The End

Our end,

Is a new begininng.

For so many.

And yet for so few.

And I will bid you,

My friends

Goodbye,

Do not sit and cry.

But think,

Of all the happy times we shared,

Those moments of joy,

Where we knew no-one cared.

But realise, 

The end is nigh,

And though I would wish it otherwise,

I can do nothing, but sigh.

And you can do nothing but cry.

But remember,

Hold your head high,

And always, 

Just try,

Do not look back.

Do not think why.

Everything happens for a reason,

And the reason is the fact that it happens.

So understand,

The end is near,

Just as you,

I,

And all others fear.

But worry not,

Although our journey is over,

We always have those memories

Those moments

And 

The memories

Of

Those people.

And although they are gone.

Never forget them.

Echo

Hello.

Hello.

Hello.

No answer.

No more sound

From the walls.

No more noise

No more nothing.

Hello.

Hello.

Hello.

Is there a point in asking?

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------
A year has passed, and you still greet the nothingness.

Maybe one day, it shall become something.

Maybe one day, the pain shall cease to be.

One day...
 ---------------------------------------------------------------------
...Your calls will be answered.

Yours prayers, and you desires,

All fulfilled.

But be careful what you want.

And be careful of what you need.

So listen to me, of my advice,

Take heed.

Some things, which you utterly desire,

Are useless for your life.

Some things, which you utterly admire,

Shall turn your calm trees,

Into masses of fire.

Anf flame and rage.

And a burning page.

A page from your life.

A page from your death.

They are the same now.

You did not read, nor did you

Regret.

And the echo of your hello,

Made your death,

In stone, set.

Wall

Sectioned off,

Is an area of your mind.

Which no-one has entered.

Out of bounds,

Is a place of truth.

Which has not been discovered.

A place where

Entry is forbidden,

Lies just after the boundary 

Between

You

and 

I.

I cannot go over the line.

I must keep to my side.

And you must keep to yours.

That grey area,

The empty space between us,

could hold so many

Thoughts

Memories

Emotions

But it will never be able to.

For both you,

And I

Will be running away form those lines

So fast,

That we forget,

That the lines only ever exist when one is trying,

And with us,

We are always trying,

And so, those lines

Those boundaries

Those walls

Will separate us,

Always.

Holy War

Why is the sky so red.

Is it the sun,

is it blood?

We will never know,

Why the sky is red.

By the time we can see it,

We are dead.

Why is the ground so frail.

No plants grow,

Nothing, to no avail.

We will never know why it is this way,

Unless we leave our homes,

And ask for despair and decay.

Why is the sea so grey,

So lifeless, 

With nothing to guide its way.

Why is there nothing,

nothing,

to say,

Anymore, after today.

After today they say it ends.

They've been saying that since the beginning

Of this fray.

And this day ends,

And brings a new day.

A new day full of hopeless reduction,

A new day full of useless destruction,

A new day full of stupid abduction.

A new day full of 

New goodbyes,

One is born,

One hundred die,

A new day,

The same way,

The same people,

who always pray.

New soldiers that always try,

Not to fight, but not to die.

What is the snow falling from the sky?

Don't be silly, reason why.

If it is not snow,

then what can it be,

so pure and light, falling from above,

It is the ash of those so innocent,

Who tried to save our lives,

and our love.

12 steps.

There are twelve steps in all.

As impossible as it seems,

You cannot rise, but only fall.

Down another step you tread.

Mind the gap.

Mind your head.

Through another nightmare you stroll.

This time, you lose your soul.

Down another step you walk.

Time not to talk.

Time to stalk.

Stalk a person whom you know,

Someone who is down below.

Down another steps thats known,

Albeit this time you are not alone.

And your destiny has been sewn.

Although this number is only three,

Its as many as can be.

Oh, I see you ponder,

You read the title and you wonder,

"You said there were steps times twelve"

But now into the story we shall delve.

All your ideas I shall derail,

And alas, the truth, is now unveiled.

