This site will self destruct in 2 months, March 17.
It will come back, and be familiar and at the same time completely different.
All content will be deleted. Backup anything important.
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dotsJournal: dots
Mood: The Usual

Still searching for that perfect banner.

...Created 2009-05-27 08:39:04

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: The Usual

The latest edition of the ES Magazine has been submitted as a poem this time. Someone tipped us off that you don't need to write critiques to be able to submit things now, so we've decided to change things around here. The journal will be used to update what we need people to do for the next issue.

For the next issue, we've decided to host a banner contest. We need a banner saying "ES Magazine" so if anyone is interested in making something fancy, they can PM it to ES Magazine. The best banner will be featured in every magazine issue until the next banner contest. The banner must fit the maximum width a page can have without it being distorted.

The new issue is slightly limited, with just the featured member section and a couple of poems. Please let us know what else you'd like to see here and we will be sure to include it.

A very special thank you to the brilliant Someone's Epiphany for finding us the poems we've featured, along with being patient and answering the interview questions twice,very promptly too. We apologize for taking longer than we said we would for this issue but it's not easy trying to punctuate Jayde's long answers.

Keep reading, and stalk us!

Abbas []

...Created 2009-05-14 10:37:44

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: The Usual

The stage is set for a new issue, and we will try to have it ready within the next two weeks.

We still need suggestions on what it should and shouldn't include, so please PM in as soon as possible and give your input.

If you want to help out, feel free to PM us and let us know what you want to help out with. If you're not sure, we'll try to assign something for you.


...Created 2009-05-01 13:59:32

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: The Usual

A lot of us are wondering why the new ES Magazine team is not doing anything. Excuses would be appreciated.

...Created 2009-04-26 23:41:46

dotsJournal: Minor Updatedots
Mood: AKA Shameless Plug

Hey ESers,

Sheakhan here, the magazine is currently stepping out of planning stages and moving on to a slow and not-quite so steady production phase. If you have questions regarding the mag, or suggestions as to what you'd like included, PM the magazine and voice those thoughts! We've got big plans, including an entirely new approach to the mag itself! Perpare yourselves!

Much love.

...Created 2008-12-03 22:02:12

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: The Usual

ES Mag is now under new management.

Stay tuned for updates on the next issue.


P.S. This message has been brought to you by the number 3, and the letter A.

...Created 2008-10-22 23:29:28

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: Misc

Welcome, readers, to the second anniversary edition of ES Magazine.

We hope you enjoy.

Featured member

Alias: Finnigan
Age: 16
Location: Illinois
Life Story: Pestilence.
Posted: 68 writes
ES age: 1268 + days
Featured work: Ten ways to know you miss them
Favorite bands/ artists:
% Reciprocated: 193.3%
AVG Per Comment: 505.33
Comments Received: 45
Comments Given: 87
Quote: Change your outlook on life. Things get better eventually.


ESM: Your best and worst experience on ES?
Finnigan: My best experience on Elite Skills would have to be the first Elite Skills Chatroom. I'm pretty sure if you were one of the way older members, you'd recognize what I am talking about. I can still remember all the functions and what it felt like to have such freedom in there. The same chat is where I met many of my "family" members. That was my second family to me. Everyone and everything meant something, but that did not mean we sparked a few conflicts between each other. We had moments.
Worst moment? C'mon, that's not possible. I enjoy every moment of ES whether it be positive or negative. Not necessarily saying that your one's moment has to make one suffer, but what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I think my worst moment regarding Elite Skills has to be when I'm not around. I love to experience the comedy and drama that constantly ensues on this site. RAWR!

ESM: Something about yourself that no one knows, but you wish they did?
Finnigan: I'm totally pro-Earth. I like to recycle paper, plastic, and aluminum; take the bus or sometimes carpool, turn off all the lights, etc. I ticks me off when the bathroom light is on.

ESM: What do you think this site needs to return to its former glory?
Finnigan: To see something that changes over time and become its former self is impossible. Former glory means ya gotta ditch everyone who caused the choke hold. It also means you have to drop all the new members from that point of time. That was then, this is now. No one is ever truly happy, and you can't please everyone. For Elite Skills to regain some lost respect, all the users have to put in effort. Like in Danny DeVito's version of Matilda, the Trunchbull says, "The distance the shot put goes depends on the effort put into it." If you desire a great city, build it.

ESM: If you had to interview someone, what would you ask them? How would you respond if you were asked that?
Finnigan: Do you care about your writing? I care about my writing, but that doesn't mean anything. Every word I scribble or say has to be memorable to me (and sometimes others). I told myself probably six months ago that I would not leaving a story of mine unfinished. The ideas I create are like my children. Everyone wants their children to succeed. I also care about spelling, but not too much because I've learned. I've learned that I make plenty of mistakes, but boiling the English language in "stupid oil" is going too far. There's no legit reason why most of your words are in Atlantian or why half of your lines aren't lines. Just a hint: Mozilla Firefox (RULES!). Mr. Ruska states that Firefox works best with Elite Skills.

ESM: What encouraged you to write the story you have put up in your journal? Are there any other writing forums you have posted it on? If so, which?
Finnigan: It started about four and half years ago when I created the heroine Erika Haruno. I envisioned my dream girl; self-reliant, rough, and flexible in the hardest positions. Through thick and thin, she was a static character in my arsenal. I originally called the story Pestilence's Office. Now it's just P.O. Whether or not you wish to keep Pestilence's Office or my assumption, Post Office, is up to you. My name in most chat rooms was Pestilence if anyone cares. The story is my vent to the world in a bright, yet blight way. The Haruno clan is basically my family and what we've been through. Everyone else is a spawn of my alter egos. From the ultra shy Willis Illumina to the super sex vixen Mya Oliveira, you could call me narcissistic. Don't get me wrong, it's far from an autobiography. It's another coming of age.
Heck no. Elite Skills gets all the exclusives. I totally feel safe posting on the site.

ESM: And last but not least, if you could become any piece of office furniture, what would you choose to become?
Finnigan: The soda machine. Let's get energized!

Rabbit Paranoia

by Finnigan

Oh my fuzzy wuzzy little bunny,
Your black fur gives off love and warmth.
Oh my fuzzy wuzzy little bunny,
Your eyes capture innocence.

My fuzzy wuzzy little bunny,
Oh my fuzzy wuzzy little bunny,
Why, oh, why my fuzzy wuzzy bunny?
Was it you, my fuzzy wuzzy little bunny?

The music keeps on going,
Paranoia continues a-running,
Eyes look to the left,
Eyes look to the right.

The lights center in,
Everyone's a stranger, no one is a'kin.
The walls close in,
So dark, no one here, it seems that he has fallen into the trash bin.

If I remember correctly,
My fuzzy wuzzy little bunny,
It was him!
It was him!

His eyes, those black, buttony eyes,
How they disgust me.
Oh my fuzzy wuzzy little bunny,
Let's be cute and just say he should be runny.

That nasty black fur of yours,
How it reminds me of death.
Oh my fuzzy wuzzy little bunny,
Let's let me say that he'll be in the ground soon.

Oh my fuzzy wuzzy little bunny,
You told me so much in so little time.
Let me say it here, that he was good,
He was such a good guy until his life was ended with a knife.

A little about Finnigan from the eyes of others

Darth Zeus: I've known Finnigan for quite a long time now, we met in the good old blue chatroom (oh, we had so much fun, ). I compared him to Dumbledore once, because he pays close attention to the people on this site, he's intelligent and he's very dedicated. I could write a million things about Fin Fin, but he's really not a person you can describe in just a few words.

Nikita2u: He is a sweetheart.

Someones Epiphany: He is awesome.

Tribute to ES Magazine

By Anon1234

September 4. Two years ago, on this day, the ES Magazine was created with hopes to reunite the older members of Eliteskills and to bring the newer members into the community. Most of us had high expectations before we started. We expected an issue every month, and more often than not, we would have to wait over six months for issues to be released. Some of us lost interest, while others did not.

We have all come a long way since September 4. A lot of us who used to so eagerly sign in and read the magazine haven’t been seen for a long time, and rightly so. A magazine with no fixed dates on issue releases can never be entirely successful. Being part of a close community, small delays are acceptable, but not long months. I am sure most of us will read all the issues no matter how far apart they are, but we cannot neglect it entirely.

I want to thank the ES Magazine Team for the hard work and dedication they have put into their work for the past two years. Few are not entirely grateful and many do not realize the difficulty of formatting on ES. Whenever they do put together an issue, they make sure they put in unparalleled effort so that the members continue to have something to look forward to reading on ES. Thank you.

Statistics of the Month


- The ES Magazine, in a period of two years, has received 8850 page views which is an astounding daily average of 12.12 page views. No statistics exist on the most average daily page views, but most will agree that this is the highest figure on ES. 250 of these page views were in the last week, at 35.71 per day.
- The ES Magazine is being stalked by 25 people, most likely being the most stalked individual on ES.
- In two years of existence, the ES Magazine has created 12 issues, an issue every 2 months.

A Comparative Review of Like-Minded Communities

By Sheakhan (Keegan)

A roleplaying site: C Loveless, the pet project of Sorn, (known to those on ES as Bleeding_AngelX) is his own self-proclaimed attempt to syphon the tasteless, sexually oriented Role Players away from Elite Skills, and offer them an outlet to express that certain desire for intimate Role Play.

I've come to understand that while the site is only three days old as of this writing, it has already reached 2,000 posts, with 27 members. This seems promising, but compared to the roleplaying section on The Habitation forums, and even (surprisingly) to the RP section on ES, the actual content of the roleplays is minimal, poorly conceived, and altogether unsatisfying, with the majority of posts being an incredibly undescriptive single sentence exposition.

It is uncertain if this is something to be fixed/monitored in the near future, but from what Sorn has said, his intention for the site is to cater to those more interested in the erotic aspects of Role playing than anything else. As such I can't imagine much needing to be done. C Loveless is very much a place for the intended audience.

