Human Nature When you are young,
they will treat you with the softness of spring.
They will guide you through the winter winds and
over snowy hills, admiring the brilliance of your
midday innocence; pulling daisies from the earth
just to place them in your hair. And they will
whisper to each other of how beautiful you are.
When you grow older,
they will treat you with the indifferences of autumn.
They will urge you from the complacency of your own
fleeting fulfillments, and they will watch your
brilliance fade with the swiftness of the sky. You
will shed your fragile childhood with the colors of
the trees, and you will learn to face the winter winds
without their guiding arms. And they will whisper to
each other of how beautiful you are.
When you are grown,
they will treat you with the coldness of winter. They
will leave you bare and naked before the ravenous wolves,
expecting you to fend for your own forgotten brilliance,
asking why you've kept those wilting daisies in your hair.
Evil, Beautiful, FirefliesI'm covered in fireflies;Evil, Beautiful, Fireflies2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All up and down my legs.
They sleep in my skin
And hide my sin,
My precious red fireflies.
They ignite my body
And set it ablaze.
They turn all of my pain
Into a crimson haze,
My precious red fireflies.
They burn through flesh
In a criss-cross mesh
And spread their wings
All over me,
My precious red fireflies.
They hum silently,
Whispering away my shame.
They burn brightly,
Setting my blood aflame,
My precious red fireflies.
I hate them but they love me
But nobody can ever see
Because they refuse to leave.
Not that I want them to;
Because they care,
More than you ever could do,
My precious red fireflies.
They want me to die,
To jump, to fly.
They want to own me.
They want to set me free
And make it so it can be
And my precious red fireflies.
forgetting how to sleeptake two.forgetting how to sleep1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
a week past the end of the world,
and there’s something therapeutic
about not caring. I must’ve
really messed up in another life. I
wake up shaking and forget to sleep
shaking and hold your hand, shaking,
remembering the moment I became
poison. I feel crazier than ever; cementhead’s
good and gone with his plastic wrists
and missing soul. the boy who entertains
his unfriendliest nightmares couldn’t
muster up enough innocence
to make it right. (today, he writes
a letter; dear Sophia, he tells me
it doesn’t get better. I’m
locked up for a crime I
didn’t commit. you did it,
Sophia. you built me
wrong.) but you know me,
I fell in love with a problem I
couldn’t fix, a boy blinded
who’s never seen the light.
He was a stormy violet but I
am cyan graying with age--
I spent most of my life dying,
and the rest of it wishing I
was someone else. they tell us
only god will see your ugly;
and the girl who swallowed
casual blasphemyfor the past four yearscasual blasphemy1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I’ve been in love with a boy
who’s too busy loving life to notice
I exist. I don’t think he’s ever seen me
past his tunnel vision living--
I’m in love with a boy who
wears black gauges and swears
he’s a deist who’s fed up with
the backwards-fucked system
that governs our lives; he talks to me
about the symbolic importance
of hunger and need and rebellion
and isolationism and death as
Orwell and Golding must have written it,
and, god, I just want to crack open
my ribs so he can see the literary
starvation destroying me, the not-quite
metaphoric devastation of my liver and
paper cuts scarring my heart. I want
him to talk to me about the reasons
we ought to avoid college
and capitalism and commitment and explain
to me what this all really means.
[I want to be so unflinchingly honest
with you that it will be as natural
and sinful as all the others
before, just without the glare
of bare skin and self-hate. I want to tell you
9729 kilometers away, to be exact.i have these bones like flowers-9729 kilometers away, to be exact.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
fragile and finely plucked,
these lily stargazers
are kissing ocean beds,
making love to sirens
for a taste of her
i want to tape maps to my limbs-
throw caution to the wind
as i gather up
every love letter receipt,
from every false attempt
i ever wrote her
& forget for just a moment
that even still
she does not love me.
Unconscious Epiphany.Unconscious Epiphany.Unconscious Epiphany.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I thrive and depend on your compliments
And it is only then as a direct consequence,
Am I truly able to write with confidence.
Even though your words are only temporary.
I deem your contribution as utterly necessary,
In order to refresh my wavering, selective memory.
My own validation depends on your approval.
Whether it is congratulatory or discouragingly brutal.
Your input is the one thing that is most crucial.
Can I call myself a writer if I don't believe in myself?
When I constantly seek approval from everyone else?
How can I then expect to make any sort of wealth?
Of a craft and skill I still think anyone is able to produce.
Is there any point in me putting my apparent talent to use?
When I limit and submit myself into a negative recluse.
I was told I must have self belief in order to achieve,
The dream that I am so desperately trying to receive.
The body can only accomplish what the mind believes.
I know I must rid myself from any form of self doubt.
wanderlust, and what i knowi know things.wanderlust, and what i know2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i'd like to pretend to the listening frost on car windscreens
that i know these things from the song of birds down my ears.
'a little birdy told me' they say, but what they're forgetting
is that birds, if they could talk, wouldn't waste time telling
humans other peoples's secrets when they could be teaching
me how to grow featherdown and fly. yet here i am, a bird
telling scraps of paper what i do and don't know.
