User:Sethleneelliott

Group Project
Group five, slacker member...slacker no more! :D

History Alternative energy sources to fossil fuels are becoming increasingly more available, but are they a global option, or just a regional solution in an ever conscientious world? Some of the common fuel sources available will be discussed briefly over the next few pages and further in depth in relation to the regions of the world in the pages thereafter. Although the industrial revolution (1700’s-1800’s and the farming revolution high point in the late 1600’s) is marked as the most notary point in time where energy demands reached a critical necessity, it should be noted that the quest for energy efficiency has been around as long as life its self. •	Bio based energy: In the 1600’s, and before, animals and humans were the only means by which work could be accomplished. Food was consumed to power them, so that they could cultivate more food, animals, and increase populations. 1650 was considered the highest point in farming. This was deemed inefficient, as demands for food became higher and productivity less capable of providing for those demands. New methods of working the farming industry led to innovations in other fuel source categories, eventually returning to the use of crops as a fuel source. Although biological consumption is the oldest form, and longest lasting renewable fuel source, the debate remains: Is it the best solution to providing for our demands, or would other methods prove more efficient? •	Solar Energy: The only renewable source that is perpetually the same throughout history. Although the uses for solar radiation have changed little; light, heat, food for plants and micro-organisms, magnetic radiation charges, the methods of harnessing the sun’s rays as a fuel source have been added to. The old methods of absorb naturally through bask and consume smaller cell formations still remain, but humans have added the Solar panel to the list. A solar panel basks in the light of the sun, charging its artificial cells and transferring the stored energy through wires either directly connected to the demand of energy, or sending it to a battery that can store the power for later use. Recharging generators is another use of solar panel energy. The commonly used complaint about solar panels and solar energy is that many regions receive very little sunlight, and not enough can be absorbed to be of long term use. Also, solar panels need to be constructed, and the factories and methods are not only expensive, but require the use of other energy sources that are not as environmentally friendly to construct the devices in their entirety. •	Wind power: Windmills have been the most popular form of wind power harnessing, but there are new methods in development. Wind turbines in forms similar to wind mills, and attached to balloons are in queue for the modern markets. Sent into the jet stream and various levels of the atmosphere to capture the currents of the air, these devices send the energy generated by the wind propelled mechanisms along wires to ground storage units, such as batteries and generators, and directly to the energy demanding devices. Unfortunately the devices for harnessing the wind interrupt pollen drift patterns, bird migrations, and some even question the possibility that the disruption of the winds free flow could have effects on the environmental weather patterns, disrupting rain fall and temperature cycles. •	Hydropower: Dams and watermills come to mind when mentioning water power. Although new methods, such as methods of harnessing “hydrokinetic” energy from water currents have been developed, and proven able to harness more energy using less effort, the method is slow to advance in popular knowledge. Where dams interrupt the migration of fish and alter the ecological state of aquatic and surrounding plant and animal life of the regions they are constructed in, as well as the landscape, and water mills cause similar damage on a smaller scale, the SmarTurbine Generator was developed in 1981 to be environmentally friendly with these malfunctions compensated for and averted. However, what to do with the methods in place, and whether or not the newest methods can be implemented is a question worth addressing. •	Fossil Fuels: For the last decade, at least, fossil fuels have been a negatively charged topic of discussion across many forums. Global warming/cooling enthusiasts insist that the burning of fossil fuels is accelerating the degradation of the planet’s delicate life cycle, and the damage threatens to make the Earth inhospitable to human kind at an accelerated pace. Environmentalist organizations and geological scientists insist that the mining of coal, oil, natural gas and petroleum, the most common forms, damages the ecosystems that thrive on and around them. The same ecosystems that are a part of the cycle that generates the fuels are being cleared away and not replaced, interrupting the very balance of nature. Humans who profit from these industries would argue that they are doing their part to ensure that safe practices in all aspects of the business have been growing alongside the knowledgeable findings of the seemingly detrimental process. Additionally, much of modern civilization has become dependent on the consumption of fossil fuels for everyday living; from transportation and home care, to refinement and generation of textiles and manufactured goods. Fossil fuels were once considered to be the alternative resource to bio fuels, but today, compliments of fossil non-renewability (in a reasonable sense of time), bio fuels are rapidly being vocalized as the alternative to fossil fuels. Is trading organic matter in one stage of its life cycle for another stage the answer to the problems being addressed, or are we in need of different questions to find more efficient solutions? •	Nuclear Energy: Created through the works of several scientists like Albert Einstein (1879-1955), Marie Sklodowska Curie (1867-1934), Enrico Fermi (1901-1954), and Antoine Henri Becquerel (1852-1908) to solve the world’s energy problem. Nuclear energy has seen more controversy in the latest century than any other fuel source. Harnessed by splitting atoms in toxic substances like plutonium and uranium in a process called nuclear fission (dividing the atom) and transferring the falloff radiation to storage facilities to be converted to electricity, nuclear power was believed to be the cleanest source of energy, capable of generating energy on a large scale for the longest period of time. The original hope was to develop a method of mimicking the fusion (merging of the atoms) technique accomplished by the Sun and other stars. So far no one has been able to adapt a mechanism capable of recreating and harnessing that fusion power. Where nebulae have succeeded in generating this inspiration, humans have used it to inspire other uses for the means far less creative in force. One of the biggest negative sides to the unstable nuclear energy technology came about in the 1930’s when the Manhattan Project, consisting of scientists and the like of J. Robert Oppenheimer, Edward Teller, Stanislaw Ulam, and Hans Albrecht Bethe invented the nuclear bomb. The A-bomb/atomic bomb, and thermonuclear/hydrogen bomb are a force of destruction unparalleled and not to be ignored by any humans as a continued threat to existence when developing nuclear power facilities, especially since the facilities themselves have been known to react with similar results when malfunctions occur. Add to that danger the now undeniable detriment to the environment and the planet’s ecosystem in entirety through toxic discharge, waste, and increasing the amount of what would naturally be the less harmful forms of substances by converting them to the irreversible dangerously unstable forms for a bit of extra juice. How clean is this method really, and can we replace the level gained from it with something else?

