i'm not an artistwe do not belong in boxes
and bags and books or
and we do not sit contently
in wordsworth and shakespeare
and blake, burns, and brownings
or in the cold stiff bones
of raleigh's of long ago;
detect, and re-select
a virus--a disease,
a germ in every verse and line;
the first signs of
foolish waitings under
bridges and scolding parents
and nothing to signify at all
we are the blood of nations
and the heart of men
and the love of every
rhetorist and sentimist
we dance through the ballrooms of
the age and chat with
we shake hands with heros
and the homeless, dirty
type that gum over 'hello's
we are and aren't and will be
silly verse and
naive philosophers and sweet oxymorons
waving hello from the shore;
forever onward and never ending
like the stars in an
A lion among sheep.There are ghosts in my bloodstreamA lion among sheep.10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
kissing concrete cells &
the bedroom eyes of nerve endings.
( foreign words
engraved into my marrow, birds in my chest
& wars not yet fought between my hips. )
I've taken myself apart every night
since I learned how to swallow a pen
limb by steady limb.
Passed around by grabby hands,
a sold, & borrowed daughter;
I am a lion among sheep,
drunk on life & ink.
Open Heart SurgeryI've got ink throbbing through fissured veins,Open Heart Surgery10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
poisoning every atom of my soul.
"Bite your tongue," they say.
How I'd love to chew the damn thing off
and suck down every filthy syllable
just like the rotten bone marrow it is.
They'd all watch as my body spontaneously combusts
and becomes nothing but convoluted karma.
And so I wrote,
Teach me the ways of ripping out a human heart,
and stitching it onto ink-stained parchment."
The answer that came was rasped from a cauterized throat:
"Read your future in the collapsed palm of the stars;
find the abandoned pulse of your lionhearted muse;
steal their conformed scalpel and make it your own."
Things I'll Never SayThere are certain things I’ll never say,Things I'll Never Say9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Like how I thought about killing myself today
Just to keep my own scary thoughts away.
Like how I stay awake way too late
To be sure I don’t awake in a bloody state.
Like how I soaked white into red last night
And turned myself into a ghastly sight.
Like how it hurts too much to breathe
When I make my own skin seethe.
Like how I Google things I shouldn’t
When I want to do things I couldn’t.
Like how I’m scared of being alone
Yet I’m only happy when I’m on my own.
Like how I know I’ll wind up killing myself
And turn into just a dusty photo on a dusty shelf.
Like how I make myself bleed every day
Even though I know I can’t go on this way.
Like how I maybe want someone to see
And for them to somehow help me.
But nobody will ever help me,
Because those are all the things I’ll never say.
because i have toimpaledbecause i have to9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
& wreaking havoc on these
more than endorphins &
planes out of control
pretending that if
instilled in bedsheets
GrowthI remember the day I caught him 'gardening'. His cheeks stained cherry with the brisk wind that trotted beside him up and down the smothered garden path. He dropped a seed as his feet brushed past each other. Up and down he walked, a solemn lieutenant. I asked him what he was doing and those wide sky eyes reflected the ice as he told me he was trying to grow flowers for his mother. I looked at the seeds spilt on the snow and told him that they could never grow in these circumstances. I will never forget the clench in my heart when he responded, with a child's tongue; "I know".Growth10 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Cut ItI’ve got so much to sayCut It10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
But not enough words to say it;
Perhaps I should scream it
Or cry it,
I should cut it.
Blood speaks so much louder than words,
Blades cry so much sharper
Pain screams so much softer
And it’s the only way I know how to talk
Even if it makes it hard to walk
For days after.
I think I’m going to hell,
Well, that’s just swell
Because ever since I fell
Pain’s all I’ve known anyway.
It’s like a blanket,
Hiding all the hate from view,
The shield between me and the monster,
The monster that is me.
Ever heard of freedom?
Yeah, so have I,
But I don’t know what it is
Only that I’ll never have it in breath
And the only key to my shackles
We Poets Are Frustrated...We Poets Are Frustrated...We Poets Are Frustrated...10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am sure that you have all experienced this feeling:
A masterpiece eclipsed by the baying of a brat!
