Search results for rapes at work
![Make It Work [[Episode Twelve: The Worst Father Ever]] Part](http://img.youtube.com/vi/c5-Z6Lf6KSs/2.jpg "Make It Work [[Episode Twelve: The Worst Father Ever]] Part")
21, 
00:30, 
2008-04-16 17:58:35 Description: RECAP: Kevin and Rhynae went to get a beach house...
***Giselle***
(She gets home 20 minutes after Kevin and Rhynae leave)
Giselle: Okay. So shower, change clothes and go. Maybe a (More) RECAP: Kevin and Rhynae went to get a beach house...
***Giselle***
(She gets home 20 minutes after Kevin and Rhynae leave)
Giselle: Okay. So shower, change clothes and go. Maybe a little snack.
(She fumbles thru her drawers to get her party clothes, then heads to the shower)
Giselle: (Singing) Touch my body, lay me on the floor, wrestle me around, play with me some more....
(The front door opens and shuts. Giselle assumes it's Lindsey, so she doesn't pay any attention. As she comes out of the shower, in her towel, hears footsteps on the stairs. Still not caring, she enters her room and removes her towel)
???: (Man's voice) My you've grown up.
(Giselle screams and grabs the towel to cover herself. The man walks completely into her room)
???: (Pulling on her towel) Don't try to cover up now. I wasn't done looking.
Giselle: RICK, YOU FUCKING PEDOPHILE! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ROOM!
Rick: (Slaps her) DON'T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT, I'M YOUR FATHER AND YOU WILL RESPECT ME!
Giselle: (Getting angrier) YOU'RE NOT MY DAMN DADDY ANYMORE! NOW GET THE HELL OUT! (Swings back)
Rick: (Catches her arm and pulls her close) So you're all grown up now? Then you can do what grown ups do. (Yanks the towel away and forcefully kisses her)
Giselle: (Shaking her head side to side to dodge the kisses) RICK STOP!
Rick: (Slams her back against the wall, holds her hands over her head with one hand and touches her with the other) I'll do what I want and you're gonna like it.
Giselle: (Kicks him in his stomach then punches him in the face) GO TO HELL YOU FUCKING PERV!
(Giselle tries to run but Rick clotheslines her, throws her on the bed, pins her down and takes off his clothes)
Rick: You little BITCH! You're gonna get what you deserve you little slut.
Giselle: (Trying to fight back) Rick, please don't do this.
Rick: Oh you're begging. I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!
{AN: THIS MAY GET A LITTLE GRAPHIC}
(Rick spreads her legs and goes in. He rubs and licks her while he rapes her, slapping and punching whenever she fights back. Giselle keeps fighting throughout Rick's beatings and trying not to cry. She can't believe he's doing this to her....again. He penetrates harder and harder causing Giselle extreme pain. The entire time she's pleading for him to stop; no one there to rescue her. He pulls out, grabs her by her hair and forces her to perform oral sex on him. He does all kinds of things that no person should ever experience. He holds her down by her neck with one hand and penetrates her again, this time rougher than before. He climaxes, while inside of her, touches her a few more minutes and leaves the house)
(Giselle lays on her bed curled into a ball and crying. This time was, by far, the worst. She felt disgusting; like she asked for it. She dries her tears, showers again, dresses provocatively and heads to Joe's for the party to distract her from what Rick did)
Nick: (Answers the door) Hey Giz. Whoa.
Giselle: (Smiles) Hey to you too. (Winks and walks into the house)
Nick: (Staring at her) Uh. Uh. J-Joe! Giz is hot. I MEAN HERE!
Lindsey: (Hears Nick and goes to where they are) Nick, what the- (Sees Giselle) What the hell?
Giselle: Don?t hate cuz you're man is staring at me and not you.
Lindsey: (Shocked) What the fuck has gotten into you?
Giselle: (Pictures what just happened with Rick and her face drops) N-Nothing.
(Joe comes down the stairs and tries to hug and kiss her, but she pull away)
Joe: (Confused) What's wrong? Did I do something?
Giselle: No. I just need a little air. (Goes to the backyard and sits)
(Everyone looks at each other with confused expressions)
Joe: I'll come with you. (Follows her)
~~WHOA! Rick is so SICK!!! That's unforgivable! I can't even imagine...even if I did write it. Will there be problems at the party, seeing how Nick reacted to her attire? Catch episode thirteen!~~ (Less)
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856, 08:25, 2007-11-27 16:07:18 Description: The purpose of this article is to show how the barbaric nature of Islam manifests itself in the cruel treatment of women.
1. Lets start with the "great" Mohammed himself, the founder of (More) The purpose of this article is to show how the barbaric nature of Islam manifests itself in the cruel treatment of women.
1. Lets start with the "great" Mohammed himself, the founder of this "fabulous" faith. Mohammed was married to Khadija Bibi, his employer and 15 years his senior. At that time Mohammed was 25 years old. He was Khadija Bibi's third husband. Khadija Bibi was a widow when she married Mohammed. For the first time in his life, Mohammed enjoyed a luxurious life.
This shows the parasitic nature of Mohammed who married his employer so that he can live a rich life without putting in a single day's work.
2. Khadija Bibi died when Mohammed was 49 years old. Between the ages of 49 and 63 the "great prophet" married at least 11 times.
This shows how he treated the institution of marriage. For him, women were nothing but objects for sexual fulfillment. Marrying at least 11 women in 14 years throws light on his insatiable sexual appetite.
Read on about the "greatness" of this prophet.
3. Mohammed's favourite wife was Ayesha Bibi who was 6 years old when she was married to him.
Marrying a 6 year old baby clearly shows that Mohammed was not only a womanizer but also a child molester.
4. Mohammed's adopted son Zayed was married to Zainab, daughter of Jahsh. But one day the prophet "beheld in a loose undress, the beauty of Zainab, and burst forth into an ejaculation of devotion and desire. The servile, or greatful, freeman (Zayed) understood the hint and yielded without hesitation to the love of the benefactor."