Aside from content (this website is lacking any outlet for writers, being entirely dedicated to RP), the actual layout of the site is fairly pleasing, only using two main colors, and composed pretty well, it actually looks really good. Sorn himself frequently checks up on things to make certain that everything is going smoothly.

With any luck, this plan of Sorn's will work out beautifully, and give all of the RPers who choose to explore their sexuality on ES a new place to go, saving the rapidly deteriorating Elite Skills roleplaying community. Let's wish him luck!

C Loveless can be found at:

A Writing Site: wewak11, Known to his site goers as Graeme, King Graeme, or The King, has spent the past two years building, nurturing, and watching over his community, King Poets.(Or Rhymalot). This royally themed poetry site is cleverly composed of both outlets for writers to share their writings, witty, and somewhat campy humor, and room for growth, as is his intended goal with KP.

He tirelessly watches over his Kingdom, which consists of countless (17) writing forums, where a writer can easily share their work, and receive almost consistently helpful critiques. The member base is made up of folks who seemingly have nothing better to do than to help other writers grow. All in all making for a fantastic community, which is a far cry from the Elite Skills of late, and far more developed then The Habitation of current.

The actual design of KP has additional features, like games, puzzles, room for members to introduce themselves, share other websites, videos, the list goes on. Aesthetically speaking, the webpage is a little less than appealing, mixing a few ideas and themes, sparkles here, castles there, purple, black, and some color I've never seen before. But navigation makes up for it, being fairly simple to figure out.

But the original goal of KP has always been, according to it's owner, to help writers grow, which, although the same goal as The Habitation, and presumably Elite Skills as well, sees itself executed much more effectively here, or developed more completely.

King Poets is located at:

A writing/roleplay site: The Habitation is a budding community, developing daily, and picking up steam along the way. I run it myself, with the help of a few good moderators, checking in daily since the page first went live on August 8th. Originally planned to be purely a writing site, I've recently added a small roleplaying section (Story Telling), which is heavily moderated to filter "sub par roleplaying".

Aside from that, at it's heart The Habitation is built with poets in mind, attempting to harness an earthy, welcoming feel, which is evident in it's earth-tone theme, and simple design. I built the site to give writers a place to develop, grow, share, teach, and learn with other writers, much like the goals for King Poets, albeit far less advanced at this stage.

However, unlike the other writing sites described here, there are huge plans for The Habitation, including an eventual main page, graduating the website above mere forum status. This will be a place for members (called Inhabitants) to actually sign up for their own sections on the site, which unlike ES will be edited by myself or the appointed moderators. These sections will be used to determine Writer of the Week, and also be the work we pull from when we decide to publish a semi-annual anthology.

Once again, however, The Habitation is a budding website, and while the quality of RP is higher than the other websites listed here, the writing sections suffer, needing more serious writers to bring them above the activity levels of the Story Telling forum. All new things must come through adversity to flourish, The Habitation steams on through.

The Habitation can be found at

A writing/roleplaying site: Jimmy Ruska has shown his ability for designing an excellent website, Eliteskills being cleverly put together, and easily organized, making navigation, membership, and continual use a cinch. On the converse, this attentiveness seems to of waned, leaving ES to fend for itself over time.

The RP section of ES is nothing like the RP sections of the other two websites, lacking both the depth of RP on The Habitation, and being just slightly more appealing than C Loveless role play.

The method for posting writings here however, is far better a concept, at least in theory. It is well designed, allowing each writer to collect their works on their own profile, displaying a multiplex of statistics, tidbits, and random bits of information on the writer. The system itself is also fairly well done, seemingly guaranteeing that writers will comment other writers, however, with obvious flaws to any continual user.

The system requires you upkeep constantly, making certain you comment on others to not only be attractive to potential critics, but also to make certain you can even receive comments at all. This seems like a good idea, until members stop commenting out of boredom, or choose to leave insignificant comments to boost their posting ratio.

But all is not lost, ES was once an excellent community for writers, and with the help of those who seem interested in resuscitating it, ES may once again walk among the living.

Elite Skills can be found here. I'm serious.

Awards Monthly

… And the award for best contributor goes to….

rws (Bill)

And Bill would like to say a few words (Maybe not, but he has to anyway) on what makes a good critique and why, he thinks, the quality of critiques has gone down lately. Here’s rws:

I believe each critique should be constructive and respect the author's original intent. Too many critiques attempt to reconstruct the material in the image of the critic without considering that syntax, lineation and word choice may be specific to the author's purpose. The best way to become both a better writer and critic would involve constantly reading other works on the site. This will give a perceptive reader some idea of what the author means by what is said, how it is said and what is left unsaid. Ultimately, every writer in any discipline needs to be willing to think and work his or her way through a write. That may be one of the greatest problems on the site, an unwillingness to think. Poetry/prose is more than simply emotional content; it is a skill that can only become more well rounded with practice and experimentation. Those who write strictly for praise will very likely not take any sort of criticism well and prefer not to grow. They may gather a "mutual admiration society" around them and only acknowledge those who tell them what they'd like to hear. Another reason why there are so many posts in relation to critiques is the unlimited number of submissions from some authors that flood the site.

We have decided to keep a different award every issue. In the preceding issue, we’ll show you the certificate/trophy and you can PM us and vote for who you think is the most deserving user. Please click here to see the next issues certificate


Happy belated birthday to Katie, – 27th August, James – 31st August, AllyKat/TheAshanderei-29th August
• ES Magazine wishes a very happy birthday to Keegan -4th September. We hope you have a great day. We have a cake for you, for being born on the same day as the magazine.
• We want to welcome Snakebite7 and MowsysWrath back to the site. We hope you’re here to stay.
• ES Magazine wishes Katie (Jester_gesture) best of luck at her new university.
• Happy (almost) birthday to Ed – 11th January

Quote game

How well do you really know everyone? Are you a good stalker? There are six quotes from all over the site (either from submissions or journals). You have to correctly match all six to the six people’s usernames given. First person to do that wins something nice. PM guesses here, to avoid confusion. Only one guess per person, so use it wisely. Thanks to passionbyapathy for idea of quotes here. Enjoy!

"i want to clean my room but someone has stolen my room cleaning cd..."

"I hope that some of my writings can help you too heal as well"

"The hot gal in Subway giving me a free donut with my BMT sub. I would have been real impressed if she'd written her number on it in icing or something."

"I've got a nice headache goin' on. This is gonna be a great night."

"I eat lost souls."

"I'd rather be a dull ass on my own."

In shadow
Someones Epiphany
Sir Jimeth

The Editorial

Thank you, to everyone who contributed to this issue. It could not have been completed in time without your effort.

A couple of people wrote in and asked what they could do for the magazine. Do you have any comments on particular articles or segments in this issue? PM them to us and we will publish them in the Letters to the Editor section. If you have an interesting article about anything on the site, or a current event, don’t hesitate to send it in. If you would like to see an interview with someone in particular, send us the alias of that person and we may oblige. Send all your announcements here as well. Finally, something we would like all our readers to do, stalk us! Type ES Magazine here

We hope you all enjoyed reading this issue. You can post all your comments below, and if you have any suggestions or articles you would like to submit for the next issue, just PM them to the magazine. Thank you for taking the time out to read this. Until next time,


...Created 2008-09-03 16:53:08

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: The Usual

Welcome, one and all

to the belated first edition of 2008.

Once again, a big thanks to our fantastic staff.

To everyone we wish a happy Valentine’s Day,

and a happy future for Eliteskills

and all it’s writers.

Contributing staff:

AsiaticfoxPoetry Contributor
AzuireLyrics Contributor
Interview: FallenGrace
Theme: Love is in the air

Date posted: Feb. 14, 2008

Featured Writer


Name: Jimmy James
Age: 27
Home: Atlanta, Georgia
Life Story: Awake. Asleep.
Posted: 68 writes
ES age: 1,375 + days
Featured work: Fear is scared in the dark pt.4
Favorite bands/ artists: Neutral Milk Hotel, Arcade Fire,
Radiohead, Beatles, Gillian Welch

Quote: “And one day we will die, and our ashes will fly from
the aeroplane over the sea. But for now, we are young, let us lay
in the sun and count every beautiful thing we can see."
--Jeff Mangum

ESM: What’s your best memory from 2007?

Fallen: My father's wedding. It's about time he got back on the horse.

ESM: What New Year’s resolutions do you plan to break?

Fallen: Smoking probably. I hope not, but I always do.

ESM: If 2007 was a cake, what flavor would it be and what would
it be filled with?

Fallen: It would be coffee cake or pound cake, filled with pure deliciousness.

ESM: How long have you been writing for your own expression?

Fallen: I've been writing since I was about 10, or 18 years. Damn I feel old.

ESM: On an average day, what are you most likely to be found doing?

Fallen: Average day - working, reading, hanging at the pub with friends.

ESM: What kind of poetry do you read, when not writing it?

Fallen: I like reading vague and cryptic pieces that focus on the macro,
and honest and open pieces that focus on the micro.

ESM: If you were stranded on a proverbial deserted island, what
one person would you want to be stranded with?

Fallen: Natalie Portman. Smart, funny and beautiful.

ESM: Do you have any hobbies/passions besides writing?

Fallen: I play music (guitar, piano) and I love playing sports (basketball,
football, ultimate frisbee).

ESM: Is your mom as annoying as mine, who wouldn’t stop pestering me
while I was writing this interview?

Fallen: My mom rules, and is truly my idol in life.

ESM: Not to get too personal, but what’s your deepest, darkest

Fallen: My real name isn't really FallenGrace.


Broken in Half and Half Broken

by FallenGrace

Grasp the cup
Take your swig
Strong enough to do you in
Pass the hat
And grab the twig
Broke in half and half-broken

Trust your luck
Try your hand
Think I should of took a stand
Look for love
And skip the train
Never never look back again

Spite your god
Spit your flame
Curse those who spoke your name
Blot your face
And burn your eyes
Just don’t forget that I tried


The Moment After

by FallenGrace

Stargazing suspended animation,
time standing still.
Lying and listless, thoughts stagnant but for sensory depravation overload.
Tangential ghosts of frozen moments subsiding in afterglow,
all exhaust and recharged.
Moisture seeping skin, saltwater fresh.
Body separated from monitor systems,
extremities sleep past the racing mind.
Little thoughts, little words, little layers of lucid light,
revealing just enough.
Lasting forever in the blink.
Woken from lost thoughts by hot breath, the moment isn't spent,
but I am.