A raucous rhyme, so emotionally raw;
Shadowed by a child's melancholia...
Alone in the darkness, you lick your lips and growl.
Your anger, so evidently understandable; yet you forget your own abilities!
In despair, my dearest sibling, you have forgotten — yourself
Why fear an obstacle so easily overcome?
Why shred your works with such heavy tears?
Have you forgotten that we are the original craftsman?
Our tongues birthed as our chisels and axe!
We need only take these simple themes
And corrupt them with all our twisted fears...
This hatred inside of you, this bubble of frustration and anxiety —
Let it swell like a pus-filled abscess of anger!
And with your words unleash this vicarious plague!
Take the unblemished works that have scorned you,
And inject them with the very darkness of your soul!
Let bleeding lips,
a ratio of freckles to starsvirginia,a ratio of freckles to stars6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are floating away in
of sunlight & marrow bones
i want to know
had vertigo then--
a certain horse sadness
i remember how you
would swallow the stars:
watch them glow through your cheeks
(no one told you
what they thought of light & dying
of being a constellation
drawn across your face)
you are the milky way:
a firefly drowning
but i will trail you--
hold your coat above the water
exploding a million miles away
with a number for a name)
april 18th, 2012.therapy:april 18th, 2012.9 months ago in Emotional More Like This
"I'm not an artist. I'm just a kid with a keyboard."
“And, y'know, I’m probably not really sick.”
“I read a lot of books. I probably just act like this because I saw it somewhere on the Internet.”
“I just want to be more like my dad.”
“I’m really just a pathological crybaby who wants attention,” I tell you.
You say, “I think there are better ways to get attention than fake a mental disorder.”
“Maybe I’m doing it for fun.”
The problem isn’t that I need to see a therapist.
The problem is that I need to see a therapist because I dream about slamming your head into a tree.
Right after we broke up, you took me to the bike cage and promised me everything would be okay. Then you got together with that fifteen year old from Michigan and told our friends that I was a freak.
Slamming your head into a tree might be painful, but nothing will ever hurt more than kn
when writers cryAwake on strong, black coffee drinkswhen writers cry9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Words on paper, liquid ink
Dreams of pen tips, future lies
Tragic stories, quotes of the wise
Nights have carved their dark, deep valleys
In the hollows of my eyes
For you see, my friend, when writers cry
There are no tears, their cheeks are dry
But ink dipped fingers, worn out wrists
Chewed up nails and bloody fists
You see, it's strange when writers cry
Their hearts are true, their words don’t lie
They mourn in silence for a few days
Of paper cuts and tear-less haze
Of coffee mugs and smoky paper
Liquid spills, and water vapor
Sorry dreams and wasted hours
Putrid smells and dying flowers
(Torn to pieces from inside
Tears are hidden by our pride)
no wonder it took him 1455 pageswhen i was seven years old, a group of kids in my grade threw rocks at me for liking neopets more than webkinz. from then on, i was convinced i knew what hatred meant. but i don’t know how to describe it to the little girl who sits in the corner of my womb and in ten years might call me mommy and ask for help on dividing the world into black and white.no wonder it took him 1455 pages10 months ago in Emotional More Like This
would i point to the churches with their bigotry? to the cotton fields of the south in the 1800s? to the classrooms of modern day america? would i tell her about how the jews stood in straight lines, waiting to die, with fear in their eyes and faith in their hearts? or would i try and describe the sound tyler clementi’s body made when it hit the water of the hudson river after he jumped from the george washington bridge?
