It’s a crying shame when your choice of game is never-ending fame for the victor. Fires ablaze over the valleys you raze for those quiet days you wish to devour,With your designed rhymes in space and time; yet they float like the faceless dictator you are. If man can’t speak his mind without being branded a Martyr; I will take a stand, take his hand, and raise it for the future to follow.
Creative Writing
And I’ll Go Nowhere…
I asked for her hand in this dance, she refused. Now, what am I to do but mourn the loss of her warmth in my life? The bliss she brought with a kiss and the scent of her hair waving in the air; wafting aromas only heaven could posses.
———-
It’s like a car crash killing your best friend in an instant. Never knowing what went wrong. Asking yourself ” could i have taken a different road? Is this how it’s meant to end?”. Nothing but the wreckage is left. Her last goodbye still ringing in my head.
———-
She took her exit stage left with a quickness. They tell me “move on” but I’m glued to my seat, floored for an encore. Because forgetting the unrelenting cry is more than just a task; it prefers ‘shine in a flask until i’m face down, just an undercover lover in the background.
———-
Hiding my shame in this never ending game of blame, it torments me. Mind like a tennis court, back and fourth between the truth and pale blue eyes. An opponent who no longer exists, still longs for my demise.
Beyond Nightmares: A Game in Progress
The other day a good friend of mine approached me regarding an idea that he was very enthused about pursuing. So naturally, I was curious to see what it was that had him sending me three-page text messages containing what seemed to be a plot of some sort..
Well, he wants to create a devilishly haunting video game. One that will have the player quaking in their boots with each step they take. So to sum things up, he asked me to write the back-story for the game. Basically giving the characters some meaning and some information as to how they ended up in the position they are in during the game. He gave me general guidance on how to write the intro and then essentially allowed me to have free reign.
So I thought it would be cool to post up our progress on my blog to get some exposure and potentially get some input from others who may have pointers or opinions on detail orientation etc. I hope you enjoy what we have so far! 🙂
P.J.- We were on the road again, Jane and I. Rebels with a cause; trying to find our own way through this frigid world we call “home” with nothing but the miserable hand we were both dealt to keep us moving. The night was pitch black, as if God forgot to pay the power bill and Zeus had no mercy for those afraid of the dark. No lightening, no stars; all on the night of a new moon. Just the rhythmic raindrops pelting my windshield and the sound of a bewildered jazz musician crooning his sorrows through the air-waves. Needless to say, I had been white-knuckling it all night.
Jane, was fast asleep in the passenger seat; lulled away by the smooth rhythm of Good Year tires gliding over a freshly paved road. Sweet, innocent Jane. She is all I have left in this world, and sometimes I feel as if I’ll never be strong enough to keep her safe. I look over and see her little hand cradling a picture of the family we used to have. The family that gave us everything they could, and asked for nothing in return.
Our mom, dad, our LIFE, all gone. Wiped out in the blink of an eye just weeks before. It happened on a family vacation. Apparently my mom, dad, the grandparents that haven’t succumbed to old age, and my best friend, Darryl were all going to surprise me with a visit on campus in Oregon. You know, the whole “familial-support” thing. I guess they really wanted to see me succeed, or they just wanted to drag me back home.
Alas, I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to. Those answers –along with the only people in the world who cared for me– are lost in Rogue River after careening off the bridge in what was called a “freak-accident”. Maybe forever, or maybe until next week when the National Guard launches their State-Mandated search for the bodies. I hope they don’t find anything; maybe it’ll let Jane, hold on a little while longer.
I’m not holding out much hope though. It was a two-hundred and fifty-two foot drop (said the police report) to the bottom of a river that travels for miles with white water’s ranging from a babbling brook to a raging torrent; eventually dumping everything it consumes into the Pacific. It was a miracle that Jane was spared the horror in the first place, therefor I refuse to dwell on the specifics.
She is all I worry about now. My Aunt, Rose was in charge of caring for her during the Family’s visit. I guess Jane, had been having trouble coping with middle school. She didn’t make any friends, and the popular snobs tormented her to the point of retaliation. I thank God, every day since then; If she hadn’t punched the head Cheerleader’s lights out, I may have lost all sanity when the Sheriff’s department reported the nightmare that I am still trapped in. My parents forced her to stay home as a punishment. They said she would have to “wait ’till Christmas to see your big Brother”. Well, I guess Christmas has come early this year. God damn that jolly fat man.
Just Friends: a slow death
He Had It Coming
You call off the search before the body’s unearthed.
You know of its resting place yet you are silent.
You call off the search, citing impossible circumstances.
