Waves

Fear {23/7/09}

2009-07-23T02:51:00.000-04:00

This is the link to the video with lyrics included. That's if the embedded does not work. It should.

I wrote a poem called "Fear". I won't give any background info on this piece.

The song is called "My Black Dahlia" by Hollywood Undead.

Enjoy.

I'm really afraid for you
I know the end
But I never knew the beginning

My eyes close for a moment
That moment
is the moment
I am
most afraid

Because
what if I open my eyes
and find just a glimmer of your body there

Your soul having vanished from this life
And moved on to the next

Never Leaving Here {7/7/09}

2009-07-07T12:48:00.000-04:00

Lyrics

The song is "Ich kann dich sehen" and I find it to be kind of a sad song but I've been listening to this song almost non-stop since yesterday evening. It's all in German.

I was inspired to write a poem from this song. I hope you like it.

"Bitte komm zurück" is "Please come back" or (maybe?) "Please return" in German. Corrections? Please let me know. Thanks.

I'm not budging from this place I made
I'm always here to stay
Never float away

I wait at the same place everyday
impatiently
just for you.

I wonder
if you will ever come
back
Bitte
komm
zurück.

The trains pull in and out
And people disperse like confetti
The colors of skin mesh together as I
begin to cry
This poignant, overemotional place makes me collapse
Bitte
komm
zurück!

I'm not budging from this place I made
I'm always here to stay
Never float away

I want to leave with you
Bitte
komm
zurück.

In the Hopes You Can't Sleep You'll Come For Me {5/7/09}

2009-07-05T21:54:00.000-04:00

I'm waiting for a friend of mine to respond to my message. This is what came to mind.

Tossing and turning from your horrific nightmares
You can't seem to fall back asleep, you don't trust yourself or your dreams
Dreams of the damned.

In the hopes that you can't sleep you'll come back for me.
In the hopes that you can't sleep you'll come back for me.
Bring me back to your dreamland
And take me away.

Reply to the message
And take a chance to go back to sleep.

Seeing the Sun {30/6/09}

2009-06-30T20:44:00.000-04:00

"Seeing the Sun" is a poem that I just recently wrote. Inspired by L'Âme Immortelle's "Without You". It's about...not losing hope, believing that there is something brighter out there. This is one of the few happy poems I've written this year. It starts out sad then turns happy. So I think.

Enjoy.

It rains everyday for two months straight

Are my dreams ever going to come true?

I want to see you

I crave your presence

I can't see the sun

All I see are those clouds

Where's the break you mentioned

All I see is your finger pointing at it

But I see nothing

It came to me in a dream

I saw you and I saw it-a small break in the clouds

A slack in the rain

You

I saw the sun

We stole it.

Homelessness [What (I think) It's Like] {24/6/09}

2009-06-29T22:12:00.000-04:00

Having never experienced being out on the streets myself, I thought I'd try to see if I could write it from my perspective, the perspective of someone not being homeless. I think I did an alright job, but that's just my opinion. What do you think homelessness is like?

Everyday the same thing: sit on bustling streets asking for change, for anything to get by on. Most people are mean with the present recession and won't give much of anything but there are those few kind souls who spare just a little in order to get us by.

I'm a part of a family of four, the oldest aside from my mom. We had a hard time making ends meet, so we were kicked out. Our dad and her husband, lucky man, had a place to stay but it was too small to hold the four of us, him, and the friend he was staying with. Walked right out of our lives. We were--and still are--unable to fend against the muggers that come and harass us every night, the children who stare, wide-eyed, probably wondering how these people ended up here, the mothers chastising them for staring too long and then, like hypocrites, do the same thing. It's all very upsetting to be looked at, scrutinized, like dogs. That's how the mean, heartless ones regard us as. I know the looks they give.

This is going to sound so petty, but I have not had my iPod in about a month and I'm extremely lost without it. We had to put everything we owned in storage and that just had to be my iPod along with it. I miss my iPod; I love it like I love my family, minus my dad.

I'm startled out of my thoughts when a man wearing an Armani suit and Rolex watch came and dropped a wad of money wrapped in a rubber band into our cup.

"For your daughters; they have such pretty faces," he said warmly and smiled.

"Thank you," my mother said kindly.

