Okay, so i went over to my friends house and she told me that she had an idea for a game, and i was super duper stupid and fell for it. she told me to stand still then in two seconds she had tied me up, blindfolded me and gagged me. so i really really wanna get back at her when shes least expecting it. were doing science fair together so we have to get together a lot to work on it. so i really really wanna get back at her. any techniques will work. i have scarves, duct tape, and rope.
and she thinks its funny
i dont really care i dont mind that she thinks its funny
i just wanna get back at her
shes like a foot shorter than me, my age, and she does ballet
i dont have a stereotype against ballerinas or anything, but everytime she comes over or i go over to her house, i always am the one who gets tied up in the process of trying to tie her up
so ANY ideas would help.
Without question, the best way you could get back at her is for you to *both* take turns tying up and gagging each other, while I videotape.
Giggity giggity giggity!!! :):):)
i went over to my frends house the other day and when i wasnt looking she tied me up in like 2 seconds. she tied me with rope, blindfolded me, spun me around, put me in a different room, taped my mouth shut, wrapped me in a blanket, tied more rope over the blanket the tied me to a chair, then took me out of the chair and taped me to the floor. How can i get revenge on her?!?!
At night put plastic wrap over the toilet seat so that when she goes to use it…
My horse is not afraid of the trailer she just wont go in. we spent 5 hours trying to get her in we finnaly got her in with a fence, butt rope, and 5 guys pulling her in. food wont work and its a trailer with out a ramp so blindfold wont work we have tryed everything nothing will work got any ideas???
forcing it will trailer traumatize your horse. I would leave your trailer open in the pasture and put some carrots and hay in the trailer. let your horse(s) go and explore it on there own. things that have helped me are that and removing the ramp. I have even had friends who have done daily feedings in the trailer, believe me when the horse has gotten no hay all day he will go in very easily on his own to eat in the trailer where the hay is. sometimes them hopping in is easier than the ramp it spooks some horses to have metal footing and they prefer to hop. I only use the ramp for my pony not for my big horses. also I cant trailer with people watching me. it makes me more nervous which in turn freaks my horse out. try the leaving trailer in the pasture for awhile so it is just another thing they get used to then the feeding and next time you try and load do it alone and talk to her the hole time. good luck time consuming I know but it makes it easier in the long run
I’m driving home and
Ferlinghetti’s playing on tape and it’s silent out
there’s a pause in the poetry and
I hear this infernal crack
like Satan’s bullwhip
and in the midnight sky
like a strange and divine x-ray
a ghostly colossus bolt of lightning appears
only its not so much a bolt
as a sort of spit (Satan’s spit)
this fire bolt is lying on its side
maybe even like a clothesline
and all the withering heathens
slung over like undergarments
and I look up at it
I don’t say anything
I don’t think anything
I just look
and the first drops drip now like messengers of wartime
and it pours
if only I had the words to convey
it’s as if all the bathwater of Babylon
had been thrown overboard
and I think I’m gonna die
so I roll the windows down
and I bellow
and I think about God
and the rain bellows back
soaking me in judgment
(the road is gone now)
I see lights flicker here and there
red, white
like angels and demons are roaming the land
in conflict or game
but it’s only cars and
they’re moving like vagrants in Paris
and they’re blindfolded
so I pull over
to the side of the non road
and I stop
and I sit back and I think and I stare
and it’s a long time gone and
the rain against the windshield
looks like the colors of the world are melting
and then the rain stops
and the clouds stop and the wind stops
and it all stops
even the mist settles like a fishing net
floating down to the ocean floor
and the world stops
and I look at the sky
and the moon is just sitting there
like an opal on some dark velvet jewelers display
and my eyes start to drift lazy down the stars
like on a rope ladder, down, further down
dot
to
dot
and now on the dashboard
I’m out of gas
and there’s faces in the wind
–
This is a repost with just some minor touchups. Hope no one minds!
Well actually the touchups are major, but whatever. 
sounds like a moment enlightening
I’m driving home highlands at midnight and
Ferlinghetti’s playing on tape
talking Ezra Pound and baseball and infinity
and it’s silent out
there’s a pause in the poetry and
I hear this infernal crack
like Satan’s bullwhip
and in the darkly sky
like a strange and divine x-ray
a ghostly colossus lighting bolt appears
only its not so much a bolt
as a sort of spit (Satan’s spit)
this great bony arm is lying on its side
maybe even like a clothesline
and all the withering heathens
slung over like undergarments
and I look up
I don’t say anything
I don’t think anything
I just look
first drops drip now like messengers of wartime
and it pours
as if all the bathwater of Babylon
had been thrown overboard
and I think I’m gonna die
so I roll the windows down
and I bellow
and I think about God
and the rain bellows back
soaking me in judgment
(the road is gone now)
I see lights flicker here and there
red, white
like angels and demons roaming the land
in game or conflict
but it’s only cars and
they’re moving like vagrants in Paris
and they’re blindfolded
so I pull over
to the side of the non road
and I stop
and I sit back and I think and I stare
it’s a long time gone
and the rain against the windshield
looks like the colors of the world are melting
and then the rain stops
the clouds stop and the wind stops
and it all stops
even the mist settles like a fishing net
drifting down to ocean depths
and the world stops
and I look at the sky
and the moon is just sitting there
like an opal on some dark velvet jewelers display
my eyes drift lazy down each star
as if by rope ladder, down further down
and I’m painting pictures of vision and demigods
I see the dashboard now
I’m out of gas
and there’s faces in the wind
Actually, Jack, this was a true experience. I’m not a religious person, or at least I don’t subscribe to any religion, but I’m open to it.