But what do they do? They follow the silent whore.
Chasing the sound of a Siren at work.
Only you could have purged his demons.
Yet you threw away the key.
You had a knack for condemning a true lover.
Sending them to the gallows for terminal affection.
Alas, not even a pitiful tear wet your steely eyes,
as you pulled the lever stiffening the rope
with a deafening crack. And you laughed.
You still laugh to this day. “He had it coming”
You dare say.
When the Clocks Run Down the Crazy Comes Out
A simple rhyme for a simple mind.
It was the happiest and saddest moment of my summer
All in one sitting with you, My happiest and saddest.
The excitement of your smile brought on one of my own
A truly exquisite feeling, which no other can come close
Still in my broken mind, a time bomb awaits a trigger
When the feeling of serenity falls victim to displeasure
BY: Hopeless Romantic
I Am America
I would like to lighten the mood this time ’round by letting you all see my FIRST ever graded poetry assignment. Okay sure, it’s not my FIRST EVER POEM. But it is the first one that my Sophomore English teacher allowed the students to have free reign and didn’t limit our vocabulary by allowing us to vent frustrations in the form of profanity if need be –only if it was used appropriately and not simply taking advantage of the opportunity– . The topic was “being an American” and what that specifically meant to you. Here is my version
I am America
I have the right to be free
The right to be me
No limits on what I say
If they try I’ll make them pay
No matter what you do,
The president won’t give a damn about you
I am free
No one will take it from me
You don’t believe me?
Then look at all the people in Iraq dying
Or, coming home to see their family crying
What’s a life to him but another dime?
He says he gives people everything but never any time
I am free
No democracy for me
Because dying for him is like a sin
I am an American
Free to roam the lands
Free to graze the sands
Free to break the laws as I choose
He can’t tell me what to do
No matter where or when
I won’t condescend
Not for his government
I’d rather pitch a tent
Or live in Willow Glen
I won’t give in
Not for him
Fighting for a nickel off the gas price?
He’s skating on thin ice
As a kid I watch the bombs falling,
Troops crawling
Dodging another bullet
It’s bullshit
Risking their lives for a guy
Who just watches his country die
Working for him is like rolling a pair of dice
You either get the Snake Eyes or you score a six twice
Nothing more to say
I realized I was free today.
I am an American
Sometimes the Past Hurts More than the Crash
No longer in control. With every attempt to escape, the dark passenger refuses to fold. Lost in a daze through a mind turned maze. Every corner a new face, thought to be erased; a fresh ping of desire, one more log in the fire. Though no light breaks the seal, the burning sensation is soon revealed. The past becomes present. My future; non-existent.
Ghost Man on Third
Again, these dreams they haunt me
This familiar sense of being led astray;
urging the one you love to love another.
Just digging the knife deeper
to an everlasting slumber.
Wake up, cold sweat, I wonder…
If it you I’m laying with?
Oh no, looks like that herb has
Given me more than just a kick.
Now let’s get down to business,
I’ll be your witness
Close the blinds, turn on the lights.
our fans are waiting for us
To continue this fight
Now it’s two men down,
One more to go;
In this game you love to play.
The game of never give
And always take.
Yeah It’s the bottom of the 9th girl.
And we are out of options.
You have everything to lose.
For me all I had was you.
Now there’s nothing where
A fire burned before.
Just the ashes of a letter
With the signature forged.
Give it your best shot,
And don’t aim for my heart heart.
I guarantee you wouldn’t come close
It was never there from the start.
I learned to let it go when
All it did was take your side.
It couldn’t prove its worth
When you left me to die.
Though don’t think I’m stalling,
I’m braced and ready.
After all this is not a solo show,
But a game played by many.
Still if it makes you happy
I will take the fall.
So you can go pro
And home I will crawl.
Motion of the Ocean
It would seem I have lost a few readers with my last two installments so I am hoping a bit of self-loathing will be enough to reclaim my followers. So I give you a poem with a slight nautical twist 🙂
This room, dark and cold.
Regret, Through my veins it flows.
Waiting for the morning light;
When I can put this shadow on hold
Breathing with ferocity
It’s darkness frightens me
But why can’t I see?!
Blinded by duplicity!
(The itch it slows, The sun has risen)
Thoughts produced are cynical
This sanctum drives me clinical
But what is a shy guy to do?
What is a shy guy to do?!
I just bottle these emotions
Inside they rage like oceans
A sea of thought
Crashes against my lips, it rips
Right through my bones, it hits
Like nothing ive ever known, And this
Tidal wave resides inside
With the tide I’m low and high
And what comes next, no one knows best
Im just along for the ride