<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952</id><updated>2011-07-28T17:48:08.894-07:00</updated><category term='reading'/><category term='youth literature'/><category term='lake elsinore'/><category term='excuvated words'/><title type='text'>Couches Move : Youth Writing</title><subtitle type='html'>This blog is an archive of youth writing from workshops conducted in the Inland Empire.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03350347224126962404</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IN51M4RrPGI/TFGQINBcYrI/AAAAAAAAAFI/_NtdWro85lY/S220/ad-face.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>21</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-7913659244730790439</id><published>2009-08-21T10:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T10:53:46.817-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beau</title><content type='html'>Charlie is my husband, he’s very manly and I just love him so very much. We live in a nice little neighborhood with lots of trees and cars on the street and no sidewalks. Charlie works hard for what we have. I had to quit working after I lost Julie and stay home with little Beau. Beau’s only six years old but had to be pulled out of school for behavior problems, so I stay home to teach instead, but I say there is nothing wrong with him. The shrinks all say that he’s too hyper but I just give him half of one of Charlie’s pain pills and that seems to clam him and me down after 20 minutes. Charlie is Beau's best friend. He listens to everything his daddy says. I can hear Charlie talking to Beau about his friends while I’m was cooking dinner. He takes little Beau to the back porch to play a game with a mouse little Beau had found. He tells Beau that he doesn’t want him playing with his friend Derrick anymore, as he grab a bottle of gas and an empty coke glass telling him no son of his is gonna be a pansy ass. Beau looked wide eye up at his father and says oh. I could feel the uncertainty of Beau's voice. I tell 'em I don’t think he should be telling Beau this; he can be friends with whoever he wants. Charlie gives me a sharp look and I know what that means.  Charlie looks down at Beau again and tells him don’t you let a women tell you what to do; they are good for nothing but cooking and cleaning. He tells him you’re gonna be a man Beau, you’re not gonna be like me, working for nothing to come home to a bitching wife. You’re gonna be something, but Beau feels torn. Not understanding why his father is so angry, but wants to please him in anyway. Charlie stuffs the tiny mouse into the bottle, Beau watches closely  for what he'll do next, as Charlie dowses the tiny mouse, he tells Beau that kids like Derrick are not like our family that it’s not the Christian way and that it’s not the American way. He tells Beau what if that kid is president someday, you want some fruity guy running your country? Hell no boy! That’s why I’m here, to teach you what’s right. Charlie stuffs some paper into the top of the coke glass, he looks down on Beau and says watch this, it’s gonna be good. They head for the front yard to the middle of the street Beau struggling to keep up. He watches his father carefully as he lights it on fire and throws the bottle down the street and laughs as the little mouse runs and squeals from the burning hair on its body. Charlie screams with laughter, look son look how he's running look at that. Beau runs into the house and into his room crying while Charlie runs after him screaming. Son you’re no pansy it's just a stupid mouse. I can hear the anger in Charlie’s voice and know what coming next. I run down the hallway almost slipping on the rug, and see Charlie throwing things around.  I try hard to think fast, Beau is scared and crying. I push through the doorway blocked with toys, to get in front of Charlie. He doesn’t seem to see me ‘cause I keep getting clipped by toy trucks and blocks being kicked and thrown around. I can feel Beau’s terror and all I can do is tuck my arms to my chest and squeeze my hands to my ears and try to push Charlie out of the room. He’s just a boy Charlie is all I keep telling him, he’s just a boy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-7913659244730790439?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/7913659244730790439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/beau.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/7913659244730790439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/7913659244730790439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/beau.html' title='Beau'/><author><name>Tracey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13302535493469184367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-8464849347215799502</id><published>2009-08-21T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T10:40:21.739-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lake elsinore'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='youth literature'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reading'/><title type='text'>Reading at Flour Fusion</title><content type='html'>The youth writing group &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;"Couches Move"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from Lake Elsinore will present their work on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friday . August 28 at 2 pm&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;at &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Flour Fusion, a cafe on Main Street in Lake Elsinore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Come out and support this group of fantastic emerging writers.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Tracey Cooper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;Salvador Vasquez&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;Geo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;rge Cadenas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-8464849347215799502?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/8464849347215799502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/reading-at-flour-fusion.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/8464849347215799502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/8464849347215799502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/reading-at-flour-fusion.html' title='Reading at Flour Fusion'/><author><name>April</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03350347224126962404</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IN51M4RrPGI/TFGQINBcYrI/AAAAAAAAAFI/_NtdWro85lY/S220/ad-face.