HealHeal me,Heal in Free Verse More Like This
Of broken words from inside,
From blows of people who don't know,
From the thoughts in my head,
Of what I have done wrong.
CreationSun-lit rays shines upon me,Creation in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I can feel the warm breeze,
As I walk onward, I see,
A yellow and black pesky bee.
It flies on to a pretty flower.
I also see a beautiful oak tree,
Its height, so tall, like a tower,
All grown by a seed the size of a pea.
I keep on walking through,
The wonders of the earth,
From flora, like trees of yew,
To fauna, like pigs so wide in girth.
I think about the wonders of creation,
That God almighty has created,
So much life, a true declaration,
Of God's power, that isn't equated.
All of creation gives thanks to the Lord,
For he has bestowed upon us his accord.
Mischief ManagedTiptoeing down the hall,Mischief Managed in Free Verse More Like This
One young man sneaks around,
With a smirk on his face,
Something is going to happen,
Warned by his mischievous grin.
Water balloons pulled at full taut,
On a slingshot,
Aimed at a pretty girl,
He doesn't know how to express,
His only way is by this prank.
"Ahhhh," she screamed,
Frightened by the cool blast,
Of water on her skin,
She discovers the man,
With a smile on his face,
Holding the slingshot by his side.
She asked angrily why,
He answered with ease,
"To have your attention only for me",
Surprised by his answer,
She stood in shock.
She then grinned with a smile,
Bright with happiness,
"Well I got your mind thinking about me,
So I'm happy",
They looked at each other,
Eyes gleaming with new found love.
The beauty of friendshipOh Hastings,The beauty of friendship in Free Verse More Like This
Though not very bright,
A English-man through and through,
My closest mon ami,
With a memory of an elephant,
I can always rely on him,
To lend a helping hand,
All mysteries are more interesting,
My life-long friend.
My Belgium detective,
Who always insists on using,
His little grey cells,
In his egg-shaped head,
I can always count on his mustache,
To be perfectly waxed,
He could solve any puzzle,
My life-long friend.
Pen and paperPen and paper,Pen and paper in Free Verse More Like This
Instruments of writing,
Tools of expression,
Items to record:
Events, or Information,
So powerful yet small.
Under the rainI stand in the midst,Under the rain in Free Verse More Like This
Feeling the rain,
My hair damp,
My skin wet,
My spirits risen,
As I stand,
Under the rain,
While others say,
A rainy day is a bad day,
Rain is amazing,
It makes me feel,
New and fresh.
RejectionDon't be afraid,Rejection in Free Verse More Like This
Believe in yourself,
And your abilities,
Whether it is love,
Or something else,
Take the risk,
And move onward,
If we stay afraid,
We will never reach,
Our full potential,
All our lives.
WaitingI wait for for better times,Waiting in Free Verse More Like This
More joyful ones,
I wait for less sadness,
I keep on waiting,
While I go thorough these times,
I must hope,
For a greater tomorrow.
Hold my HandHold my hand,Hold my Hand in Free Verse More Like This
I need someone close,
My thoughts are driving me crazy,
Please hold my hand,
It will put me at ease,
Your warmth will make me feel,
Protected and safe,
Just hold my hand,
It will help me ever so much,
Hand and hand we will go,
To The Beautiful YouTo The Beautiful You:To The Beautiful You in Free Verse More Like This
Here we are, sitting behind these screens of glass,
Reading lines of text, yet smiling, laughing and crying.
It's strange to think that I could have this much fun -
Considering that I've never met you before, but then again
Perhaps that's the reason why I don't have to pretend.
Some people might tell me, that what we have is just a fantasy,
I doubt I'll have the chance to actually see you in this life-time.
But even so, in the time that we've spent together - Well,
I feel as though I've connected with you, more than anyone else.
I feel as though I know you better, than those just a few feet away.
You might take this little confession as something silly,
Maybe you'll even forget about it as time passes,
But I for one could never forget about someone like you,
And so I'd like to dedicate this piece, to the beautiful you.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 17th December 2012
KidKid:Kid in Free Verse More Like This
I enter the classroom and look around
I sit at my desk and stare at the floor
Nobody here ever tries to talk to me
and I can't really talk to them
I usually wait for class to begin
But ten minutes can feel like an eternity
I wish I could pop in my earphones
But they cut them in half yesterday...