Step one is where you sense your doubt.

When you think another is about.

Step two is when you have a choice.

You ignore that little voice.

Not the one inside your head,

The one saying

"You are dead".

Step three is your final phase,

Where your life shall be erased,

Tut tut my friend,

You should look around before its your end.

Options

One, two or three.

Which option will it be?

One:

Walk through this door of pain,

And you will find yourself,

Outside,

In the rain.

You will soon see an unhappy sight,

Three people involved in a fight.

You have guessed correctly, 

Don't be shy,

Step right up to watch someone die.

Two:

Walk through this door of strife,

And you will se a gleaming

Knife.

Look around the kitchen floor,

A sight will make you pretty sore,

An image imprinted in your head,

It is time to admit it,

Step right up to find someone dead.

Three:

Walk through this door of gloom,

And you follow someone to their doom.

And as you walk past the grey slate,

You realise it is this place,

You hate,

It is filled with so much sorrow,

You dont think you can reach tomorrow.

Its OK, you are already saved.

Step right up...

To your grave.

Timeline

Let us return.

Return to the past.

Where it all seemed wrong.

Where it wouldn't last.
Let us remember.

How we all cried.

How it was all detroyed.

How we thought they lied.

Let us think.

Of here and now.

Of loves still present.

Which we allow.
Let us try,

To stem our tears.

Instead of permitting them

To fall, for years.

Let us hope,

To forget the past.

To move on to love

And know it will last.

Let us imagine,

Of futures pure,

Of happiness, 

Joy,

Of which I am sure,

One of those futures, 

Meant for two,

Will be meant,

For me,

And you.

Happiness.

Oh, it is so pure,
And it feels, so amazingly
innocent.
When love reaches out and grabs you,
when you least expect it,
and everything,
seems
perfect.

You love everything, and
everything seems to love you.
This
Is
Bliss.

There was no reason for my
Sadness, no point to my sorrow,
for emotion once again claimed me...
And I am,
for the first time,
in what seems like years
Happy.

Black

No, 

Don't

Think

That.

I

Am

Not

Who

I

Seem

To

Be.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Do not associate me with misery and pain,

Or with dark turmoil and selfless disdain,

Do not relate me to trouble and strife,

To loss of love,

And loss of life.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Do not call on me for events of sorrow,

Or use me as a word for no tomorrow,

Do not summon me by your side,

When you need an adjective,

For broken pride.

--------------------------------------------------------------

For I too, can be as cheerful as

Red, green, and all other colours too.

Do not look at my existence with spite,

for I, the colour black,

Am dark light.

Blue

Oh, how I have these winter blues.

These windows, now icy, have been stripped of their views.

These walls, now cold, have your portraits no more.

And slowly, your image, I lose.

Changing is deforming.
Rising is falling.
Growing is shrinking,

And my death is calling.

Oh, how I have these winter chills down my spine.

No longer can I call my life so divine,

The door, now closed, will open no more,

And I have not even the strength to have left a sign,

A message, a letter, a note...

Something written in midnight blue,

Something that sounds like "I love you".

Orange

Well, this is strange.

As strange as can be,

With me staring into my destiny.

I did not think it would be like this,

It seems so far away,

Like something I cannot reach,

Through a veil I cannot breach.
It is so...different than to what I want.
It is not better, or worse than my desires.
Nor is it like the dreams of selfish liars.
And to think I have to leave it behind,

For a life that I have been told to find.
It is not what I wish to do,

I wish to search, and to find you.
That is my destiny,

And what they say are lies,

And I wish it could be otherwise,

With me reaching into my life, and

Finally seeing that bright light,

which you are casting on the shadow of my love.
However, my pain shall continue, and my destiny shall rot.
The future, however beautiful,

Orange, it is not.

Blanket

I am safe underneath my blanket.

I can hide here, util everything is over.
Until I finally deem it safe to lift my head,

and look out,

to see if the storm has calmed.

