Creative Challenge

We were divided into two teams, having to create a challenge that would take no more than 30 minutes to solve. And we had to solve BOTH our own challenge and the one given by the other team.  Our challenge and the result were:

Write new lyrics to the melody of "Twinkle, twinkle little star" with a horror theme. The lyrics MUST contain the words cuddly, pink and precious AND the character Hitler, but you may NOT use the words dark/black, evil or blood.

Our new lyrics:

"On a pink eve-ning I saw
little precious Hitler thaw
up the pieces of his wife
then he used his little knife
and my stomach went all bubbly
when he started look all cuddly"

The challenge given by the other team was as follows:

Something happens by the road in the middle of the night. You may not use the same words twice, except for he, she, it, and, or etc. The text can not contain any feelings/emotions of any kind. The rest is up to you.

And this is our result, performed like a safety briefing in a plane:

"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to deadly AlpTours nightly adventures. For legal purpose you will now be showed an emergency instructional video.

Familiarize yourself with the exits, situated in the front, the back and the middle of the vehicle.

* If you are puking, do so in the toilet for the convenience of all travelers.

* If the bus slips over the edge and tumbles down the mountain side multiple times, please remain seated and keep your seatbelt on.

*If surviving the crash, make sure to feed the most injured passengers to the waiting wolves, assuring they will not chase you as you run.

*If you can´t move - PRAY!

We hope you´ll have a nice trip and thank you for travelling with us!"

Poetry Slam 3 - I have only one question for you

I only have one question for you.

WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!?

What in Heavens name went through your mind, doing that to me?

Don´t you realize the affect your actions had upon me, rendering me completely defensless?

Maybe you thought you were entitled to do that, but it can never be taken back.
Because I´m forever altered, living in the aftermath.

Can´t you see me?
The way I shiver when I see you
My body quaking when remembering the impact of your touch.

I fear I will lose it completely.
And it´s YOUR fault, treating me like that.

What the HELL where you thinking????

Well, I only wanna say one more thing to you now...



PLEASE...kiss me again!!!

Poetry Slam 2 - Borrowed time

I´m living on borrowed time
I know it to be true
And when that time has ended
There´s something I have to do
Because like all loans this have
An interest needed to be paid
In order to settle my debt
The only currency excepted here
Is fulfilled dreams
Proof that I have really lived

Poetry Slam 1 - Beauty

What is beauty?
Can anyone say for sure?
It´s easy to find it in
the petal of a struggling flower
or in a colorful setting sun
but it takes more courage
to find beauty in hard words
and a loaded gun.
But even what seems dark
and twisted
can hold a grain of light
making it beautiful
all its sorrow and pain despite.

E-assignment 4 - free choice

There are no locked doors


I guess I was no older than six at the time and the first apples of autumn had just fallen to the soft and damp ground. Outside the rain was hanging in the air, like it was waiting for something to give it permission to fall and enter the soil below. I stood there, under the apple tree, and looked at one of the apples, watching how a drop of water slowly ran along the crimson red surface, parting the crystal of last night’s frost on its way. Down my cheeks tears were flowing, only to turn to ice at my chin. It was cold outside, but I didn´t notice, all I noticed was the cold fire burning inside me, summoned by this morning passed events.

My bare feet had gently crossed the dark carpet, a carpet that used to be soft as new snow but now shattered glass filled its soft fluff, making it hard like hate. I was breathing soundlessly, while my eyes watchfully glanced over the now dead silent room. I wasn´t quite sure what had passed, only that I´d woken when I heard loud and angry voices crossing the fibers of the thin door from the hallway outside my room. Loud voices mixed with the sound of glass being shattered when meeting hard walls and the softer sound of shards raining down into the wall-to-wall carpet.

Hard walls and hard words.

After a few terrifying minutes filled with the very sounds of horror, the white door opened and my mother entered. Without a sound she lay beside me and kissed my forehead. I could clearly see her tears glittering in the faint light from the street light and not even the cover of darkness could conceal the redness on her cheek. I knew that the only thing we could do now was to lay there and wait. Wait and hope that the worst part had passed and the door would not open once again, letting another person in. Silently we lay there, holding each other, listening to our breaths bouncing between the walls, bouncing through the silence. Then the darkness within grew thicker, spreading in the room around our shivering bodies. Many minutes passed while laying there, trying to comfort each other with our warmth. To the sound of my mother’s breath I finally managed to fall asleep, only to wake again shortly after. My mother’s breath now was calmer and her teary eyes shut. I stayed really quite beside her sleeping figure, hearing our hearts unite in a common rhythm, a rhythm that held the promise of love and tenderness, that held the dream of a safe life. I held on to that moment, held it in my thoughts like a newborn butterfly, when I suddenly hear my father´s car leaving the driveway. Gently I left the safe arms of my mother and entered the hallway, closing the door behind me. I crossed the carpet, carefully so that I would not step on the glass covering it, and I reached the stairs. Without a sound I left the house and walked barefoot out into the garden.

The morning was so beautiful with the morning dew still lingering in the air and the red autumn apples that just had fallen to the soft ground seemed to be filled with such a will to live, to hang on to this world yet some time. I looked at them with my teary child eyes and I prayed to God that I too could be an apple on the big tree of life and that I could be granted the time to ripe. To ripe in piece, safe under the crown of the tree, without being torn and destroyed by big, black birds before my time to fall has come.

e-assignment 3 part 1 - I choose haiku

Falling, free falling
Birds fly high over head
Crying you are dead

New born angel

This blackest among black days I lost my muse
she became another victim of domestic abuse.
finally she couldn´t stand
another hard touch from his cold hand.
´cause playing with other people´s lives
is like making them walk on red-heated knives.
So therefore, when I call your name in vain
all that greets me is even more merciless pain.
´cause all that lingers in the silence
is the memory of meaningless violence.
I might be standing here and cry,
but I know now you´re flying high.