Sometimes I hear them talking about me
But the words are always the same
They say it so much that I start to believe;
That I'm really what they say I am
Ugly, fat, stupid, beast;
These are the lightest words that they use
I wonder why they have to do it to me
But I don't know what it's like to be normal
Lunchtime is usually not so bad
I try to keep to myself wherever I can
It didn't work so well today though
Because they noticed me sitting in the corner
The biggest one in the group decides to approach me
His words sound like he's speaking in tongues
My heart seizes up and I'm too scared to react
So he ends up pouring milk over my head
I Am A WriterI Am A Writer:I Am A Writer in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Gentlemen, today I speak to you
To convey an issue that has plagued the core of our community.
For so long have we been considered second-class;
To this day there are those who still believe that we are not artists.
But today is not about freedom, today is about honour,
Because there are many writers that still seek to shame us all...
I speak of those individuals, who take art from others.
Covers, photos, paintings, digital art, anime and manga.
It matters not where you draw your source from,
But every action impacts upon us as a community.
BECAUSE I AM A WRITER!
When I craft my works, when I write each and every line,
I paint using expression; metaphors are my colours.
The words are my brush and each and every rhyme is my medium.
I do not ask to be considered an artist, but I do ask to be considered.
BECAUSE I AM A WRITER!
For someone who practices his craft day and night,
Painstakingly learning how to use each and ever
Sensual TortureSensual Torture:Sensual Torture in Free Verse More Like This
You are but a simple pawn;
Caught in a maelstrom of ill feelings and turmoil.
You were not meant to be here -
But unfortunately, here you are my friend...
Now then, I do not wish to drag this out;
There is no purpose in badgering someone who knows so little.
However - without your confession - I'm afraid that
I would not know whom I should share my - pleasures with...
Though I'm certain that you will be sharing plenty...
Of course, it will probably be a poor idea to make you scream,
At least not while I'm still enjoying your fear.
Instead we'll begin with a simple agony;
A quick taste of your pain to whet my appetite...
We'll begin with just a thin incision,
One that is made in the center of both your eyelids.
And then, then we'll make another cut - this one just above the eyes...
Ah, I will adore the feeling of watching your skin peel apart
As the scalpel bites in and draws it aside; much like the curtain
Set upon a theatre stage. It is the
Overcome your Writer's BlockOvercome your Writer's Block:Overcome your Writer's Block in Free Verse More Like This
If you want to deal with writer's block
the plan is simple, tickty-tock
Give in to madness, go insane
search for words in the midst of rain
When you hit the wall on its painted face
with your fingers and knees you'll find a trace
The secret passage that will lead you through
or perhaps you might be eaten by a grue...
Back to the rhymes that I use to explain
If you try to go forward it will be in vain
So try a new direction, upward or down
Left or right maybe Charlie Brown?
There are no limits except in your mind
Now do a google search and what do you find?
A pond of ideas now stagnant and brown
I threw in Jay Sean and he went down down down
But I digress and let me wind back
If you focus on the dot then the screen will turn black
and a screamer pops out, you've had a really good fright
are my metaphors putting up a really good fight?
Let me put it simply, in english plain:
A good writer isn't one who forces his brain
Order and stru
This is for the Average ArtistIt is painful at times,This is for the Average Artist in Free Verse More Like This
Seeing those born with skill and talent.
They paint such beautiful things, using the barest of material.
Entire worlds are spun at their fingertips, all from a dot of paint.
I think sometimes, of how nice it must be,
To be able to capture such beauty, within the borders of a page.
To spin a tale from but the smallest of phrases,
To create a fantastic adventure from a mundane experience.
It is painful indeed at times. When I am seated in this room,
Surrounded by the dull hum of failure and regret,
I ask myself, with eyes burning in the mirror,
Am I finally ready to give it all up?
'No!' I say
I will not let it end this way!
Not without a fight, not until I know that I am utterly broken.
The good lord may have blessed you with talent my friend,
He has given you everything that I could have ever desired...
But there is one thing that I have earned;
One little gift that remains my own.