*_*Featured Poetry*_*

A Definition

For Something You Can’t Define

by Imadjinn

What is this?
wanting nothing, but wasting not to want.
what do you call this sensation that buries itself deep within
my chest
It refuses to move to bad fiction.
Only to bad Love stories
where there is always a sunset in the end, and always a Blonde.
Because only blonde shows up in black and white.

But I digress, because digression is good for the soul.
What does one call this sensation?
the sensation of being pulled this way and that, yet not leaning toward
one direction.
Yet somehow, being fully confident on destination.
Being entirely alright with the outcome.
Being happy with the wayward journey.

What is this feeling, and oh, what a feeling...
Of knowing everything, and being sure of nothing.
Of touching clouds.
Of counting binary in my head, because it's the only thing that calms me down.
Of not wanting to calm down.

One cannot call this emotion Love, because love lies in the heart.
This feeling is everywhere.
it is in my feet, making me dance.
It is in my legs, making me skip, jump, and run.
it is in my stomach, flipping, winding, and turning.
it is in my arms, talking without sound.
it is in my head most of all, filling idle space with thought.

So what must one call this?
Passion sounds base.
Attraction sounds cheap.
Caring sounds much too little.

So yes, perhaps we shall call this love...
because the mind only knows what lies near the heart.
You're all I can think of right now.


Perchance to Dream, Anyone?

by Sheakhan

The cascade mountains weigh heavy on my thoughts of late.

I contemplate the rain.

Theatres and coffee shops come to me in semi-lucid daydreams, places
I used to go.

I regard the pine trees as lost friends, left behind and forced away from.

But the most well missed, I've noticed, is nothing of where I was raised.

Nothing of the land or cities.

Yet still, I long for her above all else.


Weak Man’s Game

by Passionbyapathy

Apathy is the weak man’ game.
To give up something so pristine,
So utterly vivid as your own feelings,
Your own emotions,
Your own LIFE,
Its absolute hypocrisy.
You stop feeling, to feel better.
What good is life
If you give up the good
Before you ever encounter it?
Life is a thorned rose,
You bleed picking it,
But you can enjoy its beauty
Even through the pain.
To refuse yourself
The simple pleasure that is that rose,
Is to give up on the world,
And on beauty,
And on love.


Destiny Travels

by Empathicaya

I turned in my sleep, as the moon breathed a halo of light
around my body. The curtains gracefully gave way to the wind,
who wanted to whisper in my ear. I breathed in love, and I breathed
in destiny, for I was to travel tonight.

The moon framed my body and soul, and then whispered invite.
"Come, Oh Sweet One. Come to where love awaits you."
The curtains fluttered with the joy I felt, which whooshed from my
physical self. I felt, rather than saw, my Lady smile.

My body had opened in a welcome, and I wasn't a medium anymore.
Tonight, I was myself glowing. I was my Divinity. I have never felt
at one with the Universe before, and I had never heard the call of love

"Here is where you should be. Here is where you should call if you
ever need me. Here is where I am for you."

I still don't know how I ended up in your room


Beautiful Dew

by Vitoko

Spring brought me the most beautiful Dew,
Which lives in my heart now,
Which is full of love,
Thanks to her smile.

I see the birds fly in a blue sky,
They remind me when I used to dream about flying
And now I fly in her arms

Tomorrow others birds will wake me up with their singing
They do not know that everyday I wake up with her beauty
Her beautiful sight that sings me “This never happened before”
And with her sweet lips that tell me: “follow me”



New Members:







Romantic Girl


Needs Advice:

Brianna_Rose (New Member)

Could use some good comments:




Kiss Me

Sixpence None The Richer

Kiss me
Out of the bearded barley
beside the green, green grass
Swing, swing,
swing the spinning step
You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress.

Oh, kiss me
Beneath the milky twilight
Lead me
Out on the moonlit floor
Lift your open hand
Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance
Silver moon’s sparkling
So kiss me

Kiss me
Down by the broken tree house
Swing me
Upon its hanging tire
Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat
We’ll take the trail marked on your father’s map

Oh, kiss me
Beneath the milky twilight
Lead me
Out on the moonlit floor
Lift your open hand
Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance
Silver moon’s sparkling
So kiss me


When I Look To the Sky


When it rains it pours and opens doors
And floods the floors we thought would always
keep us safe and dry
And in the midst of sailing ships we sink our lips into
the ones we love
That have to say goodbye

And as I float along this ocean
I can feel you like a notion that won't seem to let me go

‘Cause when I look to the sky something tells me
you're here with me
And you make everything alright
And when I feel like I'm lost something tells me
you're here with me
And I can always find my way when you are here

And every word I didn't say that caught up in some busy day
And every dance on the kitchen floor we didn't have before
And every sunset that we'll miss I'll wrap them all up in a kiss
And pick you up in all of this when I sail away

And as I float along this ocean
I can feel you like a notion that I hope will never leave

Whether I am up or down or in or out or just plane overhead
Instead it just feels like it is impossible to fly
But with you I can spread my wings
to see me over everything that life may send me
When I am hoping it won't pass me by

And when I feel like there is no one that will ever know me
there you are to show me

‘Cause when I look to the sky something tells me
you're here with me
And you make everything alright
And when I feel like I'm lost something tells me
you're here with me
And I can always find my way when you are here [x2]


Summer of '69

Bryan Adams

I got my first real six-string
Bought it at the five-and-dime
Played 'til my fingers bled
It was summer of '69

Me and some guys from school
Had a Band and we tried real hard
Jimmy quit and Jody got married
I shualda known we'd never get far

Oh when I lock back now
That was seemes to last forever
And if I had the choice
Ya - I'd always wanna be there
Those were the best days of my life


Ain't no use in complainin'
When you got a job to do
Spent my evenin's down at the drive in
And that's when I met you

Standin on a mama's porch
You told me that you'd wait forever
Oh and when you held my hand
I knew that it was no or never
Those were the best days of my life

(Chorus) Back in Summer of '69

Man we were killin' time
We were young and restless
We needed to unwind
I guess nothin' can last forever, no

And now the times are changin'
Look at everything that's come and gone
Somethimes when I play that old six-string
I think about ya wonder what went wrong

Standin' on a mama's porch
You told me it would last forever
Oh the way you held my hand
I knew that it was now or never
Those were the best days of my life

(Chorus) Back in summer of '69



Corrine Bailey Rae

I wait for you.
I don't know why.
All I know is I can't hide.
At this temperature you could take over my mind.
Like gossamer
You softly touch.
He draws me in, I'm powerless.
He possesses an enchantment.

Tell me I'm forgiven
He calls
Don't know how I fell under his spell
Lately I've been driven.
He smiles
An enchantment.

I wait for you
I'm mesmerized
This love is like a potion in disguise
I'd tightrope walk with a blindfold on my eyes
I can't escape
Or so it seems
I'd run away
He's in my dreams.
He possesses
An enchantment.

Tell me I'm forgiven
He calls
Don't know how I fell under his spell
Lately I've been driven
He smiles
An enchantment

It's the kind of sleepwalk that never ends.
A type of loan with no dividends.
It's a parlour game where you're given chase.
Guess it could be called an acquired taste.
I know. He knows. He calls. I go. I know.
this could be an enchantment.

Why don't you tell me I'm forgiven?
He calls
Don't you know how I fell under his spell.
I'm forgiven
Lately I've been driven.
He smiles and I give in,
An enchantment.


Note from the Editor

New member? New to ES Magazine, or just feel like you’ve
missed out on a few things? Here’s a look back and a brief history
of our past issues:

The writers we’ve gotten to know:



Darth Zeus

(New Account: Razor2TheRosary)


James Reyna


Peace_Maker (aka Kael Fenshir)
Chell and Blue Monk

Awards we’ve given:

Poetry Awards:

Nightmare by joy7542

Untitled: Skylight of the mind by origami

ESM Poet Collaboration Award:

For now and Always by Charmedidentity and Crestfallenman

Award for Trying the Hardest to Get Comments (don’t give him any, hehe):


ESM Outstanding Short Story Award:

Blackberries and Butterflies by Keitherton

For those of you who didn’t catch Webmaster Jimmy’s
April Fool’s Day prank, we’ve recreated the banner that
had everyone talking.

Pretty funny, huh?


View Past Journals to catch up further

__Internet Stuff__

Check out Jimmyr’s list of Awesomeness

Jeniffer’s YouTube Favorites:

Subliminal Messaging by Nigahiga

Tapatio Es Fanstastico! by Kassem G
Algorithm Dance

How To Be Emo by Nigahiga

Featured Artist

Corrine Bailey Rae

Date/place of birth: Feb. 26, 1979 Leeds,
West Yorkshire
Genre: R&B, jazz, blues, acoustic
Former band: Helen
Latest album: Corrine Bailey Rae

Like a Star

Just like a star across my sky
Just like an angel off the page
You have appeared to my life,
Feel like I'll never be the same
Just like a song in my heart
Just like oil on my hands
Honour to love you

Still I wonder why it is
I don't argue like this
With anyone but you
We do it all the time
Blowing out my mind

You've got this look I can't describe
You make me feel like I'm alive
When everything else is au fait
Without a doubt you're on my side
Heaven has been away too long
Can't find the words to write this song
Your love

Still I wonder why it is
I don't argue like this
With anyone but you
We do it all the time
Blowing out my mind

Now I have come to understand
The way it is
It's not a secret anymore
'cause we've been through that before
From tonight I know that you're the only one
I've been confused and in the dark
Now I understand

I wonder why it is
I don't argue like this
With anyone but you
I wonder why it is
I wont let my guard down
For anyone but you
We do it all the time
Blowing out my mind

Just like a star across my sky
Just like an angel off the page
You have appeared to my life
Feel like I'll never be the same
Just like a song in my heart
Just like oil on my hands


__Image of the Month__

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

John William Waterhouse

“I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful - a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild…

I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she lean, and sing
A faery's song.”

