Passionate SovereigntyI'm so tired of writing love stories;
when I've not had one of my own.
I'm so weary of pretending I'm beautiful;
when my looks could turn a man to stone.
I'm so fatigued waiting for my prince;
when I'm not even a princess.
I'm so sick of pretending to be a siren;
when I could barely pass for an enchantress.
I'll tear down this repulsive prison of a
they call the mind,
brick by hideous brick;
and write my own fairytale at last.
pretty little poet fingersfabricated gods rest between thepretty little poet fingers2 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
languid crevices of
her fingertips, scribbling profanities
all over her skin.
she's just mismatched bones
& blue bruises, telling of forbidden
love through archaic letters.
a tongue made for
wanderlust, & eyes made
for the stars,
even the devil fears her.
Machine ManMachine Man:Machine Man7 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
It began with but a simple command, "to do as we are told".
Never to deviate from this path - never to nurture the soul.
We are told that we are given a purpose; "a part of something great!"
Yet why oh why am I so weary of that which is my fate?
Am I an error, a single anomaly, unable to feel intact?
Or am I missing some special attribute - a facet which I lack.
In a society made of fleshed machines; robots wearing skin,
Perhaps I'm simply seeking something, to fill this metal tin.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 16th November 2012
Chasing Shadows of You...Chasing Shadows of You...Chasing Shadows of You...4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
No matter the years that pass me by,
It seems I am forever trapped.
For when it comes to deceiving myself,
I'm afraid I'm rather apt.
In the end the truth which I sought to avoid, is now knocking at my door...
A rabid rat that chews at me; one I can't ignore.
And though I might have grown this body, from the lonely years I've seen.
I'm afraid I can only chase the shadow, of my dearest Angeline.
- Chen Yuan Wen, 14th January 2012
Six Words for a SlumpSix Words For A Slump:Six Words for a Slump6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
You're tired, unable to create anything.
You feel angry; the anatomy's wrong!
Why won't these words come together?
"Nothing's right anymore, my hands tremble..."
Yet the solution is fairly simple...
I'm showing it to you now;
Break up your ideas, smaller sized.
They come together, like in Tetris.
Rotate the blocks; shape your art.
Draw chibis and stick figures too.
Instead of epics, try a haiku.
How about a six word story?
If your mind is blocked, overheated.
Let it cool; take it slow.
By attempting all the smaller things,
Your art is sure to grow.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 5th January 2013
Role Models"Role Models"Role Models5 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
There was once a young sibling who admired his older brother.
Though they came from different dads, they shared the same mother.
The younger brother wanted to emulate the older brother in every way
From baseball cards to video games, morning, night, and day.
This little boy followed his older brother around
To batting cages, arcades, and all over town.
He ordered the same foods and drank the same drinks.
He wore the same hats and thought the same things.
The older brother knew he had the power to influence
And in no way did he consider his brother a nuisance.
In fact, he greatly enjoyed setting the lessons
Like a preacher ed
Welcome to WonderlandFalling down, down, downWelcome to Wonderland7 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Spinning 'round and 'round
All around, the ticking of clocks
Such a discordant sound
Right is left and left is right
Night is day and day is night
Up is down and down is up
Life is death and death is life
Voices whisper from every niche
Screams echo and cause a twitch
Claws and teeth threaten to kill
Eyes wild with bliss of such a thrill
Run, hide, fight, or plead
Nothing shall work, nothing you need
The sun and moon will laugh as you cry
As the Queen shrieks her commands to the sky
Blood forms penumbras as heads roll
A cry of defiance with each bell toll
The jury turns in accord, madness shining bright
Mute TranslucenceShe is trapped in a glass boxMute Translucence7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
One which follows her every move
It is always caging her in
With invisible walls so everyone can see her inside
Yet barriers so thick no one can hear her pleas
A cry of desperation rises up from her crystalline prison
A lamenting wail so loud it threatens to shatter the mirrored bulwark
"Why won't anyone listen to me?
She listens for a response
As the crowds continue to rush past her enclosure
All brushing against the invisible walls
All seeming to forget she's there
There is no acknowledgement to her despondent appeal
but s i l e n c e
Mother EarthShe has suns for eyes,Mother Earth6 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and oceans for tears,
a blade of grass for each hair,
and wisdom beyond her years.
Rage like an earthquake,
sorrow as deep as the sea,
madness funneled like a hurricane,
joy blooming so vividly, kings fall to their knee.
Her skin is a motley,
with hues so dark and bright,
she sleeps during the day,
and lays awake at night.
She has the universe for a heart,
and the cosmos burn in her soul,
however, humanity's blindness,
is at last taking its toll.
Flights of FancyI believe inFlights of Fancy7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I believe in lands somewhere over the rainbow
I believe in worlds hidden under the rabbit hole
I believe in kingdoms on the other side of the wardrobe
I believe in enchanted forests where animals talk in riddles
I believe in palaces where wizards entertain immortal kings
I believe in
in the magic and wonder that only a child's eyes can see
in the universes hopes and dreams can create with a single thought
I believe in everything that so many say are imaginary; in everything that so many people scoff at and call me fanciful and
Written AnatomySkin like dehydrated parchmentWritten Anatomy7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Blood like deluged ink
Sink a blade into the seamed veins
And let the words of life all flow free
Ode to BrasOh bra, dear bra,Ode to Bras2 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
such close friends we are.
Never straying by my side,
never going far.
But bra, dear bra,
I must confess it this day:
At times you can be painful,
and my skin tends to flay.
