NaPoWriMo: Day 7Watch out.NaPoWriMo: Day 72 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She’s a devil,
Glad for her spine,
& her teeth,
even God hands fear her.
For she has arched her back
for a flower-woman
with sin dripping
from her fingers
-who taught her
how to laugh
like the stars.
War TuneWar Tune:War Tune2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I've got another beat for all my hard gamers,
Rockin' in 'Bloodfall', rank hall of famer.
Arena top ten, I'm the mage known as Ryda,
Got a femmie avatar; cute little strider.
You better come with me, if you want to live.
I'm roastin' up a storm with the fire that I give.
Meteor crash, I'm the king of all the stunners,
You better think twice if you're the knight or a gunner.
And if you talk big all them haters give you crap;
They cryin' on the field cause I bag 'em in the sack.
I'm sorry that you paid, but I went and broke your back.
Cash shop wings; I'll just rip em in a stack.
Cause even if you shellin' out dough to be the best,
I'm an Asian gamer and that's the fuckin' test!
I click at a rate that'll make you all explode.
Cause I control the lag and the inner matrix code.
And if you tried to ask me, I'd say that its a fact;
I'm Kirigaya Kazuto dressed up in black.
-Unofficial Release by Chen Yuan Wen, 12th April 2013
These Tears Would Come:These Tears Would Come:These Tears Would Come:2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
If my tears could tell a story of two -
What would they have to say about you?
Of a boy who spent his whole life seeking
And a girl who found it in the arms of another…
Would they tell us of laughter? Beneath a starlit sky,
Or of harsh words exchanged on bitter nights.
Would they speak of moments, so beautifully captured;
To be enjoyed in memory, like a perfect wine.
Or perhaps they would tell us of an untampered truth:
Of the lonely nights spent longing, for an Eden lost.
Captivated, habituated, to this lonely habit of you;
For her alone, these tears would come.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 31st march 2013
I wish...I’ve been sitting on your doorstep for three days.I wish...2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Here are the nothings I left under the mat:
i.I do not feel like a lion anymore,
an alpha wolf, a hyena or
any other strong-willed beast.
I want to take my scars
out to lunch,
feed them your eyes,
& your tongue
until it bleeds sorrow,
and “please forgive me’s”.
iii. You wish I never existed
as you grind those words
into my wrists like they are
red hibiscus blossoms.
& I’ll have you know
I am a flower, bloomed,
rooted deep into the soil.
You are just a combination
of 26 letters-
an “I wish…”
wishbones and flowers I think it’s selfishwishbones and flowers2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
how I have compared
every other kiss
( After all-
good things don’t
invite themselves into the lives
of little girls who categorize
their disorders by the scars
on their wrists and who
allow strangers to hang them
from their necks like wishbones. )
But, no one’s hands
have ever staked claim
to this scavenged wasteland
not even my own.
And it’s hard to forget that;
please forgive me.
As you will always
be the one who taught me
that it’s okay to be sad.
Fading Flickering FaultsFading Flickering Faults3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The flickering lights,
then dim and faint were they
as the water rose.
joined by the falling drops
from storm descending
down with a lifeless energy.
Upward came each splash,
and back down with a dying sound.
At random was the already spontaneous
of every moment in the life
of every last drop.
So blended now, in the ripples
with the ever uneasy waters.
Like the flickering lights,
did their time become dim and faint.
Dear Angry PersonIt has come to my attention that youDear Angry Person2 years ago in Letters More Like This
are about as pleasant as a rank plate of lemons jammed down an old lady’s throathave some behavioural problems with regards to your interactions with the community. This is not good for you and for that reason; I hope you will read this letter.
Considering that your actions reflect badly on you as a
walking sack of organic waste that is sucking up our airartist, I thought that I would step in and offer my own take on things. I hope within this letter to assist you in removing the metallic rod you have jammed so far up your posterior!by explaining to you that your behaviour ,which reminded me of a repugnant cat-lady swearing at the kids on her lawn,was improper, considering the circumstances and the alternative.