You would not know of it,
Since you have never felt it,
Truth Without Love?(2/04/2014)Truth Without Love? in Philosophical More Like This
I see this happen way too often, even in the comments section of my own deviations; you can even see it happening on the pages of my stamps:
Too often I will see an atheist post a comment in disagreement with the deviation, and a believer replies to that atheist's comment in the same snarky manner as the atheist who disagreed. And the comments will go on and on in snark-to-snark combat as they attempt to correct each other.
What's worse, sometimes even an atheist won't necessarily be acting snarky--perhaps just having an honest disagreement with reason behind it--but the so-called "Christian" who tries to correct them does act snarky to them, even so much as insulting the non-believer for his/her statements.
Well guess what? Out of my love for all of you and my love for God's Truth, prepare to face some honest and well-needed correction.
Do you know what the bible says about that kind of attitude that t
Benevolence(11/17/2013)Benevolence in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
My Lord, my God
my Everlasting Benevolence
You fill me with an energy
that melts away all pain
Your Love sets me free
A heavenly melody that sings to me
a song I want to share with all the world
With all the world
With all my heart, with all my soul
With all my strength, with all my mind
With all my breath, with all my might
Your every word, Your every light
Here I am, Your humble servant
I am Yours to play the part
Use my voice to give You glory
Be the song inside my heart
Christ, my Compass, lead the way
Be the lamp upon my feet
Guide me through this narrow street to victory
To victory, oh
With all my heart, with all my soul
With all my strength, with all my mind
With all my breath, with all my might
Your every word, Your every light
With all my heart, with all my soul
With all my strength, with all my min
Like a Small Child Reaching for the Door(11/10/2013)Like a Small Child Reaching for the Door in Free Verse More Like This
Like a small child
reaching for the door,
to touch the handle
she wants to open it
and run out,
but she is much too young
to reach it on her own.
I'm much like that small child
waiting to run out the door.
I'm done with crawling
I've already learned
to walk on my own
and I'm wanting to show
the world what I'm made of
but I didn't finish drinking my milk.
I've already walked for so long,
but my feet are far from tired
and like a small child
with eyes on the playground
I'm already running
and it's all so exciting
but I didn't finish drinking my milk.
And this tiny bird
wants to jump right out
of the comfort of her nest
I'll be a good flyer, right?
I got so many things
under my belt
and an undying passion
to let it all out
like an eager student
holding my hand high
ready to pick up the chalk,
"Here I am, send me!"
I got this.
But as I'm running, I realize
that I have no wings, and I
The Lamb's Good Shepherd (A Child's Poem)(2/05/2014)The Lamb's Good Shepherd (A Child's Poem) in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
"Little lamb, lost and scared,
What are you doing over there?
I have been searching everywhere
so you can be under my care."
The sky's so dark, it's hard to see
I ran too fast and hurt my knee
My wool is muddy and smelly too
What's a lamb like me to do?
Why would You want me anyway?
I butt heads and run away
I don't deserve a place to sleep
I'm a very baa-aa-aa-aad sheep.
"Little lamb, no need to fear
Let Me wipe away your tears
I'll never leave you all alone
I'll pick you up and take you home
I'll wash your wool and you'll be clean
The whitest wool you've ever seen
You'll never hunger, I'll keep you fed
You have My lap to rest your head
My pasture is the perfect place
So come into My sweet embrace
My little lamb, no need to weep
The Good Shepherd loves all His sheep."
When you feel lost, lonely, or scared,
your Shepherd searches everywhere
for every lamb that wanders away
no matter the minute or hour o
PoF Cypher Language: ZuhteiThe Language of Zuhtei ("ZOO-tay")*PoF Cypher Language: Zuhtei in Settings More Like This
A fictional (cypher) language in Jazzy C. Oaks' Portal of Fate.**
*The word "Zuhtei" in English is Cardio (from the Greek word kardia, or "heart").
**The word "Portal" in Zuhtei is Lihdur (pronounced "LEE-doo'ur"), which resembles the English word "Leader". Portal of Fate can also mean Leader of Fate.
Cypher Chart & Notes
Basic Rules (Phonetics)
List of Exceptional Words
How to Translate
Some Common Phrases
Zuhtei : |U|JZT|O|VBS|E|PGRNM|I|LKHSD|A|WYG|Y|F
ShadowsI kill you sometimes in my dreams,Shadows in Free Verse More Like This
like the sun rising
or the setting moon.
over and over.