It is so warm and loving here...

Unlike the places outside my haven.
It is mine, and mine only, the one place

Where I can be myself.

In this endless white tunnel, 

I see only the light. And not 

The darkness that threatens me,

The darkness that is always there,

Around me,

Above me,

Below me,

Beside me.

It is so  bittersweet, how at last

I have found peace.

But that peace is only confined in a space so small,

That one wrong moe would spoil it all.
So I have decided, to stay here,

Under my blanket,

Stay here,

Forever.

Smile.

Crippled, cold and alone.
You sit on the cold floor.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
For something that will never come.

You talk to people that pass by.
They just leave you to your despair.
You ask for compassion as you cry.
Asking for emotion which is not there.

Why do people have no soul?
Nothing to make them feel some love.
Why do people not care at all?
No joy raining from the skies above.

Why can't anyone see my pain?
The layers of sadness they undress.
Why am I still out in the rain?
They cannot find true happiness.

Why can't I find one true friend?
Selfishness will still prevail.
Why am I at my bitter end?
All my hope will one day fail.



As I walk past.
I see you.
Why are you at your bitter end?
Is there no joy raining from the skies above?
Why can you not find one true friend?
Is there nothing to make them feel some love?
Why can't anyone see your pain?
Do you not ask for compassion as you cry?
Why are you still in the rain?
Do you not ask for help as they pass by?
Why do people have no soul?
The layers of sadness, can't they undress?
Why does no-one care at all?

I will make sure you find happiness.
So you smile.
I smile.
And I take your hand.

Another Day.

Waking up without you by my side has never been easy.
Getting up, knowing you are not behind me.
Towards the door I walk, without your comforting smile.

Walking through the streets of happiness without you,
will never be easy.
I spy with my little eye something beginning with L.
Something I had the fortune to feel.
And yet something I had been cursed with.
Love is around me.
And yet,
It seems so far away.
Since you have been gone.

Returning without you is never any easier.
As I walk in through that door, knowing someone resides there no more.
I sit on the sofa for two.
Knowing it also misses you.
I sleep on one half of the double bed,
The other empty, and blood red.

Though not of colours meant to be.
Red may be the colour of love.
The case here is different, you see.
Not the one you're thinking of.
Blood red, is blood red.
Red is red.
And blood is blood.

And I pass another day.
The stain of your death always remains.