You see, I too am an individual that has trouble controlling his emotions. I strive very hard not to say what I am truly thinking as more often than not, you
being dawnistart late-- come into the worldbeing dawni2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
all screaming face and flailing limbs
and grasping fingers
that hold to the womb, the room
you've lived. welcome a brother
before you have learned what the word
should mean; before you are carried
on the shoulders of another brother;
before you can begin to understand
the responsibility of you. watch yourself,
your existence, tear apart your family--
be the reason she wants him to leave,
be the reason he can't control
himself. be the reason two brothers
don't understand a father's love.
drown. be flailing limbs and stolen breaths
and splashing water and your father's hands
holding you down. when he is bored,
gulp for breath, gulp for air; don't let yourself
remember this for long. drown again, drown
again; each scenario a different prison,
and you, barcoded into bravery you don't feel,
can't breathe. trail a teddybear from loose fingers,
but be a big girl. stumble over words
like daddy and love and no, no, no,
please. fall up stairs instead of down,
existentialism and shoddy metaphorsI was violet-cheeked andexistentialism and shoddy metaphors2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
diamond-hearted; a work
of art in reverse,
tearing between my ribs
and calling it beautiful,
and I wonder now why they
never taught me this in school;
the sepia-saturated glow life
gives out some point after
you’ve realized wishes are
for those who’ve not yet
woken more alone than when
they went to sleep,
they never taught me all
the reasons why or that
sin tastes sweet. I met
my maker once in a backalley
bar, stormy eyes and peppermint
breath, charming off a hangover;
he sighed, “I know how many
days it’ll take you to give up
completely. I know how many
dreams you’ve sold away and
how many lies you need to
swallow before you can fall asleep.
I know that you’ve never quite
grown up and I know that
you’re afraid of me” he
smiled silent and downed
another drink, losing himself
in the ramblings of a solipsistic
existence where “I” am finally all
that matters (and sometimes
I believe I was built hollow
NaPoWriMo: Day 6It’s hard enoughNaPoWriMo: Day 62 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to love her skin on good days,
to wide eyed strangers
as if to fill the emptiness
in her own gut;
she lives on a diet of sad stories &
you must shed your own skin
to save it.]
My ResumeGood reading comprehension,My Resume2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
adequate typing skills,
adept at mental math and making
statistical graphs from lists of information.
Experience with computer programming,
thorough proofreading abilities complemented
by an inclination toward triple-checking.
I can develop fictional hierarchies
to understand the social politics surrounding
and talk for hours about nothing,
rattle off facts about Isherwood, Turing, Nilsen.
Boredom doesn’t affect me,
I read the labels on everything,
pull the clutter out of my closet just
to put it all back in a less ergonomic order.
Three days is the longest I’ve been silent,
I can smile at anyone
without a genuine drop of affability,
and pace my apartment for minutes or days or hours.
Caffeine and nicotine and THC
are the only drugs I’ve recently ingested,
my hands are steady,
I can pick false dichotomies out of advertisements.
My patience for useless tasks is endless,
I can stand on my head,
almost suck my own cock,
not everything is beautifuli.) you held my handnot everything is beautiful2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
close to your face
as you whispered
about how this was
ii.) then you met
and then you fucked
a thousand times
i was never okay,
but i didn't care.
iii.) i let you back in.
i let you mend my
i let you build me up
just to tear me back down.
because then you met
and you kissed
and i will never
iv.) you always chose them
i will not settle for second best,
you’re not you,
and i’m not me,
and we’re not us.
it’s heartbreak in the worst
kind of way
because i cannot have you,
but i can’t help myself from
still wanting you anyway.
because i am done loving
someone who will never
love me back.
v.) dear, god,
i hope i am
a letter for someone who hates thinkingin the beginning i wrote poemsa letter for someone who hates thinking2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
about death and darkness and
the complex metaphysical arithmetic in which
that would equate to the love i carried for you,
beneath the headaches brewing like bruises
between my eyes, my ocean eyes;
even after convincing me the planets
were dead gods, powerful skeletons with
internal expiration dates and the stars
were their lingering parables, their stories
blinking out years before we were born, i knew
you were a nuclear angel, atom bomb
savior sent to save me from
there is no more mystery
in the world. i sent you
five letters to the PO box you told me
about in florida, the first
was a catalogue of every
angsty song lyric or campy postcard
or description of a flower
crooked in just the right way
that reminded me of you,
the second was a retelling
of every dream i woke from
forgetting who i was, the third
was an apology-- i'm sorry
for who i'm not and who you
need and that your dad always
reeked of bacardi, i'm sorry
for my bukowski-wannabe complex a
MirrorEvacuation Day, September 3rd, 1783Mirror3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I had tensed when the cannonball slammed into the water, falling short of actually hurting anyone. A last show of contempt from the British before they withdraw. It would later be known as the last shot of the war.