Mohammed was not satisfied with his own overflowing harem and had to marry his son's wife. His son being a devoted follower of the "great" prophet was more than happy to divorce his wife. What a great father-in-law Mohammed was, a model for all Islamic father-in-laws!
http://www.prophetofdoom.net/ http://www.thereligionofpeace.com/ http://www.faithfreedom.org/Articles/JenniferKing50718.htm (Less)
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17, 00:56, 2007-11-06 09:54:54 Description: Janet Kuypers performed this poem in the live Chicago feature at the Beach Poets (Loyola Beacg, Chicago) August 14th, 2005. Because this is a live venue on the beach, there were no microhpones, and (More) Janet Kuypers performed this poem in the live Chicago feature at the Beach Poets (Loyola Beacg, Chicago) August 14th, 2005. Because this is a live venue on the beach, there were no microhpones, and since Janet Kuypers has a bit of distance between her and the camera (and there is also a bit of wind off of Lake Michigan in Chicago) it is often not very easy to hear the poems from this show. But if you want to either see the full show, or hear studio mp3 recordings from this show, go to the web page http://www.janetkuypers.com/janetkuypers-dot-com--files/beach-poets08-14-05.htm to get the sudio clips, or even the chapbook that was released on the same day with this event.
This is the original poem:
Burn It In
Once I was at a beach
off the west coast of Florida
it was New Year's eve
and the yellow moon hung over the gulf
like a swaying lantern.
And I was watching the waves crash in front of me
with a friend
and the wind picked up
and my friend just stared at that moon for a while
and then closed his eyes.
I asked him what he was thinking.
He said, "I wanted to look at this scene,
and memorize it, burn it into my brain,
record it in my mind, so I can call it up when I want to.
So I can have it with me always."
I too have my recorders.
I burn these things into my brain,
I burn these things onto pages.
I pick and choose what needs to be said,
what needs to be remembered.
Every year, at the end of the year
I used to write in a journal
recall the things that happened to me
log in all of the memories I needed to keep
because that was what kept me sane
that was what kept me alive.
When I first went to college
I was studying to be a computer science
engineer, I wanted to make a lot of money
I wanted to beat everyone else
because burned in my brain were the taunts
of kids who were in cliques
so others could do the thinking for them
because burned in my brain were the evenings
of the high school dances I never went to
because burned in my brain were the people
I knew I was better than
who thought they were better than me.
Well, yes, I wanted to make a lot of money
I wanted to beat everyone else
but I hated what I was doing
I hated what I saw around me
hated all the pain people put each other through
and all of these memories just kept flooding me
so in my spare time
to keep me sane, to keep me alive
I wrote down the things I could not say
that was how I recorded things.
When I looked around me, and saw friends
raping my friends
I wrote, I burned into these nightmares with a pen
and yes, I have this recorded
I have all of this recorded.
What did you think I was doing
when I was stuffing hand-written notes into my pockets
or typing long hours into the night?
In college, I had two roommates
who in their spare time would watch movies in our living room
and cross-stitch. I never understood this.
In my spare time, I was not watching other's stories
or weaving thread to keep my hands busy
I was sitting in the corner of a cafe
scribbling into my notebook.
I was sitting in the university computer lab
slamming my hands, my fingers against the keyboard
because there were too many atrocities in the world
too many injustices that I had witnessed
too many people who had wronged me
and I had a lot of work to do.
There had to be a record of what you've done.
Did you think your crimes would go unpunished?
And did you think that you could come back, years later,
slap me on the back with a friendly hello
and think I wouldn't remember?
You see, that's what I have my poems for
so there will always be a record
of what you have done
I have defiled many pages
in your honor, you who swung
your battle ax high above your head
and thought no one would remember in the end.
Well, I made a point to remember.
Yes, I have defiled many pages
and have you defiled many women?
You, the man who rapes my friends?
You, the man who rapes my sisters?
You, the man who rapes me?
Is this what makes you a strong man?
you want to know why I do the things I do
I had to record these things
that is what kept me together
when people were dying
that is what kept me together
when my friends went off to war
that is what kept me together
when my friends were raped
and left for dead
that is what kept me together
when no one bothered to notice this
or change this
or care about this
these recordings kept me together
I need to record these things
to remind myself
of where I came from
I need to record these things
to remind myself
that there are things to value
and things to hate
I need to record these things
to remind myself
that there are things worth fighting for
worth dying for
I need to record these things
to remind myself
that I am alive (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: 08/14/05 2005 August Beach Chicago Janet Kuypers Loyola performance poem poetry Poets reading show www.janetkuypers.com
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42, 00:00, 2008-04-21 17:25:48 Description: A 11 Year OLD girl raped repeatedly By A Judge Hickman who made the child have a baby we want the DNA and I am are not going away Grand Bank Nfld Across From St Pierre et miquelon Chief Justice (More) A 11 Year OLD girl raped repeatedly By A Judge Hickman who made the child have a baby we want the DNA and I am are not going away Grand Bank Nfld Across From St Pierre et miquelon Chief Justice Hickman of Nfld supreme court Raped A 11 year Old Girl For His Election gift at ,The Loyal orange Lodge Hid Judges Rape Of 11 year Old Girl Grand Bank NewFoundLand A samll town on the South west coast of Newfoundland next to St pierre et Miquelon This Family was abused and prosecuted By the whole town of Grand Bank Nfld For Reporting The abuse and incest in his family to the Authority doctors rcmp every body , The Kids were sold for anythings booze ,pills ,food ,clothing, anything to neighbors ,friend ,business people around town and the Minister of justice made the 11 year old kid pregnant we need the DNA And will not give up until this is dealt with the kid has no reason to lie .3 sisters one other brother reported the rapes to the rcmp repeatedly nothing was hear ever ,after each time The Chief Justice of Nfld supreme court Raped A 11 year old girl ,Repeatedly Raped A kid , impregnated her And Danny Williams still hiding it from Non Government Newfoundland. Chief Justice Hickman of Nfld supreme court Raped A 11 year Old Girl For His Election gift at ,The Loyal orange Lodge , during the winning election party Just after lunch time, Les Douglas Was on the door and keeped her 13 year old Brother out and wouldn,t allow him in but let the little 11 year old sister in 10 mins