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-5251432106680951966</id><published>2009-08-21T10:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T10:46:17.506-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lettin go</title><content type='html'>I am lying on bed staring at the ceiling just thinking to what ever comes to mind. I wonder what I am really thinking of tho?? Could it be wat I might do for the way........wat I did last night.......?? Or maybe I'm just letting my mind go free. I start to look around in my room, seein how everything has either a meanin or memory to it. Startin with my TV, Wow!! This TV that I have is so old that its not even funny. You know how old it is?? Its so old that the VCR is built right into it. I think its time for a new one. Continuing to look around I come across my radio. Goin back into time to the day that I got it, all I can remember is that I know I got it for one of my birthdays. For a whole yr I never had turned it off. Well of course i did turn it off, but there was not one day that went by that I didn't turn it on. As I start to get up from the bed I look directly into my closet seein boxes an boxes of shoes, clothes on hangers, a hamper that was over flowin. Why did I have so much stuff I wonder. I grab my keys an begin to walk out the door. As I was walkin out the door I came to find that I knew wat I was thinkin of the whole time!! It was that I didn't know where I was goin to go. Maybe it was to the store, the mall, a friends house. Who knew. I was just goin to get in an DRIVE!! Just drive and drive an see where the roads take me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-5251432106680951966?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/5251432106680951966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/lettin-go.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/5251432106680951966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/5251432106680951966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/lettin-go.html' title='Lettin go'/><author><name>Salvee =D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05163180251270707254</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eVtDhmG8WwM/SnNk2rEqx_I/AAAAAAAAAAs/i85_8N1hxqo/S220/DSCN1744.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-5255005707950620989</id><published>2009-08-07T11:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T11:56:30.419-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Way</title><content type='html'>The way of life my son hard times, haters imitaters and trageties drama so called karma, tears, emotions, the streets alcohol drugs, the pain, the stress many up and down's the struggles iv'e been through this world new faces, old faces, bruises old memory's scars the past my future my life, my family. Friends either good or bad success is my power god is my faith nagative i once knew but positive is my path. The way of everything iv'e written about has kept me going keeps me growing this is the way i am and definately won't let anything bring me down im going to keep rising keep shining and keep fighting to reach all my goals this is what iv'e faced and what i had to battle to open up my eye's and make me see the better way in life like i was once was told it can't rain forever ain't nothing changed but the weather it took some time to get my life together the way of life has made it all better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-5255005707950620989?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/5255005707950620989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/way_07.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/5255005707950620989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/5255005707950620989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/way_07.html' title='The Way'/><author><name>luis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03668369713442834641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-7115650504605822571</id><published>2009-08-07T11:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T11:17:18.371-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gift</title><content type='html'>It was her 18th birthday. her mother had invited the whole family over for the surprise party that they were going to have for her. The time came to when she was standing outside the front door. Everyone kept quiet till the moment she stepped into the house. "SURPRISE!!" everyone yelled. She was shocked and greeted everyone that was there. She walked around to say hello to every that she had missed, she also saw the table full with gifts. But when she had walked into the kitchen though, she had noticed that there was just one gift that was sitting on the counter by its self. She wondered was it was doing there. Walking up to it so see who it was from, trying to see who's name was on it. But all it read was "To: Julie" Puzzled, and wondering who had left it?? The little box was rapped carefully with a ribbon around it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-7115650504605822571?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/7115650504605822571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/gift_07.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/7115650504605822571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/7115650504605822571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/gift_07.html' title='The Gift'/><author><name>Salvee =D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05163180251270707254</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eVtDhmG8WwM/SnNk2rEqx_I/AAAAAAAAAAs/i85_8N1hxqo/S220/DSCN1744.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-1745357391990390872</id><published>2009-08-07T11:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T11:10:39.822-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Body</title><content type='html'>Our body is a very complex thing if you really think about it, well in my opinion. How it works is just amazing to me. How it can heal its self from a cut or wound to getting an organ removed or fixed. I don't think that anyone can fully understand how it really works. Yeah we can read an study about it but to really understand it though?? Naw, you cant, I cant, we cant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-1745357391990390872?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/1745357391990390872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/body.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/1745357391990390872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/1745357391990390872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/body.html' title='The Body'/><author><name>Salvee =D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05163180251270707254</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eVtDhmG8WwM/SnNk2rEqx_I/AAAAAAAAAAs/i85_8N1hxqo/S220/DSCN1744.