He walked away and the four of us greedily dove into the Dixie cup to see how much money he had left us. It was my job to count it up because I was the quickest even though in high school I failed Math.

"1,00o dollars even," I reported a few minutes later.

My brother's eyes widened. "1,000 dollars?"

"Yeah, 1,000 dollars," I said.

"Do you know what we could do with 1,000 dollars?," my mom asked us seriously.

"Pizza!," my little sister cried.

"Yeah, we could buy pizza for a change instead of eating out of the garbage," she said. "But, I was thinking we donate it to the pizza people as a way of saying thank you for the free food we sometimes get."

My brother groaned. "Mom, you're kidding right? We could have a feast off this kind of money!"

"Alan, please. We're donating this money, no matter what," my mom made to stand up but Alan pulled her back down.

"No! We're going to eat with this money!," he proclaimed and snatched it out of her hand. My mom wanted to backhand him but couldn't; there were too many people around. Any one of them could call child services on her and have us all separated.

"Alan, please. Let me just donate this money. Stop thinking of yourself."

"I'm not thinking of myself, Mom. I'm thinking of all of us."

"How about we donate half?," my sister chimed in.

"You know what, Savanah? I'll do just that."

Savanah smiled at Alan and I, two front teeth missing. My mom got up from her spot an walked into the pizza shop across the street.

We never saw her again.

Sometimes I think she disappeared because she couldn't handle being homeless anymore. People say that it's not our fault, and to never think that it is. I think she couldn't take being alone without a man to support her. Other times I think she was weak and other times... I don't really know.

We still live on the same street, in front of the same pizza shop Mom disappeared into. I hate the man who gave us that money now because he took the one thing we can't really function without. Our mom.

Trapped {21/6/09}

2009-06-29T21:44:00.000-04:00

This is a story that I wrote not too long ago. Maybe it's not even considered a story, maybe it's prose... This would be considered a "frightening wave", or so I think.

I wrote this while listening to L'Âme Immortelle's "Scheideweg". I don't know of a video out there that has this song but if you want it, you can email me at surrender_and_smite@yahoo.com and please put "Song Request" in your subject line. Thanks!

I couldn't move left or right and with every movement I felt like I was being boxed inside a little room with no way out. All the breathing in the world couldn't save me now, so I began to pace. Back and forth, back and forth. My breathing soon turned into hyperventilating and screaming as I begged to be let out of the claustrophobic room I was in.

Time later, I was siting down on the linoleum floor, rocking back and forth, terrified to move or speak. I was seeing dots in front of me every time I closed my eyes. Time was running out and my savior still had not come. Searching my mind for calming music was out of the question; it wasn't remembered. The intensity of the situation worsened as time passed on. No way out. None.

I attempted to scream again but it was almost impossible. All of my hyperventilation must have taken out my voice. Was that even possible? I suppose it was because it was happening to me. I stomped hard against the floor and began to wring my hands and cry silently for release. Voices in my head telling me that there was no way out popped into my head and this gave me the strength to cry out in agony as they ripped through my mind, destroying what was left, leaveing me mentally broken and empty.

When I came to (a long while later), I couldn't stop screaming for the life of me. It was al I did for a few days, still traumatized by my ordeal. I don't remember being taken to that little room, I just know I was there. There with no way out.

Introduction {29/6/09}

2009-06-29T17:55:00.000-04:00

Hi!

My name is Aden Recreated and I am eighteen years old. This is the place for all my stories and poems if you're interested in reading them.

I titled this blog Waves because we all have them. There's the extremely happy wave and then the wave that brings you down soaking and crying out in pain. That's what I want. That's what I want to capture in my stories. Are there waves when you are completely frightened? Yes, I want those waves to be captured too. Love waves, hate waves, fright waves. If the wave exists, it shall be written about.

More about me. I am a student, going to be a Freshman in college in August so I am pleased about that. Um... I am a very open-minded person. I don't finish all the ideas I am working on most of the time but there are those rare moments when I follow through to the finish. I excite easily, I enjoy children, especially young children. I'm not a child molester and I sometimes avoid the spotlight; it makes me giggle and blush like a schoolgirl...and I am. A school girl I mean.

I like constructive criticism on my stories and poetry so anything you have that will help not harm will be gladly accepted. So go ahead and dig right in, nothing's stopping you!

Enjoy!