--John Keats

Famous Poetry

Sonnet XXIX

by William Shakespeare

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on thee— and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate,;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.


To Anthea, Who May Command Him Anything

by Robert Herrick

Bid me to live, and I will live
Thy Protestant to be:
Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
A heart as sound and free
As in the whole world thou canst find,
That heart I'll give to thee.

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay
To honour thy decree:
Or bid it languish quite away,
And 't shall do so for thee.

Bid me to weep, and I will weep
While I have eyes to see:
And, having none, yet will I keep
A heart to weep for thee.

Bid me despair, and I'll despair
Under that cypress-tree:
Or bid me die, and I will dare
E'en death, to die for thee.

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me,
And hast command of every part,
To live and die for thee.


Sonnet 6

from Sonnets From the Portuguese

by Elizabeth Barret Browning

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand
Serenely in the sunshine as before,
Without the sense of that which I forebore—
Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double. What I do
And what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue
God for myself, He hears that name of thine,
And sees within my eyes the tears of two.


This concludes our February issue. Thank you for reading ES Magazine.


Banner Image: Midnight Kiss by George Pocheptsov

All featured poetry and lyrics are contributed by our designated
poetry and lyrics contributors or the editor, unless specified

Remember to help us out! Welcome new members, and
comment on featured pieces. Let us know what you think,
and feel free to send us your poetry, lyric dedications, short stories
and essays.

Thank you for being a reader!

"“I will not play tug o' war. I'd rather play hug o' war. Where everyone hugs instead of tugs, Where everyone giggles and rolls on the rug, Where everyone kisses, and everyone grins, and everyone cuddles, and everyone wins.” "

-– Shel Silverstein

...Created 2008-02-14 15:20:32

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: The Usual

ES Magazine

Welcome to the December edition of ESM.

There is a lot of thanks to be said to the

hard working members of our staff,

and also to our loyal readers, all who

helped make this issue possible.

Wherever you’re reading from,

we’d like to wish you a merry Christmas,

a happy Hanukah, a happy Kwanza,

a good read, and a warm winter.

Contributing staff:

Black angel—Assisting Reporter

Theme: Miscellaneous

Posted: Dec. 15, 2007

__ESM Report__

by Jeniffer

On Nov. 23, 2007, Kayame, also known as Black Angel,
met up with Sorn, Mowsyswrath, Crimson_Panda (Beth),
and Forest Saint (Jared) to discuss and toss around some
important ideas concerning the management of ES.

The main problems that are facing concerned members
are in both the RP and the poetry side of ES; neglect is
the cause of the poor state of the RP section, and many
Rpers have come to believe that Webmaster Jimmy doesn’t
care enough to fix any of the problems. They believe the
solution would be for Jimmy to allow moderators to take
over the task of improving and overseeing the RP section.
Sorn said,” He doesn’t care about the RP side, so I think he
should just give it over to us and get it off his hands.”

Besides the still present glitch that allows anyone to
“hack” into another’s character and speak as them,
what troubles the more experienced RPers is the lack
of understanding and respect for the system that is
shown by newcomers. Useless threads, or spam, continue
to abound, and there is no way to enforce necessary rules.

Beth, who said she doesn’t call herself a true member of the
RP section, did have something to say about the spam.

“The spam in the RP section is not needed. It’s worthless
and it’s all crap. The newcomers are hard to convince about
how theRP section is going down hill. We welcome these
newcomers warmly and we still get no respect. Recently,
I’ve been trying to stop the spam as much as possible but
I don’t think it’s enough.”

Sorn says of newcomers, “They don’t seem to understand
commoncourtesy when it comes to role playing. I would
like to think that people would be willing to listen to others
and take suggestion, thus eliminating the need for mods,
but it has become glaringly obvious to me that that is no
longer an option. Without anyone on the RP side with any
real authority, there cannot be change.”

Sorn mentioned that he draws his ideas about how to change
the RP side from Surreal Twilight, a role playing site that puts
new comers into a section for S*T students, called the new
comer realm. They must first post five good threads before
they can ask to become a member, and members called friendly
scholars must then approve of them.

Another idea that came up would be to have three moderators
look over the whole of ES; one for the RP section, one for the
poetry side, and one that would be over them both.

Sorn said, “It would prevent one person from becoming too
powerful and going mad with it.”

Besides the problem of choosing who the mods would be,
there’s the fact that no mods can be established without the
compliance of Jimmy.

Sorn said, “That is where the problem is. We can’t move without
Jimmy…without any help from the owner,all we can do is talk and
come up with ideas.”

Due to the elusiveness of the Webmaster, who has not
responded to numerous attempts to contact him about
these issues, the possibility of hacking into his account was
brought up by Jared. A more reasonable idea, given by Kayame,
was for Jimmy to give his username and password to “a trusted
friend on ES” to look over the site.

Such a drastic change in leadership would not be considered
necessary if Jimmy would take into consideration the suggestions
made by memberswho believe that ES can and should be improved
upon, and who don’t want to see the site lose anymore writers.
All the poetry side may need in terms of changes would be for
Jimmyto restore the old system, of limiting the number of submissions
per day, requiring a minimum length for a comment to be posted,
and requiring a proper ratio to receive comments. Fixing the dead
poetry chat room, which Jimmy himself deemed the “Retarded chat”
would also be a priority, and simply returning it to its original state
would be enough.

Perhaps, if Jimmy would be willing to hear them out and even
compromise, he could allow the establishment of the three mods,
who would take care of the things that he doesn’t have time for,
look over the sight when he’s gone, and would still be under his
authority. Of course, there would be elections if and when a mod
needs to be replaced, and a way for complaints to be made known
and responded to. There are quite a few members who are willing
to help out and take on responsibility, and this would take a lot
of work off of Jimmy’s shoulders. Whatever is or is not done to
solve these problems, one thing is agreed upon by all: nothing
can be done without the approval of the Webmaster.

Says Sorn, “We desperately need his support on this.”


Past articles: View Past Journals and scroll down (way down)

See October issue interview with Peace_maker
Also see Petition to Save ES report (after Ronswords interview)
and Forum Post


For a well crafted, engagingly written piece with imagery that
leaves a lovely imprint on the reader’s mind, the

Goes to



*Blackberries and Butterflies*


I have a favorite place. I should think most people have
their own, spot that resonates within, that calls to them
for one reason or another. I’d like to show you mine, if
that’s alright.

It’s here, behind my childhood house. Through my backyard,
and behind these bushes, the prickly green and pink bushes.
Behind this broken down fence, it’s been here forever; and
further still behind these branches and ivy and piles of leaves.
Here’s the little stream, the three stepping stones placed in
the middle. Then through this last ivy archway on the other side,
it’s not far.

A narrow clearing now, with high and leafy walls. It’s not so big,
really, but the trees that stretch to the sky begin to bend in unnaturally
as if to provide shelter from the winds and the rains. You can still
see a small strip of sky when you look up, and the brilliant blues
and lazy oranges of the afternoon blend carelessly into the reds and
navies of the sunset to the west. This is my favorite place.

The ground here is blanketed in crisp, golden leaves and a great
number of blossoming dandelions. It’s the perfect spot for a buzzing
couple, isn’t it? They run towards each other and romantically fall
into one another’s arms, just like in the black and white movies
we’d watch on TV.

There, on the edges where the flowers meet the trees, there are
bursts of blackberry bushes, dotted with their many hues of purple.
A few gravestones covered in moss and fancy lettering are there
aside the berries, their owners resting in their favorite place, too.

And here, nestled in this snug, sunlit corner, at statue sits.
A tribute, a marker of memories and achievements. The statue
is of a girl, a fairy, maybe, crouched down and with a single
daffodil in her right ear. She carries this pail of flowers in her
left hand, and her right is outstretched as if to pick another.
The words, “Sacred is the world” are etched on the stone block
on which she stands. The phrase seems to echo throughout this
place, doesn’t it?

To read this story in it’s entirety:

Blackberries and Butterflies


__Featured Writes__

Deception of an Angel


by Wolfstar

How starkly your skin glows like faint moondust
against your curtain of crow-feather hair
as your velvet arms wrap around me in lust
and your obsidian eyes watch, rapt and aware.

I lie etherized by your scent and lips
never knowing your kisses are lies,
for as you draw close with hands and hips
your smile never reaches your eyes.

They watch me from cold distant seas,
appraising my love to a price
as any sense left in me flees:
duped by a masked heart of ice.

Slowly you wrap me in gold-tailored lace
seducing me sweetly with an angel's white face.


When in love

by Flynn

What have I got?
But the thoughts in my mind
And the beating of my heart.

Where shall I go?
When love is all gone
And the tears are no more

When shall I reach?
For the girl that's so near
For the fear that's so real

For the quaking in my knees
and the sweat upon my palm
And the trembling in my heart
And the excitement in my calm

With quivering lips we touch
With moist eyes we gaze
Knowing that our friendship
Will last all our days
Not knowing how it goes
This drawn out love-game
Praying that God knows-

Missing a thing I do not have
I write and I write and I write
Saying things I cannot feel
I do and I do and I do
And I write it all for you

But what I have I got?
But the thoughts in my mind
And the beating of my heart...


Timeless memories is an idea for a book that was thought up by
Kayame and a few friends; it will be a colorful milieu of just about
every kind of art work; they will accept poetry, song lyrics, short
stories, drawings, paintings, photographs, photos of statues, clay
pots, pressed flowers, quotes, and anything that can be considered
art work, provided it is kept at a PG level.