later the newly elected Chief Justices minster Hickman went opstairs with the child ,the 13 year old brother was stopped again by Les Douglas of grand bank Nfld who told her 13 year old Brother to get Out Of here you little Bastard and Mr Douglas closed the door Stopping the kid from yelling to his sister to come with him. His Mother Got A blind person pension To let chief justice hickman have his election gift rape of a child ,His Mother Was Holding the 11 year old childs arms while Chief Justice Hickman of Nfld supreme court Raped A 11 year Old Girl For His Election gift his mother continued to drive every day with a blind persons pension that was a gift for the rape the 11 year old kid got pregnant that day. Byron Prior's 40-year struggle to bring to justice high level political and legal figures in Newfoundland, Canada, who sexually abused his family. Country: Canada Judge Hickman Interests and Hobbies: as a country we have to put a end to Byron Prior's 40-year struggle with newfoundland government pedigree that has infested the province for ever this will end we are setting up a network to report the governments dirty secrets we will leave no family pedigree untouched the government of that place are Freemasons to the death thats the way it will be (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: Are Daddy Destroying For Government Hid If Mommy Monsters Newfoundland Nfld Or The TheRapedKid They Work Your
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59, 04:03, 2008-04-21 18:50:57 Description: A 11 Year OLD girl raped repeatedly By A Judge Hickman who made the child have a baby we want the DNA and I am are not going away Grand Bank Nfld Across From St Pierre et miquelon Chief Justice (More) A 11 Year OLD girl raped repeatedly By A Judge Hickman who made the child have a baby we want the DNA and I am are not going away Grand Bank Nfld Across From St Pierre et miquelon Chief Justice Hickman of Nfld supreme court Raped A 11 year Old Girl For His Election gift at ,The Loyal orange Lodge Hid Judges Rape Of 11 year Old Girl Grand Bank NewFoundLand A samll town on the South west coast of Newfoundland next to St pierre et Miquelon This Family was abused and prosecuted By the whole town of Grand Bank Nfld For Reporting The abuse and incest in his family to the Authority doctors rcmp every body , The Kids were sold for anythings booze ,pills ,food ,clothing, anything to neighbors ,friend ,business people around town and the Minister of justice made the 11 year old kid pregnant we need the DNA And will not give up until this is dealt with the kid has no reason to lie .3 sisters one other brother reported the rapes to the rcmp repeatedly nothing was hear ever ,after each time The Chief Justice of Nfld supreme court Raped A 11 year old girl ,Repeatedly Raped A kid , impregnated her And Danny Williams still hiding it from Non Government Newfoundland. Chief Justice Hickman of Nfld supreme court Raped A 11 year Old Girl For His Election gift at ,The Loyal orange Lodge , during the winning election party Just after lunch time, Les Douglas Was on the door and keeped her 13 year old Brother out and wouldn,t allow him in but let the little 11 year old sister in 10 mins later the newly elected Chief Justices minster Hickman went opstairs with the child ,the 13 year old brother was stopped again by Les Douglas of grand bank Nfld who told her 13 year old Brother to get Out Of here you little Bastard and Mr Douglas closed the door Stopping the kid from yelling to his sister to come with him. His Mother Got A blind person pension To let chief justice hickman have his election gift rape of a child ,His Mother Was Holding the 11 year old childs arms while Chief Justice Hickman of Nfld supreme court Raped A 11 year Old Girl For His Election gift his mother continued to drive every day with a blind persons pension that was a gift for the rape the 11 year old kid got pregnant that day. Byron Prior's 40-year struggle to bring to justice high level political and legal figures in Newfoundland, Canada, who sexually abused his family. Country: Canada Judge Hickman Interests and Hobbies: as a country we have to put a end to Byron Prior's 40-year struggle with newfoundland government pedigree that has infested the province for ever this will end we are setting up a network to report the governments dirty secrets we will leave no family pedigree untouched the government of that place are Freemasons to the death thats the way it will be (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: Are Daddy Destroying For Government Hid If Mommy Monsters Newfoundland Nfld Or The TheRapedKid They Work Your
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8, 00:56, 2008-04-22 10:23:50 Description: Janet Kuypers performed this poem in the live Chicago feature at the Beach Poets (Loyola Beacg, Chicago) August 14th, 2005. Because this is a live venue on the beach, there were no microhpones, and (More) Janet Kuypers performed this poem in the live Chicago feature at the Beach Poets (Loyola Beacg, Chicago) August 14th, 2005. Because this is a live venue on the beach, there were no microhpones, and since Janet Kuypers has a bit of distance between her and the camera (and there is also a bit of wind off of Lake Michigan in Chicago) it is often not very easy to hear the poems from this show. But if you want to either see the full show, or hear studio mp3 recordings from this show, go to the web page http://www.janetkuypers.com/janetkuypers-dot-com--files/beach-poets08-14-05.htm to get the sudio clips, or even the chapbook that was released on the same day with this event. This is the original poem: Burn It In Once I was at a beach off the west coast of Florida it was New Year's eve and the yellow moon hung over the gulf like a swaying lantern. And I was watching the waves crash in front of me with a friend and the wind picked up and my friend just stared at that moon for a while and then closed his eyes. I asked him what he was thinking. He said, "I wanted to look at this scene, and memorize it, burn it into my brain, record it in my mind, so I can call it up when I want to. So I can have it with me always." I too have my recorders. I burn these things into my brain, I burn these things onto pages. I pick and choose what needs to be said, what needs to be remembered. Every year, at the end of the year I used to write in a journal recall the things that happened to me log in all of the memories I needed to keep because that was what kept me sane that was what kept me alive. When I first went to college I was studying to be a computer science engineer, I wanted to make a lot of money I wanted to beat everyone else because burned in my brain were the taunts of kids who were in cliques so others could do the thinking for them because burned in my brain were the evenings of the high school dances I never went to because burned in my brain were the people I knew I was better than who thought they were better than me. Well, yes, I wanted to make a lot of money I wanted to beat everyone else but I hated what I was doing I hated what I saw around me hated all the pain people put each other through and all of these memories just kept flooding me so in my spare time to keep me sane, to keep me alive I wrote down the things