1.	“A history of world societies” Text books, http://www.ib-source.com/title_info.php?id=2212 2.	http://www.nrel.gov/wind/ 3.	http://www.nrel.gov/wind/wind_project.html 4.	http://scitation.aip.org/getabs/servlet/GetabsServlet?prog=normal&id=JLEED9000129000003000081000001&idtype=cvips&gifs=yes 5.	http://www.alternative-energy-news.info/technology/wind-power/ 6.	http://www.alternative-energy-news.info/technology/hydro/ 7.	http://www.free-flow-power.com/?gclid=CK2Y6KvSzpoCFYVM5Qod2UBP3Q 8.	http://library.thinkquest.org/17940/texts/fission/fission.html 9.	http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albert_Einstein 10.	http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/physics/laureates/1921/einstein-bio.html 11.	http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marie_Curie 12.	http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/physics/laureates/1903/marie-curie-bio.html 13.	http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enrico_Fermi 14.	http://www.osti.gov/accomplishments/fermi.html 15.	http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henri_Becquerel 16.	http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/physics/laureates/1903/becquerel-bio.html 17.	http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nuclear_weapon 18.	http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_nuclear_weapons 19.	http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._Robert_Oppenheimer 20.	http://ohst.berkeley.edu/oppenheimer/exhibit/ 21.	http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Teller 22.	http://books.nap.edu/html/biomems/eteller.pdf 23.	http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hans_Bethe 24.	http://www.osti.gov/accomplishments/bethe.html 25.	http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanislaw_Ulam 26.	http://www.lanl.gov/history/people/S_Ulam.shtml

Self Analysis
Feelin' that group work is a weak point of mine. Communication has never been one of my greatest attributes, but I have a keen sense of how vital it is. Unfortunatly I need more work in that department. Group projects are not as abundant in availability as solo work has been in my life, but I think progress has its oppourtunity. wk09: Brains need fuel. Mine is out. Must get jumpstart.

Response
Carrie Berg: The Sorcerer’s Daughter It is indeed a beautiful image painted in words, including the dark and foreboding places described. I think it could be worked with for readers of the Valdemar series age grouping, or people like me who can’t help but get sucked into something with a fantasy air. Any time someone goes to the effort of trying to make something up completely, they often can get so involved in creating a place so different than our world that they get way laid by the detailing of the image, and forget the story element, or the fact that not everyone has the patience to obsess over the precise shape of leaves and exact hexadecimal color in the brief flash of a rainbow dress. For the most part you manage to maintain image without forgetting the journey. Unfortunately you do not continue the story. I too am guilty of stopping short. I recommend that you continue this one when you find the time. Young readers are often molly coddled away from this type of story style, and I feel you could really make something to break them free of that bubble, while simultaneously keeping sheltering parents and guardians wooed over that it is not too scary. Keep up the entertaining work! ^_^



John Schlicht: The Peachalk That was cool! You, although I can understand and relate to fanning over authors like Lovecraft, have a talent for writing that should not be overshadowed with discussion of other peoples works. In my opinion you should concentrate on writing your own stuff, inspired or otherwise, as you have a knack for keeping a reader enthralled. Focus your energy into communicating your passion for your work (which is clear in your presentation) by doing more of it! I like how you started from the outside and worked your way into the legend of the creature, rather than starting it with the Peachalk. I found that to be a refreshing taste of literature that is not done nearly often enough. http://www.elizabethmoon.com/biblio-paks.htm This is a link to an author recommended by a friend of mine who read your work and enjoyed it as well! I myself recommend “Grunts” by Mary Gentle. The description I got before I picked it up and read it (completely unable to put it down, mind you) was, “Think orcs with machine guns.” And so I pass that on to you. It is so very much more than that! I think as a fellow avid reader and writer you could appreciate them.



