Forward,
Into the future we drive ourselves,
Pushing past our present fears.
Striving for it through the tears,
Endlessly searching the bookshelves.
Forward,
Like a wave about to make landfall,
Not having any regrets at all.
Bringing yourself tumbling to the coast,
Of the things you dream of most.
Forward,
With an army of friends at your back,
As if leading a legion to storm the gates.
Do not show any mercy in this attack,
Because life isn't waiting for better dates.
Forward,
Because that is the direction of your dreams,
You don't have them, yet you can't lose them.
I've written many times of pain,
And the anxiety,
The one I grow like a plant,
Try to free myself, but can't.
I've written plenty on anxiety,
And the fear,
The omnipotent emotion, inside,
So that I would be able to hide.
I've written passages of fear,
Not enough of love.
The ray of light in darkest days,
No problem too difficult, it stays.
I've written a few times of love,
Fewer, of joy.
That emotion anxiety snuffs away,
Trying to protect my love each day.
I've written, rarely, of joy,
And less of hatred,
Because that's a feeling I lack,
For love took it a while back.
I've written seldom of hatred,
It will stay as such,
For my heart can'
No One Ever Said I Had To Be by zippo5767, literature
Literature
No One Ever Said I Had To Be
I may not be the best at poetry,
But no one ever said I had to be.
For, who else might take this pen,
And find the right place to begin,
All the poems contained within me.
So forgive me for each made mistake,
And time between each poem I take,
Because poetry was never perfect.
If it was I'm just another reject,
Telling lies, just like another snake.
I may not be the best at poetry,
But no one ever said I had to be.
Words on a page that set my heart on fire,
Let the engulfing inferno burn ever higher.
Grasping at the night sky like furious hands,
Trying to wring its neck and make its demands.
Words in my heart with no place to start,
Stuck rolling around like a renegade cart.
My brain searches for answers it cannot find,
For now the fire burns bright only in my mind.
It's not easy to write poetry,
Not anymore.
It's not easy writing poetry,
I've run out of my store.
It's not east writing poetry,
Whilst my focus often wanders.
It's not easy writing poetry,
But mayhaps I still do.
It's not easy writing poetry,
When I think only of you.
I've always been one of those guys,
That it doesn't matter how hard he tries,
All the words never come out like he planned,
And the thoughts fall through my hands like sand,
Yet on days like today,
The words finally stay,
And I'm left with more poetry than I can handle,
So many pages I will scrawl by this candle.
I don't know why it's always poetry,
Every hello and goodbye,
Every day before I die,
But it never ceases to astound me.
I so often lack the words to describe,
Any felt feeling, sight, or vibe,
And yet some days it all hits me,
Like an unseen predator, it gets me.
A layer of truth,
Under three layers of lies,
No problem polluting,
As the world dies.
We lie to ourselves,
And to each other,
Telling one after another,
No thinking involved.
I knew love once,
From someone who wasn't family.
She was the mother I wish I'd had,
Because my own mother was mad,
That I'd ever existed at all,
She tried to make me fall,
She tried to have me killed.
She never tried to comfort me,
Or help me in any way at all.
To Geri,
Who despite everything,
Showed me love was really there,
In this world of hate-filled air.
Who showed me love is real,
And that it's something you feel,
In the place of loneliness,
And void of all regret,
I miss you now that you're gone.
I'm sorry when you were here,
I never thanked you enough,
Because for some reason there was fear,
That maybe you'd get mad if I said it to
It's kind of pathetic,
This way that I feel,
So torn up and broken,
Like I'm no longer real.
Over something as trivial,
As a four-letter word,
That from others is easily spoken.
It's kind of pathetic,
That someone can break me,
Because they refuse to see,
That every rejection eats away,
Every good feeling I have,
It flat out ruins my day.
I'm not as strong as I need to be.
It's kind of pathetic,
That all I feel is poetic,
When I can't find the words,
That I need when I need em'.
But I can't change it,
Trust me I've tried,
And many a time my feelings died.
It's kind of pathetic,
This life that I lead,
But I'll try to change it,
And get k
Forward,
Into the future we drive ourselves,
Pushing past our present fears.
Striving for it through the tears,
Endlessly searching the bookshelves.
Forward,
Like a wave about to make landfall,
Not having any regrets at all.
Bringing yourself tumbling to the coast,
Of the things you dream of most.
Forward,
With an army of friends at your back,
As if leading a legion to storm the gates.
Do not show any mercy in this attack,
Because life isn't waiting for better dates.