High School Musical 3 - The Review

OK, so what the hell, Zac Efron breaks the fourth fall in the first scene. He looks like he's having a fatal heart attack at this point, however, unfortunately, this is not the case. I can assure you, no movie which begins with extremely effeminite men playing basketball can end well.
To make things even worse, people begin to sing, no, I dont mean the spectators chanting, I mean the actual basketball players. Their voices are so extremely bad that this causes the spectators to grab whatever they may find and go into a tortoise shell formation to shelter theirselves from the evil voices of the basketball players.
As she is immensley ugly, Vanessa Hudgens, AKA ugly sket AKA Gabriella Montez, ignores the warnings of her friends and rises to sing her line, which makes Zac Efron realise that he needs to win, as otherwise he will be forced to listen to his girlfriend singing for the rest of eternity.
After this compilation of synthesisers and horrid choreography, We are introduced to another stereotype, who strangely enough is not gay.
He is the typical english grunge-type, and his nick name is rocketman. Elton John would NOT be proud. He somehow scores as Zac Efron throws the ball at him in the last second of the game.
WTF.
WHAT IF HE HAD MISSED??
But of course, in a High School devoid of failure, he scores.
Dammit...at least if he would've missed he would've been cut from every other scene. I cant remember what happenned next but I'm sure it involved lots and lots of pink.
Moving swiftly on from the gender confused cast, I am sure that we can at least find sanity in the only non-american person in this film, Tiara Gold (Jemma McKenzie Brown). I'm sorry, but the americans are so tired of being maken fun of they have placed this strange 14 year old with the fakest upper class british accent I've heart since I met miss gordon. Yes, she sounded like Miss Gordon. Also, she resembled billy piper, someone Im sure none of us would want to meet, but lets recap her life just to remind ourselves...
- Singer...FAIL.
- Actor...FAIL.
- Model...FAIL.
Wow...she's nearly as bad as ashley tisdale.
OK, I'm sorry fanboys, but she is about as hot as 0 on the kelvin scale. And if you're of course reading this and you like tisdale, I'm assuiming you have no idea what the Kelvin scale is, so I shall explain. 0 on the Kelvin scale is not hot at all.
And what is up with Lucas Grabeel? I mean, come on, could he get even MORE female.
Yes, yes he could.
I won't even go into any of his singing, as he reminds me of Daniel Evans from X factor. I thought, him playing a choreographer in the film, the dancing of the musical inside the musical wouldnt be nearly as bad as zac efrons eyebrows, but alas, I was proved wrong. OK, lets just leave the subplot, which involves Zac Efron choosing a university...
Sorry. Too good a chance to mock him.
"I dunno, do I play basketball, even though I'm nearly as bad as Mr Randall, (MHCHS joke), or do I go to the best performing arts school in America...ITS..SO HARD!!"
And of course, you have Vanessa Grudgens:
"I can't be more than 400 miles away form my Zackypoo....MUST NOT GO TO BEST UNIVERSITY IN A 3000 MILE RADIUS."
And then theres this scene where Zac and Corbin (Troy and Chad, for you fanboys) play around in the place where they were created. (The Junkyard, of course) and they then attempt to imitate power rangers IN SPACE, which fails as they somehow have a flashback to their childhood, where theyre wearing the same clothes, and the setting hasnt changed.
Yeah...that was weird.
Nearly as weird as Zac becoming upset as his gabbypoo cant join him for the musical. This forces his grunge-based understudy to become more of a drag queen, but more on that later.

Well, why wait.

This strange person, dresses up in nearly as much tinsel as Zac Efron himself, except of course, his voice is nearly as bad as Mr Singers. I thought we were spared HIS reappearance after we realised that Zac was returning, but no, he has to have his big role.

And of course, lets not forget how the films ends.

The budget runs out.

Causing the camera men to do a close of every single ugly face, while they just look utterly clueless. (When do they not?)

This film reminded me of "View From A Bridge" with one difference:
Zac Efron is more ambigiously camp than Rodolfo can ever be.

A Carol

As you look behind you,
Back on that one day,
Where if you tweaked one thing,
One action,
One word,
Everything would be different.

As you look behind you,
Onto that bright shade of red,
Of love,
Of hope,
You realise that it is fading each day,
It resembles now a brown,
Now a grey.

As you look behind you,
You wonder if its too late,
Too late to take back all that anger,
And that hate.
Too late to walk back through that door,
Realising no-one lives there anymore.
And yet,
You find yourself, thinking of fake
Pasts
Presents
And futures.

As the past comes by to haunt you,
You use the present to defend.
And as the future starts to daunt you,
It leads you towards your bitter end.

Sea of sorrow

Its been 5 years since I began.
Began here, and since then, I began to realise,
what it felt, to be truly,
and utterly...

One may laugh at my statement, but you would be
only one of the hundreds that laughed at me,
my essence
and my pitiful existence.

In the first year I though I felt true love,
As light as air, and as free as a dove,
And in that year I felt my heart break,
No more emotion I could take.

I tried that year,
and I failed,
and I shed one more tear,
and through the sea of them I sail.

In the second year I found a friend,
One to stand by me till the end.
In that year, much betrayal I knew,
Nothing said, was ever true.

I tried that year,
and I failed,
and I shed one more tear,
and through the sea of them I sail.

In the third year I learnt of death,
And how it can affect my life,
How it can twist our simple dreams,
And how it can end pain and strife.

I tried that year,
and I failed,
and I shed one more tear,
and through the sea of them I sail.

