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.
preemptive breakup poemif anyone ever tells you your sadness isn't physical,preemptive breakup poem3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
show them the ache in your bones,
the raw skin on your arms or wrists or hips or thighs,
the imprint of your foetal body on your mattress from the days you couldn't bear to leave.
and you see this?
this is what hurt looks like.
i want you to look closer, lean in a little until you can feel the sadness on my breath
and i want you to watch my eyes. count how often they blink and count how many of them are forcing back words i still can never say.
i don't want you to miss a second of how you make me feel.
i want to be what keeps you up at night
i want to be the reason you can't eat
or laugh at your favourite tv programs
i want to be the reason
you walk with your eyes on the pavement
because too many things
remind you of me
i want you to feel the soreness of a heart unloved
loudly enough that the beating is mute and slow
loudly enough that you keep your hands in your pockets
when you move through the city so you don't touch any
InertiaSometimes, I feel so very sorry forInertia3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the letters that I write.
Born onto a blank page and
trapped there all their lives.
No new sites to see, no unfamiliar faces to meet;
standing in a lonely row
just to express my thoughts as words,
and yet, completely unable to express their own.
They lie paralyzed in their birthplace
lacking the ability to grow and learn.
Immovable to change for the rest of their lives.
And sometimes, I wonder to myself,
why I choose to be the same.
WhisperI want to create an aromatic sea of jasminesWhisper3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and stardust mountains of silver and —
Inkblot skeletons with paper mache
hearts, whose bones shall burn with one glance at the
sun; gravestones of blood diamonds and tears of thistles...
Harp strings ringing in grotesque harmony, screaming
for slender fingers to pluck and caress with devotion.
I want to write
Growing Upit seems that by now I’ve been diagnosedGrowing Up2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with a mild case of weightlessness, mindless
drifting past empty homes and the emptier people
that purchased them. I remember conversations
with you about existentialism
and the almost intricate fabric of my mind and
everything in between, and you-- the way you
paused before making a point as
the words defined themselves in your head:
I remember the day I told you I was God.
Creator of all things unimportant, trapped
in the body of a girl with nothing left to give, you
it must be a beautiful place
inside your head, with a world
that revolves around hope and expectations
the way it was supposed to; all
storybook-perfect like the
wars promise we’ll one day
[I’d like to think that every great leader
once cried themselves to sleep wondering
if they’d ever mean anything and
did things to stand out like smoking
or drinking or pretending to be someone
they’re not and every morning they’d tilt
R.I.P WordsDo you know what it feels like?R.I.P Words3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To feel something, but...
be unable to express what it is;
to be silent;
to fight it alone.
I know how much it hurts,
but I don't know how to show it.
Poetry used to be my refuge,
a place where I could be alone -
express all my emotions,
without being judged.
I'm losing it.
I can't connect to poetry.
Everything sounds so stupid...
Everything I write sounds stupid.
I have to erase all my feelings,
because they don't sound right.
The words aren't real.
They don't show what I feel
And maybe this will be the last.
Maybe I'm gone:
lost of all emotions.
I'm truly alone...
I used to have poetry.
Now I have nothing.
Memories of WarMemories of War:Memories of War3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
What is this long-lost memory inside?
Where oceans turn; what have we left behind
With star-burned wings out above the sky.
The sleeping sons are lovingly left to lie...
A thousand tears you've cried for all,
Now its time for you to fall!
Will you open up the door,
To the future we ignore?
Are you simply lying broken,
From the memory awoken;
Are you simply living lies,
Bitter taste with ropes you tie...
And the world will soon forget.
Fill my heart with this regret?
For the victims written in stone.
Unspoken sin you now atone...
Yeah I've seen this world where we livin' in pain,
Wrap my body round with chain.
Now we both know we be broken;
Give this man his smokin' token.
Held up guns with both his hands;
Not a boy he's cause he's a man.
Order comes by a suit and hand.
Will you flee or will you stand?
This is a memory of our war,
Of all the things that we can't ignore.
And staying blind to the cries of pain...
Will lonely ashes be what remai
It's all about her,-I had never wished to know the moon,It's all about her,2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
or the burning gaze of her lover.
I am merely a forest of silences,
old dogwoods & untamed hair.
-But, I made a promise
to a bone collector once.