Derek Blair: Helltown Grocery I love that you made an everyday sort of life story into something more fun with limited amounts of explosions and exaggerations. I feel like you are humorously going to describe things from a jaded point of view at first, which is usually entertaining, but then you go farther and do better by showing a bit of hope in your determination to craft the pain into inner strength and a determination not to become what you see, but rise out of it and take command of your life with vigor! I apologize for that run on sentence, but refuse to adjust it. I think describing the people of Belltown as zombies makes quite a bit of sense, and rotting is a large portion of what many of them do while walking about. You feel remorse for the loss of fellow human beings, but at the same time your anger keeps you from feeling as though that is all there is to see, and it shows that you mean it when you wear it outside your mind as well. You used to wear t-shirts, hoodies, and jeans constantly, I was wondering “why the new duds.” Now it all makes sense. Nice work, and nice working it out!

Ekphrastic
The piece I have writen is inspired by "Wake" by Richard Serra 2004, viewable at the Seattle sculpture park. Chapter one: People

Yellowed clouds meandered across muddled blue skies. The sharp shadows stamped upon the flatland sands seemed to glue the giant rusted monoliths in place. It was cold in between the masses, where the dappled sunlight could not reach the ground. The three hundred mile stretches of each burgeoning mass made the cold march feel like a frozen forever. The teams drove forward in jumbled conglomerates of loose affiliation. Some traveled the gauntlet in hopes of reaching an end to the mountainous waves, others traveled to ebb the monotonous boredom of the same-ol same-ol...they said the movement made the view seem more lively. Then there were those who sought answers. "Grandpa?" "Yes, Paduac(*)?" "What are they?" Lamie pointed at up and out at the oil tanker-like metal walls. * * *    Banda whooped the herd forward, urging them to move faster. She checked the skies for the Bodo flight's attack formation. Good, they had not altered their course. The herd reached maximum velocity, Banda's own Yakadn beast frothing at the mouth. Despite the condition of the stampede they had lost only three of the forty seven Yakadn eggs, which the smallest of the Bodo had promptly descended to devour. Those Bodo had then fell prey to the warriors camouflaged in the pits along the run. As the herd leapt the final chasm and thundered along the dug-outs, toward the safety of the Undergrounds, the Bodo flock dove in a synchronized sweep, snatching the Yakadn beasts in the air, riders, eggs and all. The warriors in the chasm were ready for that exact maneuver. When the Bodo Reached their lowest point, the warriors launched the great metal harpoons from the caverns cut in the cliff faces. Half the flock plummeted into the welcoming ravine to be finished off in the nets. The city would feast well tonight! Banda's Yakadn beast connected with the land and balked, looking back across the chasm. Her egg was falling to its doom. Banda looked around behind her to see the straps dangling limply as she tugged the reigns. They had to keep moving! The Bodo had taken notice of them, now so far behind the others. A great winged male Bodo swooped down, crying triumph, and jerked suddenly in mid dive. He careened wildly, his head rolling on a limp neck. Banda did not look for answers. The other Bodo were circling. Fanla, her Yakadn beast caught ahold of herself and practically flew the rest of the way to the Openings. As they clamored inside they were welcomed with wide eyed wonder. "How did you do that?!" Hana asked her, as she removed Fanla's dressings. "It wasn't us! I didn't have a chance to assess the situation. I can't tell you what happened, but I am glad it did!" Banda washed in the rain barrel, the dust sliding off to add to the mud caking on her clothes. "Come my sister, we shall find you attire not clouded with Yakadn musk and dust field. How looked the keep of the hunt?" Hana asked heartily. Banda sniffed her clothing. "I smell like me. It is you who smells of deep dust and sprouts!" "Answer my question! I want to know if we will be eating smoked Bodo bird all winter, or gnawing roots!" * * *    Kadan examined the Male Bodo that had fallen at the end of the run. The flock had dispersed an hour past but a battle party surrounded him as he focused on the beast. It was one of the old ones, the tawny coloring and elongated crest feathers denoted that this one was at least a decade old. At that age they knew how to avoid the tricks of the warrior's hunt. The lack of a spear wound or harpoon made its death a mystery. Was it possible it died of old age in mid strike? No, that did not match the description of its fall. Something broke its neck. Something powerful enough and swift enough to break the neck of a seventy-two-foot from-stubby beak-to-swallow tail roundly cute, but viciously predatory, monstrosity was something he wanted to know about. After all, they had saved his only child. * * *    Lamie watched the old man examine the dead animal. She wished she could run down there and tell him, "It was me! I did it! Don't worry, it won't come back." But she knew she could not. It was always the same argument. She had had a fight with her grandfather over it years ago...         "Lamie, what have you done?" "I saved him grandpa. Why are you so angry?" "Because, Lamie (He rarely used her name, not since mom died.), now he knows of us, and he will tell others!" "So what?! Let him! What will he tell? A small, well spoken child slew a big budgie with her brain? He doesn't even know what I really did! He thinks I actually have powers! He doesn't even know abou-" "LAMIE!" She jumped out of her skin. "Grandfather!" She hadn’t even heard him approach, so lost was she in her memory. "You did it again. I warned you last time..." "But I did not make contact this time!" "It doesn't matter. Lamie, they will come looking for us. Why do you have to be such a troublesome child?" "Why do you have to be such a secretive old man? Always with the 'I'll tell you when the time comes for you to knows and the 'It is how things ares.’ Why is it I always have to answer your questions, but you are never answering mine?! You just expect me to blindly obey your rules and your traditions, but you never explain them to me! If you weren’t so secretive all the time..." "LAMIE! Quiet your tongue girl!" "NO! Either you answer my questions now, or I leave right here and now to make friends with the yak people!" "Lamie, I am not playing here..." "Neither am I old man." and with that she started marching straight for the old man studying the over-grown sparrow corpse. "Wait." He said it so quietly, so passively, she stopped and turned. She said nothing, only folded her arms and turned her chin up. She waited for a long moment before he gestured for her to sit, and did so after he seated himself.