I could not say that was how I recorded things. When I looked around me, and saw friends raping my friends I wrote, I burned into these nightmares with a pen and yes, I have this recorded I have all of this recorded. What did you think I was doing when I was stuffing hand-written notes into my pockets or typing long hours into the night? In college, I had two roommates who in their spare time would watch movies in our living room and cross-stitch. I never understood this. In my spare time, I was not watching other's stories or weaving thread to keep my hands busy I was sitting in the corner of a cafe scribbling into my notebook. I was sitting in the university computer lab slamming my hands, my fingers against the keyboard because there were too many atrocities in the world too many injustices that I had witnessed too many people who had wronged me and I had a lot of work to do. There had to be a record of what you've done. Did you think your crimes would go unpunished? And did you think that you could come back, years later, slap me on the back with a friendly hello and think I wouldn't remember? You see, that's what I have my poems for so there will always be a record of what you have done I have defiled many pages in your honor, you who swung your battle ax high above your head and thought no one would remember in the end. Well, I made a point to remember. Yes, I have defiled many pages and have you defiled many women? You, the man who rapes my friends? You, the man who rapes my sisters? You, the man who rapes me? Is this what makes you a strong man? you want to know why I do the things I do I had to record these things that is what kept me together when people were dying that is what kept me together when my friends went off to war that is what kept me together when my friends were raped and left for dead that is what kept me together when no one bothered to notice this or change this or care about this these recordings kept me together I need to record these things to remind myself of where I came from I need to record these things to remind myself that there are things to value and things to hate I need to record these things to remind myself that there are things worth fighting for worth dying for I need to record these things to remind myself that I am alive (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: 08/14/05 2005 August Beach Chicago Janet Kuypers Loyola performance poem poetry Poets reading show www.janetkuypers.com
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17, 07:31, 2007-09-22 21:44:31 Description: Akiha:Okay you two I'm going to school see you later...*sigh*
SHIKI and I grinned and that was our que!
Shikis:Happy Birthday Akiha!!!
Akiha was smiling from ear to ear.
Akiha:Oh you two (More) Akiha:Okay you two I'm going to school see you later...*sigh*
SHIKI and I grinned and that was our que!
Shikis:Happy Birthday Akiha!!!
Akiha was smiling from ear to ear.
Akiha:Oh you two Remembered!!!
She gave each of us a hug headed down the hall. Akiha seemed to have a slight bounce in her step as she entered the elevator..
SHIKI: Why are you so worried? Are you afraid something is going to happen to Akiha?
Shiki:No that's not really it.. Its ju-
A click was heard...
????:KYAAAA!!! a cockroach!
Wait I recognize that monotone scream..
SHIKI:THAT WAS AKIHA!!
Oh god her we go again...
Shiki: We have been over this before!!!
THAT IS A RECORDING!!!!MY GOD ARE YOU REALLY THAT DENSE?!
Damn it hasn't been that long since the mini story has it?! (Forth wall broken)
SHIKI:One of us needs to protect Akiha you coldhea-
Shiki: Agh forget it I'm leaving...
This guy hasn't changed a bit since last year! I planted one foot on the window sill not to far of a jump if I land on the awning...
Shiki: See you later SHIKI
SHIKI: You too I'M COMING AKIHA!!!
As I jumped down from the second floor of the hotel the hollow sound of a frying pan smashing onto a hard object and Kohaku's joyous laughter filled the air...So lets see what I can do...Akiha would be at the Asagami Private Girls Academy for the majority of the day... and SHIKI probably forgot to get Akiha a present...might as well cover his ass...this is going to be so boring....
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
Arihiko:Geeze it's been a year how have you been?
Me and Arihiko had met by the bench in the local playground where I always used to sit
Shiki:Pretty well how about you?
Arihiko: Not particularly well Satsuki has gone missing all of a sudden...
Ahh thats right Arihiko was trying to go out with Satsuki and well apparently she had fallen for him...
Shiki: I think she is visiting relatives....
Well actually Satsuki had just finished treatment at the organization's medical center and was and we should see her in about a day if I remember what the doctor said correctly...we pasted time just chatting catching what I missed...
Arihiko looked at his watch
Arihiko: Agh great I've got to go Nice seeing you again!
Shiki:Yeah you too Arihiko!
I then stay at the piers to watch the boats when I heard someone approaching...
????:Shiki Tohno?
I turned around...Crap!I responded so saying I'm some one else won't work and SHIKI is unavailable to play scapegoat ...Ah to hell with it!
Shiki:...Yes....and you are....?
????: You'll find out sooner or later..
Her hair and her clothing were of the same dark shade an unnatural looking black. Is that some sort of fashion statement nowadays? Wait are those-
A sharp pain in my chest interrupted my train of thought...they were. Claws...the pain was unbearable I looked up at the woman she had an unbearably smug look on her face...
????:Well I hope you'll provide a better challenge than the last aberration* I faced...
Could she have forced the switch?! No time to think about it...I drew my knife...I had some time to kill...
*Aberration in this context refers any non-human and although Shiki is human Nanaya's movement patterns would suggest otherwise to most people possibly even other demon hunters!
________________________________
Match 1-
Yup another Satsujinki vs Arcueid Video only this time I plan on keeping the actual character (WHO IS NOT ARCUEID) alive for more than one video :P
Arcueid by Kuro
My god she has to be the most broken character I have faced in a while! She made my Mugen crash 2 out of every 3 times I tried to record! Does she deserve fair treatment? HELL NO!!!
LvL5 AI's ARE CRAP
- Broken super combos which take off half of your health
- Uber Broken Shielding
- Crazy damage
- Chain grapples you
-If you win with over half heath she stays permanently red
-RED MODE IS BROKEN AS A MOTHER...cow..
- Infinite Super while red
- ANNOYING DEFENSE WHILE RED!!!
- Almost all attacks are classified as projectiles so Parries are made 100% harder if not impossible
- Combo rapes you to no end
-Spams arc drives during arc drives
-Pulls off insta-killer last arcs
-Can go red at random
- Block whore
- Impossible to naturally counter because several of her attacks are not connected to her allowing her to continue the attack even if she is knocked down
Weaknesses
-Because she blocks in mid air multi hit attacks and air grapple are your friends
-High damage attacks work wonders
-Won't stay Red if you win with below half health
-OHKO in the second round will save you a lot of trouble....
