Into The Mental AbyssInto The Mental Abyss:Into The Mental Abyss2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To the edge of the very abyss I have travelled.
With worn feet, gone bloodied and bare;
Dragged upon stones that stretch like sharpened spines,
Leaving tattered spoils of flesh in my wake...
Even so, I am incapable of halting;
Like a zombie, I remain numb and hypnotised.
Shambling ever onward, toward the glimmer of light.
Eager to be behold the 'she' that awaits me:
A wonderous wellspring of inspiration and knowledge;
Perfect, yet fragile, in both shape and form...
It is her majesty, her radiance,
That leaves me drained...
Alone in the depths, I am humbled and awed.
Yet the admiration that I feel soon turns corrupt,
It renders my thoughts both dark and cracked...
For if any other were to find her,
They would wield her as a weapon.
They would have no need for inspiration.
Creative thought would be an utter simplicity:
Leaving a perfect world, without opportunity...
Indeed I could never share such a thing.
Jealousy leaves me ugly, but still I c
Player versus PlayerPlayer versus Player:Player versus Player2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Elemental artisttry, as lightning weaves through the air.
I see the bloodthirst in his eyes, the hunger for victory.
A demand to be recognised, yet soon to be silenced;
Perfect and perfunctory - my opponent made defunct...
As I stand above this dying creature;
The flicker of life soon fading from their eyes.
I smile and whisper a word of parting,
For the fool who fell where he lies.
-Unfinished piece by Chen Yuan Wen, 10th April 2012
The Flower of EvilThe Flower of Evil:The Flower of Evil2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Evil is but a blooming flower,
It is born from a humble seed
And grows to corrupt a forest.
To watch its infection spread;
To be a part of its existence...
I can think of no better prospect,
Indeed one might baulk at the idea,
Of seeing millions suffer.
To watch worlds scream and writhe;
To see them suffer and die, with living eyes...
Yet there is a mysterious beauty in such devastation,
Fear that shakes me to my very core;
Is transfigured into a twisted pleasure:
As I am frightened, so too am I aroused.
I am addicted to the ephemeral sensation;
To the borderline between rapture and rupture.
To see my own blood soaking from splitting wounds;
Leaves me maddened amongst these blooming flowers
-Chen Yuan Wen, 1st May 2013
Remember Your DuesRemember Your Dues:Remember Your Dues2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You think you can forget it;
As soon as you forget it,
Believe you will regret it,
Relieved of all your credit.
Your honour and your lifestyle,
Curled around my knife while-
You sit and play your games,
Thinking everything's the same.
But I'm watching and I'm waiting;
This patience suffocating,
But it's worth the while I'm waiting
For this hatred I am facing.
You thought it was forever,
And so you did endeavour;
To pretend the chains and ties,
That bind you; they have died.
But the fact is you have lied;
Forgotten where you're tied.
The markings on your side,
Remember why you hide!
But its too late for apologies;
The ice has just cracked -
And my gun has just cracked,
And soon you're getting capped.
No love for another traitor,
No love for another hater.
Remember who is greater:
A king or his creator?
-C-Dragon, 22nd April 2013
A Game We Hate to Play:A Game We Hate to Play:A Game We Hate to Play:2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I stand amongst a screaming crowd,
And you'll hear them shout it out.
"All this shit just isn't fair,
Life's a game but we don't care!"
Hear me, do you think I'm lazy?
When I talk I'm crazy,
Sorry I'm just hazy, but I-
Still think that I'm like Jay-Z
Rappin' here with Stacy;
The boys they call her baby; Haha...
And we're playin' this song for the killers,
The ones with no hope workin' shop at the tillers.
And if you think that we're just the fillers,
You wouldn't be wrong; we're just grain at millers - haha!
All this shit just isn't fair,
Life's a game but we don't care!
We're gonna change the game tonight,
C'mon let's turn out the light!
All this shit just isn't fair,
Life's a game but we don't care!
We're gonna change the rules tonight,
C'mon let's turn out the light.
Lights off, everybody nights off,
Walking through these streets of -
People drinkin' Smirnoff;
Prayers for tomorrows,
Whisper as they borrow
Words for the Young BloodsWords for the Young Bloods:Words for the Young Bloods2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To all my ninjas sittin' low on the street side,
I want you all to raise your head with pride.
Because I'm callin' out, for the youth to come together
And get those big wigs off the fuckin' power ladder.
You ready? Because we're going at it hard:
See I'm the kind of guy that they're all playin' with
A systematic crisis workin' in the way we live.
The big shots still sittin' and they growin' fat.
With young bloods starvin' just to get their life on track.
We take psychometric tests and make a passing grade,
But ain't no job cause the corporate head is gettin' paid.
And when they screwin' with the money, they ain't never cut.
The young bloods be the first to get their letter up.
I say the system ain't shit and we all got it wrong,
The old mothers are just stayin' in for way too long.
I say we cut them from the system that they fucked up,
And let the young bloods take it; we'll just fix it up.