Art can be sent in from anywhere, by anyone, and will be carefully
reviewed by four people. Be sure to sign your work before sending
it in; research will be done on each artist/writer. Your name will be
at the top of the page with your work in the book; you can send a
page about yourself, with a list of your poems and work, and it will
be included in the back of the book. The book will be divided into
sections for poems, short stories, drawings, etc. Artwork and writings
that are considered the best will open up each section at the
beginning. So far “TimelessMemories” is the working title, and is
subject to change.

This information can also be found at:
You can find their account on Imeem by looking up their email address:

A Myspace is currently being a worked on, as well as an exclusive

There is also an account on ES, at Timeless memoir. Use this account to contact
Kayame with any questions.

All contributions of artwork, writings, photos, etc, should be sent to



Sunday Morning

Maroon 5

Sunday morning rain is falling
Steal some covers share some skin
Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable
You twist to fit the mold that I am in
But things just get so crazy
living life gets hard to do
And I would gladly hit the road
get up and go if I knew
That someday it would lead me back to you
That someday it would lead me back to you

That may be all I need
In darkness she is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning
And I never want to leave

Fingers trace your every outline
Paint a picture with my hands
Back and forth we sway like branches in a storm
Change the weather
still together when it ends

That may be all I need
In darkness she is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning
And I never want to leave

But things just get so crazy
living life gets hard to do
Sunday morning rain is falling
and I'm calling out to you
Singing, someday it'll bring me back to you
Find a way to bring myself back home to you

And you may not know
That may be all I need
In darkness she is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning

Be Here to Love Me

Norah Jones

Your eyes seek conclusion
in all this confusion of mine
Though you and I both know
it's only the warm glow of wine
That's got you to feeling this way,
but I don't care, I want you to stay
just to hold me and tell me
you'll be here to love me today

Children are dancin',
the gamblers are chancin' their all
The window's accusing the door
of abusing the wall
But who cares what the night watchmen say
The stage has been set for the play
So just hold me and tell me
you'll be here to love me today

The moon's come and gone
but a few stars hang on on to the sky
Well, the wind's runnin' free
but it ain't up to me to ask why
But the poets are demanding their pay
And they've left me with nothin' to say
'cept hold me and tell me
you'll be here to love me today
Just hold me and tell me
that you'll be here to love me today



Gone from assisting editor to colorful columnist,
please welcome…..Avril54!

Hi! I’m Avril54. My new column will usually consist of these basic
departments, plus some special surprises! Whoo.

My Video Pick of the Month
Lyrics Award
Poem of the Month
Riddle/Irritating brainteaser that makes you look stupid

(answers at the end of the issue!)
It's more powerful than God.
It's more evil than the devil.
The poor have it.
The rich need it.
If you eat it, you'll die.
What am I?
Hint: Try to answer each statement separately…..

*_ES news_*

New members:


Active Forum Topics:

Right to bear Arms??
posted by Ronswords

posted by dismentled

Worst way of dying
posted by Josh

College Major
posted by insphered soul

posted by Chell

Violent videogames
posted by Lord bane

Prayer in School
posted by Ronswords

Lonely, commentless poems:

Days gone by
by Machine dream

The way
by RedneckPrincess

Rainbows in the downpour
by barefootangel

A Union of Beautiful Souls
by damnedsoon


And now a final word from, you guessed it,
Ogden Nash, our favorite final worder:

I’m a Pleasure to Shop for

By Ogden Nash

Mine is a dauntless spirit, meaning a spirit that is hard to daunt;
therefore, since nobody gives me Christmas presents anymore,
I shall console myself by compiling a list of Christmas presents
that I do not want.

I do not want a lamp made out of an umbrella stand, or a coffee
table made out of an old wagon wheel, or a fire screen made out
of an old piece of trellis,
or indeed, anything made out of, or made to look, anything ellis.

I do not want a novel written by a young genius in the earnest
belief that nothing awful has ever happened before to anyone
but him, certainly not to us dowdy duffers and stodgy codgers,
nor tickets to the new musical by the smart boys who think
they have discovered the secret of Hammerstein and Rodgers.

Since I am crazy about harshness and unpleasant aftertaste,
I do not want a milder, less irritating cigarette, no matter how
scientific the tests,

Nor an evening with friends watching the TV personality girls
whom I can only think of irreverently as Community Chests.

I do not want a squirrel tail or a Confederate flag to dangle
from the aerial of my car,
or a picture window through which to better view my neighbor’s
picture window or adjacent abattoir.

For me, please, no bottled Martinis,
no sweet breads, no cottage cheese with or without chives,
no blinis in sour cream, indeed, neither sour cream nor blinis.

If you will just not come across with any on of the above,
and make it snappy,
you will also make one dear old gentlemen’s Christmas
very, very happy.


This conludes the front page of our December edition.

Thanks to our new reporter, Crimson_Panda,
we have further news for you on Page Two


ImageShack, the source for all our image formatting
Google, which we couldn’t do without

Remember to send in all poetry, essays, short stories,
lyrics and any contributions to ES Magazine or Jeniffer via PM.
Contact us by these accounts if you are interested in helping out
or joining the ESM staff.

Thank you for reading!

" And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more?"

---Dr. Seuss

...Created 2007-12-15 14:57:49

dotsJournal: dots
Mood: The Usual

Welcome to ESM

For our November issue,

We’ve explored some of the many

Facets of philosophy that can be

Found in the writings of ES.

Whether it’s a way of looking

At snow, a way of looking at themselves,

Or simply a way of speaking their mind,

Here’s a hand to the poets

(and other writers)

with their own vision.


Avril54—Assisting Editor
Scarz—Volunteer writer
Azuire—Lyrics Contributor
AsiaticFox—Poetry Contributor
Theme: Philosophy

*__Featured Members___*



__Blue Monk__

Chell Hart
Elite age: 920+ days
Generosity: Very giving
Stalked by 11 members
Fave: Writing god
Posted 80 writings, 992 forum posts

Personality: Chell is friendly and sensitive to
others feelings, and will get along with anyone
open to having a friend. One of her most read
writings is “Nice Shoes”. She can be found as a
member of Graeme King’s poetry site,,
as LucidDreams.

Lloyd Hardgrove
Elite age: 910+ days
Generosity: You rock!
Fave: Well recognized
Posted 69 writings, 1200 forum posts
Awards: Kindness Award: submitting 20 or more
Posts and maintaining a ratio greater than 1.2
Contributor Award: for users that are especially giving
in feedback

Personality: Blue is intelligent and unpretentious,
and his philosophy is a tolerant and sensible one to
suit his name.

__Joint Interview__

ESM: What would you like to say about your fellow member,
Blue Monk?

Chell: Blue is always kind, insightful, and offers
lots of links to sites of interest. For all that I don’t know
about him, I know that he’s someone most people would
really enjoy sittingdown and chatting with about almost any
topic- past, present, and hypothetical.

Blue: (On Chell) Chell's fun. She has a lot of energy
and good research skills, being prone to at least try to back-up
the points she's making. It's refreshing to have someone like that
aboard and the more the merrier I say.

ESM: Who are some members here whose writing you admire?

Chell: I believe anyone can write a piece that will inspire
others, so I admire anyone who has the nerve to write down and
share their musing with others. I admire those who are willing to
read through and comment on the musings of others, and I am
awed by the passion shown by all in the debate forums.

Some of the individuals on this site who have inspired me
through writing poetry: Wewak11, Someone’s Epiphany,
borderlinetears, Nebnim, Lost Sheep, Sandburg, alteredlife,
LameMansTerms, fredmelden, hanuman. (I apologize to anyone
I’ve forgotten.) And in the forums: mae, Blue Monk, kanu, jeniffer,
alteredlife, joey alphabet, fantastic freya, and Ronswords.

Blue: Much of the debate group too often gets caught
up in personal feelings which creates negative energy and
Hurts the forum. Any one who argues their case well is worth
reading, regardless of whether we happen to agree with them.
As to posts of individual works, that is beyond the scope of this
interview but we do have some truly gifted writers here.

ESM: You have come back to ES after taking a little
Vacation at KingPoets, and you seem to have made a kind of
peace with Ronswords, who allegedly was the reason you left.
Would you say there is a possibility of friendship between you?

Chell: I began to drift when Jimmy changed the way
Elite Skills was run. I signed up fro ES because posters had to
maintain a certain level of reciprocity or lose posting privileges.

A two poem per day limit stopped the spamming of the new
posts page. And people understood that leaving cut-and-paste
(“Please if you get a chance Please take a look at some of my
Writes and let me know what you think, Thank you”) type
comments was not only unhelpful, but inappropriate because E.S.
awards, to a large degree, are decided by statistics.

Those kinds of comments are not helpful to a writer who is
looking to improve his or her skills, and undeservingly
inflates the statistics of the cut-and-paste-er.

Add to the loss of good critiques the implosion of a couple
core ES groups due to drama, life on this side of the screen
happening, and my character being ripped on the forums, and
I thought a Holiday was in order.

But Ron and I are fine.
He found out we have a lot in common
And understands my beliefs a little more now
So he respects me now
We have both been dealt a bad card in life
But we are survivors
He credits me tremendously for refusing to give up
And knows how hard it is not too
He thinks I have a tremendous amount of chutzpah
We have put the past behind us and started anew
Because I deserve better
God Bless.

And while I’m back, I’m not really, completely back.
My poetry’s love life exists on another site...

ESM: You and Blue are both frequenters of the
debate forum, and often post in the same threads. You are
very friendly to each other, even on disagreements, which can’t
always be said about others. How well would you say you agree
on the important things?

Chell: To be honest, I’m not sure. I couldn’t tell you
his political, religious, or even sexual inclinations. He discusses
issues, not labels or people. He’s slow to temper, quick with wit,
and has a FANTASTIC knack for diffusing threads when they
become frayed from the occasional, overly- passionate posts
submitted by the forum debaters (myself included).

Blue: I view debate as an exercise which rightly can be
pitched From either side of the fence. In competitive debate,
one does not get the choice of which position he is to make a
case for, that is assigned. Debate skills are actually best honed
when fighting against what you might actually feel, although I very
seldom do that here since other opinions are well represented. This
is a fun thing, not a fight. What's actually important to me might
be quite different from that of anyone else.