It happens many times.
first i stop up your voice,
your mewls, groans, the limpid laughter
and confused sighs.
i hold them in my palm
Next I blot out your face
as neatly as a arrow that penetrates
a small stack of hay.
I barrel into your form and pull out heartbroken phrases,
which i use to feather my fortress of thistle and bone.
At last even the sounds of your body are gone--
the succinct echo of footsteps against the ground,
decay in the gut, the quietness of tears,
a digestive squeak.
none of these survive the night.
I even carry with me the emptiness
where you once stood, hands at sides
like a sink slowly dripping water--
left, forgotten as the night unfolds
into the world of morning.
When I DieWhen I die, use my body as a bedWhen I Die in Free Verse More Like This
to build a garden of your dreams.
Let it flower by moonlight with
a strange whiteness that looks nothing like
my vulnerability or my goodness.
Make my bones into chimes that shiver
when a veil of wind presses upon them;
a corpus so unlike lips that exhaled
an odor of rotten sweetness.
Distill again and again the blood
I once had until it is clear and
can be tossed into the daytime sky
as a prism refracting birds and leaves.
It will look nothing like the dark redness
of my dreams.
Bottle my saliva in jars of silver
to stop of my kisses and cries.
Remove the blueness of my eyes with your usual ferocity.
Exhume whispers from my ears and let them escape
like reanimated moths.
Finally, curl my hair into a meadow of sleep;
a golden field where you can dream your magnificent gardens
as you always did.
GrapefruitI hold a microcosm in this globe,Grapefruit in Free Verse More Like This
heavy on the palm of my hand,
full of regret and heat.
it is heft and heady smell,
the unexpected roundness discovered on the ground
after the season's first rain, a secret shielded
by shining leaves pulled open like wet, wide eyes.
The skin blushes with nervous goose-flesh,
fragrant as a summer promise.
It is the dark light behind your iris,
lemonade on the green porch,
hair stripped by the sun until it is soft and wild.
It holds the flesh of the hot season
tightly beneath its puckered skin
and I knock on the door of its fullness
with my teeth.
We are sharing this summer secret together,
in the gray plant nursery
where the mud sucks your shoes from your feet.
A stooped tree glances at us from the spot
where it burst through a fence,
speckled with moss.
In defense of geometry, part I: breadthless lengtha line stretches,In defense of geometry, part I: breadthless length in Free Verse More Like This
seems to be something
like a snake without end,
or a barely wiggling branch
in the darkness.
it does not know
whether a boundary belongs to it
or to the thing beyond the boundary,
just over a horizon without any spatial significance.
how can you doubt the beauty
of such an object,
a mathematical moment,
an instance of truth
which is itself lame, blind and dumb,
but which wraps itself so seamlessly around your skin
and keeps inside that which keeps your insides inside--
a line is a moment of form,
keenest and most fine,
a line is a paper-cut,
a ghost in the imagination,
discovered like a poem.
or it is an intellectual wound
which the dog of geometry licks
-this windowpane loneliness- in Free Verse More Like This
has devoured too many stars
making love to ocean beds.
Ways to conquer heartbreakDance with fistfuls of roses, shred their petals one by one and wear their thorns like armor.Ways to conquer heartbreak in Free Verse More Like This
Write your secrets between the folds of paper cranes and tuck them safely between the empty spaces of your castle ribs.
Open your broken heart to hummingbirds, allow them the warmth and shelter of your arms.
Rebel. Tape poetry to your limbs, Cummings and Sandburg and Sexton.
Take a walk outside of your skin for a while, run with wolves.
Extinguish that forest fire that’s been curling too long in your lungs.
Be that lionhearted girl those snobby poets always write about.
Allow that cavern of stars in your throat to speak your truths in uppercase letters, in free verse yet to be proofread.
Write about wars and victory.
Be the hero.
I long to set this world aflame.I once dreamt of ashes and dragons,I long to set this world aflame. in Free Verse More Like This
as dark ravens loomed over my sleeping form,
planting cadaver kisses along my neck.
Stepping into a river of colors, I contemplated
smoke halos and the unlit cigarette between my teeth.