He could have my spine,
my kneecaps, &
one flowered rib,
wrapped & bowed-up
like a present
-if he could fall in love
with things that slip through his fingers:
-“It would be a sin to love you,
my dear sweet wolf;
you will always cry for the moon.”
disorder"mirror, mirror, on the walldisorder2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
who's the fairest of them all?"
i whispered to my doleful reflection,
but this was no fairy tale:
this was a small town on a cold, foggy night.
my skeleton was so beautiful
i wanted to showcase it,
give onlookers a glimpse of my impending
death through my very flesh.
i could picture myself, edges carved away
like a cored apple.
i just wanted to feel real.
everyone around me chewed and swallowed so easily
but i just gnawed on my lip until i
tasted blood, and let
a piece of myself die.
the flavor made my mouth water
as my stomach ground out hoarse
requests for expansion, for meaning.
i held nothing within but pathetic yearning,
hollow with self-hatred.
i could only feel affection with pain.
perfection became my obsession,
consuming me alive the way i would have
loved to consume anything at all.
some part of me believe i could be a super model,
and living my life on ambition and emptiness
was the way to do it.
every day i watched the little numbers
ScarsStanding in the showerScars3 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?
I've Changed (Yeah right)I've Changed (Yeah right):I've Changed (Yeah right)3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You know, I tell myself everday,
That I'm going to change - that I'll be different.
'This isn't the same; I'm not the same,' that's what I tell myself...
As I sit in front of the computer, praying time doesn't move.
Coward, you're weak and you'll always be weak! You bloody disgrace...
I pick up some new magazine, get inspired,
'I want to be like that guy,' is what I think to myself.
I give it a try for two or three days - I quit.
Same old shit again...
Making up excuses? It's what you always do, you gutless wonder...
I try to reach out with my hands,
Seeking something, anything that I can find to help myself hold on...
But I don't find it - I just find myself,
Sinking back down into the same black swamp - I'm drowning.
Awww, what's the matter? You gonna cry, you gonna cry?
Yeah, I've hit rock bottom,
And you know what? It feels pretty damn good down here.
Nice, warm, comfortable, familiar.
No pressure, no problems - just like everb
I'm So TiredI'm so tired of crying,I'm So Tired3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm so tired of loving,
I'm so tired of dying
inside my soul each day.
I'm so tired of hoping,
I'm so tired of dreaming,
I'm so tired of imagining.
It will never be real anyway.
I'm so tired of falling,
I'm so tired of failing,
I'm so tired of walking
when love is so far away.
I'm so tired of wishing,
I'm so tired of searching,
I'm so tired of remembering
those beautiful things you used to say.
I'm so tired of bleeding,
I'm so tired of yearning,
I'm so tired of living
in a world that's grey.
But most of all I'm tired,
of being the person I am,
I'm tired of my mistakes,
I'm tired of my broken heart.
I'm just so tired of being me.
The Way We LiveThe Way We Live:The Way We Live3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
We all have our own little struggles;
Pushing on forward as the tragedies double.
A life led with pain and exhaustion too immense,
I'm pushing down walls as my muscles go tense.
But these are the words that you'll never hear me spit.
I'd never say I'm 'giving up' or if I should 'quit'.
I'm really freaking stupid so just tell it to my face,
And even then I'd never give up the right to race.
I'm like a lone arrow drawn and shot from a bow,
Blustered by the winds of all the things I don't know.
I'd never figure out if I'd reach the final mark,
But I know that I'd never lose my glowing inner spark.
And that's all it takes just to keep this body going.
With calloused hands in this ocean I'm still rowing
Searching for some land out amidst a sea of black;
A wandering gypsy bearing burdens on his back.
- Chen Yuan Wen, 14th January 2013
On the bus, I sawyou, across from meOn the bus, I saw2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
'right' to be a stranger-
& public transport are
on uneven terms, so
we start a game
you throw me your eyes, only
to have them thrown back
it's called 'bullseye'
because this dance-
of near misses
& stolen glance
makes us guilty of
red in shared blushes
(& horns in my pants)
stranger, there will come a time
you arrest me-
to remain strange
& your permit to
bulldoze my heart.
Poets have the loneliest hearts.I drink morphinePoets have the loneliest hearts.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like peach tea;
down 6 pills by morning
just to keep my mind
& I know I can go days
without speaking a word
I want a moon shy girl
with wolves at her back,
bite mark ankles &
a bottle of writer’s tears
tucked under one arm.
I want to be end of the war
kisses bruised into her hipbones;
the epilogue written over her
With these wisteria limbs
February cold, &
these weak lungs
exhaling coralline whispers,
I’ve got a tongue for words
but still have no idea how to love
a universe girl.
Untitled I spend my sleepless nightsUntitled2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
deconstructing her suicide
and gnawing on regret--
because I always told her she was a star-child
born for better worlds and quiet days
alive at night and in the rain.
And as I lay on summer grass, damp with dew,
with only the moon to witness, and
with her head on my chest,
her breathing even and slow with the whisper of sleep,
I promised her that she would be fine.
But I am a liar--
white words turn black in time,
as she was no fool, no child, no blessed angel.
She was the girl who had demons in her veins
raking her wrists, pulling at her throat
bleeding in her eyes and staining her heart
she had storms that gave no warning,
screaming of death and despair;
some of which would last a day or a week,
and others which never ceased.