They set the game, but we're the ones playin' main;
I guess t
I Like To Play With SkinI Like To Play With Skin:I Like To Play With Skin2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My dear friends and watch,
As the feeling of life itself
Crumbles beneath each ounce of pain.
Needles slowly piercing into the body,
Paralyzing nerves and expressions.
A mask of pure horror; living terror,
Kept alive on the barest limit of the border.
Such tempting features,
Leave me eager to slip a knife beneath flesh.
Ripping soft layers of epidermal mache,
Tanned and dried, woven slowly into a loving mask.
And with my latest acquisition complete,
Only twenty spaces remain...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 28th April 2013
A Polished White SinkA Polished White Sink:A Polished White Sink2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
If I had to call this world a blessing;
I think I'd say 'I find it damn depressing.'
You might think I'm stupid from how I'm dressing,
But this is just the heart I feel like wearing.
I see street corners and absent youth;
Don't pretend you don't ever see the night.
Cause when it turns dark, the maggots start crawling;
Looks like God decided to shut out the light.
I can warm my hands on fire and watch the people go,
They don't know who I am, I just go with the flow.
I see streets that seem empty, clogged to the brink;
But that's the reality deep beneath the sink.
It looks clean on the outside, polished porcelain white,
But inside of the pipes are what you keep out of sight.
Yet they're already straining and distorted with strain;
Soon the flood water comes flowing, wash away with the rain.
-Unofficial release from Chen Yuan Wen, 8th April 2013
The Real WritersThe Real Writers:The Real Writers2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There are those who sit with their laptops and tablets,
Clothed in a scarf and an artistic hat of some sort.
They ponder; leaving a stack of books beside them,
Sipping their decaf as though they are literature personified.
What works do they prepare, other than blatant copies,
Perhaps a half-baked romance designed to woo a lady.
So convinced are they, of their own aptitude;
They are blinded by the beams of their burgeoning ego.
For the writer is not the man who is tapping away at keys,
He is not the man fervently reading with lensless glasses.
He is not the hipster debating ancient literature.
For he is a monster, wearing human skin.
He is the deranged madman, eccentric, uncanny.
He is the one who sits catatonic;
An entire world of fantasy playing in his mind.
He has gone through millions of scenes,
Thousands of scenarios, hundreds of plots
And dozens of characters.
He is not the man you expect him to be,
For a true writer is utterly WEIRD.
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
DeceptiveDeceptive2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Tempting with beautiful wings;
-Chen Yuan Wen, 4th January 2013
UndyingUndying:Undying2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
How many days do you spend now, putting me down?
The coffin call for a dead man waiting around
"He's just an underground laughing stock, never to rise"
But on the seventh day I'm coming back; these are my ties!
The kind of promise that you made with the devil inside
You try to take away my soul, but I take it in stride
I ain't a doll that is crushed by the weight of his pride
I am the real and the raw of the things you denied!
You're playing snake games, selling oil, pass it off strong
You're just a pot head, weed dead, smoking your bong.
You try to look away, play and hide; apathy's best
But I'm the kind of bad boy you don't put to the test!
-Chen Yuan Wen, 7th February 2013
Are We Not Free?Are We Not Free?:Are We Not Free?2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Ye say that nothin' changes;
That all we're tryin' t' do is fer naught.
Ye say that nothing's wrong,
That we should be acceptin' of our fate.
But why should we simply accept things as they are?
Are we no' a free people?
Are we no' allowed t' speak our minds?
Every man, every woman in this land,
Has the freedom t' choose their own path.
If our ideals must beg us differ,
Then that too is a part of the change that grips us.
What exactly do ye have t' fear?
If yer stoic in ye ideal that nothin' will ever change.
Why not simply ignore us;
A passin' flight o' fancy that we are...
Yet still ye try, ye attempt t' change our minds.
Ye pacify us with the notion of acceptance,
Highlightin' the fact that the world is fine.
Ye say that this is the way that things should be!
That m'friend, is yer personal freedom;
I'll not impinge upon it, fer it be yours.
I only ask, if ye could kindly mind,
Not to treat us, like we're bleedin' blind...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 18th July 2013
What Are You To Me?What Are You To Me?:What Are You To Me?2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I have walked in this world,
And they have told me of kings.
Of brave rulers who make the tough choices,
Men of example and outstanding character.
But it was then that they said,
What is a king to a God?
What is a mere mortal to a higher power,
One who holds our fate in his hands?
They said he was benevolent and kind,
Wrathful and jealous, magnanimous and selfish alike.
He was the perfect ideal, embodying all things
And we were made in his image...
It was then that I was laughed at,
By he who asked this question:
What is a God, to a non-believer?
One who lives by the truth he sees...
He is the man who acts as per his morals.
He lives through his eyes and is judged by his fellows.
He submits to no higher being, not a one does he fear;
Comfortable with his own conscience...
But all three, I beg; I ask ye this:
For what is a king to a God,
A God to a non-believer,
And all three of them in comparison,
To the madman who watches the world burn...
Under YouUnder You:Under You2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Beneath the surface of the water,
There is silence, peace and darkness.
To mute the mouths of men,
To drown the voice of the world.