I asked myself if all of this was worth it-
gasoline rainbows painting landscapes along my thighs.
I'd never smoked a day in my life, but I liked to play with fire.
[Light a match and watch me burn. ]
Dear Poetry,I might be dangerously on the verge of being poetic, but-Dear Poetry, in Free Verse More Like This
Sometimes I don't feel me in my own skin.
I am too many breaks between pulses,
& a heart still living in the autumn of 99.
I'm telling stories about a girl.
A soul made of ink & godly metaphors,
too much for a non-homeostatic body.
There were once fireflies in her smile,
alight between the gaps in her teeth.
love letters carved into wrists
she never sent.
She is Porphyria, & you are her lover.
Of Men and MetaphorsIt was a dark and stormy night.Of Men and Metaphors in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Really, I mean, you ever heard an interesting story that started on a sunny day with mild cloud cover around an hour or so before dinnertime?
Exactly. Moving on.
The air held a coldness that seeped through brick and stone. It crawled through flesh, freezing blood in icy veins, chilling bones like a slithering ghost in the blackness.
...but not so cold that it was a snow-storm. Cotton candy floating down from an inky sky, shining like diamond eyes in the starlight as soft flakes swirl and dance on feather-light feet in the breeze...
Not quite the image we're looking for.
Rain lashed from the depths of the cruel heavens, wind whipping from the starless smothering blanket above. Thunder roared in fury, cracking alongside his bright lover as she streaked her fire to the lonely earth.
Yes, lightning is a chick. It makes sense. Hair of white-gold light from her glowing moon-face, gown of silver thread spreading down her lithe figure, hem sweeping against the c
On the Sea Beneath the SkyGolden flickers danced on the pale faces of the circle, hushed whispers wafting out from the gathering by the glowing coals. It was the third night of the coming-of-age, the no-longer-little ones from each of the surrounding tribes taken out together in the openness of the untamed world. There were a few in the group that stood out, discernible even in the thick coverings of the night. There was Jiu-yeil, son of the carpenters, impressive form already bulging with strength and muscle more fitting of a man twice his size. The brothers, Senniare and Elieten of cloth-maker, sat donned in simple but the finest of all their travelling robes. And very slightly apart from the throng of a dozen others was the quiet Meiella, orphaned as an infant, niece of medicine woman.On the Sea Beneath the Sky in Short Stories More Like This
The air was cool, but the wind only light. As the flames burned low, a tall figure stepped out of the shadowsOch'jiana, the leader of the rite. She was neither old nor young, hair pulled back in the habit of the femal
The FieldsCarl,The Fields in Short Stories More Like This
Remember that time, brother, when we were young? When we took off before I was even though high school in your beat-up old whatever-it-was without so much as a goodbye note, dreamed of travelling the country?
There was a place we stayed at, the night before we finally gave up and turned around. It think it may be my last clear memory of you.
It was called the Beaumont Farm.
The petrol gauge has been sitting below empty for the last hour, and Carl Levine doesn't bother trying the key again when the engine splutters one last time before falling silent. He shivers in the cool air as he opens the door, pulling out his phone and cursing when he sees the reception bar empty. The last station he saw was before he turned off the highway two towns back, the last car before that.
The letter from Alicia lies folded in his inner pocket, as it had come in that innocuous envelope. There had been no return address, postmark almost illegible under a dark smudge that covered half the front
You're Not?You're anorexic if you're thinYou're Not? in Free Verse More Like This
You're not? Then you're obese.
If you're different, you're insane
You're not? Then you're a fake.
If you're happy, you're hiding something.
You're not? You must be emo.
If you're dating, you're a slut.
You're not? You must have no friends.
If you're popular, you're a jerk.
You're not? You're a nobody.
If you're quiet, you must be disabled.
You're not? You obnoxious freak.
If you're you, you're wrong.
Then you must be perfect.
In a Little Girl's MindThere sits the girl with the things in her eyesIn a Little Girl's Mind in Free Verse More Like This
Monsters, destruction, and sweet butterflies
Hopscotch and daisies, surrounded by screams
Beautiful dresses now torn at the seams
Crayons and paintbrushes, villains and grins
Young, gladsome innocence, hatred and sins
Little red houses on roads left to fade
Gorgeous moonlight shining off of the blade
Blood pouring out as she cries her own name
Knowing she's forced to take each bit of blame
She could have stopped it and left it behind
All of these things in her troubled young mind
She could have saved them if she dared to try
Rather, though, she left herself there to die.