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-4997494680426460090</id><published>2009-08-07T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T11:07:16.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Meal</title><content type='html'>Lets not talk about food right now. I haven't ate anything this morning besides the toast that my mom made for me before I left. I'm looking to leaving an getting something to eat. Sitting here writing about food and smelling the slice of pizza that the guy had, ain't helping not one bit. Boy would I give anything to leave right now and grab something to eat. Something like pasta mmmm..... Fettuccine Alfredo sounds really good with a side order of garlic bread. Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-4997494680426460090?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/4997494680426460090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/meal.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/4997494680426460090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/4997494680426460090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/meal.html' title='The Meal'/><author><name>Salvee =D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05163180251270707254</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eVtDhmG8WwM/SnNk2rEqx_I/AAAAAAAAAAs/i85_8N1hxqo/S220/DSCN1744.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-1503652282891265701</id><published>2009-08-07T10:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T11:02:04.684-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The House.....</title><content type='html'>Driving down the street and seeing all the different kinds of house was fun but we had came across one that just caught our eye. Seeing the outside was just gorgeous!! The grass was green, trees all around the yard, garden beds along the sides of it. Something that you would see in a magazine, right?? But no one knew who lived there though. Some people say that no one lives there, but someone had to. Cause was was or is maintaining the yard??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-1503652282891265701?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/1503652282891265701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/house.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/1503652282891265701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/1503652282891265701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/house.html' title='The House.....'/><author><name>Salvee =D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05163180251270707254</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eVtDhmG8WwM/SnNk2rEqx_I/AAAAAAAAAAs/i85_8N1hxqo/S220/DSCN1744.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-7408035245597158527</id><published>2009-08-07T10:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T10:58:11.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Way</title><content type='html'>The way I feel right now is like BLAH!! I'm still kinda of tired from a long night last night an not looking forward to today wondering if I would be able to leave an hour early today so that I can met my mother an cousin for lunch before she leaves back home. I can already see that the day just might drag along, seeing that time is is taking its time to past by. But one thing that I'm looking forward is the weekend once again, its time to party, let loose an just have fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-7408035245597158527?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/7408035245597158527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/way.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/7408035245597158527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/7408035245597158527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/way.html' title='The Way'/><author><name>Salvee =D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05163180251270707254</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eVtDhmG8WwM/SnNk2rEqx_I/AAAAAAAAAAs/i85_8N1hxqo/S220/DSCN1744.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-4720547665301948450</id><published>2009-08-07T10:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T11:16:21.274-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MY GIFT</title><content type='html'>YESTERDAY IS HISTORY, 2MARROW IS A MYSTERY, &amp;amp; TODAY IS A GIFT, THATS THE REASON BEHIND CALLIN IT THE PRESENT...like a crescent-&lt;br /&gt;its pleasant &amp;amp; gotta be cherrished-&lt;br /&gt;like cinderella's god ma', make a pumpkin 2 a carrige-&lt;br /&gt;make positive out of negative-&lt;br /&gt;live life happy, you gotta live-&lt;br /&gt;cus it is what u make it &amp;amp; you only live it once-&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; slowly it just burns 'n fades like the cherry tip of lit up blunts-&lt;br /&gt;so have some fun, WHY? cus there ain't no second chances-&lt;br /&gt;your here now for the moment, but who knos about advances-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-4720547665301948450?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/4720547665301948450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-gift.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/4720547665301948450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/4720547665301948450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-gift.html' title='MY GIFT'/><author><name>8</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07398162313550259208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-6501544131751714633</id><published>2009-08-07T10:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T11:09:29.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gift</title><content type='html'>The Gift, the most important gift i have recieved in life is my son who is an inspiration in my life, who gave me a wake up call and helped me become a better man in life. He is the most special gift that i have asked for i couldn't ask for more he is the gift in my heart. As the day's go by he lift's up my spirit's and give's me more strength there is nobody else that could give me and bring me joy and happiness the way he does. He take's away my pain, my stress and for him i am going to give it my all and alot more than just 100%. The gift that i recieved from the man up upstairs will never be replaced even if the day come's that im not here our love and friendship will never end...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-6501544131751714633?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/6501544131751714633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/gift.