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I Am a WriterI am a writer.
Yes, it’s easy for me to fall into a dream.
But there is nothing wrong with being tighter
With a story’s theme.
I am a writer.
That is all I will ever want to be
In the end, my story will be lighter,
And my characters will finally be free.
I am a writer.
There is nothing easier to say than that.
I will never let a story wither
Nor let a story fall flat
I am a soon to be author.
With several books ready to be read,
I want them to have great honor
And wish there will be tears shed.
To HooverHoover state: waking up to sleep
because that’s all I’m good for;
out of work, out of time again
and my brother won’t spare a dime.
Blanket sweat reminds me of this
Hoover state: waking up to sleep
in depressions of this planet;
the moon weeps for me in daytime.
I yank my pockets out, like it's
my country's flag; punch-line of the
Hoover state: waking up to sleep
in my sagging skin on decline.
I've no penny to my name,
jumping out the window (one
last time) makes me worth more in this
Hoover state: waking up to sleep.
Twinkle StarTwinkle twinkle little star
Noone cares just who you are
When you fall the fall is far
Twinkle twinkle superstar.
The Soldier's Letter To HomeI write this from my death bed
My eyes fading in the light
Drowned in crimson red,
Drowned in shaking fright.
The enemy has won
The war now has ended
And though killed by my son
May his sins be ammended.
For this is Civil War
I cannot change the tide
So from you I implore
Do what is right.
Bury me somewhere nice
Near, and fair to look at
And forgive my son his sins;
For in war, no one wins.
Take Death's HandI do not fear Death.
My life has been long enough.
It's time I take my last breath.
I shall not rebuff.
Death stands by my side,
his hand extended for me to take.
His face is veiled like that of a bride.
This life I now forsake
as Death takes me away.
I do not regret
for I am free of the fray.
Please do not fret
for I am okay.
Continuous VoicesIt all began when I was ten
I found what lingered in my head disturbing
And it wasn’t until I grabbed a pen
And saw what truly lingered when I began writing.
There were continuous voices within my head
I was not one to favor them dead
Although, they had violet images attached
The way I wrote them matched.
Since then, the voices have changed
Octaves have risen and lowered
Their words have exchanged
And eventually became uncensored.
These continuous voices have brought war
Ones with an uprising roar
And at moments I want to kill the sound
For they are so profound.
Yet, they continue to crescendo
And welcome me to a hidden story
Aur si plumbUn gând de aur, dar se simte
mai greu ca un pumnal de plumb
ce intră-n coaste, se învârte,
și caută să iasă prin minte...
Stilou de aur, scrie versuri,
dar lasă urme ca de plumb,
pe foi mânjite de cerneală,
și de cafea, și alte resturi...
Un glonţ de aur, dar se simte
mai tandru ca o zi de plumb,
îl pun aici, închid capacul,
și ca un gând, îl scot prin minte.
EndlingHere am I, the captive thylacine
Treading my tiger-striped, ungainly way
Around the metal-mesh confinement of my cage
Here am I, exhibited, exhumed
Brought from the brink to pace another day
A living testament, a final thumbmarked page
Here am I, the only specimen
Bereft of mate, of pups, of kin, of kind
Watching the claws of history extending
Here am I, the final thylacine
The only one, the last, the lost, the endling.
ContrariwiseSilly little Alice,
Forget all you thought you knew,
For deep inside your head,
Everything is all askew.
If they tell you that one plus one,
Equals twelve and half, my dear,
Don't worry yourself about it,
For two is so last year.
Don't even try to be different,
Or it'll be "Off with her head!",
And you'll find it's better to live a lie,
Than it is to end up dead.
So heed this socially accepted advice,
Ditch any scraps of your insanity,
To cavort with the Hare in March,
Join the Hatter for a cup of tea.
Fritter your days away,
Dancing under a Cheshire moon,
Don't mind the surrounding chaos,
Ignore impending doom.
But even as you join in
Who Was HeHe stood at the average height for men.
His built was quite average.
His eyes were that of cyan.
Nonetheless, he was average.
His hair was that of blonde,
His walk and personality had a great bond.
He was a confident sight.
His skin was a delicate peach.
His muscles were quite firm.
So irresistible, a teasing reach.
His appearance had its own term.
One that the dictionary cannot confirm.
Who was he?
That man with his own sea?
He was one without a name.
His appearance was a taunting game.
He was one without a number for an age.
Forget it, he’s fake on this page.
SuicideThere's no blood on her hands
Bullet holes in the door
Nothing but colored pills
And her lying on the floor
You look at her face
There's despair in her eyes
And you wonder what she thought
As she fell and died
And maybe you're begging her to come back
And maybe you're asking why she let go
The hurt in your chest feels like a heart attack
And now you finally know
Maybe you could've helped her
If you'd looked past your own nose
Maybe she'd be alive now
You had a chance, this is what you chose
Now maybe you'll learn from things
That you didn't see
Maybe you'll open your eyes
And rescue him, or her, or me
Maybe she cried a prayer
For the oth
WarWhen stories of battle are shared,
They are full of fame and glory.
No one knows what war really holds,
That is, until they hear this story.
At first there is much excitement,
Your chance to be a hero.
Then homesickness begins to set in,
The sorrow makes you feel like zero.
Then the supplies get cut off,
Your stomach cries out for food.
It rains then it droughts, and then you want out,
You'd laugh at your situation but you're not in the mood.
No sanitation, no garbage cans,
You are living in human waste.
The tents are torn up, the beds full of lice,
You wish you were in a different place.