Forward,
Because that is the direction of your dreams,
You don't have them, yet you can't lose them.
I've written many times of pain,
And the anxiety,
The one I grow like a plant,
Try to free myself, but can't.
I've written plenty on anxiety,
And the fear,
The omnipotent emotion, inside,
So that I would be able to hide.
I've written passages of fear,
Not enough of love.
The ray of light in darkest days,
No problem too difficult, it stays.
I've written a few times of love,
Fewer, of joy.
That emotion anxiety snuffs away,
Trying to protect my love each day.
I've written, rarely, of joy,
And less of hatred,
Because that's a feeling I lack,
For love took it a while back.
I've written seldom of hatred,
It will stay as such,
For my heart can'
No One Ever Said I Had To Be by zippo5767, literature
Literature
No One Ever Said I Had To Be
I may not be the best at poetry,
But no one ever said I had to be.
For, who else might take this pen,
And find the right place to begin,
All the poems contained within me.
So forgive me for each made mistake,
And time between each poem I take,
Because poetry was never perfect.
If it was I'm just another reject,
Telling lies, just like another snake.
I may not be the best at poetry,
But no one ever said I had to be.
Words on a page that set my heart on fire,
Let the engulfing inferno burn ever higher.
Grasping at the night sky like furious hands,
Trying to wring its neck and make its demands.
Words in my heart with no place to start,
Stuck rolling around like a renegade cart.
My brain searches for answers it cannot find,
For now the fire burns bright only in my mind.
It's not easy to write poetry,
Not anymore.
It's not easy writing poetry,
I've run out of my store.
It's not east writing poetry,
Whilst my focus often wanders.
It's not easy writing poetry,
But mayhaps I still do.
It's not easy writing poetry,
When I think only of you.
I've always been one of those guys,
That it doesn't matter how hard he tries,
All the words never come out like he planned,
And the thoughts fall through my hands like sand,
Yet on days like today,
The words finally stay,
And I'm left with more poetry than I can handle,
So many pages I will scrawl by this candle.
I don't know why it's always poetry,
Every hello and goodbye,
Every day before I die,
But it never ceases to astound me.
I so often lack the words to describe,
Any felt feeling, sight, or vibe,
And yet some days it all hits me,
Like an unseen predator, it gets me.
A layer of truth,
Under three layers of lies,
No problem polluting,
As the world dies.
We lie to ourselves,
And to each other,
Telling one after another,
No thinking involved.
I knew love once,
From someone who wasn't family.
She was the mother I wish I'd had,
Because my own mother was mad,
That I'd ever existed at all,
She tried to make me fall,
She tried to have me killed.
She never tried to comfort me,
Or help me in any way at all.
To Geri,
Who despite everything,
Showed me love was really there,
In this world of hate-filled air.
Who showed me love is real,
And that it's something you feel,
In the place of loneliness,
And void of all regret,
I miss you now that you're gone.
I'm sorry when you were here,
I never thanked you enough,
Because for some reason there was fear,
That maybe you'd get mad if I said it to
It's kind of pathetic,
This way that I feel,
So torn up and broken,
Like I'm no longer real.
Over something as trivial,
As a four-letter word,
That from others is easily spoken.
It's kind of pathetic,
That someone can break me,
Because they refuse to see,
That every rejection eats away,
Every good feeling I have,
It flat out ruins my day.
I'm not as strong as I need to be.
It's kind of pathetic,
That all I feel is poetic,
When I can't find the words,
That I need when I need em'.
But I can't change it,
Trust me I've tried,
And many a time my feelings died.
It's kind of pathetic,
This life that I lead,
But I'll try to change it,
And get k
Hey remember me?
I'm lonely
Without anyone to talk to,
Yeah we met last week
I'm so glad
You actually remembered me.
Hey remember me?
I'm happy
That we could hang out.
I know it might
Seem a bit strange to ask
But are we friends?
Yeah?!
Thank goodness
Now I can be at ease
You’re really here with me
It wasn't just a tease.
Hey remember me?
I'm weird
Just a little bit though
I thought you liked me
Because of that
Because of the way I am
Right?
Hey remember me?
I'm trying
To keep up a smile
But it’s getting pretty hard
Because every once in awhile
It seems like all you want
Is for me to cry.
Is that what a friend does?
Hey rem
Let the Fall Make You Stronger. by UntamedUnwanted, literature
Literature
Let the Fall Make You Stronger.
"Hey! Are you all right?"
"Sure, why wouldn't I be?"
