as my weakness, and so I read on. Ah, yes, Phoenix. That's what he wrote. He described that she had left us. I had never told him the absolute truth, I wanted to keep his image of her pure and innocent. I wanted him to always love her as the woman he called his mother, all those years ago. When he'd asked me why she was gone, I simply told him that I'd asked her to leave and she did. When he asked me why I'd do such I thing, I told him I'd tell him when he was older and could understand. Of course, my son realized what had happened long before I was ready to tell him. I must say, he'll make a wonderful detective, or investigative reporter, or whatever he chooses to be when he's older. I'm not picky about what he chooses, as long as he's happy and feels it's what's right for him. I hope that in three or four years, when my daughter is being given the same assignment, that she'll write of me as the dark knight rather than the man of steel. Batman. Reborn from the ashes of misfortune and despair, to become a stronger, better man. Who can balance many more things at once than he should be able to, and who can always respond to a crises quickly and make the right decision without breaking a sweat. Yes, I think I'd rather be Batman. Nine years have passed since my breakup with Phoenix. I still live in my four bedroom house with the two big yards. I bought a new Dodge Neon, the same year and color as my last (I liked my car, and I'd like to give the man who destroyed it a piece of my mind and slap him with a lawsuit). Although law school turned out not to be my thing, I still went back to school, claiming a masters in English and Psychology. I work at home now, writing my weekly article for the city's newspaper, along with writing various books. That's right, I'm an author. I never thought my mindless writing would ever earn me money, but now I'm quite comfortable. I never thought I'd like working at home. But I was wrong. I'm always here when my children need me, and even when they don't. I have time to cook breakfast and dinner, I can sleep in when I want and spoil myself with my spotless house. Didn't I mention I was obsessive compulsive? I changed my name a few years back, trading in my unusual first name in favor of my softer sounding middle name. I found out that my old name was Japanese, and a common last name for men. However, I never did learn the real meaning. All I managed to find was something to do with a species of cactus. Through the years I've found my peace. I'm happier than I ever thought possible. I'm a single father. I have two wonderful children, a beautiful cat, and a cranky old dog. I'm thirty years old, and have something that most people much older than me don't have: True happiness. I still love Phoenix. I still miss her. I can only hope that she found her perfect somebody, who can both take care of her and love her unconditionally. And who's twice as stubborn as she is, just to keep her in line and make sure she doesn't get off track. I hope that she's as happy as I am, maybe even happier, if that's even possible. They say the best revenge is living well. But I didn't want revenge. I hope she doesn't see this as me biting my thumb at her. I want her to know that I'm okay, and I hope that she's doing as well as I am. It's times like these I realize why my father insists that I'm really gay and just won't admit it. Oh well, he can keep thinking that if he wants. I love you, Phoenix. --Julian Marez' He saved the file and sent it to his editor, before leaning back in his chair and stretching. He glanced up at the wall clock and saw the time, hurriedly getting up and going outside, leaning in the front doorway and watching his son shooting baskets in the driveway. "Hey Zack! Still wanna play?" he called to his son. Zack grinned and threw the basketball to his father, who caught it and joined his son in the driveway to play a game of one-on-one. |
Cigarettes Standing on the stone bridge over the creek, leaning over the rail and looking down into the water below, she sighed. Ever since that night a few months back, she's been wondering if he was alright. It felt like an eternity had passed since she had seen him last. "I wish he'd at least talk to me..." she muttered quietly to herself. She hadn't even noticed the tall stranger who'd just leaned over the edge a few feet away. "Whoever the guy is, just ditch him. He's obviously not worth your time," came the man's voice as he reached into his jacket pocket for something. "You don't have any right to say that!" You don't even know what happened to him!" she spat back, trying to keep herself from turning and hitting him. Everyone had just been brushing the whole thing off since he'd vanished. "Psh, whatever," he replied, putting a cigarette between his lips, he sparked his lighter and began taking drags from his cancer-stick, making sure it was fully lit before extinguishing the flame. "Who the hell do you think you are!?" she yelled angrily, turning to face him. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw his face. "Andrew..." she said quietly. "Yeah... Hi Tabby," he said before taking a deep drag from his cigarette and letting a long, steady cloud of smoke escape his lips. "I thought I'd never see you again!" she cried, throwing her arms around his torso and clinging to him. He wrapped an arm around her and sighed, taking another drag from the cigarette still in his other hand. "You wouldn't have seen me again," he said, just above a whisper, a little cloud of smoke being freed by each word. Tears in her eyes, she pulled away from him, staring at his face. "What!? Why no!?" she cried. "It's complicated," he sighed. "What do you mean, 'It's complicated'?" "I mean," he began, taking another drag, "that there could be hell for me to pay if it's found out I came to see you." "What the hell is going on?" she shook as she continued staring at him. "I really don't know where to begin. I'd really rather not talk about it at all..." he trailed off, exhaling the smoke from his latest drag. He flicked the cigarette butt into the creek below before pulling out another cancer-stick and lighting it. "Let's go back to your place, we can talk about it there if you want," he muttered as he glanced behind him out of the corner of his eye. "So you just up and leave, I don't even get so much as a phonecall saying you're alright, you randomly show up, and expect me to invite you into my apartment!?" she yelled, red in the face and fists clenched tightly. "Fine then!" he snapped. "Be a stubborn little bitch and just be mad at me! It was hard enough to get back here to you, I'm not going to waste precious time trying to convince you not to be mad at me!" He angrily threw his half-smoked cigarette into the creek below. The water seemed to almost leap up to catch the doomed cigarette. With sharp, quick movements, he stormed off into the passing flow of people. Slack-jawed, and tears forming in her shock-filled eyes, she stood in please, staring at where he'd been just seconds ago. She peered over the edge of the bridge again, looking down at the two cigarettes floating in the water. |
Inner War Mesmerized She’s out of reach Out of sight A muffled screech A clumsy fight It always happens this time of night This is the war she wages Against herself Silently she wonders If she’ll ever find someone to help Locked in a fierce battle Where the enemy is herself |
Matthias A face carved in stone Starved to the bone So pale and gaunt Your dreams he will haunt Ragged and scarred Your thoughts will be jarred Eyes made of gold A life lived in cold Bloody and torn A savior was born |
Loss That moment in time Is burned in my mind We kissed and said goodbye A pain in my chest A shortness of breath A tear in each eye I felt I would die When I’d look back On that dreadful way I thought I lost you In every way But now I know That All I lost Was myself |
Firefly Flashing little yellow lightning bolts across my front lawn You begin your courting dance as the children start to yawn You flit all around Towards the sky and towards the ground To the left and to the right Such a quick Powerful light Firefly You make such a good friend Until the summer comes to an end |
Simple Wish Here’s to hoping we can make it That no matter how much pressure We can make it Hoping that our love can last No matter how hard the task To love and be loved forever Is such a simple thing to ask |
The Blood Angel's Death The darkness floods his eyes The angel weeps For the pain he can no longer bare Losing memory Void of strength His wings burst forth into a bloody rain Fire falling from the sky So graceful yet so empty |
The War Over Blood and Oil He broke the law and started spying He stood his ground even when they knew he was lying This idiot has a knack For getting America in trouble with things like Iraq He’s named after a shrub They call him G Dub Families are crying His people are dying He refuses to admit The crime he did commit Destroying lives for oil And forgetting to tend to his own soil America agrees without a doubt That they should pull out But he won’t listen even when they shout He’s sending more troupes in To die in a battle they can’t win |
Bad Day Today is not a good day for talking Quit asking me I won't go walking Quit telling me your problems I don't care Time to spend with you? Time I refuse to spare Today is not a good day for speaking The tears from my eyes just won't stop leaking All the times this feels fake All the times you just stood back And let me break Like I don't really matter to you Like if I mess up you'll say "We're through" I'm tired of walking on eggshells I'd rather burn in the fires of hell Either you love me or you don't But I'm sick of all this "I will" and "I won't" Do something constructive Unleash your mind You're breaking me into pieces Pieces you'll never find Today is a rainy day Not at all good for walking So shut your damn mouth I don't feel like talking |
Ode to Velvet Ode to the black cat Who hisses and growls That graceful black cat That no longer prowls Eyes wide in an attempt to see Have closed now forever No longer blind will they be That calming purr that could make the toughest man crumble Will no longer end with a tail-flick and a grumble That sweet little nose Can’t smell a rose Cute little feet A meow that’s so sweet No longer inhabit this house The black cat so brave Must now rest in her grave Now she can walk up that flight of stairs And reunite with Tom Who waits for her there... |
Cycles The morning breaks The sky gives birth The sun is born The sky begins to darken The sun slowly dies The moon is born As all the heavens cry The moon begins to fade The night is slowly dying Beams of gold appear on the horizon The sun has been revived |
Marathon You see the light flash You make the mad dash For the finish line But oh Too late You ran out of time Glory doesn’t lie in your fate It was within your reach but you didn’t make it It was almost yours but you weren’t meant to take it Happiness you’re not allowed Forced into submission by the opposing crowd |
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