Then you finally go to fight,
This is your chance to prove yourself.
All your comrades are shot down,
So much for fame and wealth...
Cleaning up the bodies,
Of those who used to be your friends.
Not even time for a proper burial,
Too many injuries to attend.
Then there's the sneak attack,
You are all caught by surprise.
A brutal, bloody, massacre,
A bullet between your eyes.
In this little game o
One WindowOne window is all I need
To see the world for what it truly is
With my mind a system of creed.
My talent can depict or dismiss
This world of goals, so hear my heed.
I sit down beside a journal,
My fingers clutching a pencil.
I will make my character’s life spiral
And send them off to a council
Where they must advance through the next trial.
One window is all I need
To watch them afar a long, hazy field,
Where I can study their speed
Of understanding when they will yield
Of life, itself, so they need to hear my heed.
My character’s goal,
As well as mine,
Is to be whole
And see how bright life can shine
Even through the darkness
Oh, Holy FatherOh, Holy Father above, please hear me tonight,
Give me the strength to continue the fight
Against the evil that lies within my heart –
Purify me, let me bleed and tear me apart.
Cleanse me, I beg of you, set my soul free
From the demons that have such a hold on me.
I am a man, a mere mortal, dedicated and just,
I steer clear from sinners and am not swayed by lust.
I am loyal and honest and faithful and true,
And, in my time of need, I turn to you.
I am wounded and broken and on my knees, I pray,
Save me before the sun greets another day.
Protect me from the darkness, let my torment end,
So I can be your Man of God once again.
What may be a dream?Oh, what may be a dream but wishes mute?
Those thoughts that dance and prance a time or two?
The silent longings of the heart set free
To lift the spirit from chambers dark and cold.
A dream is as a morning mist of spring;
Refreshing, light, and gently promising
To all who sleep and wake in time to catch
The welcome peace and glory they behold.
But woe to waking hours; the bitterness they bring
When dreams escape the loving hold of thought!
The plaintive heart starts longing once again
To sink into the realms of possibility.
The Child Or The Adult: Pain
There was something he could not say
That the child wanted it to be heard
But there was more than just that
The Adult knew what would happen
The child refused to be alone
No longer should he wait
But the wisdom the Adult shared
Told them that it could not happen
No matter how the child wished for it
He would be on his own for now
The child would cry
Not sure what else he could do
The world was taking away his life
And the Adult would not do anything more
But the child was not the only one
Who was suffering because of what was going on
The Adult too was feeling the pain
Maybe more that the child
But he could not show his feel
MissingWhat have you missed
From the man you love most
Was it hearing his voice
The way he would hold you
Or was there something else
Do you miss his gentle touch
That only you would feel
His hands roaming your body
Gently pressing each spot
To really get you excited
You are the only one he would do this to
Keeping you close in his arms
Do you miss waking up
And see him smiling down at you
Knowing that he never let go
As much as you miss him
It might be that he is missing you more...
The Child Or The Adult: Death
Looking down with eyes of an Adult
Seeing a child who always stays silent
Not to get hurt, the child stays little
Even those close to him
Have things left out from them
Looking deeper, the Adult sees more
Lost emotions of the child
Memories left in the darkness
With the child now awake
Looking back at the Adult
He still says nothing
Keeping himself hidden away
The Adult looks past the child
Sees what he will grow into
But still the child will be silent
Barely letting anyone close
The Adult can not let it happen
This can not be how it ends up
Now moving his hands
The Adult sees them placed around the child's neck
Silent Words...While there is so much there
He is only able to speak in silent words
Nothing much is ever said
But there is so much never told
He wishes to tell her his world
Everything that he has gone through
Everything that he is feeling
But soon he worries
That he may say the wrong thing
That nothing comes out right
The biggest fear he has for he holds back
Is that he will send you away
Saying something that he should not have
But even with his silent words
There is always something she should know
That one feeling that is always loud and clear
The love he has for her will always be there
Never could it be silenced
Never will it be hel
She holds him by his strings
A puppet who does what he is told
He moves as if he was someone else
Listening to her moans of bliss
The line for them has been drawn
The difference between love and lovers
There is no love between them
Only he is there to be her lover
Bring her to an orgasmic haven
He tells her what he knows
That her beauty is matched by none
She hears his knowing what she has done
Her heart belongs to another
But she offers her body to one
She says that this is best
That they only be this way
What would come is there was more
The puppet would be broken again
His lover would find another
Guided by the strings o
Dreaming of Reality..."Find the world of dreams, where anything and everything can happen. Live each day enjoying the life you create. You never have to worry about pain or suffering, or doing anything that you would not enjoy to do. Life seems to be perfect and nothing could change that. While in this dream world, be careful though, for you might find yourself in a dream you did not want. A nightmare you can not leave. You might find yourself in reality…"
Right away it seems weird to start out with a quote like this. The author knows the difference between reality and dreams, but it seems that he still searches for this world of dreams he writes about. How perfe
First Try...Even so, feelings still find their home within me
A life that is lived with no more meaning
I have to notice that everything is to be
Through time and space, I must be seeing
The truth that should do nothing but bring
pain to the heart, chaos to the mind
No longer is it true. that the birds would sing
A love that is lost, a life that in now bind
For now that you are gone, my world is no more
All is lost, never to be found
Your life was without reason, but the pain is still here, nor
but now the pain is leaving, leaving even without a sound
In your eyes everyday said that "I love you"
While you were here my heart always screamed,
Keep in Touch!
`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More