* * *

Banda watched her sire study the fallen beast. It would have taken that creature a mere moment to put an end to her thirty-two year life time. Fanla had crooned at her the whole way to her pen in apologetic tones, but Banda had asked someone else to look after her while she left with her sister to don a more civilized appearance. She still couldn't forgive herself for not looking after the egg. Fanla should have been angry with her, not groveling for forgiveness. She had excused herself from the invitation for food so that she could wander about the surface un"aided". Impediment free, she sidled along the narrow path, Metal Mountain at her back. The coolness of the night cast by its shadow made her shiver and she drew her camouflage cloak about her more tightly. A strange scent lay on the wind and she followed it in the gloom birthed of the joining of the true-day sky and the shadow cast night. Silently she moved and soon she could hear voices, a young female and an old male.

* * *

"Paduac," he took a hesitant sigh, "do you remember when you were very small, only ten or eleven?" "Yes." Lamie answered tight and curt. Her grandfather continued, "You asked me what they were, and I told you we did not know." He glanced up at her. The breeze rustled in the gloom of the edge. Lamie nodded. She was facing the metal formation the Yak people's city was built around, under the surface. Another helped form a chasm sized gap miles across, this one- unlike most- had a crevice in the earth only several yards across at its center, through which another monolith was framed. If she were to look behind her, the vantage point of the hilly dune on which they perched would offer a mirror like view. That was their world. All the way around. "Well..." he breathed in and out sharply, "There is a story, told by our people..." "We have a people?! When wer-" "Patience Lamie. Do not get an old man side tracked!" She slumped and pouted a little. "Go on, old man."

* * *

Banda watched the strange looking people carefully. The man could be her father's age, about sixty-five years, and the girl appeared to be only about eight or nine. So why, then, did she speak as an adult, and what did the man mean by 'very small, only ten or eleven'? She decided to listen to the man's story before confronting them with questions, especially the question of how they spoke the same language when clearly they were so different.

* * * TO BE CONTINUED •	A root strongly resembling a hemlock twig

Style
Oulipean: Ga; Gaping gargling gargoyles galvanize Gaelic gates, gazes gauntly gallant. Galloping gable grads gain galleons galore gashing gagged gallons. Gauze garbed gawkers gave game gages; gales, gait, gaps gained. Gassy ganders gasping gaily, gab gathering gall, gambol garishly.

'''This next bit is a spoof on the infamouse "The Cat in the Hat" by Dr.Seuss. It is not by any means intended for children or sensitive people who read his books and avoid scary things. You are warned! ;D AN ILLUSTRATION OF THE CAT CAN BE FOUND THROUGH THE LINK IN THE "OTHER MEDIA" SECTION OF THIS CRESTOMATHY.'''

Cool Cat in the Hat

The sun could not shine The roof letting in rain Why we rented the house We never, ever could say

I sat there with Sally Her scratching her boob And said, "If we just had a game system, Or access to YouTube!" No money to go out No jobs to play ball And with the dropping of analogue We saw nothing at all.

All we had to watch was Snow! Snow! Snow! Snow! And we did not like it. Not one tiny bit.

And then The night went 	BUMP! How that bump made us jump!

“Sally, look!” Then I saw him step in on the mat! She looked! And we saw him! Cool Cat in the Hat! And he asked of us “Do you have a place I might crash?”

“We have yet met And I am all out of money, But we can have Lots of free fun that is funny!”

“I know some good games we could play.” Said Cool Cat “I know some swift tricks,” Said Cool Cat in the Hat. “Some fancy flash tricks. I'll do them for you. Your mother won’t mind, Else she is a shrew!”

Then Sally and I Knew not what to say. We thought we put mother In a home yesterday.