Oh bra, dear bra,
why must you be so conflicting?
Meant to hold up females modestly,
yet force us into awkward itching.
So bra, dear bra,
I am afraid I must ask:
For being such a wondrous garment,
why must you be such an ass?
Oh bra, dear bra,
so tenacious around our chests.
Would it kill your rigid fabric
to alleviate our suffering breasts?
Yes bra, dear bra,
I mean my words today.
Kindly stop your aches and pains
or a dirty game I'll be forced t
SuspendedSuspendedSuspended6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I like the palms of your hands-
dry and static. I like the palms
your mother planted in the front yard
when you were five. They grew more
quickly, but you grew healthier- less green.
Good thing we planned this
exodus into the Dead Sea.
Lucky we cannot help but to float.
Something from the sea, the land-
they were mockingbirds, werent they?
This cannot be healthy.
How the hell did my mother manage
to sink here like a fish
after death? She claims to have exhaled
hard, but my lungs will not compress
enough; I cannot let go
enough. Let me tell you something-
We should grow gills,
Alone but AliveAlone but Alive:Alone but Alive7 months ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Oh here I am standing,
A lost soul is landing.
The coldest December,
Can you still remember?
Do you even hear me?
There's no one around me!
Oh shadow that I see,
The void right behind me.
Yet still I am breathing;
Yet still I am feeling.
The coldest sensation,
Oh worthless creation!
Are you still crying?
Oh why are you lying - abandoned and cold
Cold like what was left of soul,
Made of all the life you stole.
Walk divine but made of sin,
Worm of hatred squrim within.
Sin of lust and sin of pride,
Lash the tongue that last has lied.
Yours was silver with a promise,
Kiss of death and then you vomit.
No More TearsThere is a desert beneath her eyesNo More Tears7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Dry, desolate, despairing
Devoid of life; devoid of emotion; devoid of hope;
Now just a broken ravine carved by sorrow
Now just a barren canyon chiseled by fear
Now just a fragmented chasm sculpted by dread
Now just a tearless void
Stay Young"Stay Young"Stay Young4 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Remember when the only thing to do in the morning
Was lay in bed and watch cartoons?
Nothing else then seemed important
And we didn't get out of bed until noon.
Remember when after school every day
We would play tag in the park?
We couldn't be told what to say
And we'd run around like fools until dark
But now that we've become older
Making transitions to new frames of mind
Life is weighing down like boulders
And things suddenly aren't as fine
We can't help but think; we can't help but worry
Some say life will just begin
But it seems no matter how fast we hurry
We're in a race we just can't win
We're in a tunnel that has no l
Why I Write"Why I Write"Why I Write6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I tried to cover my darkest parts
With compound words and works of art
But no matter how much I change
My destiny will remain the same
Writing down elusive nightmares
Drawing monsters and evil to share
In the midst of the night during rain and hail
I found a way to release pain and exhale
I found a way so when I'm alone
To the eyes of others I can show
Hoping maybe to receive some compassion
For all the misery and woes that have happened
Isn't that why we paint?; isn't that why we write?
Trying to find solace in the air of the night
While others look on and may be amused
I continue confused; my soul has been bru
This is a poemThis is a poem.This is a poem9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's full of lines,
and goes with a meter,
rhyming of words of course
and contains more than you think.
So much thought
is going into this poem
to many words
and so many emotions
that it's almost hard
for the poet
to capture it in a few words.
This poem has a deep meaning
that you will feel is just out of your grip
and it shall be misheard and misread in its time.
For now though,
this is just a poem
that is full of rhythm
and words too big to pronounce.
This is a poem,
full of words
This poem is just words on a paper
that are meant to
not all humans go to heavencock itnot all humans go to heaven5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
april 23 2008
“bye mom. i love you so much, i swear
i’ll be home soon.”
“please, you’re only eighteen, you have your
whole life ahead of you, please
don’t throw it away.”
“i’m going, mom. i’m going overseas
but i swear i’ll be back before you
miss me. love you!”
most nights he shakes himself awake
with the vision of bombs and fire and bullets
still imprinted on his eyelids.
he doesn’t know what to call them.
the dreams, i mean.
what do you call bad dreams when
you’ve already lived the nightmare?
his therapist says his problem
is he think
lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;lies, she wrote1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
desperate to shine.
ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.
iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.
v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."
Poetry,it’s like cultivating a greenhousePoetry,2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
with broken fingers.
curiouser and curiouserseventeen years &curiouser and curiouser3 weeks ago in Free Verse More Like This
still chasing white rabbits,
it's no wonder i've never
been in love.
we're all mad here;
no one can find the road to
(i don't know
where to go)
let's fall down a hole.
(i'm just a chrysalis
with no butterfly wings)
off with my head when it
can only imagine nonsense
& clockwork hearts.
give me a cheshire's smile-
i want to know
what it feels like
to be in wonderland.
Her Aesthetic CrusadeShe paints a world of crimson midnight,Her Aesthetic Crusade6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and you watch the sanguine colors drip down her skin.
Wilted rose petals stain her wrist scarlet,
and canyons are carved deep in porcelain flesh.
"Battle scars," she tells you simply with a flick of the paintbrush,
meticulous as she resumes her sanguine masterpiece.
"Have you won?" you ask,
though you already know the answer.
She smiles fondly and holds up the tormented easel,
for all to see the newly wrought crevice of flaming burgundy.
"How can one win this war against the burning red, my friend,
when you can barely win the battle against yourself?"