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Mwa Ha Ha Ha Ha

Name: Travis Rickett
ASL: 19/m/Washington
Bio: [ Quick Bio ]
Website:[ Education ]
Days Away: 3150
Life Story:
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Favorites: 44
Forum Posts: 3
Shoutbox Posts: 18
RP Posts: 0
Signup Date: 6848 D
18.76 Years 1.88 Quote:
Depression is an STD of the world...kinda like herpes.

Recent Favorites:
The day Christ got the X by inspirit999
<br />The Well Of Life Hid In The Sand by Car va g o
Elf Maiden by Tarwen Nevle
Realism's Impressionist by idlewriter
The Dead by ZosoMama
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   Detail Award: For always thinking one step further.

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Mood: The Usual

...Created 2007-11-24 22:59:17     [ View Past Journals ]

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 Child of the Rising Sun
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::Love : Class : Poetry :
 Monarch Heart
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::Love : Class : Poetry :
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I'm back here after 4 years.. I was excited to see your poems but you're away.
Hope you'll be back soon

| Posted on 2012-09-12 00:25:38 | by jeniecel - [ Reply to This ] -
i come to so many pages looking for faces long gone...still i'm trying to find that place
the one we all held so long ago
days away keeps ticking like a time balm

hope you are well Travis...XOXOXO
| Posted on 2009-10-16 19:01:35 | by clay - [ Reply to This ] -

Please give me back my stuffed animal... It means a lot to me and I want to give it to my baby. I'll give you back your little dog thing. Just ask if you forgot the address. -Nicole
| Posted on 2008-07-09 13:06:37 | by NickiMama - [ Reply to This ] -
No worries, I share the feelings... G'night!
| Posted on 2007-11-25 00:17:53 | by Outlaw - [ Reply to This ] -
One night, below a starry fright
a whimsical poet heartedly writes,
fighting his imagination; what might
he say? Who may he help? What are his mights?
This is that "right" poet stereotype if you will. People, poets, who say: "I want to help others." Things like that... It seems that you cannot write to write, you cannot just want to express yourself beautifully. You must aspire to be a poet by aspiring to be published. The more you're published, the more of a poet you really are in other terms. I don't personally agree with that, but it seems to be the mainstream poet vogue which is scary. Like you said, a poet should write to splay his heart on papers without worry for the outside world, for outside thoughts. Does that then mean he has no goal? That would then mean he, by society's standards.. By humanity's standards nowadays, that he lacks the will to move forward in life, to "ACCOMPLISH" something. (Here, accomplishing something would be being published, helping others, criticizing political opinions and such.. which is where you see the hole. The modern poet must accomplish something, whilst still not caring to do just that.) Do you see where I am going with this?

The pathetic altruism he seeks
lays under covers - where lovers -
protect modern survival. Political theories
unwind into poetical satires - of
Here I begin my criticism of said poet, "pathetic" altruism.. The altruism in this case would be that aspiration of his, though it is pathetic because it contradicts the nature of his employment if you will. It's like a sophist - not a knower a knowledge, merely one who seems to know things. He lays under covers is basically saying.. he's hiding (yes, from bloodying his hands, getting dirty) - and one could go as far as calling his poetry the drapes under which he hides.. The lovers mention was a little play on the thought, proginators impinging on the poets again.. Things like "natural" instincts. Why is so much poetry limited to sex, lust and love? The line after that was just something I found to be funny in my mind.. But people put so much thought and their lives into political theories, the prominent ones take current and are deployed as the current "saviour" government if you will.. Then two generations later.. Poets banter with these monumental notions and turn them into the enemy, into evil.. Because of what? Because it is their poetic duty - it's a part of a cycle, society needs to change to please the current crowd. Only, the government always comes into play too late.. I find it sad that in society, the poet's role is to dig the ditches, clear out the old [censored] to leave the stage bare for a new character.

The martyr of truth is really just
another blasphemous casualty of
reality's backwash: the waves
of motivation behind human dulcoration.
Here I play again .. Poetical satires - of, the of here could either be ignored or taken as a description, a digression about these poetical satires.. (It's a double sense, because I'm attacking the "martyr" of truth in this piece, the poet.. har har.. but anyway..) or it could be ignored. I am talking basically in this strophe more about the poet's "duty" in the cycle of society.. and blah blah... I'm getting bored of myself =P.

One life means nothing in the wake
of genocides, one need, nothing preceding
compulsory dandies. That is
the poet's truth, for he writes to remain
This is pure sarcasm, at first, because I am preluding to the poet's truth, innuendo saying it's utterly upside down. I hope it is implied at least, by the backwardness of the truth. The poet's truth is backwards, he doesn't write to make a mark.. to change the political arena around.. all that blah blah.. that's bull[censored]. He writes for himself, for his heart's whims... to remain "mute" in the face of society, thanks to his cathartic poetry. That is the meaning of the piece...

I hope that wasn't overkill..
| Posted on 2007-11-25 00:02:58 | by Outlaw - [ Reply to This ] -
That's cool... you deleting your pieces? I thought I saw five up just a short while ago...
| Posted on 2007-11-24 23:05:54 | by Outlaw - [ Reply to This ] -

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