ESM: Who would you most like to see elected in 2008?

Chell: If I could pick anyone? Jesus or Ghandi. But they’re

Seriously though, I’d love to vote for Dr. Ron Paul. He
believes in, and follows, the standards set forth in constitution
of the United States of America and his voting record shows it.
I Love that Big Business doesn’t Love him. I Love that our Government
doesn’t Love him. I Love that he votes the will of the People.
I Love that he Loves protecting American freedoms, rights, and
liberties. And I Love that he can bring together enough “Average
Joe’s” to make 4.3 Million in one day- talk about bringing folks
together for a cause. And he’s throwing a Tea Party December

Blue: I assume you mean the office of President? Strange
as it seems, I do not like everything about any one candidate and
disagree quite a bit with many. Given a proper laboratory, I would
concoct a Ron Paul/Barack Obama hybrid and might then be satisfied
with the result. Most of the rest generally leave me cold.

ESM: The subject of death and the afterlife is a topic in the
Forums right now; what do you think happens to us at the end of
our life?

Chell: At the end of our lives…I think we die. lol. After
that, if we’re totally honest, we have to say we don’t Know. I
have chosen to believe in heaven. I believe that we get there by
following the same (and only, and most important, and all-encompassing)
rule that has been taught with near unanimity among almost all
religions, ethical systems and philosophies:

“Hurt not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful.”

“Tse-kung asked, 'Is there one word that can serve as a principle
of conduct for life?' Confucius replied, 'It is the word 'shu' –
reciprocity. Do not impose on others what you yourself do not
desire.” -Confucianism

"Do not do to others that which would anger you if others
did it to you.” -Socrates

“None of you believes until he wishes for his brother what
he wishes for himself.”

“What is hateful to you, do not to your fellow man. This is
the law: all the rest is commentary.” -Judaism

“Regard your neighbor's gain as your own gain, and your
neighbor's loss as your own loss.” –Taoism

“An it harm no one, do what thou wilt.” –Wicca

“Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should
do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the

This message has been repeated by humanitarians, philosophers,
prophets, and Saviors throughout the whole of history, yet the
majority of us still haven’t learned to live by this simple concept.
When we all get on board with this simple rule, I believe we’ll
Worry less about our personal salvationsand more about each other
(which I believe ENSURES our salvations regardless of which “Great”
we chose to follow.)

Blue: I'd have to rephrase that to "what do I believe"
Because it does not lend itself to a "thinking" in which I could
expect any con- crete decisions, but rather the beliefs tend to
evolve as experience allows. That said, the related experiences
of those who have reported on their own near death experiences
are far too similar to attribute to coincidence in my own opinion.

I believe we have a spirit/soul which is but half-anchored to our
physical selves and is released upon death. I believe there is a
system of order which generally follows some rules which are
enforced by spiritual entities having powers quite capable of doing so,
transcending even time if necessary. I believe they are aware of your
every action and even your thoughts, also having the power of
suggestion as well as that of impeding or controlling your senses
and judgment.

I am thus not a firm believer in the concept of actually having
"free will" except as it serves a higher purpose or it just "lets the
children play" so to speak. All such entities I speak of are either
servants of, or incorporate to a common, all powerful Creator.
Therein lies our ultimate fate. But that's just my own opinion.

ESM: How would you say being a part of ES has
benefited you?

Chell: The best benefits for me include having met many
people, heard new concepts, discovered new forms of poetry,
made friends, and fell in love with poetry all over again.

I believe I can honestly say I have learned more in the two
and a half years I've been lurking on this site about literature,
religious ideals, political climate, and myself than I could have
learned investing the same amount of time anywhere else.

It has been a joy to be surrounded in my daily life by poets,
storytellers, and lyricists.

Blue: This is an extended family and a pleasant hobby.
It allows for freedom of expression as well as peer review and
an opportunity to share. It often gives pause to think, away from
the local mundane world.

ESM: In this phase of your life, what is most important to

Chell: My Boys.

I have been accused of loving my kids to distraction, and I
Must confess I’m guilty. I have developed the beliefs I have
because of the love I have for my boys and through concern
about their futures.

I try to live as not just a mother or a friend, but a mentor.
When you have kids you learn that you have to be able to
explain why you believe what you believe- to those who still believe
that sticks and stones can break bones, but words are only words,
that if you can’t say anything nice you keep quiet, that we are happier
when we share and play with each other, and that laughter can cure

I have developed stances that I feel can be justified through
the Golden Rule and hope my kids will develop a love for each other
and of that one, basic, all-encompassing concept.

Blue: Time available to be with my family, as it has always

ESM: Is there anything you would like to see changed about
ES, or are you happy the way it is?

Chell: I would love to see Jimmy bring back the reciprocity
requirement. I think doing so would bring back those more experienced
poets who wanted educational comments and not just pats on the back.
(I miss the "Literati"...)

I think that restricting the number of pieces a poet can post in a 24
hour period would help bring back those who got tired of having to
scroll back three pages to find a different author's works.

And I think most would like a chat room that works, too.

Mostly, I'd like to see people come back- ES was an amazingly
addictive, truly educational site for a while and I'd love to see it
come back to life.

Blue: I'd like to see everyone getting at least several comments
on each work posted, even if it's to say "I don't get it". I'd like to see
more people active on the forum.

ESM: What kind of music most inspires you?

Chell: All- I listen to classical, rock and roll, hip hop, blues,
tribal, jazz, alternative, heavy metal, dance, easy listening,
instrumental, etc.

My music choice depends entirely on the mood I’m in or the
mood I want to be in. Life has been hectic lately so I have drifted
to classical and piano instrumentals. I can play (to various
proficiencies) the piano, the trumpet, the baritone, and the

Blue: I would not use the word "inspire" as it implies
subsequent creativity, but I do enjoy a broad spectrum of music.
I try to keep handy a good variety of the blues (electric guitar)
wishing I could play like that. If all else fails, I visit my blog and
turn up the volume.

ESM: Who would you consider one of your best and most
reliable friends?

Chell: My husband and my girlfriend are my closest, most
reliable, and most trusted friends- which make me very lucky.
Traci keeps me sane (a tough job) and my sweetheart keeps me
grounded (an almost impossible job).

Blue: My time is generally spent at work or with family.
Outside of family I have one really good friend named Harley
(not a motorcycle) as well as several others I think a lot of.

ESM: Is there any philosophy, advice, or bit of truth that
has helped you in life?

Chell: Decide, in advance, that mean people’s actions
need not affect your life. Understand that people lash out because
they’re scared or angry.Agreeing to disagree is a perfectly acceptable
way to end to a dispute. You only ever fail if you give up when you
don’t succeed. Live the way you want to be remembered.

Blue: Yearn to learn, allow some time for yourself and
some time to show others how much you love them. Do not dwell
upon regret or perceived failures of either yourself or others. See
each human being as a unique brother or sister, recognize that
everyone is composed of body, mind and spirit each of which has
it's own needs as well as gifts. Learn how to dispell negativity while
drawing in things positive. Create something over which you can say
"It is good".

Gather some concept of what "I AM" means, and keep that in
mind. Never be afraid or ashamed to talk to God (whatever you
currently view as "I AM"), to ask for anything, ask the why of any-
thing, or if things seem bad just to give thanks that at least you
even at your most miserable must be better off in some respect
than someone else even less fortunate than yourself (and pray for


Here is some of the poetic work of Chell and Blue Monk:

Death of a Muse

By Chell

She trips over a blackened root,
her porcelain cheek striking charred earth.
Her soot stained tears mix with ash
as she lies under the remnants
of her cherished Mulberry tree.

No birds chirp. No leaves stir.
And in that longest of moments
she swallows against the realization
that her mortal will never again visit this place.

A hell burnt breeze blows through her heart
as she clutches a paper in blackened hands.
The stench of Hades floats on the air;
a noxious, deadly perfume for a Muse.

She reads the smudged page and begins to sob.
Unlike most mortal’s attempts,
his writing had captured the magic felt
when love teases open the petals of a rose bud.

Her fragile heart begs surcease as she reads:
“You stop my soul and carry my heart.
The gentle touch of your presence
lifts the weight of today from my aching shoulders.”

She had been astounded that a mere mortal
had penned such beauty on his own.
And within the span of a single heartbeat
the little Muse had fallen in love with a mortal man.

He had called her Inspiration.
she had loved her new name,
and the way his brow
would wrinkle as he wrote.

But now, without his ear, her voice begins to fade.
And as her soul, her very essence, comes undone
she softly whispers her favorite stories
to the scorching wind.

God I Hate this Job


Birthing bed, dark curly head,
a bubbly baby girl.
Button nose, ten perfect toes,
the wonder of their world.

They’re unaware, that right upstairs,
another mother weeps.
A still-born boy, the pride and joy,
that fate won’t let her keep.

Place it’s soul into my hold.
Listen to it sob.
Bring it home, set free to roam.
God, I hate this job.

Noontime breeze, scuffed up knees,
Dark Curl’s playing jacks.
Bounce the ball, grab them all.
For a moment I relax.

Across the yard, a heart grows hard.
An old man waits to pass.
I must collect, and with respect,
I stop his pain at last.

Place his soul into my hold.
Listen to him sob.
Bring him home, set free to roam.
God. I hate this job.

Evening’s here, fast flown years,
Dark Curl’s finely grown.
Deep green eyes, slender thighs,
I wish she were my own.

Duties call, I shouldn’t stall,
Lateness lengthens pain.
Cross the floor, pause at the door,
Glance at her again.

Another soul into my hold.
Listen to it sob.
Bring it home, set free to roam.
God? I hate this job.

Shadows hide the man outside.
I try to let her know.
But, human ear cannot hear
my pleading, “Run! Hide!! Go!!!”

Midnight moon, a victim’s room.
Blood’s upon the floor.
I will not take. This heart will break.
My Dark Curl lives no more.