"Um...because you just fell from the roof of the hou-"
"See, that's where you're wrong. I didn't fall. The floor challenged me and I accepted."
"And how did that go for you?"
"The floor won. But only because it had the advantage."
"Of being non sentient and vast in size, along with the fact that there is a freaking storm out!!"
"Nope. I just attacked from the wrong position."
"Backwards?"
"I overestimated my skills."
"I'll say. You're bleeding!"
"Only a little. Ask me again."
"What?"
"If I'm fine."
"Are you?"
"Nope."
"Is it because you're bleeding?"
"You're supposed to ask
I hope that
When things go bad
(Which they inevitably will)
That you won’t get up
And leave so you can
Pretend it never happened
And say it was all because of me.
If time could change for you,
I'd change back in time to be true.
Everything will be done differently,
No wrong would have been done by you,
If I could turn back the arms of time,
I'd give you another chance,
A chance I hope,
That'd change our lives.
Mistakes we might've done in the future,
They won't be done for now,
Knowing what you did in the past,
I'll let us fall unto another road.
A beautiful woman in an ugly world by Abel-Nightwalker, literature
Literature
A beautiful woman in an ugly world
A Beautiful woman...
When I think of the word beautiful, your name always is the first thought to cross my mind. Images of your face flood through my brain putting a smile on my face. The outer beauty will fade so that is not what truly captivates my attention, the true beauty is the heart you hold close like a jade. You protect it's energy and beauty for the times when you need to bring joy and happiness to those you care about the most, and those care about you the most. The truth is my intentions were not to fall for you but I simply could not help but want all of you. I wanted more and began to crave your care, lust for your love, howl fo
Take up your pen,
Tell the world "be quiet",
Because now you must speak,
Now is their time to bite it,
Speak now because they need it.
So take up your pen,
Make the world hear you,
Through voice or paper,
Make words flow through you,
Your time for silence is through.
Now take up you pen,
Because you have to change,
You must destroy and rearrange,
Make the world acknowledge you,
Because you have power, it's true.
So pick up that pen,
Change this world for better,
Come out and join hands together,
With the poet inside you,
And cherish the ride too.
Wake up that pen,
It's been asleep for too long,
Sitting idly by as the world goes wrong,
Now
I've seen a lot of things, and I'm not just saying good, and I'm not just saying bad. Reading and Writing have gotten me through a lot of the good and bad times. I've lived in Indiana, Colorado, and Minnesota. My strength comes from a deep-seeded love for literature. I'm spontaneous and eccentric, but I'm kind as well. I laugh too loud, and I'm usually smiling, regardless of just how much I hurt. I like people, and I grow attached to kind individuals a bit faster than I should. This leads to me being mortally wounded whenever people don't like me. If you'd like to get to know me, ask, I'm easygoing and usually entertaining.
Favourite Visual Artist
My Sister
Favourite Movies
The 13th Warrior, Once Upon A Time In The West, and Forbidden Kingdom
Favourite TV Shows
Axis Powers: Hetalia, Death Note, Trinity Blood, Revolution, and Fairy Tail.
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Rise Against
Favourite Books
The Halfling's Gem: R.A.Salvatore
Favourite Writers
R.A.Salvatore, Dean Koontz, T.A.Barron
Favourite Games
The Mass Effect Series, Final Fantasy (1-10, and 12), Diablo 2, RIFT, and Tera
Favourite Gaming Platform
Computer
Tools of the Trade
A way with words that allows me to write my heart onto a piece of paper
I'll try to get back into posting again, but I can't tell you how often. Poetry for me is a labor of love, and I have to be in one of two moods, as well: depressed (funny that a labor of love can be done when I'm depressed, but that's just the way it works for me), or happy. And...well, I tend to spend far more of my time in that strange little state where I can't even tell my emotions apart (a big hooray for mental problems, eh?). It's about as much fun as bear-hugging a cactus. It was only in the last 24 hours my emotions actually settled themselves down. And it wasn't even depression this time, which is always a positive sign. Seems things
I think in small chunks, that's how it is nowadays, most of what runs through my head are barely coherent bits of thought. It's only on days like today that I'm left with a plethora of complete thoughts that can make their way to paper, or keys, that I truly understand that I haven't lost this side of me. It simply sleeps until a time when it feels that it's needed. To be honest, to think straight like I am now, I feel a huge weight lifted off my chest. I have created poetry that is coherent for the first time in months, I have shared the full depths of feelings I share with a friend for the first time in an incredibly long time, and it's unf