AloneI have lost all hope on finding you,
so this ballad is all the truth.
Sitting here wondering why things are,
sitting here alone with the door ajar.
I can't stand the silence that comes to roars,
I sit here thinking am I truly yours.
All to myself to sit and think,
times where better when I was asleep.
Gone to the void of disorder and impurities,
I sit here to think what has gotten the best of me.
Shall I roam on the streets calling your name,
or should I put an end to it to stop my pain?
At times my thoughts come through, of vengeance, rage and sometimes you.
I do no want to suffer in this flesh,
drinking this bottle but nothing is left.
My feelings are blocked when I cant cry,
my words are trapped on a paper with no time.
Thought I lost you forever ago,
trapped in my cell screaming so shallow.
It's the time I finalized my refuge to my end is near,
trying to stop me is also a fear.
I thought you said you loved me till death do us part,
but you stomped and shattered my already broken he
Guide to Advanced CritiquesTutorial IndexMore Like This
What a Critique is NOT
What Is Advanced Critique?
Guide To Advanced Critique
Writing the Advanced Critique
An Example of a Critique
Advanced critique is as much
google is your friend"Google it."More Like This
"Do I want to?"
"What do you mean? It's just Google."
"You say Google like it's a good thing. Like it's an entity that bears some sort of universal answer."
"It's a search engine. Nothing more, nothing less. Unless we go into Google Maps, but it's all the same difference, on some satellite-dish stalking level. You search for a place, it finds it for you. Especially in America. Yeah, they have the streets labeled in America."
"That's creepy. The zoom-in function too. Like, you can zoom down to street level and stare face to face with someone's house. Sometimes you can see their cars too. But never people. That's the part that irks me. They get all these pictures from space or something and capture what they claim to be the world and shit, and yet there are never any people in it "
"it them out."
"They edit them out. The people. Privacy and shit. Imagine checking out Google Maps and being able to see everyone in their homes. Like, through the windows
The Plight of an AngelShe spun and flew and spread herMore Like This
Pastel wings. The sun shone on her
And rendered her opaque.
As twilight fell she dipped and soared
In search of things unkown
As she tried to take
A thought welling deep inside
Her in search of her mistake.
Another angel joined her-a halo
On his brow. She sputtered and
Fell into his arms somehow.
He swelled and lifted her and
Caught hold of her soul in
The colors of her thoughts.
For he could never tell
Her the reason for her loss.
For far below the scene
Still lives in flowers and
Twisted metal trees and
Earth soaked mother's tears.
Friends Forever The Light, the laughter, the constant loveMore Like This
the lifting the loving, the gift from above
The aspiring, the ambitious, the abstract
the always, the adventure, the one who's at my back
The everlasting, the enigma, the evermore
the energetic, the enviable, my only certainty in this war
The anxious, the amiable, the arrant
the adorable, the angel, the always present
The nice, the naive, the never failing
the new, the needy, the always giving
The man, the might, the many-faceted type
Shadow DanceBetween the darkness and the light,More Like This
the shadow I embrace is like my fight.
Breaking my fate then shattering this plain,
your weakness is my strength to destroy you now.
Today I make my mark upon this world,
smashing the promises of a destroyed fault.
Oppressed by humanity I no longer will care,
my shallow feelings for it will grow more faint.
Play your cards and you shall see,
that all of them will be aces and kings.
Place my death upon a pedestal,
for I will open up this chest to your survival.
Banishing the chaos today I will not be silenced,
swallowing my pride and fighting for what I need to.
Forgive me if I die for this is my fate,
I will take this belief and move it to my grave.
The MendingI shiver, earth splintering,More Like This
heart wrenching shiver.
This is love,
A whispered silence
envelops the hidden corners,
awakening deep recesses
of my shattered esteem.
Your touch bound together
my ribs, my arms, circulating
my broken bones.
When did they break?
You say goodbye.
Sliding the ring from my finger,
I smile, one eye teary,
I loved you; as you did me.
As we part, the thread is tied,
my body aches from stitching.
Thank you, I whisper.