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/6501544131751714633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/6501544131751714633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/gift.html' title='The Gift'/><author><name>luis</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03668369713442834641</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-602336673066287131</id><published>2009-08-07T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T09:51:57.963-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Iam......</title><content type='html'>I am &lt;em&gt;alive&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;healthy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i wonder if I would always be like this&lt;br /&gt;I hear the sound of my mothers voice&lt;br /&gt;I see my mother standing there in the door way&lt;br /&gt;I want to go up to her an give her a hug an tell her that i love her&lt;br /&gt;I am &lt;em&gt;alive&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;healthy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pretend everything will plan out for its self&lt;br /&gt;I feel like everything is spiraling down coming to an end&lt;br /&gt;I touch my mothers hand&lt;br /&gt;I worry if I would be able to touch an feel her tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;I cry just thinking about loosing or not seeing her&lt;br /&gt;I am &lt;em&gt;alive&lt;/em&gt; an &lt;em&gt;healthy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand we always loose the ones close to us&lt;br /&gt;I say we will always be with each other&lt;br /&gt;I dream for a never ending end&lt;br /&gt;I try to be normal and happy&lt;br /&gt;I hope to always be with her&lt;br /&gt;I am &lt;em&gt;HEALTHY &lt;/em&gt;and &lt;em&gt;HAPPY!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-602336673066287131?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/602336673066287131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/iam.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/602336673066287131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/602336673066287131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/iam.html' title='Iam......'/><author><name>Salvee =D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05163180251270707254</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eVtDhmG8WwM/SnNk2rEqx_I/AAAAAAAAAAs/i85_8N1hxqo/S220/DSCN1744.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-3703551824015466937</id><published>2009-08-04T21:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T11:53:12.855-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fallen to The PIts of my Own Sad Mind</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CQyduan3U8U/SnkIu9oYf4I/AAAAAAAAAAc/to0endBujQw/s1600-h/jeff.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 304px; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366330033899601794" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CQyduan3U8U/SnkIu9oYf4I/AAAAAAAAAAc/to0endBujQw/s320/jeff.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;You did this, you left me here, had them throw me a way, out casted to the cold dark snow. Why? I waited for you as you ask like a good angel; you had them rip my wings from me. It hurts here and it's too cold. No one knows the horror of my sight because of you. Now i have been thrown deep down to the pits of my own sick and sad mind, and all i have to do is think of you, why i did this for you. Why would you do such a thing to the one you love? Loved, You did love me I know, and I will come back for you and when I do I will hurt you as you did me, and you will beg me for more and I won’t give in this time. For I'm now smarter, remembrance of me will never die in your mind. I try to forget you but my broken mind won’t let me get rid of you. I was so naive to your body and mind that I would have done more for you wait, I will be back for you and I will do it again a hundred times more for that is love. The waking eyes will never see me but you will feel it in your soul, where I will rip you away. For sleep brings no hope for you or I, and I despair. My only wish is to forget and they won’t let it be so. Where lies the end of my suffrage? Please just tell them to give me that one thing I desire, i asked with weakening breath and they only laughed at my sorrow eyes and beat me down to the pits once again to think of my old glory i once shared with you. The backward steps of love i had for you i can no longer touch, to reach the door i will never feel, for you took the key. You and all have failed one by one and i did all i could to be. No shadows lay on the ground i walk today, this day will never end i know just mid night that’s all I have, and your heart I will someday have between my fingers and never let go. I will sob, and make a lonely bed for me that you will never rest, when I am through my eyes are blank and I cannot see clear enough to know, what light the moon half way wasted gave the night you left me here, so alone I am never to share the day, so grey I feel, My broken head where I lie tired and wept for you, for I’m mad with nameless fear at what has happened. Why are you so lucky to not be here with me? One half of you is all i see, where the rest is in a bed of flowers with strange bulbs that will droop so cold for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-3703551824015466937?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/3703551824015466937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/you-did-this-you-left-me-here-had-them.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/3703551824015466937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/3703551824015466937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/you-did-this-you-left-me-here-had-them.html' title='Fallen to The PIts of my Own Sad Mind'/><author><name>Tracey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13302535493469184367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CQyduan3U8U/SnkIu9oYf4I/AAAAAAAAAAc/to0endBujQw/s72-c/jeff.