I have officially decided that CSI:NY is better than CSI because the stories are grittier, the setting is must more atmospheric and I prefer the characters...
I am quite tired and am going to leave you with a poem... OH! BTW, I have started writing some new material because the poetry competition (explain more next time) has come around again but currently they are on my memory stick, which is downstairs and I cba to go and get it... but here is one from last year.
Clouds of Dreams
As I watched her sleep,
Peacefully in her bed,
She slept and dreamt alone.
In her dreams the bosoms of love surrounded her,
And the sweeping sensation of the silence,
Which took her to the arrival of the lamb.
In the dream that night,
She was alone on a cloud,
A cloud on which she was allowed to scream,
Deep depression of unknown sympathy
And monotone.
The dream of which she dreamt that night,
She received the unperceived gift of laughter,
And she saw in the far away distance she saw the red,
The sun on which the food is raised,
An oven ready for fought battles.
A thief of succession and fortune,
And calligraphy of the cover of placebo,
The name of the cloud on which she took the name in vain,
Returning to the dream in which she dreamt that night.
She woke in the morning,
She felt no different,
She could not remember,
Me watching her,
Asleep,
The sad unfortunate warrior.
As I watched her sleep,
Peacefully in her bed,
She slept and dreamt alone.
In her dreams the bosoms of love surrounded her,
And the sweeping sensation of the silence,
Which took her to the arrival of the lamb.
In the dream that night,
She was alone on a cloud,
A cloud on which she was allowed to scream,
Deep depression of unknown sympathy
And monotone.
The dream of which she dreamt that night,
She received the unperceived gift of laughter,
And she saw in the far away distance she saw the red,
The sun on which the food is raised,
An oven ready for fought battles.
A thief of succession and fortune,
And calligraphy of the cover of placebo,
The name of the cloud on which she took the name in vain,
Returning to the dream in which she dreamt that night.
She woke in the morning,
She felt no different,
She could not remember,
Me watching her,
Asleep,
The sad unfortunate warrior.
And on a finishing note: Mark Ronson is my hero and I break up for Easter in one four days... all the more time for revision, the exams are just a couple of weeks away now!
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