ScarsStanding in the showerScars2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Skin turning redder
I stay still and soak it in
This water won't erase my sins
Scars stand out bright white
Burns and cuts all in sight
The real scars cannot be seen
They reside inside of me
I wonder if all I will be
is a creature scarred eternally?
Mirror MirrorMirror mirror on the wall,Mirror Mirror2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
acting like you know it all.
Comparing every little thing.
Ruling my life like a king.
Mirror mirror on the wall,
making my self-esteem fall and fall.
Telling me things I don't want to hear.
Clouding doubt in my mind that was once clear.
Mirror mirror on the wall,
here I lie, here I sprawl.
Can't you see what you have done?
Making my mind become un-spun.
Dry Spell I am immobilized by time.Dry Spell1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
by the idea that it is somehow slipping,
through the cracks of
my fingers and high
above my head.
I am terrified by the incessant notion
that no combination of thoughts,
could possibly satiate it.
I realize only now that it can never be filled:
all which is tossed into it is swallowed in haste
that it dissolves into non-being.
I find that I am caught within its furrows
much like the words it devours:
between its twisted arms
and I find myself aching
to do so much at once
that I end up doing
The PoetThe Poet:The Poet2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He smiles as he sees her sleeping
& gently covers her with a blanket.
He goes to the window and looks out
watching snow fall, ever so slowly...
He sees people in the streets,
Chatting, walking. Some happy,
Others sad. Hearts beating,
Hearts broken; some warm, some cold.
He looks back at her, as she stirs in bed.
A yawn from her, brings another smile to him:
"How cute," he chuckles as he strokes her head.
He runs his fingers through her hair and is content.
Yet, even if he is happy here, again -
He is drawn to that window and finds himself
Staring out at the street and watching;
Marveling at the disparity and wondering -
Isn't there something that I can do?
Isn't there a better way for us all?
He looks back at her, sleeping peacefully;
He thinks about the future and sighs.
He wants a better world for her,
One where she would always be safe,
But unfortunately, he has no power.
He is just one man with little to his name.
He picks up a piece of paper, one found lyin
HomesickThey say home is where your heart is.Homesick1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Right now I wonder
if that means I am away from home,
lost on the road
between here and there,
or that I am
nineariel stole your breath more than i ever did -nine1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
when my heart was thudding between your lungs,
because that was the only safe place, or so i was told
i can't remember when my heart caught the fever
for you had guarded it with your own ribcage for so long
my memories melded between your synapses and
we became one
MuteI rip out my vocal cordsMute2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
One at a time
With no disregard towards
The blood and gore I'm
Getting on my rotting palms
No one cares anyways
They wouldn't care if I was dropping bombs
They're too wrapped up in their own days
Why make myself mute
Now they can't hear me complain
About my oh so very cute
And insignificant pain
Now they won't need
To suffer anymore
They will be freed
From me, only a constant sore
how to be a poet: the basics.kiss all the peoplehow to be a poet: the basics.9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
you know you shouldn't,
solely for the reason
that they look good
look at your scars
like mothers peer into
cradles. then make
more; make yourself into
a symbol for infinity,
or at least try,
because it never works.
patch yourself up.
say, "darling, you're okay,"
while staring at yourself in the
mirror with your hair
damp and your lips
chapped (refer to stanza
one). change. grow.
it's what we like to read,
miss the people in your life
until they leave,
and then miss yourself
as well. screw everything up,
and then write about it
like it had to happen.
try to believe it, ignore
the voice in your head that hisses
and groans in your sleep,
behind your eyelids.
"baby, you're a fuck up,
you know it know it know it".
try to carve the humming
out of your body
by exit way of your veins.
be hospitalized. give in, give up,
play along, stop writing.
but then you start writi
everyone gets a miracleeveryone gets a miracle.everyone gets a miracle1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the thing with miracles is that who can tell a
miracle what it is? is it watching the sun bleed
into the horizon holding your lover's sweaty hand,
all cheap perfume and hour-old petrichor like a
twenty-first century version of numinosity, since
it's amazing you even found their heavy-lidded,
flecks-of-gold eyes in the first place? is it near-death
experiences where you're lifeguarded back into the world
by a kind stranger in a surgical mask? or is it nothing
spectacular, at least by those standards, but just
simply waking up in the morning, having the eyes and
lungs and heart to do so, the mouth to speak 'i
am alive and that is pretty awesome in itself'?
but, see, everyone gets a miracle.
a true, unrelenting one, the kind where your heart
swells up to nearly burst out of your body and your eyes
well up and the only word you can speak is 'wow'. maybe
you're twenty-eight or eighteen or forty-two and perched
precariously under fog and mist and shying away from the
Practice Poem - Artistic FrustrationPractice Poem - Artistic Frustration:Practice Poem - Artistic Frustration2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG!
Everything is wrong.
'As then sun dew drips from her eyes'-
Do I really think that'll be good enough?
Hours spent on each piece -
Punctuated only by sound of ripping paper -
To lie crumpled upon my wooden floor,
Unable to be forgotten.