Surrounded by ignorance,
I choose not to hear your whispers.
Without death or pain,
Without birth and life;
Surrounded by denial,
I reject this sense of self.
Without colour or light,
Denying all that is around me;
Surrounded by emptiness,
I am blind within this cage.
Muted, ignorant and blind,
I sleep beneath the surface of the lake.
Eternally drenched, eternally drowned,
I am the you beneath the surface.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 8th July 2013
BedriddenBedridden:Bedridden2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Here I lie, motionless,
A prisoner within my own body.
Yet there lies a subtle clarity;
A moment of understanding, achieved by infirmity.
And though my body is racked with pain,
My conscious mind delves ever deeper into the pool of the soul.
My mind is flooded with a racket of noise.
I am cast into the swirling rip-tide of forbidden knowledge,
Clinging to the flotsam of sanity as a Leviathan roars below.
It swallows me into an acidic whirlpool.
Drowning me deep beneath the bubbling surface of the past.
And there, in the murky depths where my very self begins to rot,
A grinning maw of tongues and fangs, bids me a cold "hello!".
-Chen Yuan Wen, 26th June 2013
Practice Poem - Man In CagePractice Poem - Man in Cage:Practice Poem - Man In Cage2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
When I was young I was taught that pain begets pain,
Anger and animosity, malice and cruelty;
So deeply inflicted, so lovingly gifted.
I tasted of its rotten core and dared to call it sweet.
But what do I have to show for it?
White hot scars that burn in my dreams.
Reminders of a fragmented bi-polar self;
Self inflicted propaganda, to reinforce the "truth".
Truth so lovingly fabricated by a weakness within,
So desperately crying out for vindication;
Openly denying all that might shed light upon me,
Seeking only the company of shades in shadows...
Within four walls I sleep in exile;
Quietly pretending that I am still sane,
Never noticing how it has all turned out;
Alone I remain the same...
Never reaching, never living; I am free within the cage
-Chen Yuan Wen, 1st January 2012
These Hands Are So Red...These Hands Are So Red...These Hands Are So Red...2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
These hands are now red and so slicked with this blood,
I can't even wash it in a basin of mud...
As I scrape at the skin of those demons I chase,
I am left with a smile mixed with pain on my face.
Since I swore I would savour this blatant disgrace,
Let perversion be writ in these scars I will trace.
From the tip of my shoulders to the base of my tongue,
Are the names of those sleepers so cold and so young...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 15th March 2013
My Birthday Is Rather SpecialMy birthday is rather special time of year. In the day, there are good wishes, parties and a good time to be had by all. In the night however, events tend to take a rather morbid turn…My Birthday Is Rather Special1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
I prepared this year, as I always do: A chilled bottle of wine hidden out of sight and a pair of large candles; both of which would last the night.
I would then take a seat on the sparse wooden floor of my storage room and wait. Always I would end up waiting as the minutes ticked on by, for my companion was never early nor was she ever late. Indeed, she would only arrive precisely when she was meant to.
I peered into the shadows as time wore on by. The flickering light of the candles did little to aid my vision, filling it with the blissful pirouettes of the dancing shadows. I was always nervous during these times and indeed, I had reason to be. Most would have lived their lives without a spiritual encounter. Most should be glad to be a part of the boring world. For in a world without incid
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
Counting All the VoicesCounting All The Voices:Counting All the Voices2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
How many voices choose to speak; a debate within my head.
As I lie awake, counting cracks, on the wall above my bed.
I seem to think of random colours and things you've never seen.
But I don't like to hear the ugly voices, some are rather mean!
Though I suppose we are a loving family and thus I must accept
That when it comes to stashing bodies, we are most adept...
Best of luck detective, you have three days to find her (^_^)/
-Chen Yuan Wen, 8th February 2013
Memories of WarMemories of War:Memories of War2 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
Practice Poem - Poor Little TimmyPractice Poem - Poor Little Timmy:Practice Poem - Poor Little Timmy2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Down into well, poor Timmy fell,
Down he fell into the pits of hell.
Brought into hell by an eldritch spell,
Poor little Timmy who fell down the well.
Alone he cowered and shivered and shook,
He shook for hours, so long it took,
So long it took for him to feel well,
Well enough to explore this hell...
Through pathways littered with scenes most gory;
Most gory indeed was little Timmy's story,
A story of fear and suffering defined,
Poor little Timmy, he ran out of time...
Now then, I think I'll go welcome my little guest...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 14th December 2012
Secrets Should be SilentSecrets Should be Silent:Secrets Should be Silent2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What is in the nature of a secret?
It is not to be known, nor to be seen.
It is that which we bury beneath layers of deceit.
Why then, do we bury poetry?
why then, do we bury prose?
Why secret that which is meant to be seen,
And showcase that which is meant to be secret?
Are the words of our soul less important,
Than mere phrases designed to seek attention?
Are the words that we carve from experience,
Taken as less than a general phrase of emotion?
...No, I would hope not.
For I do as any other might,
And my skeletons are kept under lock and key.
For a secret displayed remains secret no longer;
Merely a gossip's fancy.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 6th July 2013