But her voice from the corner, “No, No! Make that jive cat go away! Tell that cat in his Hat ‘Go away!’ You do NOT want to play! No, not his games. You know not what he’s about! There is death in his games! Trust me, mother, I’ll throw him out.”

“Now, now! Hush my dear. You needn’t fear!” said Cool Cat. “My tricks are not dirty,” Said Cool Cat, tipping hat, “Why, you and I Can have fun, if you wish, With a came I call Up-Up with Cold Fish!”

“Put me down!” wailed mother, “This is no fun for me! Put me down!” wailed mother. “Do you two still not see?”

“Have no fear!” said Cool Cat “I will not let you fall. For I hold you up high As you are not on the ball. Look at the crook of your hand!’ And the cup of your back! Is complain the best you can do?” Asked Cool Cat…

“Look at me! Hearken to me now!” said Cool Cat “With this cup cake In shape of old bat! I can hold up two halves! And fry this Cold Fish! And with a flip! And look! A twist of my wrist! I can make her pop and squish fast! But with a pass she does not fall! Oh, no, Not one drop at all…

“Look at me! Do not flee! Look at me NOW! I am not done with my fun But you must know by now. Though I lap her all up In each pass that I make! Though she is broken, bent That is not all she can take! Or I could toy with your bitch, Or with you, little man! And see? With my tail And on hooves that I stand? I can stand what I’ve planed As I stay on the ball! But that is not all, Oh, no, That is not all…”

That is what Cool Cat said… And there on his head! His Hat revealed two bumps! As we watched they grew tall. And Sally and I… We saw mother fall!

With a squish on the two, The horns he begot! He said, “Do I like this? Oh, no! I do not!” As he looked at his claws while he mocked Said mother as she lit, “No, I do not like it Not one tiny bit!”

“Now look what I did!” Said Cold Fish and Cool Cat. “Now look at your house, Look at this look at that! It sinks like a ship, In the ground like a drain. I shook up your house As I bored in this rain. I should not be here Yet I will not leave your house!” He said through Cold Fish as she flopped.

TO BE CONTINUED IN POETRY SECTION

Other Media
This is an illustration to accompany my spoof on "The Cat in the Hat" by Dr.Seuss. For Facebook users:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2012105&id=1334983005&saved#/photo.php?pid=30201878&id=1334983005

For DeviantArt users:

http://sethlene.deviantart.com/art/Cool-Cat-in-the-Hat-124808515

For anyone else: Image upload assistance needed! D:

Poetic
"Cool Cat in the Hat" CONTINUED...

“But I like to be here I like it a lot!” Said Cool Cat in his Hats With Cold Fish as she flopped. “I will not go away! You will not wish me go! And so…” said Cool Cat in his Hats, “So, So, So, So… I will show you Another fun trick that I know!”

And then he ran out. With a grin like a fox, Then, Cool Cat in his Hats, Returned with a box.

A big, red, leather box. Shut with a bloody hook. “Now for my next trick!” Said Cool Cat. “Here! Take a look!”

Then he got up on top With a tip of his hats, “I call this game Done-in-a-box,” Said Cool Cat. “In this box are two beings One for you, and your cow. You will like these two things,” Said Cool Cat with a bow.

“I will unlatch the hook. As you see you will spew. For reasons, I call them Thing One and Thing Two. These Things they will hunt you. They want to have fun.” Then out of the box Slithered Thing Two, crawled Thing One! And we held fast, knew not what to do! They hissed, “How do you do? Would you like to dance With Thing One and Thing Two?”

And so Sally and I, We ran fast from the room! We did not wish to dance With Thing One or Thing Two. They reeked worse than death! Cold Fish cried, “Don’t go! The Things should not be Left all alone. On with the show!”

You should not flee here! Leaving your mother to rot! Kill them now, kill them now!” Shrieked Cold Fish from the top.

“Have no fear, Cold Fish.” Said Cool Cat to his Hat. “These Things are good things.” And he gave them a pat. “They are well trained, They have come here to prey. They have come here for fun! They’ll not let yours get away.”

“Now here’s a game that they like,” Said Cool Cat. “They like to cause frights!” Said Cool Cat in his Hats.

“Go! Through the house!” Said Cold fish on the top. “They will fright best From the walls of the house Oh, the Things, they will bump! Through the night, what a hit! But I do not like it! Not enough for their shit!”

Then Sally and I Heard them come down the hall. We heard those two Things Bump and fright in the walls!

BUMP! THUMP! THUMP! BUMP!

Went our hearts down the hall.

Thing Two and Thing One! They crept all around. On the stringiest fright We saw mother’s new gown! Like a clown clad in spots Looked that slink, white and dead. Then we saw a fright bump From under our bed!

As the Things crept about With their Bumps, Thumps, and Kicks With our thoughts in a slump For all their foul tricks, I said, “I do not like, how with us they play Poor mother like that. Oh, what would she say?”