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-1443111188472076531</id><published>2009-08-01T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T23:03:26.192-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Graveyard</title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that i was in an unfamiliar grave yard that was quite new to me. Everything has a tint of gold to it even the wet blades of grass have shine to them. I can fell the rays of sun on my eye lids and check bones, and it is warm and inviting. I see the little gray and brown squirrels frolic in the grass that seem so happy with their life and environment. I think to my self why they would choose a place like this to live life. As i walk in this dream i can hear the wrestle leaves under my feet, and i try hard not to disrespect others who are grieving for the decease. For some strange reason as i walk towards these trees to sit under i feel more and more familiar with where i am. sitting under this nice big tree with small little leaves all over it, i sit and close my eyes and tilt my head up towards the sun above me. I open my eyes and see the light of the sun shine softly through the small leaves above me feeling the rays of my forehead, and i remenece about my life. I want to stay in this spot, in this grave yard forever. I feel at home and in total comfort, this is a place where i cannot be disturbed no one would think of to find me here. I wish that i would never wake up because life is all pain and misery in my book and head. I begin to get up from where i sit and walk through alone to a paticular grave, i kneel down to get a better look for i didn't bring my glasses to the dream. This is someone i know very well and miss dearly. An old old friend that left me not to long ago. I look next to his stone and gasp to see that the one stone next to him hurts my heart painfully but it is also comforting at the same time, for it is my head stone. This makes me have mixed feelings for i am happy that i am reunited with him with my old dear friend but sad that i have to leave others behind... i have woken up, what a terrible thing to experience, damn this trickery.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-1443111188472076531?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/1443111188472076531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/graveyard.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/1443111188472076531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/1443111188472076531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/08/graveyard.html' title='Graveyard'/><author><name>Tracey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13302535493469184367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-7507565009446605090</id><published>2009-07-31T14:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T14:52:59.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love without no meanin</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Goodbye my lover see you when ever,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;cause you and me will never be together. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You and I we both shall know, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;that we weren't meant for each other. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Our day shall come, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;for us to know, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;but till then, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;only time shall know. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So you and I we both shall live, &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;in perfect lives that is. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Shall I ask one thing from you?? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And that would be can you love me to??&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-7507565009446605090?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/7507565009446605090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/07/love-without-no-meanin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/7507565009446605090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/7507565009446605090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/07/love-without-no-meanin.html' title='Love without no meanin'/><author><name>Salvee =D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05163180251270707254</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eVtDhmG8WwM/SnNk2rEqx_I/AAAAAAAAAAs/i85_8N1hxqo/S220/DSCN1744.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-726129680545371316</id><published>2009-07-31T10:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T11:19:46.364-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Findin ur voice</title><content type='html'>"Open your eyes, close your ears. Close your ears, open your eyes," said my mother. I had to listen to the sounds of words. Thinking I knew everything, everything that came my way.Not knowing that I had a lot to learn. I was young and naive. Trying to play it off like I knew what I was doing, in reality I didn't have a clue in the world. Afraid to ask or even seek for help, wanting an waiting for help to come an find me. It was just a dream that I was living. Thinking that the world would care an just stop an see if T was OK. But I'm just another person in the world that wasn't going to stand out unless I opened my mouth. That day  had came, I found my voice. Realizing that all those times I was scared, nervous, afraid to say anything or even ask something, thinking an worried about what others might think or say about me. It was blown out of proportion, something that I've done myself. Realizing and looking back upon it now, what as I scared of?? Why ha vent I said anything before?? Its kinda amusing to think about now. But now I'm not afraid anymore and neither should you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-726129680545371316?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/726129680545371316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/07/findin-ur-voice.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/726129680545371316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/726129680545371316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/07/findin-ur-voice.html' title='Findin ur voice'/><author><name>Salvee =D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05163180251270707254</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eVtDhmG8WwM/SnNk2rEqx_I/AAAAAAAAAAs/i85_8N1hxqo/S220/DSCN1744.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-1456905645534441553</id><published>2009-07-31T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T10:50:39.051-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fishing</title><content type='html'>A nice day off the coast, or at the lake. Not to hot and not to cold. Take a cooler of tuna sandwiches and plenty of cold refreshments. Waiting for a catch, thats the number 1 thing i hate is waiting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-1456905645534441553?