As the hours pass and the day wears on,
More and more worlds are crushed by my hands.
Realities sprawled upon a single piece of paper,
To die as quickly as they are formed.
A man's whose romance is torn in two,
A vampire about to meet his prey.
A werewolf standing against an army
And a boy facing the world alone.
These are the lives that I hold in my hand;
Fictional lives, but precious still.
Yet as soon as I see their imperfections,
I destroy the evidence in a throe of shame.
These crumpled masses that now surround me,
They aren't the proof of perfection's pursuit...
They are merely my feeble, worthless attempts,
To disguise my own ineptitude.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 15th Decembe
Tick tickHe could hardly breatheTick tick2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
But his heart was still beating
A broken rhythm
A Phsycotic tempo
He didn't know the time
But he still heard the seconds go by
Swirling around him
Something was saying
His time was over
He didn't have wings
But he was flying away
I couldn't catch him
The wind carried him away
Were cold and bloody
And he bled
Dripping in tempo with the clock
It struck twelve
Like knifes and swords
And he bled
Milky Waymy body is a road mapMilky Way1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
of hazard signs
but on the days
when the mirror
is nice to me,
i can hear
like little racing
beneath my skin:
you are not worthless.
you are strong.
your ribcage has a meaning-
these bruises are
ste ti & you are the Milky Way.
Air BornI compare my parents courtshipAir Born2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To a plane taking to the sky
The ascent is the conception
Of me, my inner self and I
And should I survive the full term
From utero I shall emerge
As I jump from the aeroplane
Spiralling my way down to Earth
Descending through the atmosphere
I discern that this is my life
As the weather reflects my mood
From the sunshine to lightning strikes
The clouds they tend to come and go
As I tumble my way on through
A metaphor for life’s problems
Small dilemmas to big issues
But I choose not to close my eyes
As terra firma comes into sight
Even though death approaches me
At the unerring speed of life
If I open my parachute
If I open my torrid mind
A soft landing will greet my bones
As my soul leaves this world behind
she reminds me of myselfI'm sorry, Alice, the looking glass lies.she reminds me of myself2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Flowers don't sing
and hares don't keep time.
Your world of wonder
is all make believe -
Why else would your reflection
giggle and wink?
You aren't a child any longer, my dear.
Have a matchstick for your dreams
and a hammer for that mirror.
Our hands may be calloused
as we coddle our pasts
but delusions are enemies
and wistful muses pass.
I will wait for you, darling,
I will write for you, lass.
I will capture life's beauty
and contain it in glass.
Though, the singing that lingers
is the voice of my own.
The fragrant flowers are dying
even while their seed is sown.
Memories?How do you stay sane,Memories?2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
when the screams echo in your ears?
This is not a game,
these are living fears.
I'm searching for the truth,
but find only confusion.
Was it a secret in my youth,
or just an illusion?
Did he really hit her,
or was it a dream?
It's all such a blur,
and things aren't always as they seem.
Should I ask them?
No, they'd never tell.
Was it enough to condemn?
Will he go to hell?
Did he really do it?
Do I even want to know?
Maybe I should quit,
let the memories go.
Ignorance is bliss,
that I know too well.
The memories, I dismiss.
Send them all to hell.
with a whisperthis is how we rule the world,with a whisper2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the forgotten, lobotom-ised,
of a long lost dystopast.
not with a SHOUT,
we do not argue.
we do not even unsheath
we whisper in your children's ears
the memories of what should have been.
the life we all crave.
the death we all crave.
WE do not discriminate
our opinions onto others
pressing the side of the blade
down onto the flesh
all are bitten
with the fever of our belief.
this is how we rule the world,
we tell stories,
we incite a generation
with their own scar/r/ed lungs
with a whisper.
Time Is The CureTime Is The Cure2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Time Is The Cure
Right hand of destruction
Left hand of creation
It's a never ending cycle
A fatal revival caught in a downward spiral
I tear down reality’s mask
As I build up a truth to give hope a chance
The veiled darkness decays
The guiding light fades
I let go of an old pain
As new tears wash it away
The sun always rises
The moon always sets
The rain subsides
The storm is put to rest
Clouds confide / Memories detest
Skies collide / Cries confessed
Light shines / Dark regrets
Pain hides / Peace professed
A new day awaits
An old night forgotten
Tomorrow I shall awake
To cradle what remains unbroken
I can't erase my mistakes
But I can't let them define my fate
There's always control
There's always faith to hold
Opposites are locked together
I am the sinner; I am the confessor
With time- comes change
Agony and serenity dawn a n
NecromancyI wanted to see what makes a human heartNecromancy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so I took a scimitar and ripped apart your decrepit
and inside that primordial ribcage I found nothing but
And you merely gave a cruel parody of a
dug your bloodstained claws into your
and tore out that infestation you called a
"Analyze that well, my little necromancer," you
fangs dripping with the acid I once begged to
"Perhaps you'll be as wise as me once you find the
I could only watch as you sunk back down into
clutching that contaminated Philosopher's Stone
knowing you had replaced my heart with the poison known as
'l o v e.'