“I can’t look, I can’t look!” Said Sally, as we shook with fear. “If only mother had been in a home! Are they near? Oh, what will they do to us? Why do we stay? Oh, she would not have liked it To find us this way!”

“So, we DO something! Fast!” I said in a flash. “Do you hear? I thought your mother… Your mother is near! So, as fast as we can, Think of something to do! We must get away from Thing One and Thing Two!”

So fast as I could, I found my service net. And Sally said, “With your net You can get them I bet.” “I’m a vet, with my net, I can get those Things yet!”

I let sail my hunter’s net! It came down, I got the drop! And I held them both fast! Those two things had actually stopped! Then I said to Cool Cat, “Now you do as I say. You pack up these Things And you take them away!”

“Oh dear.” Said Cool Cat. “You did not like our game…my dears? What a shame! What a pain! How incredibly lame.”

Then he snapped up the Things In the box with the hook. And Cool Cat walked away With a queer kind of look.

“Now you kids be good,” said Cold Fish. “He is taking your friends away. Yes. But I, your mother, will come back And I shall make such a mess! A mess of you both when I attack! So breathe deep and stand tall, We’ll be by to pick you up. There’s no escape at all!”

We ran! Opening the door in back of the house, But alas! “Have no fear my new pets,” There stood Cool Cat in his Hats. “I always pick up my playthings And so… Come, join your mother There is nowhere else you can go!”

By the neck he picked us both up And all the chips were down. I puzzled out our fates, Thing like a snake, Thing in mom’s gown, My face white as milk, our lives on strings, I remembered the book, with the fish, And the fans, and the cup, And the ship, and I wished. I wished it all away. Then a voice said, “That is that.” And he was gone With a tip of his Hat.

Then our mother walked in And she looked at us two, “What did you think of that one? Tell me what now will you do?”

And Sally and I Did not know what to say. Should we tell her We wanted nothing of it all And to go away?

Should we tell her to shove it? Hell, what COULD we do? Well…what would you do If your dead mother asked you?

END

'''I wrote this poem thinking that we had to model all of our assignments on the things we read as a class. The poem was inspired by the piece "Exposure" by Wilfred Owen, out of the packet of literature from the class.'''A fog lifts and pulls apart at the middle It can't be seen, only felt in the dark Phantom dreams scatter in the irradiance; conciousness pierces like the dawn Awareness begins to light

The sun drops a misty veil Lilacs, roses, and orchids clutch A breeze pushes drops on their way, the dew dancing with everything Senses awaken

Thunder shivers through the mass Gears creak and grind, crossroads pop Arches form and pillars bend and rest; civilizations in unity push forward It moves

Fangs glint and reach out, testing Life breath works another duty Music and cacophony quiet to a tell tale murmur; waves wash to guide seeking claws It stalks

There are two to march the primal way Each consumes to perpetuate One knows to follow, the other to lead; to find the leader and join, to lead It kills

Blending cultures n a unified direction Flooding victor in the remains Two become one, as one is lost to the other; old is replaced with fresh influence Life is shared

Contemplation unfolds with vigor Bonds are loosened with experience Revealed are the insights gained anew in the rejoicing of threads harmonizing Turmoil winds down

Undercurrents well up demanding Revisitations find past views clashing Present minded thoughts rebuke, and fail; success, failure, and confusion weave together Possibilities grow forth

This next piece is the continuation of the spoof on Dr.Suess, please see "Style" catagory first.

Personal/Sequel/Prequel
Chapter 2: The Trees (See Ekphrastic category first) “Great Beings, as tall as the metal mountains, with more arms than a young one can count, once walked these valleys of dust. They left their likenesses scattered in their wake, diminutive miniature mockeries we call trees. Some had great flowering buds at the ends of their arms. The great four-pedaled white blossoms are said to have spawned the first Bodo, although some say they merely drew them to our world from another. Some of the Great Tree people bore massive cone-like structures, from which were born the Karaekachiin- the beings you summon with your humming. Others bore nothing at all, but from one Tree many were born. The Great One was like the Paduac root for which I call you. It alone made our people, the Yakadn herds and herders, and the Spendles.”

“What are Spendles?” Lamie could not help but interrupt.

“Spendles live high on the mountains, feeding on Karaekachiin who get stuck in their nests. We only know of them from stories of lean times. Once, our people nearly wiped out the Bodo, and the Spendle population increased beyond measure. The Yak people, and our own, had fell victim as easily as the peaceful Karaekachiin. It took decades for us all to force them back- after we stopped our crusade against the Bodo in fear of a greater threat.

"It's hard to believe anything is a greater threat than the Bodo!" Lamie burst, interrupting.

"Ah, my dear, YOU have never met a Spendle. They are little more than heads, stomachs, and grasping legs."

"What's the little more?"

"What is the little more, Lamie. I have been getting lazy with you. The little more is a scaly body armor and a maw of prehensile fanged tubes, used to suck out the insides of the karaekachiin. I'm sure you could imagine what such a beast could do to creatures as soft as us?"