I was driving home from a Church get together thing and it was weirdly quiet out sorta prestormy. I did have Ferlinghetti playing and the poem I described there in my own poem is called Baseball Canto.
And all of what follows did occur. I will admit tho, it wasn’t highlands at midnight. It was pretty flat and maybe 9:30. :/
Although I was on the highway. That’s not to say I don’t add a little embellishment tho.
I only have one complaint - is this an authentic experience? Did you actually live through it? Kerouac wrote about that which he saw and observed. That’s the trick with Beat poetry, and any other style of poetry, for that matter. If it isn’t authentic (meaning it didn’t really happen to the writer) then the poem loses its excitement and its connection with the reader.
With that said, the poem was great. But like I said, it does feel like there is some kind of disconnect between myself and the poem.
Thanks for sharing.
[Edit]- Then I apologize, as well as applaud this work. I didn’t mean to sound so…forward. It is well written in my opinion.
It was Halloween night and the neighborhood was luminous from the lights on the houses. There were children around laughing, and looking elated. Most leaves from the trees were on the ground with vivacious colors. Only once a year this neighborhood looks this blithe. Being a part of this gives me a wonderful feeling I’ve never felt before- joy.
My name is Andrew, and I live in a shabby trailer park near a rich neighborhood. My father, who seemed nice, but was secretly cruel, left when I was ten. I am fifthteen now. My younger brother, who is nine, doesn’t remember him. Everyday, I ecstatically hope he would come home. Every night, I get disappointed and become hopeless.
Because of diminutive amounts of food I had, I decided to go trick-or-treating, although I think I am too old.
"I’m leaving, Mom," I called.
"Ok. Be back by ten and don’t go to far," my mother addressed.
I left quickly, without wearing a costume, hoping I would get a lot of candy.
My bag was full after an hour,but I brought two. I went further into the neighborhood; close to where wealthy people lived.
I walked up to a lovely house which was at least two miles away from the trailer park. I stepped nearer and nearer.
I rang the doorbell and yelled, "Trick or treat!"
A woman with a kind- looking face said, " Oh, I’m sorry. I left my candy in the back room because I didn’t think anyone would come this early. Come in and sit."
I walked in and the old lady left to her back room. The door closed behind me, making me jump. Out of the blue, two guys, dressed in black, tackled me. I started screaming and fighting back, but they were too strong for me.
I was tied to a chair, with tape on my mouth and a blindfold over my eyes. After, attempting to fight the rope, blindfold, and tape, I calmed down and thought about what was going to happen to me. A vaguely familiar voice talked to me. Although it said mean, cold words, the voice comforted me. I felt happy to hear it. Lost in its words, I fell asleep.
I woke up to someone pushing me from behind. The comforting voice spoke again.
It declared sternly, "I hate you and your family, because you have betrayed me."
I thought to myself, "Who are you and what did we do to you?"
Somebody untied the blindfold revealing my mother and brother lying on the floor in front of me with a dark red puddle under them and my father pointing a gun to my face.
questions:
1. what grade level do u think im writing at?
2. what should be the title?
3. do u see any mistakes i made? (sorry about all the spaces, it wouldn’t let me indent and i wanted to separate the paragraphs.
1: 10th grade
2: Lost Heart
3: fifteen
you had really good adjectives
I’m driving home highlands at midnight and
Ferlinghetti’s playing on tape
talking Ezra Pound and baseball and infinity
and it’s silent out
there’s a pause in the poetry and
I hear this infernal crack
like Satan’s bullwhip
and in the darkly sky
like a strange and divine x-ray
a ghostly colossus lighting bolt appears
only its not so much a bolt
as a sort of spit (Satan’s spit)
this great bony arm is lying on its side
maybe even like a clothesline
and all the withering heathens
slung over like undergarments
and I look up at it
I don’t say anything
I don’t think anything
I just look
first drops drip now like messengers of wartime
and it pours
as if all the bathwater of Babylon
had been thrown overboard
and I think I’m gonna die
so I roll the windows down
and I bellow
and I think about God
and the rain bellows back
soaking me in judgment
(the road is gone now)
I see lights flicker here and there
red, white
like angels and demons roaming the land
in game or conflict
but it’s only cars and
they’re moving like vagrants in Paris
and they’re blindfolded
so I pull over
to the side of the non road
and I stop
and I sit back and I think and I stare
it’s a long time gone
and the rain against the windshield
looks like the colors of the world are melting
and then the rain stops
the clouds stop and the wind stops
and it all stops
even the mist settles like a fishing net
drifting down to ocean depths
and the world stops
and I look at the sky
and the moon is just sitting there
like an opal on some dark velvet jewelers display
my eyes drift lazy down each star
as if by rope ladder, down further down
and I’m painting pictures of vision and demigods
I see the dashboard now
I’m out of gas
and there’s faces in the wind
I like the changes you made to it.
cool poem.