Match two:
About time I got to doing this huh? After admiring her AI and other people play with her I finally decided to add her to the team...sadly the physics in mugen screwed me up badly (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: 5 AIS Akiha AM and Arcuied ARE CRAP! DEAD GLAD GOD I Initiation IS LEVEL MY OH Shiki SO THIS Vermillion Vs WOMAN
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19, 05:22, 2008-01-22 10:36:22 Description: Janet Kuypers reads the original poem "Burn It In", which mentions water (somehow), over a boat riding in the Pacific Ocean in the end of December 2007. Actually, this video footage was shot (More) Janet Kuypers reads the original poem "Burn It In", which mentions water (somehow), over a boat riding in the Pacific Ocean in the end of December 2007. Actually, this video footage was shot while traveling among the Galapagos Islands, where Kuypers thought the background was a serene setting for reaing poetry.
For more information on the writing of Janet Kuypers (or artwork, including photography form the Galapagos Islands), go to http://www.janetkuypers.com to read more of her work.
This is the original poem:
Burn It In
Once I was at a beach
off the west coast of Florida
it was New Year's eve
and the yellow moon hung over the gulf
like a swaying lantern.
And I was watching the waves crash in front of me
with a friend
and the wind picked up
and my friend just stared at that moon for a while
and then closed his eyes.
I asked him what he was thinking.
He said, "I wanted to look at this scene,
and memorize it, burn it into my brain,
record it in my mind, so I can call it up when I want to.
So I can have it with me always."
I too have my recorders.
I burn these things into my brain,
I burn these things onto pages.
I pick and choose what needs to be said,
what needs to be remembered.
Every year, at the end of the year
I used to write in a journal
recall the things that happened to me
log in all of the memories I needed to keep
because that was what kept me sane
that was what kept me alive.
When I first went to college
I was studying to be a computer science
engineer, I wanted to make a lot of money
I wanted to beat everyone else
because burned in my brain were the taunts
of kids who were in cliques
so others could do the thinking for them
because burned in my brain were the evenings
of the high school dances I never went to
because burned in my brain were the people
I knew I was better than
who thought they were better than me.
Well, yes, I wanted to make a lot of money
I wanted to beat everyone else
but I hated what I was doing
I hated what I saw around me
hated all the pain people put each other through
and all of these memories just kept flooding me
so in my spare time
to keep me sane, to keep me alive
I wrote down the things I could not say
that was how I recorded things.
When I looked around me, and saw friends
raping my friends
I wrote, I burned into these nightmares with a pen
and yes, I have this recorded
I have all of this recorded.
What did you think I was doing
when I was stuffing hand-written notes into my pockets
or typing long hours into the night?
In college, I had two roommates
who in their spare time would watch movies in our living room
and cross-stitch. I never understood this.
In my spare time, I was not watching other's stories
or weaving thread to keep my hands busy
I was sitting in the corner of a cafe
scribbling into my notebook.
I was sitting in the university computer lab
slamming my hands, my fingers against the keyboard
because there were too many atrocities in the world
too many injustices that I had witnessed
too many people who had wronged me
and I had a lot of work to do.
There had to be a record of what you've done.
Did you think your crimes would go unpunished?
And did you think that you could come back, years later,
slap me on the back with a friendly hello
and think I wouldn't remember?
You see, that's what I have my poems for
so there will always be a record
of what you have done
I have defiled many pages
in your honor, you who swung
your battle ax high above your head
and thought no one would remember in the end.
Well, I made a point to remember.
Yes, I have defiled many pages
and have you defiled many women?
You, the man who rapes my friends?
You, the man who rapes my sisters?
You, the man who rapes me?
Is this what makes you a strong man?
you want to know why I do the things I do
I had to record these things
that is what kept me together
when people were dying
that is what kept me together
when my friends went off to war
that is what kept me together
when my friends were raped
and left for dead
that is what kept me together
when no one bothered to notice this
or change this
or care about this
these recordings kept me together
I need to record these things
to remind myself
of where I came from
I need to record these things
to remind myself
that there are things to value
and things to hate
I need to record these things
to remind myself
that there are things worth fighting for
worth dying for
I need to record these things
to remind myself
that I am alive (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: attach brain burn Galapagos Janet Kuypers Pacific poem poetry rape reading record war water write www.janetkuypers.com
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31, 02:22, 2008-05-20 10:27:56 Description: Janet Kuypers reads part of this original poem "Burn It In" in a practice run of her feature show for the 2006 Society of Professional Journalism Expo's Chicago Poetry Showcase of (More) Janet Kuypers reads part of this original poem "Burn It In" in a practice run of her feature show for the 2006 Society of Professional Journalism Expo's Chicago Poetry Showcase of "A Celebration of the First Amendment" on Saturday, August 26 2006. She performed this show at the Lake County Poets Society on August 22nd 2006. Although the materials were altered last minute after this Lake County Poets Society show (in this practice performance, for example, the poem "A Great American" is used, which was pulled from the show for another poem), we do also have video recordings from this practice session.
For more information on the writing of Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com to read more of her work.
Here is the original poem:
Burn It In
Once I was at a beach
off the west coast of Florida
it was New Year's eve
and the yellow moon hung over the gulf
like a swaying lantern.
And I was watching the waves crash in front of me
with a friend
and the wind picked up
and my friend just stared at that moon for a while
and then closed his eyes.
I asked him what he was thinking.
He said, "I wanted to look at this scene,
and memorize it, burn it into my brain,
record it in my mind, so I can call it up when I want to.
So I can have it with me always."
I too have my recorders.
I burn these things into my brain,
I burn these things onto pages.
I pick and choose what needs to be said,
what needs to be remembered.
Every year, at the end of the year
I used to write in a journal
recall the things that happened to me
log in all of the memories I needed to keep
because that was what kept me sane
that was what kept me alive.
When I first went to college
I was studying to be a computer science
engineer, I wanted to make a lot of money
I wanted to beat everyone else
because burned in my brain were the taunts
of kids who were in cliques
so others could do the thinking for them
because burned in my brain were the evenings
of the high school dances I never went to
because burned in my brain were the people
I knew I was better than
who thought they were better than me.