Lamie shuddered. The shadows of the Edge seemed to crawl.

*  *   *

Banda listened intently. Could these Spendle creatures be what has caused the disappearances in the tunnels? Or, despite the use of the word "peaceful" to describe these karaekachiin creatures, how can she know they have the same views of the word. Did she not understand correctly that the karaekachiin are what actually took out the large male Bodo? That seemed fairly dangerous to her! She decided to watch and listen until these two fell asleep, after that she would tell her Sire all that she learned. *  *   *

The first rains of the cool season had begun to fall as Banda told him her tale. They ran steady a he sat in office near the celebration chamber, eyes shut, his mind studying the situation. Kadan smiled a bit to his self now that he was alone. His daughter had done well in her duty to her people. Custom often fell short in light of reality. Some in his court said he spoiled his daughter, that at her age she should have wed and produced a suitable heir.

Kadan had never agreed with such nonsense. Banda was as capable as any male heir would have been, and far more bold than he had been at her age. That was why he gave her every opportunity he could find for her to shine. She had yet to disappoint him.

His adopted daughter, on the other hand, was something of a puzzle. Ever practical and vigilant of the City’s business, she worked steadily in the harvests beneath the city caves. Following in her mother's footsteps as Harvest Overseer she was every bit his second wife's daughter, down to her annoying habit of not communicating and keeping her head in the dirt- so to speak. The harvest hollows had become a dangerous place in the city’s time of peace and prosperity, yet she refused to acknowledge the stories of her own underlings. People were disappearing. People were dead.

Perspective
This is a short story in response to the poem "The Highway Man" by Alfred Noyes. http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-highwayman/

Don Juan clutched the ribbon tightly, as he rode away from the light of his boney sweet-heart's casement window. He still regretted not being able to enter the inn. Damn the chill in his bones! He made himself feel better by mowing down the skuzzy creep of a stable hand as he passed from the inn yard. Out in the shadow of the night he slowed from his majestic gallop into a less flashy walk. The airs he put on for that woman! He was afraid his horse would end up laming its self on those noisy cobbles. Wouldn't that be impressive? His back ached from all the stretching and straining to reach her bloody hand, the wench could have bent forward, even just a little. Instead she had to get all creative and flash him her hair. Yeah, like he hadn't seen that before! None the less he played along and cooed and wooed at her. Juan's mind cleared as he dismounted. He was glad to be back in the city proper. The inn made a hell of a lot of coin off travelers, but the thing was almost as old as the damnable moor. Wind blowing all the time, wicked silent day or night, rain coming at you without relief, it all combined to give him the willies. Bugger the staff too! Blessedly the whole lot was as dim as doe-eyed, bow legged Bess. The red light district never failed to please when the con jobs left him cold. He entered the brothel through the kitchen staff entrance, seeping the head cook off her feet. Why waste money on used goods when you can get it all and dinner for free? In the morning he snuggled out his breakfast, and by dawn he was out and on the road. He didn't really feel much like pulling a big heist, so he mulled over what he'd tell the inn girl when he did decide to show up again. He had a good tale about a dragon, but he didn't think that would fly. The girl was dim, and insanely naive, but there was cleverness there. One of the few reasons he picked her as his means to his mark. That and her astoundingly dexterous hands...    May be he should have tried for lunch too? As he muddled about in his thoughts he caught sight of a familiar face riding towards him. He hoped they had yet to notice him as he casually-as-possible swung his horse around to flee...    The largest of the two thugs grabbed his reigns while the smartest leveled his gun on Juan. The familiar face caught up and steadied their mount beside his. "So, how is the ol' nag holding up?" The mounted lender inquired, patting Juan's old mare. "'Bout the same's ever. But you really should check in on your mother yourself. She gets so lonle-" he was cut off by a stiff right hook. Luckily, the dirt of the road staunched the bleeding in his mouth. He staggered slowly to his feet between the two horses. The lender's mount pawed menacingly at the dirt, growling out a brisk snort. Juan's nag wagged her tail cheerily and snuffled the back of Juan's head, which began bleeding though the dirt bandage. He tried to make the choking noise of his tears sound more like derisive laughter, and sputtered out copper flavored mud. "You owe me seventy-five percent o' her cost, still, lad. My boys look ready to take twenty-five out of your hide now.  One way or th' other, we collect the entire lot midnight tonight." The lender started their horse forward, "Mind that sharp tongue of yours. Wouldn't wan' ta cut your throat early." Juan watched them ride away in the noon day glare. When they were out of ear shot he muttered, "Didn't know your mother'd started charging." Saddling up on his horse he adjusted his gaudy costume jewelry and walked her back into town. He needed a good stiff drink- or ten. There was only one place he could think of where he could clean up and liquor up. He stashed his horse in the town square's open share meadow and plodded in towards his little brother's bar. He didn't even try to sneak about. He strode through the front door, threw a swollen cheeked grin at his glaring sister in law, and trudged up the stairs to his attic. Stripping off his glittering theatre costume he grabbed a tunic and a pair of breeches. Birthday suit clad, he shot his harpy-in-law another grin as he passed through the main room, filled with patrons, and dropped his dirty clothes into the soapy wash bucket at her feet. Stealing the largest bar of soap on the way out the back door he steeled his self for an icy well scrubbing. After a generous dinner, prepared and served by little bro to the melodic screeching of his she devil's disapproval, Juan found his self snug in the basement. Drunk, disorderly, and dissatisfied with the day's events he stumbled upstairs to see if any cats had dragged themselves in. While he meandered his way through the crowd he learned that there had been a gruesome mishap at the old inn on the moor. The British police army had killed some broad and the inn keeper was all in a tizzy. No one had any details, so he blew the news off with a local gal until he got bored with her neediness. The moon had been up for a time now, and midnight was fast approaching. He decided to hit the road before the lender could discover his exact location. He figured on looking concerned and coddling out the old 'I had a bad day, you had it worse.' bit with ol' Bessy and hiding out on the wall side of her bed 'till morning. He'd pull his heist and get their vault into town before sun up, pay the lender her due, and throw a pretty penny to his brother. Hell, with the haul he expected to make he might even buy a gag for his brother's ogress. The inn was a speck of light on the horizon as he made his way slowly over the grassy hillocks. He was still a tad drunk, awe hell, he was wasted when he reached the halfway point on the road, and vomited on the stable hand he mowed down the night before. Dawn was not quite cracking, but he could see the man was in even more disarray than usual. His eyes were swollen and blood shot, hair torn and scalp bleeding, nails broken and some missing, odor slightly more sour than usual- of course, that last part could have been Juan's fault. He was glad that, despite his drunken stupor, he had remembered to don his costume, the man recognized him at once and began shrieking and tearing at him in a wild fervor. Juan just kept kicking him away until he was tired of it and asked the stable hand what the hell he was on about. The fellow just kept gibbering "It's your fault! You made me do it!" over and over, until Juan kicked him in the face. Hard. The man tumbled to the ground- a post he kept, and yelled in a hoarse voice, "It's your fault Bess killed herself!" Juan scarcely heard the rest of the man's prattle. All of his hard work and planning dashed! There was no way he would be able to get at the money now. Bess was the only fool in the place dumb enough to let him in and now she was dead thanks to this yokel. He spurred his horse towards the inn. Drunk, in shock, and pissed as hell he would get something for his troubles! Damned if he knew what or how, but he would have it. Dawn broke and he heard the click of the guns, before he saw the soldiers. Shit! The law was still at the bleeding inn! He doubted they were really there for a small timer like him, none the less he raised one of his half assed pistols to the challenge. He realized, as he attempted to fire a shot into the air, that he had pulled his overly shiny sword by mistake. If he died because of that dizzy broad's foolishness, he would haunt this place out of sheer malice. The bullets rang though him, and his horse before he could even finish calling challenge. Juan's vision faded with the night as he bled out over the dusty, twisting road.