An ache so deep,
so resonant. You never did hear it.
spare bedroomon borrowed pillows,More Like This
tangled my hair to match
the thoughts of your blood:
for your fingertips
AbuseI never planted change.More Like This
Life through abuse is like yellow fields
She took three & seven with six & nine
Picture five thousand and twenty three gingerbread mills between her
Will she grow before sleep follows?
Work at nine every night while
He might end up getting very cut
untitled 37Untitled 37More Like This
Visions so cold, so bleak, where the rain falls
To the world I know, so unknown
Reaching out to hope, but no one is home
Blinded by the colors so vivid, so real
I alone lose the emotions so clean
Burnt by the light they provide
Whispers that understand my name
Change my soul to the shades of gray
Warmth of commonplace so vague
With you the time is never too late
By Craig Allen
SaulRemember conversions we long overcame to be simply attatched at theMore Like This
shoulder? Crossing the gutters in concrete encampments and scraping
whats left, and we find all but dimes. Living the streets in this Babylon hole
of a city we call our Jerusalem trek, our feet hot and caliced from sandy
wayfarings of alleyways long out of use.
Come close to my arms as they bind us together, we're holding
each other in rainstorms - the thunderheads crash at our feet, the pavement
is sinking, Atlantis has washed up ashore.
Remember the measures we took to your knees as they fell at the edge of
the world? To travel so far is accomplished enough and it seems that I'm
asking you too much but I can't remember the last time I stared at your
eyes and expected a stare back. Like trembling before God, we lock drying
eyes and the city caves in at our sides.
Feeling faint... the clouds have turned to ash, the first born womb
of concrete contraptions expell what we've burned in the past. A metaphor
sinking in glas
My WorldIt's midnight, I'm sitting in my window,More Like This
Curled up in the frame to keep from falling;
My toes are cold in the night air.
I pull my jacket close about my knees,
My black denim jacket, with the leather dragon on the back,
Worn over a thin purple nightgown.
I share my sill with a candle, a red one,
Burning bright against the darkness,
And warm against my shins.
My eyes turn to the stars again, Orion is so bright,
Just like that night out by the park
The night my heart first opened it's eyes.
Any who saw me would think me waiting
For some comet, some planet, some eclipse,
Some dance of star and moon.
Yes, I am waiting,
But for a green minivan, not some celestial ballet,
Just a green minivan that carries my world.
HerWho is she? Never knowing is driving me mad. I see her everyday. Wait. Knowing would make my feelings lessen. I will continue in my madness. Her shape is perfect. Her hair stained. Shorts. Tank top. Skin. I have to get near her. I must. I can not. She walks by me. Cotton candy? Her smell drives me closer. The brink grows closer. Her shirt reveals a promised land. Perhaps a look. Heaven. She turns. I pale. A smile. I should leave. I can not. I smile back. She brushes against me as she passes me by. My heart implodes. I reach out for her. She stops. Panic. She dropped her sunglasses. She picks them up. Shorts. I leave. Tomorrow. I promise.More Like This
VisionI grew up in a world of absolutes;More Like This
we all do, who receive good vision.
Black is black, and white is white.
We dont see the greens in reds,
Or the mahogany in blue,
For sometimes quite a while.
Then I grew more.
I saw colors in the shadows,
I misperceived fine lines and demarcations,
I saw the perspectives of others,
Their telescopic views of envy or nostalgia,
Looking over the slender links of second chances,
Which aging or tear-bleared eyes often miss.
I felt my share of youthful pain,
Yet empathized moreso with that of others.
My parents told me eyes arent perfect.
My schooling said I could do anything.
I decided I wanted to SEE.
Everyone offered lenses.
Id learned a few I didnt want;
Nobody really looks cool in shades.
I found a few sources offered light,
And while would-be helpers showed
How an open mind is illuminated,
My training, gradually
Showed a sharpened mind refracts.
I perceived the pathways to power or money
Are first lit brightly, then intermitten
tearsMore Like This
heart wrenching, feel like dying
fights? hurt feelings? pain...