Well, yes, I wanted to make a lot of money
I wanted to beat everyone else
but I hated what I was doing
I hated what I saw around me
hated all the pain people put each other through
and all of these memories just kept flooding me
so in my spare time
to keep me sane, to keep me alive
I wrote down the things I could not say
that was how I recorded things.
When I looked around me, and saw friends
raping my friends
I wrote, I burned into these nightmares with a pen
and yes, I have this recorded
I have all of this recorded.
What did you think I was doing
when I was stuffing hand-written notes into my pockets
or typing long hours into the night?
In college, I had two roommates
who in their spare time would watch movies in our living room
and cross-stitch. I never understood this.
In my spare time, I was not watching other's stories
or weaving thread to keep my hands busy
I was sitting in the corner of a cafe
scribbling into my notebook.
I was sitting in the university computer lab
slamming my hands, my fingers against the keyboard
because there were too many atrocities in the world
too many injustices that I had witnessed
too many people who had wronged me
and I had a lot of work to do.
There had to be a record of what you've done.
Did you think your crimes would go unpunished?
And did you think that you could come back, years later,
slap me on the back with a friendly hello
and think I wouldn't remember?
You see, that's what I have my poems for
so there will always be a record
of what you have done
I have defiled many pages
in your honor, you who swung
your battle ax high above your head
and thought no one would remember in the end.
Well, I made a point to remember.
Yes, I have defiled many pages
and have you defiled many women?
You, the man who rapes my friends?
You, the man who rapes my sisters?
You, the man who rapes me?
Is this what makes you a strong man?
you want to know why I do the things I do
I had to record these things
that is what kept me together
when people were dying
that is what kept me together
when my friends went off to war
that is what kept me together
when my friends were raped
and left for dead
that is what kept me together
when no one bothered to notice this
or change this
or care about this
these recordings kept me together
I need to record these things
to remind myself
of where I came from
I need to record these things
to remind myself
that there are things to value
and things to hate
I need to record these things
to remind myself
that there are things worth fighting for
worth dying for
I need to record these things
to remind myself
that I am alive (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: alive Chicago County injustic Janet Kuypers Lake poem poetry Poets Practice rape show Society write www.janetkuypers.com
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7, 03:04, 2007-12-26 15:22:43 Description: This is sort of an advertisement for my fan fiction "Don't Touch Me. I'm not Strong Enough."
It's about Hermione. She's being kind of stalked by this guy named Jacob (More) This is sort of an advertisement for my fan fiction "Don't Touch Me. I'm not Strong Enough."
It's about Hermione. She's being kind of stalked by this guy named Jacob (Robert in the video). He threatens her and stuff, rapes her, and does all this awful stuff. Her sactuary is Draco (they weren't rivals at school. actually they aren't wizards in my story, but that's the only way it could work). Harry sees weird things going on, but he doesn't do anything about it because he thinks that Jacob and Hermione are going out, and that they're just having relationship troubles.
If you have any other questions about the video just ask in the comments. Or if you want the link to the fanfiction then ask about that as well.
Some of the video wasn't as good as I wanted it to be, but I only have Windows Movie Maker, so I had to use a certain special affect to make it look the way it does. Soon I'm going to try to get another video maker so I can make the videos better.
Katie
Song: Haunted by Evanescence
Clips: HP 1,2,3,and 4
Property of JK Rowling and Warner Bros.
Jacob however is my own thoughts. (Less)
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24, 04:05, 2008-06-20 12:40:33 Description: "Haunted" by Evanescence
Anywhere But Home - Track 01
LYRICS
Long lost words whisper slowly to me
Still can't find what keeps me here
When all this time I've been so (More) "Haunted" by Evanescence
Anywhere But Home - Track 01
LYRICS
Long lost words whisper slowly to me
Still can't find what keeps me here
When all this time I've been so hollow inside
I know you're still there
Watching me, wanting me
I can feel you pull me down
Fearing you, loving you
I won't let you pull me down
Hunting you I can smell you alive
Your heart pounding in my head
Watching me, wanting me
I can feel you pull me down
Saving me, raping me
Watching me
Watching me, wanting me
I can feel you pull me down
Fearing you, loving you
I won't let you pull me down
"Based on a story written by Ben that served as an inspiration for Amy to write the lyrics."
BEN'S STORY
"A little girl around 8 or 9 in a little white Easter dress is walking down a neighborhood street bouncing a little red ball. As she approaches an obviously deserted large house with a sinister demeanor, her attention moves from the ball to the house. Not paying attention to her bouncing, the ball hits the curb and ricochets toward the house. As she chases the little red ball toward the house, the ball picks up unnatural momentum and bounces right into the huge gaping front door. The little girl pauses for a moment, looks up at the house, which now appears to be staring down at her, and cautiously enters the house in search of her little red ball. as she slowly walks into the atrium, she surveys the decaying mess that once was obviously a beautiful mansion. She becomes mesmerized by the exquisite detail of every inch of the banister winding up the seemingly endless staircase in front of her. Suddenly her thoughts are broken by a horrifying commotion. She whips around to run out the front door, but finds only a blank wall where the door once stood. Frightened, she runs down the first hallway she sees, trying desperately to find a way out, but with every turn the world behind her changes, bending to the will of the house, so that even finding a path back to the atrium where she began becomes impossible. Terrified, the little girl sinks into a corner, puts her head in her hands, and weeps.
10 years later....