Response to Your Chrestomathy
Hey Christine

So I am here to comment on your writings, and the first one I want to do it on is the Cool Cat in the Hat poem, first off…that was the coolest poem EVER! Oh my god, I never thought that story itself could get twisted but you managed to make it so wickedly funny honestly I can really see this as a good animation if you ever get the time, I could even help if you’d like, hahaha. Anyways, going back to the poem, I would say that it would be a safe bet to say that Dr. Seuss would be proud. Another thing I wanted to comment on was your poems, Exposure I believe was the name of it. So this poem really struck me as awe inspiring especially with the imagery and use of subtle but sometimes powerful words an example:

The sun drops a misty veil Lilacs, roses, and orchids clutch A breeze pushes drops on their way, the dew dancing with everything Senses awaken

I can just picture being an insect and looking at this beautiful image for myself.

Memorization
http://www.templarhistory.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=32&t=2300

"The Old Code" from Dragonheart

Inside the Table's Circle, Under the Sacred Sword - A Knight must vow to follow The Code that is unending, Unending as the Table - A Ring by Honor bound.

A Knight is Sworn to Valor. His Heart knows only Virtue. His Blade defends the Helpless. His Might upholds the Weak. His Word speaks only Truth. His Wrath undoes the Wicked.

The Right can never die, If one man still recalls. The Words are not forgot, If one voice speaks them clear. The Code forever shines, If one Heart holds it bright.

Self Assessment
Totaly flakey. Must get cracken on the workload! D: 05/16 Recognizing that 600x7=pain I still refuse to loose hope! My camera died before I could get certain images from it, so I have to do something else for my Non writen thingy. Flexibility, a thing to look forward to. ^^;

Fun blerbs that cannot be left out
"Giant wiener dog goddess monoliths" -Sethlene, Ekphrastic distraction