In the fourth year I fell so low,
Smitten by the final blow,
I felt like all had gone,
No more light through those clouds shone.

I tried that year,
and I failed,
and I shed one more tear,
and through the sea of them I sail.

In the fifth year it all went wrong,
And thats why Im writing this song.
To explain why I made the pain go away.
And why I could not take another day.

Its been 5 years since I began.
Began here, and since then, I began to realise,
what it felt, to be truly,
and utterly
despised.

In this year,
I will shed no more tears.
I will face up to my fears.
And I shall sail,
in the seas
of sorrow.

Think of me?

OK, so I admit, I may not be the most loyal,
that you have ever seen.
I may not turn up at your doorstep, with roses to
show how I feel.
I may not pamper you on your birthday, with petals and
love songs.
I may not always be the first to remember the day
when we first met.
Nor will I be the first to compliment you on the way your hair is different,
Or your make-up,
Or your clothes,
But I see these things, and what matters the most is that I may
not be the one that shows the most excitement,
But I am the one that cares the most.

I know it must be hard to you to understand,
and to believe me, but I swear it on my love,
No nuance of lies has left my mouth when it comes my affection,
for you.

Alas, all happiness has passed, and these words are no longer effective.
The time has long passed when I could say these and more to prolong
our feelings.
Maybe if I had started to notice the fraying ends of our blanket of hope,
Then I could have tied together the loose ends with the golden thread of the truth.

All that is left of that blanket is one strand, which was both the beginning, the middle...
And the end.
And as I look at your strand of hair, and at the desruction around it,
At the broken glass.
At the blackened photoframe.
And at the burnt place we once called home,
and
I wish, with all my heart,
that wherever you are,
you think of me.

Liberamente

The chains have fallen away,
And the days seem to be bright.
But when you think of yesterday,
You wish that maybe you had stayed,
And maybe if you had not taken flight,
Then those pieces of lust would not have been layed,
Haad not let him out of your sight,
The future, now dark, would have been light.

The cage has been thrown away,
And for the first time now you can sing.
Your voice can keep the dark at bay,
And yet you are still bound by a mental ring,
And all you can do, is hope, and pray,
That someday you will find someone, something,
Something you can try to say,
To just get through another day.

You realise the pain has gone away.

And although it may seem like you're free,
You're as trapped as you can be.

Con Affeto

What would you do,
If you realised the person you loved
loved you too.
Loved you...too much.

They tell you every feeling.
They ask for advice about emotion.
And they consider themselves,
lucky
to have you.

What would you do,
If the person you loved,
Loved you too.
What would you say,
If I were to mention,
It was love in another way.
How would you feel,
If I revealed the end;
That their love is only for a friend.

With everything she tells you,
About her love, you realise that it is not for you.
For every question she asks,
She asks for another.
And when she considers how lucky she is,
She means to have you,
as a friend, and that is all that you will ever be.

And yet you still look into her eyes,
Con affetto.
With affection.

Its Not Easy Being Green.

As welcoming as grass.
So easily can one be lost inside your lush imagination.

As clear as water,
So bright you glow with compassion.

Like nature itself, you thrive,
and grow.

You are the signal of progress, and change.
Which you have aided me to do many times before.

You light the path to happiness,
and not only guide us there,
you protect us on our journey.

Like an angel, you watch over us all,
and yet like an unsent soul you deliver judgment to those
who defy love and friendship.

If I were to say, that I would want you as my guardian angel,
It would still not be enough to express my love.

Then Again,
Its not easy being green.

For Ruth..As a birthday gift.

Very well, dear life, stroll away,

Away from me.

Follow the trails, which lead to me.

Ignore the countless warning signs,

That point towards your path.



For you do not need the advice.
You do not need the opinion of others, to stay as you are.
You do not change to please, nor do you please to change.


You are the only one, who seems to be the same,
whilst everyone is changing around you.
You seem to be the most sane,
Even though your sanity is questioned by ma

So let them scald you with their putrid words,
As they shall never penetrate your shell of hope.