The little girl wakes up in a panic, now a young woman. Dirty, scarred. She's now clothed in black pants, work boots, and a black wife beater. Her skin is pale and dirty. Sun has not graced her flesh in over a decade. She wakes to find a meal placed on a dirty silver tray before her, just enough to sustain life, just like every morning before. Placed there by a figure she can only see in passing, around a corner, walking through a door.... a figure that has become her only friend, and her only hate. Her entire existence has become nothing but to hunt and destroy this shadow that keeps her here. As she hunts him relentlessly day after day, she becomes lost in the dichotomy of her being. This thing that keeps her here, this person that repeatedly rapes her mind and watches her when she sleeps, has become her only friend. For is this person left, she would cease to exist. For she live only to kill him. But lives only FOR him. Every day the house changes around her, so that every day she wakes in a foreign land. The only constant... is him. She hears his heart beating, she smells him, she can only think of finding him, but he is also the only thing she knows of love." (Less)
Channel: youtube Rate it: Rate:
14, 03:26, 2008-04-21 16:09:30 Description: Developed during the 2001-2002 demo sessions and later released as track #5 on Fallen. Based on a story written by Ben that served as an inspiration for Amy to write the lyrics. Ben Moody's (More) Developed during the 2001-2002 demo sessions and later released as track #5 on Fallen. Based on a story written by Ben that served as an inspiration for Amy to write the lyrics. Ben Moody's Story about Haunted A little girl around 8 or 9 in a little white Easter dress is walking down a neighborhood street bouncing a little red ball. As she approaches an obviously deserted large house with a sinister demeanor, her attention moves from the ball to the house. Not paying attention to her bouncing, the ball hits the curb and ricochets toward the house. As she chases the little red ball toward the house, the ball picks up unnatural momentum and bounces right into the huge gaping front door. The little girl pauses for a moment, looks up at the house, which now appears to be staring down at her, and cautiously enters the house in search of her little red ball. as she slowly walks into the atrium, she surveys the decaying mess that once was obviously a beautiful mansion. She becomes mesmerized by the exquisite detail of every inch of the banister winding up the seemingly endless staircase in front of her. Suddenly her thoughts are broken by a horrifying commotion. She whips around to run out the front door, but finds only a blank wall where the door once stood. Frightened, she runs down the first hallway she sees, trying desperately to find a way out, but with every turn the world behind her changes, bending to the will of the house, so that even finding a path back to the atrium where she began becomes impossible. Terrified, the little girl sinks into a corner, puts her head in her hands, and weeps. 10 years later.... The little girl wakes up in a panic, now a young woman. Dirty, scarred. She's now clothed in black pants, work boots, and a black wife beater. Her skin is pale and dirty. Sun has not graced her flesh in over a decade. She wakes to find a meal placed on a dirty silver tray before her, just enough to sustain life, just like every morning before. Placed there by a figure she can only see in passing, around a corner, walking through a door.... a figure that has become her only friend, and her only hate. Her entire existence has become nothing but to hunt and destroy this shadow that keeps her here. As she hunts him relentlessly day after day, she becomes lost in the dichotomy of her being. This thing that keeps her here, this person that repeatedly rapes her mind and watches her when she sleeps, has become her only friend. For is this person left, she would cease to exist. For she live only to kill him. But lives only FOR him. Every day the house changes around her, so that every day she wakes in a foreign land. The only constant... is him. She hears his heart beating, she smells him, she can only think of finding him, but he is also the only thing she knows of love. Demo 2 of 3 (Less)
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25, 09:32, 2008-04-22 09:03:39 Description: The Japanese euphemism "jugun ianfu" (military comfort women), refers to women of various ethnic and national backgrounds and social circumstances who became sexual slaves for the Japanese (More) The Japanese euphemism "jugun ianfu" (military comfort women), refers to women of various ethnic and national backgrounds and social circumstances who became sexual slaves for the Japanese troops before and during the Pacific War. Some were minors sold into this slavery. Others were deceptively recruited by middlemen, told that they were being hired as factory workers and kept captive. Still more were forcibly abducted, from both Japan and the countries that Japan invaded and conquered as part of their wartime efforts, and shipped to the "comfort stations". The Japanese government's rationale for needing sexual slaves for its troops can be traced back to 1932. It begins with documentation of Japanese Lieutenant-General Okamura Yasuji's proposal for a "shipment" of Comfort Women to be sent to Shanghai, China as a solution for 223 reported rapes by his troops. However, the proliferation of state-mandated sexual slavery began with the Nanjin Massacre in 1937. After the merciless slaughter of thousands of Chinese, and the pillaging and arson that followed, they set upon raping an insurmountable number of women. As a result of the Nanjin Massacre, "comfort houses" were set up at a fast rate in order to 'settle down' disorderly Japanese troops. The Japanese Army used comfort stations extensively until the war ended in the Pacific in 1945. Most Comfort Women died without being returned to their homelands. They were simply discarded when they got too sick to be of any use. Overwhelming despair drove the imprisoned women to suicide and suicide attempts with alarming frequency. During the last months of WWII, most Comfort Women were murdered or left to die by retreating Japanese troops. Even the survivors were "ruined" women, as no man would willingly take a former Comfort Woman as his bride. The Japanese government denied that women had been forced to work at comfort stations and maintained that it was never involved in operating comfort stations until, in 1992, Professor Yoshimi Yoshiaki of Chuo University found wartime documents in the Library of the National Institute for Defense Studies that confirmed that the Japanese Forces had operated comfort stations. On the same day that excerpts from the documents were published in Japanese newspapers, the government finally admitted its involvement, although it has never issued an apology or compensation to the women. (Less)
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8, 05:18, 2008-04-22 10:23:50 Description: Janet Kuypers reads the poem the 1997 poem "Burn It In", at the Politically UNcorrect poetry open mic at Jesse Oaks in Lake County (north of Chicago) on 07/17/07. For more information on (More) Janet Kuypers reads the poem the 1997 poem "Burn It In", at the Politically UNcorrect poetry open mic at Jesse Oaks in Lake County (north of Chicago) on 07/17/07. For more information on this writing and other writings from Janet Kuypers, go to http://www.janetkuypers.com for more information and details. this is the poem: Burn It In Once I was at a beach off the west coast of Florida it was New Year's eve and the yellow moon hung over the gulf like a swaying lantern. And I was watching the waves crash in front of me with a friend and the wind picked up and my friend just stared at that moon for a while and then closed his eyes. I asked him what he was thinking. He said, "I wanted to look at this scene, and memorize it, burn it into my brain, record it in my mind, so I can call it up when I want to. So I can have it with me always." I too have my recorders. I burn these things into my brain, I burn these things onto pages. I pick and choose what needs to be said, what needs to be remembered. Every year, at the end of the year I used to write in a