Place loves’ soul into my hold
Listen to me sob.
Bring her home, set free to roam.
God!!!! I HATE THIS JOB!!!!



The ocean has been calling my name of late…

Calling me home as surely as the breeze announces
the onset of rain from across my concrete yard.
My ability to find beauty in this world
has been weighed down
with the parasitic realities of living.

So I will sojourn at my sweeping coastal ledge,
with her shuddering flows, and churning ebbs,
the screams of gulls, and the chill saline
that near perfectly matches the heated thickness
that courses through my own veins.

If the fates choose to smile upon me,
my gaze shall stumble upon the backsides
of Gaea’s gentle gray giants,
masters of this blue wonderworld,
as they come to shed the barnacles
collected while soaring though the life source
of Mother Earth's latest cycle of seasons.

And if, by a fluke, I am capable of
scraping away my own land born crustaceans,
I will, once again, be able to breach the quagmire
of humdrum in which I find myself floundering
and be capable of skyhopping through life once again.

…I must answer the summons of the ocean.


Three Roses

By Blue Monk

Three roses left a monument
within a vase to compliment
the beauty that now lies within,
the mother you have always been.

I carry in my memory
the sweetest part of history,
your eyes, your hugs and your brown hair,
the times you showed how much you care.

I know you're watching from above
for roses you did always love,
one left for each that you did birth
before you parted from this earth.

Pray know your magic stays with me
for I have also brought forth three,
one image of you given birth,
a monument that walks the earth


Blue Monk

She for whom the angels fell,
Adam's daughter like a rose,
charmed from heaven, promised hell,
sweet fragrance ever will draw those.

Her beauty everlasting seen,
captures in a moment's pining,
like insects who once seemed so keen.
as if in amber, brightly shining,

It's futile to resist! She says,
That flaw for mankind's sake.
No glory have you seen these days,
You'll take it to your wake.

Once given to her majesty,
your line continues long,
so close to final destiny,
detoured by passion's song.

What is conceived by such a plan,
tormented by one's brain?
That man should be without woman,
can naught but drive insane.

Spirits Fly

Blue Monk

middle of the day
restless, restless
failure to focus
child of predestiny
bird in a cage
eyes casting
pensive or apprehensive
perception or reality
who might know
if spirits can fly


* -_ __Featured Poetry__ _ -*

Now Imagine

By tZar

Now imagine
that there is nothing else in the world
but you and snow.
I have imagined that
and am doing so right now.
Right now
snow falls on the house
and except from the house
there are only
snow and me and darkness.
Without darkness
I would probably have been one with the snow
thus neither have seen myself nor the snow.
So thanks to the snow
I know, what in this house
death longs for.



By Eno1

Her voice sounds like solace, painted
a deep blue somnolence and fading
into a pale yellow flame

She was shaped with a purpose
much more defined than yours or...

The deep sea green of her eyes washes clean
my mind, steals my breath, and a long way down, I am no longer mine

How she moves, feels like one hundred twenty
degrees, her tongue fills my sleep with
four hundred twenty dreams

Like morphine, like jazz, like low and mean
just this one last one
then purify my soul.


Grace, and the Destroyer

By JenFlynn

We could run then sail to the sun. With our pace,
With you by I, not even the child’s heart can chase from far behind.
Not one bruise will mingle with us.
You can whisper and the world will not speak; true love never kills.
We should have run. Every step aches.


Like an Ocean of Red

By Manwithnoname

Secret Prisoner
War smoke wake steel morning

Like ocean of red
Pierce stream – only here will you remember
Rot surrounds
Dying heart
Bone fresh above the breeze
Men haunted by lingering bellow of broken decay

May this wet grass kiss my life away


Please welcome to our staff new writer, reporter,
And columnist, Bethany, or Crimson_Panda:

Hey, Panda Beth here!

This is a new feature for ES Magazine: Teen Column! And I'm the host!

You can learn what's new with school, music, video games, movies
and more! You'll even get a challenge every month to take! And there's
also an 'Ask Panda' column. You can ask me for advice about your family, friends, school, or whatever. Just send me a PM about your personal
problem and the question along with an answer will be posted in ES
Magazine. You don't have to mention your name if you don't want to
but if you do, go right ahead! I hope this will make a difference for
everybody and increase my writing skills. Thank you!

Challenge of the month:

Try swallowing a spoonful of cinnamon without choking!


Send any questions, opinions, and comments to Beth via PM.
Thank you for reading!


* - _ __Featured Writer__ _ - *

__**Mandi Gayle**__

Mandi Gayle lives in Kentucky and is a portrait
Artist as well a poet; with her dark, wisdom infused
and often romantic verse, she’ll capture your imagination
and keep you waiting for her next write.

Mortal Psyche

I have walked Life’s path in darkness dim,
Been frightened by the shadows grim;
I have seen the moon in crimson waxed,
Been the tree the woodsman axed–
And my lips have sung a broken hymn.

I have faced my demons at the Gate of Hell,
Smote, been smitten and lived to tell;
I have seen the blood in deep rivulets run,
Been lost in night and cried for sun–
And my ears have rung with sounding knell.

I have lost all hope and my laughter died,
Begged for happiness and been denied;
I have seen the Devil in a shattered mirror,
Been ever blurred and never clearer–
And my eyes have stung with falling pride.

I have lost my voice to desperate screams,
Watched my soul fray at its seams;
I have seen the memories start to burn,
Been to the point of No Return–
And my heart has clung to empty dreams.

So judge me not for these things I crave,
My soul is for God, not you to save;
I have let this contriteness dwell inside,
For I couldn’t run, nor could I hide–
But may solace be hung upon my grave.


Hello Loneliness

My lover brings the darkness,
Swirling in like smoke;
My lover brings the bitterness,
That often makes me choke.

My lover brings the numbness,
That I always welcome in;
My lover brings the desire,
That’s woven red in sin.

My lover brings the emptiness,
That settles in the soul;
My lover brings the sadness,
That cannot rein control.

My lover isn’t tangible,
Not made of flesh and bone;
My lover only visits me,
When assured I am alone.

My lover remains hidden,
Behind my pseudo smile;
My lover is not satiable,
Not even for a while.

My lover always creeps along,
To join me every night;
I whisper, “Hello Loneliness,”
While turning out the light.


Eternity’s Bell

While lost in the valley of broken dreams,
My hope went frigid and cracked at the seams.
Now I’m walking on pieces of shattered regimes,
And sin-cloaked Lucifer swallows my screams.

I’m dancing with demons in passionate flames,
And laughing out loud at their dangerous games;
Serpents are coiling and staking their claims
On the most beautiful and richest of dames.

Heaven please hear me as I desperately yell,
I’ve succumbed so willingly to my personal Hell;
The Devil is nigh, ringing Eternity’s Bell,
He knows the way out but never will tell.

I’m drowning and burning in this liquid fire,
Being held and bruised by the hands of Ire;
My penance is lewd, and my sins shall require
My body to Satan for his demons to sire.

Children, oh Children! I’ve become the Queen!
Of this decayed domain that should never be seen!
Flames run rampant in my soul’s deep ravine,
And the tears on my cheeks are sparks left unseen.

Self-deprecation is such a twisted thing,
And to the last of my hope I desperately cling;
But it’s slipping with every beat of the wing
Of Satan’s black Pegasus carrying his King.

It’s too late for redemption; my Judgment has passed,
I was charged for my sins and in Hell I’ve been cast;
In the Pit I hear cheering, everyone is amassed,
The Devil is smiling, and this word is my last.


Mandi Gayle

~__Jen’s Review__~

By Deb Calleti

Type: Novel
Genre: Teen/drama
Jen’s rating: five out of five stars


This is the story of a seventeen year old named
Cassie Morgan, told in her voice; I found it to be
Convincingly written and very relatable; we all go
through similar experiences at her age, and she has
enough spunk and authenticity to be refreshing and

In some places, her narrative is brilliant, even poetic,
and she seems to come alive as a real girl; she looks at
the world with a special mixture of wisdom and humor,
and possesses the self protective cynicism that is known
to kids from families that have been thrown into turmoil
by divorce.

What brings an element of the extraordinary into her
story is the man named Dino Cavalli, the world famous
violinist and composer who happens to be her stepfather.
With his breathtaking music, he captures the fascination
of classical music fans; with his annoying arrogance and
unpredictable behavior, he earns Cassie’s contempt. Even
though Cassie herself must admit to being moved by his
compositions, she tries not to care about anything to do
with him; but she can hardly keep from caring when Dino
begins tutoring a gifted young violinist, Ian Waters. Cassie is
affected by this young man in a way she can’t explain, and
before she knows what’s happened, they are carrying on a
relationship behind Dino’s back.

Her experience with the damage that can be done when real
love is involved makes her reluctant to let herself become
vulnerable; but she finds that she is powerless in many ways.
Inevitably she falls for Ian and nearly ruins Dino’s plans for him;
and nothing she can do will prevent her family’s secret from
coming out; Dino’s continual deterioration into madness.

While this book has it’s share of teen angst and
lovey-dovey romance, it makes a powerful statement
about the nature of genius, and the price that is often
paid for it. Cassie gives her own examples and comparisons
of real famous artists and musicians and writers, suggesting
that most geniuses share one source of their inspiration;
painful family history.

Besides reaching the reader emotionally with a sense
Of beauty and greatness contrasted with despair,
Cassie’s narrative is balanced with funny characters
And her always present irreverent mischief, which
Can make you want to laugh out loud.

I think that nothing speaks better that the author’s
Words themselves, so here is an excerpt from
Chapter 3:

“Dino strode into his office, shut the door with
a click. The house was quiet except for Dog William
huh, huh, huhing beside me. I was glad for his
presence— at least I wasn’t completely alone. I had
one of those inexplicable moments where I looked at
Dog William and he looked at me, and I decided that
dogs really had superior knowledge to humans, held
the secrets to the universe, only they couldn’t speak.
It’s an idea you quickly discard after you see them
chew underwear, but right then I felt better thinking
One of us understood what the hell was going on.
And then suddenly the silence was shattered.
Sorry for the cliché, but that’s what happened.
Shattered, with the sudden frenzy of the violin,
The sound of someone sawing open a tree and
Finding all of life and death pouring out.