FallenMore Like This
It hurts so much
I had fallen hard
Fallen deep, deep into the bottomless pit
Fallen slow, slowly the fear consumes me
Fallen prey, prey of your harsh cruelity
My heart bleeds
My life weeps
Fallen sick, sickened mind of morbid thoughts
Fallen soul, soul that's dead after we both fought
Fallen down, down so deep into this purgatory realm
Fallen short, short of sins for eternal hell
Now take my life
And my festering will with you
Fallen mad, mad about my unforgivable past
Fallen dreams, dreams of beauty that never last
Fallen wings, wings all tattered and brutally torn
Fallen feathers, feathers that made my previous form.
fallenHer skin pale, taut, torn,More Like This
Her eyes cast at the mournful moon.
'How long,' She whispers,
Since the day bled out? Since
She'd been alone in the moonlight?
Broken wings folded neatly, she stood.
Bare feet on broken glass, blood
On the cold stone floor.
She looks up again, the shattered roof
Of the abandoned church.
The young priest shudders.
His words lose all meaning, fading
Into the echoes of her whimpers.
A thousand questions voiced at once.
She turns her head, black hair and lace
Falling gracefully around her pale face. With
A single tear drop of crimson blood.
She touches the place her wings once were.
'I...' Her words choke her. How long untill
She can fly again, laugh again, love again?
'I have fallen!' She hangs her head. Another tear.
A thousand discarded feathers mark her path to earth.
A thousand era's to death...
NoelNoel is beautiful.More Like This
she is kinda and she is quiet.
Noel is just a girl. nothing special.
Noel wants to sit in ice cold snow far in fields and feel her insides freeze
and she wants to feel her skin turn technicolor; her lips blue and her skin pale and pink.
she wants to be so cold that she can hear her heart beat and feel her vains pop out of her limbs
and she wants to feel forgotten and she wants to feel remembered.
once upon a time a boy told her
that her eyes were like snow and ice
and she was pessimistic and she was so skinny she would waste away.
he said that she was too little to love and too fragile to hold. she was too much to think of
and her voice was too much like the sunrise and she was as ugly as death and as beautiful as life.
once upon a time that boy said he loved her and really, really meant it.
once upon a time that boy changed his mind and broke a heart and watched it bleed.
watched it bleed bright red, shiny, metallic blood.
she is only human.
Noel likes to read.
Dear Mr. RogersDear Mr. Rogers,More Like This
What happened to the so called imagination land you told me about in my childhood? Did it die when you did? Did the world suddenly turn over and start turning on one another because they realized the world wasn't the way you painted in our heads as children? I sit here thinking of how you told me everything is saved from a simple smile and a friend who is always at my side. I sat as a kin believing all of your words and never thought I would contemplate suicide when I grew up. I always wanted to become a helper for everyone but I just can't bring myself to help when no one was willing to help me. Why does the human race believe such things Mr. Rogers? I just want to be a great man and turn around and pay it forward. Why can't you be alive to see all this destruction? I wish upon this earth someone could explain the mundane fields that they bestow upon one another. I watched you religiously as I was apart of you and now I seem to be wanting to conform to the daemons tha
Hanging up the bottle Strength in ones mind can only be tampered with by the right elements used, the element which ones uses many of the times might be simple yet so difficult or difficult yet persuaded by a background force to push it to simplicity. An honest man knows how to cry when the time comes, but the liar of the pack will continue to feed himself what he needs to survive. Body language is all the same around the world and yet we stay simplistic and say we are so far apart than each other, where does it all end and the weapons or words put down on the table and give up our differences? Solitude might be a coarse and harsh teacher for life, but when you have witness the rise and fall of a civil world where currency has the power to corrupt even the purest of forms you shrug it off like water. Confronted and told we are suppMore Like This
To A FriendMore Like This
The darkness in life can block out the day.
We can rage, and struggle, and fight.
Grief can swirl in a shaded bay.
Do not succumb to night.
My kindest friend. Forever strong.
Do not forget the light.
Although the world is cruel and wrong,
Do not succumb to night.
