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Creative Writing

Don’t give up, they say, Be yourself, they say. What do you have to lose?… they say

November 13, 2013
Creative Writing, Poetry
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Ask me why I ignore your knocks on my door. I wont be played like a drum anymore. Beat on another lifeless body you call a friend. And leave mine to defend whats left.

Of the soul you have tattered and torn. In the fields of lost dreams and unicorns. My fate towers over love in these skyline reveries; And when I awake the pain it follows me

It hurts more every day girl, Yeah it hurts more in every way. If you could just feel this pain… I can change, I have changed Just to hear you say yes, but its gone. Back to booze and cigarettes; I digress.

And no I wont help you anymore, no. Because I’m done with you girl, done. I’ve sacrificed my time and sanity, Just to hear the voice of serenity. But no I cant do this anymore. Make up your mind or get out of mine

No I don’t want your love, not anymore. It can’t be worth the pain, the remorse. All you have brought me was a cold soul. My family looks at me like I’m a damn ghost. I’m so empty you can see my heart strain. So leave me be, consider yourself free From the heart that would bleed eternally If you stayed in its life

Metronome

November 12, 2013
Creative Writing, Poetry
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His mind’s a broken metronome.

Ennui in troughs, prevent clarity

Its timing blurred and incoherent.

A diabolic pairing.

When one has nothing but time to kill

And misadventures in love and lust,

deplete his Pride and Will.

How does one rise above

What holds his mind so still?

Love? No.

November 1, 2013
Creative Writing, Poetry
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You’ve never known any form of love.

Yet you claim to be fluent and wise.

The only “deep connection” you know,

Occurs between your thighs!

 

So don’t tell me about passion.

As far as I can tell,

Your “love” has been more mythical

Than Charon’s ferry ride to Hell!

 

I will falter and I will fall, but

I’ve never needed your asinine drawl

To brag about your harpy’s strut

And the men whom beckon at your call!

 

Then claim a broken heart, when

One of your specimens devolve

Beyond your visual standards, and

The mirage begins to dissolve!

Hymn to Beauty by Charles P. Baudelaire

October 30, 2013
Poetry
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Translated from French to English by James McGowan

O Beauty! Do you visit from the sky

Or the abyss? Infernal and divine,

Your gaze bestows both kindnesses and crimes,

So it is said you act on us like wine.

Your eye contains the evening and the dawn;

You pour out odours like an evening storm;

Your kiss is potion from an ancient jar,

That can make heroes cold and children warm.

Are you of heaven or the nether world?

Charmed Destiny, your pet, attends your walk;

You scatter joys and sorrows at your whim,

And govern all, and answer no man’s call.

Beauty you walk on corpses, mocking them;

Horror is charming as your other gems,

And murder is a trinket dancing there

Lovingly on your naked belly’s skin.

You are a candle where the mayfly dies

In flames, blessing this fire’s deadly bloom.

The panting lover bending to his love

Looks like a dying man who strokes his tomb.

What difference, then, from heaven or from hell,

O Beauty, monstrous in simplicity?

If eye, smile, step can open me the way

To find unknown, sublime infinity

Angel or Siren, Spirit, I don’t care

As long as velvet eyes and perfumed head

And glimmering motions, o my queen, can make

The world less dreadful, and the time less dead.

The Phoenix Will Rise

October 29, 2013
Creative Writing, Poetry
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If the Forest only knew

That its branches breed fire

That its vines string bows

That its soil bares blood

From ne’er sought after foes.

That it shelters crooks and thieves

That its once strong oaks,

Lay razed in the age of modernity

That its rivers flow tainted

with our indiscriminate pesticide.

That mankind’s misshapen footprint is

Implanted prominently in its hide.

I sit under a wise and gnarled tree

I ask, “If only the forest knew,

Would it grow shrewd?

Would the plush green

turn to poisonous red?

Would more families struggle

with mouths unfed?

Why can we destroy so much and

Claim to prolong the world’s end?

 

To Be a Cynic

October 28, 2013
Creative Writing, Poetry
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Note: This may look awfully familiar to some! I dug it up and took another shot at it 🙂

To Be a Cynic:

This wasn’t the bar for me.

I already knew when that

Burly gentlemen

With “security” on his chest

Told me to tuck in my shirt…

My fucking shirt?!.

Coming from a roided out

Mongoloid;

Taking admittance at a glorified dive.

Is it my appearance? Am I not human enough?

Does my vagabond hair make you squirm?

Are my trousers not haute couture?

For a crowd so shrewd and resentful

Would acquire even Dionysus’ spurn

“Don’t worry I’ll be outta here soon (asshole)”

The “asshole” was inferred…

…Anyway

It was a birthday party;

I barely knew the host.

I Met her at a party once

Since then she’s been a ghost.

She walks a fine line

Between a mere Human and

Divine.

Wearing a little black dress,

Brown hair down,

And no makeup, unlike the rest.

Classy with the devil in her eyes.

Though, the music is too loud.

No conversation to be had.

Just jive with the music,

And nod as if you understand.

She doesn’t remember my name.

It’s cool.

I got you an adventurous book

And some wine,

For a rainy day.

The best taste without taking out a loan

Or so I’m told.

Enjoy it in your easy chair,

Near the fireplace, if you have one.

Or scatter candles everywhere.

If you dare…

Lose yourself in a fantasy world

Far away from our own

I long to go with you,

But it’s time for me to go home

A bitter-sweet ending

Saved from the DJ’s assault

Yet ripped from a heavenly sight

Because the cynic in me, rules the night

Nocturnal

October 26, 2013
Creative Writing, Poetry
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Memories shown dark

Pushed into the depths

Of my subconscious

Waiting to flood my dreams

To torture a ragged mind

There is no resisting

Even in the writing

Portraying her terribly

Sullying my image

Of her past presence.

Still a peaceful sleep

Evades me, with constant

Threats to unravel my progress

The glue has no time to set

As Autumn’s dawn hastens west

My attempts range wide

Twisted and relentless

Still the dreams, they

Never go away

How can I make them

See things my way?

A Circus Act

October 15, 2013
Creative Writing, Poetry
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When his subconscious finds difficulty in accepting their reality

The will to feel real overshadows the clapping seal embodied.

Such a good boy, such a kind boy, his A-list grin fool’s so many

Such a patient boy, such a clever boy, his mind tormented, trembling.

At the thought of life in servitude, wrought from our fore-father’s vain;

Attempts at instilling moral values, to condemn the “insane”.

The leaders we trust to forge a path, forge their own into fame

And leave us hopelessly, inexplicably, thrusting for the same. 

Sleep Never Came Easy

October 14, 2013
Creative Writing, Poetry
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What is the point of breathing in,

when a mournful sigh is all that follows,

Tumblers of sparkling gin, a dopamine binge

simply numbs a heart so hollow…

devour the flower until eyelids cower

toward the hours of unconscious slumber

For reveries ne’er dwell in a haze

Induced by malevolent power