Let them hurt you with their foul smiles,
As they can never hurt your eternal soul.

So let them adorn you with their careless words,

For your heart will not be fooled into those false desires.



Let them embellish you with their self-centred compliments,
For you know the truth behind their lies.



Look at the colours, and learn that they can never be as colourful as you.



Listen to the voices, and realise that they will never be as beautiful as your own.



Feel the many emotions which have caused tears to fall,
Knowing, that those who caused them will never know friendship at all.
Your love for all shall never end,
For every action has an equal and opposite reaction,
And as long as there is Ruthlessness,
There will always be Ruth.

Layers Of Love.

You peel one off everytime.
And yet it still exists; sublime.

You take off a piece when you try to talk it through,
Failing with every screaming "I love you".
One flakes off when you try to stop the pain,
Walking cold and alone in the burning rain.

You sacrifice a part when you are thrown against the wall,
And after the violence is over, and you are left there to fall.
You leave a piece behind when an apology is said,
Even though the blame is his, and his spirit is long dead.

You save a piece for later as you leave him behind,
Knowing you'll return to his heartless mind.
You keep one locked away in the confines of his soul,
Knowing it is so dark you will never find it at all.

You watch as it lessens everytime.
Your heart, your life, no longer sublime.
You wish that they would somehow stay,
But the layers of love have been taken away.

Broken.

You know who you are.
And you know why this has been written.
You know what you have done.
And how you left me smitten.

You knew who I was.
And knew how I loved you.
You knew my weaknesses.
And how to make my nightmares, true.

I promise I shall find you.
And I shall avenge my heart.
As you left it broken.
From the start.