“Wow,” I said aloud. “Jesus.”
He didn’t tune first. That was what I realized.
Not tuning was like a surgeon not snapping on
His gloves. Like, well, going out without first
Putting on your shoes.

It was the first time he’d played in months and
Months. But this wasn’t just playing. This was
Unzipping your skin and spilling out your soul.
I had a selfish thought right then. I had a selfish
thought then. Actually, it was kind of a prayer to
anyone who might be listening and interested.
Please, I begged. Don’t let Dino be crazy when
Ian Waters comes.—”

If you do read this book, or by any chance already
have, I hope you enjoy it just as much as I did;
Cassie is one of those characters that almost anyone
can feel a kinship with, and whether she’s describing
what it’s like to live in a crazy family, fall in love for
the first time, or reflecting on the mysteries of the
universe, you feel like you know exactly what she’s
talking about.


*-_ __Lyrics__ _-*



Staring at the dark again,
you left your silhouette upon my pillow
Right inside the night,
I’m waiting for the light,
seems like I’m in the middle
Workin’ for something that I can’t touch
and sometimes can’t even believe in - whoa
Cradled by the hands of fate
the faith that sometimes wraps around too tight –
so tight
They call me free –
but I call me a fool
They call me free –
but I call me a fool

Well I look back at April,
but she wont look back at me
No, no, no
So I pray in May for June to stay,
but she just came
To wash into the sea - away
They call me free –
but I call me a fool

Slipped down to Mexico,
started messin’ with her yellow afro
Slipped down behind the sheets,
started talkin’ bout pistol Pete
Slipped down to the African,
started talkin’ bout what she can do
Well here we are again, back where we started
Slipped down to the dark again
You left your silhouette on my pillow - hey
Well I’m right inside the night,
I’m waitin’ for the light
Seems like I’m in the,
seems like I’m always in the middle
They call me free –
but I call me a fool


Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For


(Added by Jeniffer)

I have climbed highest mountains
I have run through the fields
Only to be with you
Only to be with you
I have run
I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
These city walls
Only to be with you

But I still haven't found
what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found
what I'm looking for

I have kissed honey lips
Felt the healing fingertips
It burned like a fire
This burning desire

I have spoke with the tongues of angels
I have held the hand of a devil
It was warm in the night
I was cold as a stone

But I still haven't found
what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found
what I'm looking for

I believe in the Kingdom Come
When all the colors
will bleed into one
Bleed into one
Well, yes I'm still running

You broke the bonds
And you loosened the chains
Carried the cross
Of all my shame
all my shame
You know I believe it

But I still haven't found
what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found
what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found
what I'm looking for


Extreme Ways


Extreme ways are back again
Extreme places I didn't know
I broke everything new again
Everything that I'd owned
I threw it out the windows, came along
Extreme ways I know move apart
The colors of my sea
Perfect color me

Extreme ways that that help me
Help me out at night
Extreme places I had gone
But never seen any light
Dirty basements, dirty noise
Dirty places coming through
Extreme worlds alone
Did you ever like it planned

I would stand in line for this
There's always room in life for this

Oh baby, oh baby
Then it fell apart, fell apart
Oh baby, oh baby
Then it fell apart, it fell apart
Oh baby, oh baby
Then it fell apart, it fell apart
Oh baby, oh baby
Like it always does, always does

Extreme songs that told me
They helped me down every night
I didn't have much to say
I didn't get above the light
I closed my eyes and closed myself
And closed my world and never opened
Up to anything
That could get me along

I had to close down everything
I had to close down my mind
Too many things to cover me
Too much can make me blind
I've seen so much in so many places
So many heartaches, so many faces
So many dirty things
You couldn't believe

I would stand in line for this
It's always good in life for this

Oh baby, oh baby
Then it fell apart, fell apart
Oh baby, oh baby
Then it fell apart, it fell apart
Oh baby, oh baby
Then it fell apart, it fell apart
Oh baby, oh baby
Like it always does, always does


River of Dreams

Billy Joel

In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
From the mountains of faith
To the river so deep
I must be looking for something
Something sacred I lost
But the river is wide
And its too hard to cross

And even though I know the river is wide
I walk down every evening and stand on the shore
I try to cross to the opposite side
So I can finally find what I’ve been looking for

In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
Through the valley of fear
To a river so deep
I’m a searcher for something
Taken out of my soul
Something Id never lose
Something somebody stole

I don’t know why I go walking at night
But now I’m tired and I don’t wanna walk anymore
Hope it doesn’t take the rest of my life
Until I find what it is I’ve been looking for

In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
Through the jungle of doubt
To the river so deep
I know I’m searching for something
Something so undefined
That it can only be seen
By the eyes of the blind
In the middle of the night

I’m not sure about a life after this
God knows I’ve never been a spiritual man
Baptized by the fire, I wade into the river
That is running to the promised land

In the middle of the night
I go walking in my sleep
Though the desert of truth
To the river so deep
We all end in the ocean
We all start in the streams
Were all carried along
By the river of dreams
In the middle of the night


Writer Profile

Ogden Nash

Famous writer
Name: Ogden Nash
Style: satirical poetry


Ogden Nash was born in Rye, New York, dropped out of
Harvard, spent a good deal of his life in Baltimore, with his
wife Frances Leonard, and worked as an editor forDoubleDay
publishing house. What makes his name so well known among
readers of poetry, is his uncanny knack for bending the rules of
rhyme and meter, stretching verses past common sense and achieving
a brilliant sense of hilarity. You’ll probably be familiar with his work
at least from the numerous times it has been featured in ESM. His
first book, Hard Lines, was published in 1931 and became nationally
recognized. In his time, he published many books of poetry;
the subjects covered just about anything you could think of.
They are basically his thoughts on life; he presents, with
universal appeal, the plight of the Average Joe. Some of his
quotes that you may not know were him:

Is dandy
But liquor
Is quicker.

Children aren’t happy
Without something to ignore,
And that’s what parents
Were created for.

I think that I shall never see
a billboard lovely as a tree.
Perhaps, unless the billboards fall,
I'll never see a tree at all.

Certainly there are things in life
that money can't buy, but it's very funny –
Did you ever try buying them without money?

The poetry that is featured here is from his books,
“The Private Dining Room” and, “I’m a Stranger Here Myself”.

The Private Dining Room

See if you can keep up with this one…

Miss Rafferty wore taffeta,
Miss Cavendish wore lavender.
-We ate pickerel and mackerel
And other lavish provender.
Miss Cavendish was Lalage,
Miss Rafferty was Barbara.
We gobbled pickled mackerel
And broke the candelabara,
Miss Cavendish in lavender,
In taffeta, Miss Rafferty,
The girls in taffeta lavender,
And we, of course, in mufti.

Miss Rafferty wore taffeta,
The taffeta was lavender,
Was lavend, lavender, lavenderest,
As the wine improved the provender.
Miss Cavendish wore lavender,
The lavender was taffeta.
We boggled mackled pickerel,
And bumpers did we quaffeta.
And Lalage wore lavender,
And lavender wore Barbara,
Rafferta taffeta Cavender lavender
Barbara abracadabra.

Miss Rafferty in taffeta
Grew definitely raffisher.
Miss Cavendish in lavender
Grew less and less stand-offisher.
With Lalage and Barbara
We grew a little pickereled,
We ordered Mumm and Roederer
Because the bubbles tickereled.
-But lavender and taffeta
Were gone when we were soberer.
I haven’t thought for thirty year
And Lalage and Barbara.


Song Before Breakfast

Hopeful each morning I arise
And splash the cobwebs from my eyes.
I brush my teeth and scrape my chin
And bravely at the mirror grin.
Sternly I force myself to say,
Huzza! Huzza! Another day!
Oh happy me! Oh lucky I!
Another chance at life to vie!
Another golden opportunity
To rise and shine in this community!
Another target for my aim!
Another whack at wealth and fame!

Almost I feel within me stir
A budding force of character.
Who knows, indeed, but what I might
Perhaps have altered overnight?
Today may be the day, who knows
That sees me triumph o’er my foes;
Gluttony, simony, and sloth,
And drawing on the table cloth;
Perjury, arson, envy, pride,
And renting tales of homicide;
Barratry, avarice and wrath
And blowing bubbles in the bath.

The differences this day may bring!
Perhaps I’ll work like anything;
I’ll travel to my tasks on foot,
And in the bank the carefare put,
And buy a haircut when I need it,
And if I get a letter, read it,
And ever eve improve myself
With Pitkin or the Five Foot Shelf.
The things I want to do, I won’t,
And only do the things I don’t.

What lordly aspirations dawn
The while I draw my trousers on!
Oh beamish morning, big with hope,
And noble tasks with which to cope,
If I should fail you, do not sorrow.
I’ll be a better man tomorrow.

*** ***

This concludes our front page. (Yes, that’s right, there’s more.
We really outdid ourselves this time. Hopefully you’re not all
Read out, because we have a few things for you on the second
Page. By then you should be completely stuffed. Barf bags can be
Made available.)


Banner image: Wild Roses by Vincent van Gogh
As always, thank you to ImageShack

If you would like to write and contribute your own
Book review, contact Jeniffer via PM to Jeniffer or ES
Magazine for guidelines.

All contributions, lyrics, poems, nominees for poetry
Awards, and essays should be sent to Jeniffer or ES
Magazine. Letters to any of the staff should be sent to
ES Magazine and will be forwarded to that member.
Letters to Panda Beth should be PMed directly to
Crimson_Panda. Thank you for your reading services!


"One day, someone showed me a glass of water that was half full. And he said, "Is it half full or half empty?" So I drank the water. No more problem. "

-~Alexander Jodorowsky

Page Two

...Created 2007-11-15 21:48:32