The-People-Who-Write

The sun rose a spitting fire as I turned to face it - a great duality; action disposing of light, destructive power called to propel it. Ra, burning flames of creativity, Ra! If you will to breathe out life and eat death then I will be a harbor for such powerful things; a molding rock on which to fertilize your greatest masterpiece.

Save the scars, bleed another day, One day, there will be more to say. Upon this bed I lay, closing my eyes to wonder if I owe death a debt to pay, Come whatever may. Leaves lay themselves upon the ground once they die, Here I lie, Upon the comfort of my bed with thoughts of despair, where I need not to myself lie, Crumple me up in blankets of shadow and feed me buckets full of lye. People often wonder why I hate those I am genetically obligated to love, I tell them it is because there is nobody up above, I could wonder the same, just like asking what rhymes with love, but that doesn't fit just like OJ's glove, I could tell you tha

The true story of Snow White Prince Charming wasn't a prince to start with. He was an accident caused by two young lovers. Not wanting to be accused of adultery, the abandoned him in the woods near a cave of wolves hoping not to be charged with adultery. Luckily, a kindly enchantress named Mildred rescued the boy and brainwashed the kingdom into thinking he was the prince. For a while, things were fine...till he got hmself in a screw up. "you told your cousin Frederick what?!" Mildred gasped. "I was embarssed okay." Charming said. "you know that bedtime story you made up for me...the one about the princess who eats the poisoned apple?" "S

IF there were words to describe my pain, I would tell you to look at a painting. Blotches and colors written over a blank space, to tell a story, A story of a broken heart that you helped break a little more. Sometimes I feel insane, Maybe insecure and shy for years from dating. Maybe I felt so happy because I could forget my pain, like a memory for Dory, I thought you would be different, but like all the others you lead me on to leave my heart sore. I stopped my afflictions, and my habits when I first saw your face. But I was lead on a road of happiness to hell, With my soul the only thing to sell. This leaves me here in tears lik

Blankness is all encompassing. Sitting in the shadows while those who claim to love you are bustling. What is bleak? If not darkness. Who is the face in the mirror? If not a likeness. Loneliness is felt deeply. Where piano keys are hit by feeble fingers. Trembling. Sitting and waiting for something to change. All night long. Being there yet told your never there. Untruthfulness in song. Let the dark choir lower it's tones, because I've heard enough. Where the bleak road goes now is uncertain. Calling fates bluff. It's like the sounds of a thousand loves ones suddenly falling silent. Facing you as the ones you love but facing away a

There are no exemptions in the art house of evil and despair. With so much darkness around us, it's hard to tell right from wrong anymore. That which is seen as truly right is shoved in our faces as a evil hand held together pair. So we constantly feel like ghosts on a playground, fading away in the blight of smog if we dare. Dare us to try, dare us to fight. There is only darkness ahead of us, yet we're told it will get better. But we know better, even in the darkest of night. I guess we need to slit our wrists and write a scarlet letter. So that when we die, we'll become a martyr in this society. Where pain has become a bonus to ex

Growing up, I always heard the term "Question Everything". As a young boy, I never truly realized the gravity of that term, I perhaps thought of it as a subject to perhaps sing. Sing about the things that hurt and the things that burn, or when to stand firm. Now as an adult, I look back on everything I've done, been through, created and written. You could sum up my life in the thousands of poems and songs, good or not, that I have put to paper. They always seem to be the same, I'm either riding the waves into the rising sun or being bitten. Now I think about my life now and the situation I'm in, and how many times I stared down a bottl

The stronger threat of losing, or the truth of leaving, Or even, if you dare go there, believing, Can be called treason, or even bereaving, Or maybe, in a way, giving. Trusting can be called failing, or the falsehood of strife, Or even, breaking the knife, Or maybe, in a way, life. Let's take a moment to think that maybe it all lies in time, But of course you cannot buy coffee to move through it anymore at the cost of a simple dime, Grab a passport and leave, serve through the time you have been given, not like it's a crime, Better than biting down on a lime. See this as blabber all you wish, But be free falling to the ocean or be

Lately I look out my window, and I see the land has run dry, On the wall is my letter, a manifesto of my life, I realize now what I must do, for I can longer to myself lie, The realization hits the bone, while the truth is the knife, I can't keep driving over the same highway over and over, Without seeing the same things, A sonnet about how disgusted with myself I am, or my heart broken from a lover, Now I see what tomorrow brings, Time to answer the call, Time to bless the fall, I can escape this life I have lived over the years, By drying up my tears, I can move on to brighter skies in the horizon afar, By stitching up this scar, With the

Mom always told me to NOT afraid by dark. I know that. She always told me like million times. Because I keep turnig on the lamp, even until now. The bills keep spinning round. She angry to me and turn off all the lamp in my room. But I always get the extra of the lamp that I always hide in my drawer. So, I will keep in safe condition after I wake up. The fact that even parent don't know is: People actually not afraid in the darkness. But afraid what is inside the darkness.                                                                                                                                    ~FIN