I watched the ships leave, marking the end of a long bloody struggle that I had started.
No, that’s wrong. Things went out of hand easily, even without my prodding. I had simply added fuel to the fire, a fire that had gone beyond my control. So much had gone wrong, but in the end…it’s finally done.
“Do you regret killing him?”
I didn’t turn to face him, didn’t need to ask what he meant. He could sense my doubt, knew what must have been on my thoughts today of all days.
“He was my son, Charles.”
“But do you regret it? Would you do it again?”
Would I? I’d like to say that, yes. I would.
I’d like to, but I can’t.
Two years prior, September 16th, 1781
Imperfect Assembly LineIf you were to mass produce and sell humans like, let's say, electronics, what would the perfect product be?Imperfect Assembly Line2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
One that does it all?
One that cooks, cleans, does any kind of work and does it well?
Never complains, gets sick, makes a mistake?
One that isn't too old, so it can't do anything, but also not too young so that it can't learn?
No human meets all these requirements.
So is there no perfect product?
(Of course not.)
What would make a bad product?
One with any kind of illness; be it depression, cancer, AIDS, ADD, etc?
One that is nervous and shy?
One that doesn't know when to shut up?
One that can only do one job, even if it's one you disagree with?
One with a mind that may not always work right, but is its own, with beliefs and feelings it's willing to fight for?
I have many of these faults.
Am I defective?
(Because I'm pretty sure my warranty has expired)
Did you know?
Our warm, bright sun has freckles?
Our gorgeous, romantic moon's a crater face?
Our Earth, our home, has body iss
Cyclothymia. See,Cyclothymia.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the truth is you’re
going to wake up empty
and people will ask,
(People always ask like it’s their goddamn business,
and you’re going to try
to pretend that nothing has changed,
you’re the same girl you were
yesterday, you promise,
and you’re trying
to smile, and they’re
trying to smile too,
but you’re not convincing
anyone of anything.
Confessionsthere’s a lot I never told youConfessions2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
1. I have a habit of lying, about
the simple things (like, yes I
forgot to remember and I swear by
soul mates and I’m in love
with your susurrus voice
and no, I’m really doing fine).
It was not an act of infidelity because
I believed it, too.
2. I’m infatuated with the concept
that I am more or less fictional, the
delusive beauty a million men will
dedicate novels to: I am fragile,
a dust angel sent to save the world
from commonalities and
3. Since I’m not allowed
to remember your name
I will commemorate you
in acts of escapism,
killing off the pieces
of the person you left behind.
4. I believe in a past life
I was a bird with a tendency
towards tall buildings; the sorry kind
of bird with heavy bones and crumpled wings
who never quite learned
to fly away.
5. I miss you. I used to think
you were a person, but now I know
you’re the happiness I will never
6. I'm sorry.
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
Death Note Mafia gameDeath Note Mafia game4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
In order to play the Death Note variation of this game, you'll have to learn how to play the original! Or if you don't want to just skip to the Death Note part. Warning this is going to be long....
Instructions on Mafia:
Play with at least 6 people (which includes the narrator). If you would like to play with 5 people, it's better to take one of the the characters (doctor or detective) If you play with a lot more people you can include more Mafia! (and then the Mafia collaborate to kill one person hehe)
Characters: Mafia, Victims/villagers, Doctor, Detective, NARRATOR (they all live in a village/city/whatever)
Mafia: Kills one person each round.
Doctor: Saves one person each round.
Detective: Investigates one person each round.
Victims/villagers: Basically do not do anything but wait to see if they get killed. They participate in village meetings to exile people.
Instructions (for the narrator):
1. Usually in a group of 6 people you would have 1 mafia