When I held her in my arms
she would always tremble for a moment
and then collapse and exhale sorrow
And when I kis
I Want to Get Out of HereI think I have grown in the shape of a squareI Want to Get Out of Here2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That is the shape of my box.
My feet at my chest and my hands in my hair
bound with no keys and no locks.
Inside my box is cramped and tight,
And when I breathe it rattles.
During the daytime I see no light
In here I fight no battles.
My breath is stale and my hair is tangled,
All I know is the dark.
I fear that I am horribly mangled
From living conditions so stark.
I want to get out and see the ocean
For there is a world to see:
The sun and the moon and the stars in motion
All laid out for me.
Being stuck in a box is bad, I believe
For my muscles and my bones
But my body might fall apart if I leave:
This box is all I know.
In here I feel little sorrow or pain
Inside and out I'm numb.
I feel not the wind, nor the cold, nor the rain
In silence, I am dumb.
A terrible ache settles deep in my soul
Past limbs twisted far back
Shut away from the world, I can never be whole:
All that is living, I lack.
"How hateful, how horrid this box is!" I crie
UntitledThe hours are slow in the white corridorsUntitled5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but you are with me when the hands strike fear
and the clock whispers twelve.
You hear my voice echo down the halls
a half-empty ward
a clear glass of psychotropic drops.
You crush my ribs
and rob my lungs of tears.
You kiss my wrists
and strip the bone
The silver constellation of scars,
the scarlet mouth of screams
softened by the gentle murmurs
of bodies creased with love.
You breathe the poetry I cannot speak,
you hold the fragile shape of my skull
like a bruised eggshell
as the nurses hold me down
You feel it in your lungs
when the needle slides through,
and the drop of blood is yours too.
You feel the medicated sleep,
the sweet lull of seduction
as sedation pulls at the hull of my veins.
Long hours spent visiting your daughter
While doctors tell you she's insane.
You lie awake each night as the weeks pass
and I feel it in my chest,
in each breath
The hurt I crease into the faces
of my sweet family.
I ache and I am hollow
but you sli
how to be a poet: the basics.kiss all the peoplehow to be a poet: the basics.2 years 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
wanderlust, and what i knowi know things.wanderlust, and what i know3 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.
Into the PlungeBuild me aInto the Plunge3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sandcastle on the edge of the sea,
where the cliffs are sprayed with the salty tears of the tide,
and sirens cry into the night for the arms of a lover
to whisk them away into a dry night free of brine;
Where we shall dance the sunset's furtive sigh of redemption
on the edge of saline bluffs, and kiss with the gunpowder
of forgotten cannons high on the waves of an abandoned ocean;
Teetering the edge of the world, where the Kraken and Leviathan lay in wait
for lost-lorn victims of broken hearts and brackish undertows
coursing through their veins.
A poem about loveLove consists out of painA poem about love2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Love consists out of desire
Love is what I admire
Love always fights against my brain
Love is despising
Love is passion
Love is not a piece of fashion
Love is always surprising
None of these things are untrue
Love is enough to make one weep
That is love as it seems
Yet when I think of you
I simply can’t fall asleep
Since life is finally better, than in my own dreams
Daddy, am I pretty?Daddy, am I pretty?Daddy, am I pretty?2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
"Daddy, daddy look at me!"
She laughed and twirled around
Dressed up in her dress-up clothes.
Daddy didn't make a sound.
"Daddy, daddy look at me."
She told him once again.
"Daddy, am I pretty?"
Asked she, feeling empty within.
"Yes." said daddy flatly
Though look he never did.
She ripped off all the clothes,
Ran to her room and hid.
Daddy never came
To ever see if she was fine.
In her floor she laid.
All she could do was cry.
Daddy didn't love her;
She knew that in her heart.
It's not right for a five year old
To feel broken, torn apart.
Although too many years have passed
The story's still the same.
I called only when I needed him
But daddy never came.
Now my dreams are haunted
With that broken little girl
And her horrid misconception of
The best daddy in the world.
love letter to the state of florida1.love letter to the state of florida2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
i am not in love with you.
i left you when the leaves turned and i'm back for now,
but only 'til i muster the strength to hoist my bags & run away
believe me, it's not that you're not paradise,
because i've had my fair share of briny breezes & tequila sunrises
and i too have caught myself with my toes in the sand for a tad
blinding white is just too opaque for glass houses and you know
the way the sun shines at midday, that'll melt your face right off
if you stare long enough--
trust me, i know a guy.
last saturday i saw your face on the cover of a national geographic
at the doctor's office,
they caught you singing in the misty rain, voice sweet i remember
like honeysuckle & orange blossoms in the summertime,
there were strands of sargassum woven into your hair, it smelled of
fresh dew, it stole the sun in handfuls and waltzed with the wind
around your shoulder blades;
i found angels sleeping in the crook of your back, skin golden honey
opening to catch saltsp