would i point to myself and say, “i am hatred, i am hatred to others. i am lying and cheating and stealing and coveting and jealousy and hubris. i am the idea of every time someone wants to kill someone
Counting the RingsiCounting the Rings9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
near my sick bed
he murmurs of how he's crumbling
but I'm still here
I've fought so long, I'm here
for a while I trust
I believe this, I must
even when it's bad, because
his faith alone is not enough
my random thoughts of how long
I have, and his thoughts of
"will she be able to outlive me" -
even at moments like this
it happens that
we hold on and speak of a future
rolling restless this early morn'
you exhausted and I
drying up from a virus
spying through the shredding
of 250-thread count bedding,
between the hillocks of your shoulders
we never can sleep
in anticipation for what's to come
to plant the seed and watch it grow
though we will never see it bloom
for all the other things we know
and live beyond that fertile past
of what we did and what we'll do
as sleep will still not come to us
close apart, we dare not fall
from the tree that burns in season
counting the rings of our poetry
the moon has set,
I wake in the dark
to the rush of wind
I hear him rinsing off
in the basi
The Little Girl BlinkedThe little girl blinked and he was goneThe Little Girl Blinked10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Unsure if he was ever really there
But she knew that something had inspired her
To do things she wouldn’t normally dare
A teardrop too many he once told her
Had brought him from the shadows of her mind
As those around her began to wander
Across her imagination's fine line
But now he seemed to have walked away
As she found the life she had long sought
He slowly drifted back to the shadows
From her notebook and her beautiful thoughts
And the fools around her carried the spades
Burying him with her imagination
With an epitaph etched on a tombstone
‘Here lies my potential for creation’
Though he never existed beyond her thoughts
He was as real as a chrysalis on a tree
The butterfly perhaps was her freedom
The caterpillar was her memories
But she still sees his face in the reflection
Of her brown eyes in the cracked mirror
Knowing that he is alive and well
And is always going to be with her
People never understand reality
We are just
NaPoWriMo Day: 1I’ve got 30 daysNaPoWriMo Day: 19 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
to defy Icarus:
teach this rose thorn heart
how to fly.
[ All I want to be
is the space between
But, I’m here,
ripping holes in blank pages
while nursing nebulae knuckles
with white plastered walls.
When Your Best is Not Good EnoughDon't speak.When Your Best is Not Good Enough10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Don't hold yourself together.
Don't fall apart.
Don't pretend it is all going to be okay.
Don't act like it won't be all right.
Don't touch me.
Don't look away from me.
Don't be so needy.
Don't be so grateful.
Don't act silly.
Don't be so serious.
Don't have so much fun.
Don't be so sullen.
Don't love anyone too much.
Don't be so selfish.
Don't ignore me.
Don't love me too much.
And hope? Hope is just a lie you tell yourself so that tomorrow, you can do it all over again.
You Can't Tell MeYou can't tell meYou Can't Tell Me10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
that my writing is wrong.
It might be for you
But for me it will live, forever strong
You can't tell me
that my words are not right.
They might not be prefect
But I'll still put up a fight
You can't tell me
my rhymes are too mix-matched.
Its just because they are not yours
To me they do not lack
You can't tell me
I did not try my best.
Who are you to evaluate?
Its not like its a test
You can't tell me
that I didn't follow a rule.
Creativity has no list
I think you are a fool
You can't tell me
that I didn't emote at all.
How can you tell me what I feel?
Its not like I'm a doll
You cant tell me
everything that I should.
How can you think you know everything?
And think you know whats "good"?
Perfect on PaperWe cut heartsPerfect on Paper10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
into paper to make streams
That was my impression of it.
That you ripped
the pieces you didn't want
until you got something that was
It's no wonder
that I can't believe that someone
would think I was paper-perfect,
Thou Shall BurnClench my soul, go right ahead; ignite your flesh and I shall deem you dead.Thou Shall Burn10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Dance with fire and thou shalt be burned, scorched to deformity with your soul never returned.
Exceed your limits, turn away your falls, shall the trials begin beneath the walls?
Oh yes they shall my dearest thing, for your fate will rest within this ebony ring.
Such glory was enthralled into my soul, how you plead for its power, its superiority, its toll.
Though alas you've proven not worthy of it all, hence your death shall be remarkable, forever now you shall fall.
Human Nature When you are young,Human Nature1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
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.
Aching I'm hungry for your hugs,Aching9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Oh, how I swear my hips ache for you.
Chasing Shadows of You...Chasing Shadows of You...Chasing Shadows of You...10 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
Snow White SyndromeI seem to have forgotten the sound of my own heartbeatSnow White Syndrome10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Splitting apart my limbs I've found the source of my insanity
Coiled around veins and arteries
Star dust and a lazy man’s drug
Has put me to sleep under fictitious pretenses
Of forbidden apples and two faced prince charming’s