Tag Archives: writing

The Poets Wept

The poets wept
The drinkers drank
The stars bled
And the rest fled

What’s left here in the end
Is simply the best of the worst
The unknown dreams of the ones who didn’t care
And the ghosts of the dead

All the bridges have burned
With no hope no religion
All money and only fame
Everyone else elated on the med

Stuck in a loop of a neo revolution 9
Making sense of rubbish in gibberish
A doped up generation coddled under mother’s care
Taking in everything that they are spoon fed

It was always going to end like this
Ashen skies and blood red seas
Walking skeletons and fat pigs
Divided by cracks created in dread

The dread of what was always to come
but no one listened to what the fools said

Because the poets just wept
The drinkers just drank
The stars just bled
And the rest just fled.

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Filed under Mr. Stacker

“sit alone on that river bank till I forget that I can talk”

I fallen in love with every book I’ve read.

I’ve fallen in love with every girl I’ve seen.

I’ll never know if I’m a good writer, I don’t think anyone ever does. I just want to write prose and have people think I wrote down words with purpose – intent. Interest in one’s self is a characteristic a writer needs to have to find importance in their writings; I’m far from interested – or interesting for that matter. I think a good prose comes from a clear mind, not excluding a drunk or drugged mind, but a clear mind in the sense of just knowing at least the next ten words you want to write before you write them. This allows you to think twenty words ahead and begin to plan for the next thirty. I’m at fifty now.

A good writer writes poems for years and switches to prose to try and prove something to himself. Or vice-versa, impossible to say. Chances are he’ll turn back to poetry (or prose), become a critic, an advertiser, a wino, a bum – whatever. He’ll write. Hopeful something might happen tomorrow.

That was fifty.

This is America, with liberty and justice for all.

I’d be happy writing if I just actually could write when I want and not just when my head is too full of words to allow for proper thought anymore and I just have to write to keep from having to carry around a bag of nouns and verbs behind me everywhere I go. Imagine if an accountant could only add numbers when he had thought of so many numbers he literally spewed abstract decimals to his friends while convulsing on his dinning room floor.

The first two lines are the best part of this piece.

I need too practice more.

I’m a long way from the road I want to be on but I’m closer than I ever have been before.

Bird Murder.

 

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Filed under sangretti

The Shadow

You walk alongside me day in and day out

Stout and tall like I am

Both knowing and being the darkest part of me

What would you say to me?

Would you judge me for my every action?

Tell me things I am afraid to speak of?

You would be the median to my arrogance or cowardliness at the time

The Yang to my Yin

If only you were able to speak…

The knowledge you probably possess is profound

You have great abilities, such as projecting yourself in more than one direction

Being able to stretch varying distances

Yet you only exist if I do, so I feel like a hindrance

We share the same life but you are the better half in my opinion

Maybe I envy your peaceful existence, and you deserve mine so you can live out life

At times I feel like the shadow of myself, while you were meant to be…the part of me which strong and true.

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Filed under cireryohei

Ripped Apart By A Werewolf (pt 4)

starring the beast right

in the eyes, heart pounding hard,

you’re mouth is dry, he

leaps, you let out a cry, now

another man dies

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Filed under aptenodyte

The Revolting Rendezvous (pt 3)

gasping for air, you

have to rest, killing the beast

is your last chance, wait

for the beast in a stance, now

it starts to advance

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Disastrous Dyspneic (pt 2)

you’re running, you’re scared,

and you’re being followed, all

you hear are footsteps

and howls, lurking nearby, a

fucking werewolf prowls

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Full Moon Monstrosity (pt 1)

out of the darkness,

the full moon appears, no one

around you, you can

only feel fear, deep in the

woods, death may be near

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Filed under aptenodyte