journal recall the things that happened to me log in all of the memories I needed to keep because that was what kept me sane that was what kept me alive. When I first went to college I was studying to be a computer science engineer, I wanted to make a lot of money I wanted to beat everyone else because burned in my brain were the taunts of kids who were in cliques so others could do the thinking for them because burned in my brain were the evenings of the high school dances I never went to because burned in my brain were the people I knew I was better than who thought they were better than me. Well, yes, I wanted to make a lot of money I wanted to beat everyone else but I hated what I was doing I hated what I saw around me hated all the pain people put each other through and all of these memories just kept flooding me so in my spare time to keep me sane, to keep me alive I wrote down the things I could not say that was how I recorded things. When I looked around me, and saw friends raping my friends I wrote, I burned into these nightmares with a pen and yes, I have this recorded I have all of this recorded. What did you think I was doing when I was stuffing hand-written notes into my pockets or typing long hours into the night? In college, I had two roommates who in their spare time would watch movies in our living room and cross-stitch. I never understood this. In my spare time, I was not watching other's stories or weaving thread to keep my hands busy I was sitting in the corner of a cafe scribbling into my notebook. I was sitting in the university computer lab slamming my hands, my fingers against the keyboard because there were too many atrocities in the world too many injustices that I had witnessed too many people who had wronged me and I had a lot of work to do. There had to be a record of what you've done. Did you think your crimes would go unpunished? And did you think that you could come back, years later, slap me on the back with a friendly hello and think I wouldn't remember? You see, that's what I have my poems for so there will always be a record of what you have done I have defiled many pages in your honor, you who swung your battle ax high above your head and thought no one would remember in the end. Well, I made a point to remember. Yes, I have defiled many pages and have you defiled many women? You, the man who rapes my friends? You, the man who rapes my sisters? You, the man who rapes me? Is this what makes you a strong man? you want to know why I do the things I do I had to record these things that is what kept me together when people were dying that is what kept me together when my friends went off to war that is what kept me together when my friends were raped and left for dead that is what kept me together when no one bothered to notice this or change this or care about this these recordings kept me together I need to record these things to remind myself of where I came from I need to record these things to remind myself that there are things to value and things to hate I need to record these things to remind myself that there are things worth fighting for worth dying for I need to record these things to remind myself that I am alive (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: 19 1998 2007 beach coast eve Florida h Janet Jesse July Kuypers moon New Oaks Once poem poetry reads west Year's yellow
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5, 05:22, 2008-04-22 10:23:50 Description: Janet Kuypers reads the original poem "Burn It In", which mentions water (somehow), over a boat riding in the Pacific Ocean in the end of December 2007. Actually, this video footage was shot (More) Janet Kuypers reads the original poem "Burn It In", which mentions water (somehow), over a boat riding in the Pacific Ocean in the end of December 2007. Actually, this video footage was shot while traveling among the Galapagos Islands, where Kuypers thought the background was a serene setting for reaing poetry. For more information on the writing of Janet Kuypers (or artwork, including photography form the Galapagos Islands), go to http://www.janetkuypers.com to read more of her work. This is the original poem: Burn It In Once I was at a beach off the west coast of Florida it was New Year's eve and the yellow moon hung over the gulf like a swaying lantern. And I was watching the waves crash in front of me with a friend and the wind picked up and my friend just stared at that moon for a while and then closed his eyes. I asked him what he was thinking. He said, "I wanted to look at this scene, and memorize it, burn it into my brain, record it in my mind, so I can call it up when I want to. So I can have it with me always." I too have my recorders. I burn these things into my brain, I burn these things onto pages. I pick and choose what needs to be said, what needs to be remembered. Every year, at the end of the year I used to write in a journal recall the things that happened to me log in all of the memories I needed to keep because that was what kept me sane that was what kept me alive. When I first went to college I was studying to be a computer science engineer, I wanted to make a lot of money I wanted to beat everyone else because burned in my brain were the taunts of kids who were in cliques so others could do the thinking for them because burned in my brain were the evenings of the high school dances I never went to because burned in my brain were the people I knew I was better than who thought they were better than me. Well, yes, I wanted to make a lot of money I wanted to beat everyone else but I hated what I was doing I hated what I saw around me hated all the pain people put each other through and all of these memories just kept flooding me so in my spare time to keep me sane, to keep me alive I wrote down the things I could not say that was how I recorded things. When I looked around me, and saw friends raping my friends I wrote, I burned into these nightmares with a pen and yes, I have this recorded I have all of this recorded. What did you think I was doing when I was stuffing hand-written notes into my pockets or typing long hours into the night? In college, I had two roommates who in their spare time would watch movies in our living room and cross-stitch. I never understood this. In my spare time, I was not watching other's stories or weaving thread to keep my hands busy I was sitting in the corner of a cafe scribbling into my notebook. I was sitting in the university computer lab slamming my hands, my fingers against the keyboard because there were too many atrocities in the world too many injustices that I had witnessed too many people who had wronged me and I had a lot of work to do. There had to be a record of what you've done. Did you think your crimes would go unpunished? And did you think that you could come back, years later, slap me on the back with a friendly hello and think I wouldn't remember? You see, that's what I have my poems for so there will always be a record of what you have done I have defiled many pages in your honor, you who swung your battle ax high above your head and thought no one would remember in the end. Well, I made a point to remember. Yes, I have defiled many pages and have you defiled many women? You, the man who rapes my friends? You, the man who rapes my sisters? You, the man who rapes me? Is this what makes you a strong man? you want to know why I do the things I do I had to record these things that is what kept me together when people were dying that is what kept me together when my friends went off to war that is what kept me together when my friends were raped and left for dead that is what kept me together when no one bothered to notice this or change this or care about this these recordings kept me together I need to record these things to remind myself of where I came from I need to record these things to remind myself that there are things to value and things to hate I need to record these things to remind myself that there are things worth fighting for worth dying for I need to record these things to remind myself that I am alive (Less)
Channel: youtubeTags: attach brain burn Galapagos Janet Kuypers Pacific poem poetry rape reading record war water write www.janetkuypers.com
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