I just lost a bet to my brother and now I have to be tied up while he is at the movies…I can’t leave because he is bigger than me and I have to be tied up during the movies and when he comes back….he is letting me pick how to be tied up…in hancuffs where he keeps the key and socks are over my hands so it doesn’t hurt or should I pick rope or duct tape or being tied to my bed….whichever one I choose I know that he is probably going to gag me with duct tape anyway…so which bondage should I choose…?and how am I supposed to get out of it???
I have to make my decision before 3:00 so be quick!!
I REALLY don’t want to waste a saturday night when my parents r outta town for a few days!!
PLEASE HELP!!!(and he said that he would let me watch tv…but I have a feeling that if I am gagged that I ill probably be blindfolded too..since he has total control….sucks…!
LOL.. Find a place to go before this is to go down.. Spending a saturday nite tied up sounds suky to me..
I’m driving home and
Ferlinghetti’s playing on tape and it’s silent out
there’s a pause in the poetry and
I hear this infernal crack
like Satan’s bullwhip
and in the midnight sky
like a strange and divine x-ray
a ghostly colossus bolt of lightning appears
only its not so much a bolt
as a sort of spit (Satan’s spit)
the great bony arm is lying on its side
maybe even like a clothesline
and all the withering heathens
slung over like undergarments
and I look up at it
I don’t say anything
I don’t think anything
I just look
and the first drops drip now like messengers of wartime
and it pours
as if all the bathwater of Babylon
had been thrown overboard
and I think I’m gonna die
so I roll the windows down
and I bellow
and I think about God
and the rain bellows back
soaking me in judgment
(the road is gone now)
I see lights flicker here and there
red, white
like angels and demons are roaming the land
in conflict or game
but it’s only cars and
they’re moving like vagrants in Paris
and they’re blindfolded
so I pull over
to the side of the non road
and I stop
and I sit back and I think and I stare
and it’s a long time gone and
the rain against the windshield
looks like the colors of the world are melting
and then the rain stops
and the clouds stop and the wind stops
and it all stops
even the mist settles like a fishing net
drifts down to oceanic depths
and the world stops
and I look at the sky
and the moon is just sitting there
like an opal on some dark velvet jewelers display
and my eyes start to drift lazy down the stars
as if by rope ladder, down, further down
one foot
inside
every notch
and now on the dashboard
I’m out of gas
and there’s faces in the wind
I think this is the first time I’ve ever really read one of your writings. I think this is very good. I am no expert, just a lover of poetry. My suggestion would be to get rid of most of the words "and" as they are probably unnecessary. I also suggest you read some of the poets on here such as BUK, HP, MA, and SIN, Schultzie, & Shannon. They are all outstanding poets that you could learn from. You have the creativity, and the ability, you just need a little more work to polish it up a bit. Thanks for sharing an enjoyable read.
Until the 1890s, hanging was the primary method of execution used in the United States. Hanging is still used in Delaware and Washington, although both have lethal injection as an alternative method of execution.
For execution by this method, the inmate may be weighed the day before the execution, and a rehearsal is done using a sandbag of the same weight as the prisoner. This is to determine the length of ‘drop’ necessary to ensure a quick death. If the rope is too long, the inmate could be decapitated, and if it is too short, the strangulation could take as long as 45 minutes. The rope, which should be 3/4-inch to 1 1/4-inch in diameter, must be boiled and stretched to eliminate spring or coiling. The knot should be lubricated with wax or soap "to ensure a smooth sliding action," according to the 1969 U.S. Army manual. (The Corrections Professional, 1996 and Hillman, 1992)
Immediately before the execution, the prisoner’s hands and legs are secured, he or she is blindfolded, and the noose is placed around the neck, with the knot behind the left ear. The execution takes place when a trap-door is opened and the prisoner falls through. The prisoner’s weight should cause a rapid fracture-dislocation of the neck. However, instantaneous death rarely occurs. (Weisberg, 1991)
If the inmate has strong neck muscles, is very light, if the ‘drop’ is too short, or the noose has been wrongly positioned, the fracture-dislocation is not rapid and death results from slow asphyxiation. If this occurs the face becomes engorged, the tongue protrudes, the eyes pop, the body defecates, and violent movements of the limbs occur.
In 1975 LaVey created controversy within the Church of Satan by phasing out the Church’s “Grotto” system and eliminating people he thought were using the Church as a substitute for accomplishment in the outside world. Thereafter, conventional achievement in society would be the criterion for advancement within the Church of Satan. At the same time, LaVey became more selective in granting interviews. This shift to “closed door” activities resulted in some rumors of the Church’s demise, and even rumors of LaVey’s death.