Now, others watch as she sits on the ground
Keeping their distance and letting her drown
In her own worries and things she won't tell
Waiting for her mind to kill her as well…
Mommy's Suicide Mom... Did you just...Mommy's Suicide in Free Verse More Like This
Pills and whiskey down her throat
As she slowly stumbles down the stairs.
Through her cries and regret
She begins crashing into walls.
"Call 911!" I yell, as I begin holding my mother
After she collapsed, her head hitting the floor.
I hear police sirens outside our home.
My sister runs through the front door in fear.
The paramedics begin asking her things
That she barely knew the answer to.
"What's your name?"
"Do you know where you are?"
And most importantly..
"Why did you do it?"
"I didn't want to bother her anymore."
Colours I Never TastedIt is not worth escaping over.Colours I Never Tasted in Free Verse More Like This
No, sometimes the sun rises lopsided in the horizon and the
clink of glasses against teeth sets irate neurones off in your mind cavity
and fireflies extinguish on car windscreens in rain storms. Sometimes
August drops down into lake reflections and sometimes October never
sends a breeze to whisper into your ears. But they teach you that all of
that is okay, even when you're watching sunflowers writhe towards the
sun with grey blankets over humid-day hair.
There will always be a dawn. Stay awake for it.
You are not truly living until you have breathed.
And by that, I mean, take two feet and place them on the path
or the grass and inhale April. it doesn't matter if it is not April,
imagine the dandelions and the daffodils and the soft bleat of lambs
and that fresh scent rushing past your nose in long car journeys,
the one that tugs your legs onto the map and tells you 'this is home,
all forty thousand kilometres of it'.
The world is your oyster. Be the pear
The Lover and the LionLover:The Lover and the Lion in Free Verse More Like This
I am made of matchsticks and red ribbons and tiny
sparks of Saturday-morning duvet hopes ricocheting
around my brain into a pattern of torn petals from
daisies. Lovers are destroyers of flowers, we know
this. This is why we belong under trees and in wheat
fields, letting buttercups and dandelions grow between
our toes and around our shoulders. We are made to belong.
Whoever said that a lion is made by birth was
not telling anybody the whole truth. If you would
like to know how, when you stand up, when you roar,
does it feel right? Are you brave? Only the brave can be lions.
a sheep dressing itself in fur and mane will only convince its herd
that it is delusional. You can take the lion out of the desert,
but you will never take the desert from the lion.
Anyone who thinks otherwise must know that you cannot tame what is not willing.
I am made to serve my purpose. To hold anyone who is interested
in the palm of my hands and in the chambers of my heart, to chase
Dead at 16My worries are a reservoirDead at 16 in Free Verse More Like This
Her worries are a lake
In that they’re very real indeed
Whereas mine are very fake
Invented to seek attention
Lies, oh despicable lies
One day I’ll drown in metaphors
Please be sure to sympathise
But while you show me this concern
Who'll be looking out for her
Blood curdling screams from my mouth
She is nil by mouth and verse
I have cried wolf so many times
She can’t even cry her own tears
My lies are spun in silk cobwebs
My spinneret shrouding your ears
I spoon fed you daily doses
So it was easier to digest
I planted those seeds of sorrow
Your fertile mind did the rest
Lies, all those despicable lies
What ever could be more obscene
Perhaps a girl that no one heard
Who was found dead at age sixteen
We Are Already GhostsHeart rate monitors showWe Are Already Ghosts in Free Verse More Like This
Minimal signs of life
But no more and no less
Than of a parasite
Feeding from a life-force
That's greater than itself
We are the lost children
In need of some help
X-ray images show
The absence of a heart
Incapable of love
We are ready to depart
All these forgotten girls
And all these forgotten boys
Together we will feel
The emptiness, the void
As MRI scans show
We have beautiful minds
Just no memory recall
Of any happy times
It's too little, too late
These words are verbose
We've long since departed
We are already ghosts