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/1456905645534441553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/07/fishing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/1456905645534441553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/1456905645534441553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/07/fishing.html' title='Fishing'/><author><name>big worm</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501090707652717145</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-8679783188387602478</id><published>2009-07-31T10:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T11:01:40.490-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='excuvated words'/><title type='text'>the dusty circle</title><content type='html'>Within three weeks she was smiling, a bit of yellow visible for a moment. I watched her as she approached the men at the bar inviting then with her breast. Madame LeClair, hearing a faint shrill from the unstairs parlor, but her reverie was broken by a loud cry from the crowd near her. She new if she was going to make any money off the gentelmen tonight she needed to find a room fast before the other whores started in.&lt;br /&gt;Coming around the dusty little circle again, she wonders if he knew what it meant. I think the very name brought pleasure to him and even the commenest of the villagers can enjoy the same pleasure. Suddenly a shadow fell over her less than civilized existance. "Sir, only ten pence."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-8679783188387602478?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/8679783188387602478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/07/dusty-circle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/8679783188387602478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/8679783188387602478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/07/dusty-circle.html' title='the dusty circle'/><author><name>Tracey</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13302535493469184367</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-6744081278179082361</id><published>2009-07-31T10:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T11:04:11.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Misunderstood</title><content type='html'>I feel it all piling against me like a handicapped rumble-&lt;br /&gt;Treat the obstacle just like a cookie and make it crumble-&lt;br /&gt;It disassemble, then i re-assemble it-&lt;br /&gt;like piecing a puzzle piece, I gotta make it fit-&lt;br /&gt;and if it just doesn't, then don't get stuck-&lt;br /&gt;That's when i be wakin' up not givin' a f***-&lt;br /&gt;excuse my language, not sorry, I'm just misunderstood-&lt;br /&gt;let me rephrase my sentence, i woke up, but not so good-&lt;br /&gt;in times think that, it's just a phase but keeps on happenin'-&lt;br /&gt;then you begin becomin' immune 'n just start 2 smirk &amp;amp; grin-&lt;br /&gt;Like being deserted, stuck, &amp;amp; lonely on an island-&lt;br /&gt;besides I'm dehydrated feels like I'm fighting Poseidon-&lt;br /&gt;from with-in, im sensin' the pressure is eruptin'-&lt;br /&gt;I dream of me droppin' like a victim of a dumpin'-&lt;br /&gt;it's crucial, so vivid, &amp;amp; very visual-&lt;br /&gt;unusual cus i wake up when there's no more pulse at all--&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-6744081278179082361?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/6744081278179082361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/07/misunderstood.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/6744081278179082361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/6744081278179082361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/07/misunderstood.html' title='Misunderstood'/><author><name>8</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07398162313550259208</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-7381035972223213469</id><published>2009-07-31T10:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T10:37:20.549-07:00</updated><title type='text'>bicycling westcoastin</title><content type='html'>A bicycle can be classy, or a piece of junk you picked up off the street. beach cruisers are my favorite. Coasting on a beaching cruiser with the beutiful salty breeze at the beach is  one of my favorite things to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-7381035972223213469?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/7381035972223213469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/07/bicycling-westcoastin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/7381035972223213469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/7381035972223213469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/07/bicycling-westcoastin.html' title='bicycling westcoastin'/><author><name>big worm</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02501090707652717145</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3239428703999456952.post-4739602376568368309</id><published>2009-07-31T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T10:52:07.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My dignity intact</title><content type='html'>But I made it hard for them to fire me. Not realizing the talent and skills that I picked up from the day that I started. I showed them what I was able to accomplish and capable of doing.  Even though I threw the stack of papers on to her desk, which I was given a week to do but finished with 2 days to spare, I couldn't understand the reason why they wanted to get rid of me. Was it cause of my attitude?? The way that I would come  dressed?? Or maybe it was cause I was showing up 20 mins early an began to start working. I was dumb founded by it. It may seem boorish to say but I knew they couldn't of been the same without having me there. Outraged at the fact that they said it was cause of the way I did the work for them. Was it not good enough for them?? Could I have missed or skipped a few files?? BIG DEAL!! The guy next to me working, always skips huge files. An who got stuck with doing his work?? ME!! I was just glad that I made a statement in that office. I am only human an would like to portray that title. Therefore, that day that i had left, wasn't cause they had fire me. It was the day that i left with my dignity intact.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3239428703999456952-4739602376568368309?l=couchesmove.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/feeds/4739602376568368309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-dignity-intact.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/4739602376568368309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3239428703999456952/posts/default/4739602376568368309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://couchesmove.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-dignity-intact.html' title='My dignity intact'/><author><name>Salvee =D</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05163180251270707254</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_eVtDhmG8WwM/SnNk2rEqx_I/AAAAAAAAAAs/i85_8N1hxqo/S220/DSCN1744.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