Saving Private Ryan - Film Review

This film is not for the faint hearted. I offer my condolences to those simply too squeamish to see it. Apart from the fairly nostalgic scene at the prelude, the film is a frenzied denomination of disembarking terror, as Captain Miller (Tom Hanks) leads a group of star crossed troops to certain death. And guess what: most of them do die.
In spite of the difficulties they face, they delve into the dense depths of Normandy, to liberate one man. Steven Spielberg: “wanted the audience to feel the same as the green recruits”. And he certainly did just that. The events that follow seem to be much like a rhapsody, and also they seem to be just intense snap shots of de bâcle.
Anyway, this psychobabble isn’t getting us anywhere. The men seemingly lay down their lives in a frantic attempt to re-energise their hopes of saving the one man that can liberate them from total annihilation, and, in short, nothing worse than hell.
But is that statement even true? For all we are told, Ryan is just a namby pamby mummy’s boy who needs to get home ASAP. Of course, if that doesn’t happen, then he may get his brand-spanking new private’s uniform dirty. And I don’t think that any of us would ever want that to happen. But even the best of friends fight, even through a rescue mission. Alas, the troop’s experience some social discomfort, which may even slow them down from saving Saint Ryan who guards the gates to hell-umm-heaven...I meant heaven.
In between the random funny moments (and the just plain weird plank that seems to open a gateway for a hit squad of German soldiers) death and destruction also has its part to play, seeping in through the nooks and crannies of friendship, and in some cases, common sense. So enjoy the cheap idioms and puns while you can, even though most of them are not even punny.
The group’s saviour in times of need, the much hailed sniper, Barry Pepper, seems to have a way with words. That is, of course, until he blasts them out of the adversary’s head. Permanently. As he takes his post in the beginning parts of the film, we get to see a close up of his face, and now it’s our turn to look down the barrel of the gun, but also we see an eye, although part hidden by doubt, we can still the fear and certainty of death that resides there. As he prays for strength, he realises that he is doomed. If you didn’t know, in this context, doomed=dead. (Like we didn’t expect them to die anyway!)
Back to another camera angle, a deliciously gruesome one, which they have picked to show off his death, as he explodes in a spectacular fireworks display. That was my only highlight of the entire film for two reasons: one, it was very good camera work, two, I didn’t like the sniper guy (Jackson) anyway. It’s hard to believe that just moments before he was the one killing people.
Now, we go on to the music. Ah. I’m afraid to say that John Williams is getting old and senile (Just like Spielberg). His music is grey and insensitive (just like Spielberg’s hair). So dull and bland, that I cannot even remember part of the music to describe it to you. In an interview, Spielberg told us that his father told him stories of war. In my opinion, Spielberg did not listen very well. And hence, this is why he created a world of war that void of emotion and realism. Also, the music, it did not even have the ethereal magicality of Schindler’s list. Actually, it sounded more like an out of tune violin combined with nails on a chalkboard with use of a very old sound program. (Older, in fact, than Spielberg). Actually, both the former and the latter comparisons are better than the music for the film.
But let’s go back to the beginning of the film. Do you really want to waste 20 minutes watching people die? And if they do survive, their limbs end up getting blown off. After that piece of simple gore, we are made to realise the monotonous plots. Suddenly, the film version of Harry Potter and the Order of The Phoenix doesn’t seem to bad, does it? (I only meant the subplots, the rest of the film is too appalling to describe). And, hey presto, the plot is:
8 MEN SAVE ONE MAN
That should have been read in a monotonous voice. We may as well get some shut-eye now as that’s the plot the entire way through.
And talking of men, where are all the women in this film? Did they not have a part to play? It is quite clear that where sweaty male soldiers lie, interesting subplots do not. It is typical in war films. (Cough cough cough). I mean, even Schindler’s list was worse than this (cough wink nudge).
When we see Adam Goldberg, portraying the Jewish Private Mellish, weep to the heavens as he casts his eye on a Hitler youth knife-WOW-real sentimentality,-no, it is revealed to us that it is just another object of murder. The next time we see this knife, it is buried in Mellish’s chest. Spielberg has to relate it all to death, doesn’t he? The knife that broke his heart once did it again, albeit now, the meaning was quite literal.
Actually, we may as well stab ourselves now, as watching the film would probably have the same effect. It’s all like a tragic melodrama, but without the mellow. (Actually it really isn’t that dramatic either, as we expected them to die anyway). The film does not even have the otherworldly touch of ET, though it does have double helpings of Tom Hanks’ and Barry Pepper’s good looks, even though they probably look worse and act worse than ET anyway. For all of the 53 nominations it achieved, to me it’s just another director trying (and failing) to portray a war.
Verdict:
Spielberg: you should have stuck to sci-fi.

My Great Escape

This is my entry from a random competition AGES ago, that I wasnt bothered to enter, as it wanted me to go up to reception. It was entitled "My Great Escape"

"Hundreds of cars, buses, and people have stopped. They look up. The boy does not notice these people. He does not notice anything.
On the mirrored glass building he is nothing but a speck of darkness.
His life was full of pain. Torment. Anger.
And he was always, so very alone.
All these people were shouting at him, screaming, pleading, people trying to reach him, people desperately grasping at him. He takes a step forward. He is on the edge. He is crying. The tear falls.
Down.
Down.
Down.
In that tear, all the hurt and pain that the boy has felt is symbolised. His entire life, reflected in that tiny drop of water. Like the boy, it is alone.
The tear hits the ground. It shatters, just like his dreams did many years ago. The boy looks around. There are people, above, below, and beside him. They are talking. He cannot hear them. There is only one thing which cuts through the sadness in his mind.
It's his mother's voice. She is talking to him.
"It's going to be OK. All you have to do is come with us"
The boys tears now freely fall, and he whispers
"I'm coming"

The boy jumps.
He falls,
Down
Down
Down
Towards his parents.
They are smiling.
They are waiting with open arms.
They are happy to see him.
He is almost there.
His parents look up at him.
They are happy.
He falls into their open arms,
And they are together again.
He is not alone.

The boy has escaped.
From life."