Damned reality. So unfair.
Keep sun-rays in your sight.
I admire those, like you, that care.
Do not succumb to night.
Turmoil can unhinge the soul.
Cast off memories. Clinging blight.
Please listen to all kindness lull.
Do not succumb to night.
Matters misunderstood we fear.
Purge out devils, madness, spite.
But always open, my waiting ear.
Do not succumb to night.
Sometimes I Lose ThingsSometimes I lose things.More Like This
Sometimes it's little things.
Things like my ipod or my keys.
Bobby pins and chapsticks often evanesce without warning or cause.
Sometimes I lose bigger things.
Things like my favorite sweater or my school bag.
Things like the reason I came into a room,
Or the memories of what I had for breakfast that morning.
Sometimes I lose my train of thought, or the point I was trying to make or an idea.
Sometimes I lose arguments.
Sometimes I lose friends.
I like to think all the things I lose go to the same place.
A plain white place full of hair ties and dollar store bracelets,
And I like to think they all wait there, patiently.
Wait there to be found.
One day I lost my passion.
It floated away like a helium balloon drifting toward the sun.
But I couldn't let it go.
I chased it into the sky,
Past the moon and the stars and the milky-way,
I followed it into the white place,
I faced a sea of bobby pins and hair ties and chap-sticks.
I faced all those lost arguments and id
10 Reasons To Buy Toilet Paper1) To stuff my bra in hopes that you'll see me tonightMore Like This
2) To dry the tears from my eyes when you don't
3) To blow my nose and try again tomorrow
4) To keep in my pocket just in case
5) To dab my lipstick before our date
6) To fix my mascara after you say you love me
7) To clean my glasses and see the truth on your collar
8) To wipe the crap off of your lips when you swear I'm the only one
9) To use every roll to cover your house in blankets of white
10) To replace the toilet paper I wasted on you
Because I'm BlindA young girl once asked a blind man, "Can you see?"More Like This
"Why, no, silly girl," the man replied. "I'm blind."
"I know that. Can you see?"
The man thought hard. He couldn't remember one moment when he had vision. "I'm sorry, my girl, but my eyes are broken. I don't understand what you mean."
"I guess you can't then..." The girl sighed, defeated.
She spent her whole life searching. She learned many languages and toured many countries during her mission, but none brought her to who she was looking for. One day, when she was old and retired, she sat on her front porch, feeling the soft breeze blow through her hair and listening to the soft creaking of the floorboards under her rocking chair. She looked out at her world with reverence. It was beautiful. "I wonder why no one else can see," she said.
A young boy stopped in front of the porch and looked up at the woman. "See what?" he asked.
"I can see it," the boy said, smiling at the sparkle in the old woman's eyes. "I don't
DenialDenial:More Like This
He stands before the mountains
and sighs, knowing that they reach toward the heavens
He begins his climb
his hands soon bloodied, his fingers digging into the hardened stone
He continues to drag himself
against the crags that scrape against his peeling skin
Unwilling to end his climb prematurely
though the rocks continue to slice into his flesh
Blood is drawn with a single desperate gasp
as pain rings out throughout his frame
His feet tremble and his hands grow numb
but still he continues to climb ever higher...
The winds threaten to throw him from the face of the mountain
and they slowly begin to waste him away
His body turns to dust and is scattered away amongst the clouds
But still he presses on!
Eventually, all that is left of this man
is a pair of hands clinging stubbornly to the rocks
and though the winds may blow, the man's spirit wills them on
Inch by painful inch they climb, undetered and utterly determined
For even if he lacks a body, even if he has nothing lef
Society Is Ugly.Society is ugly.More Like This
Beauty is defined by
How you act.
Not by the number on the
Starving doesn't work.
Purging doesn't work.
Pills don't work.
The girl you see
In the mirror is
Just the way she is
Don't get upset because
You don't match up
To the media's
Cutting won't work.
Crying won't work.
Dying won't work.
Society is ugly.
Grow UpWhen I was young,More Like This
I knew a girl.
She was so warm and bright,
so I asked her that question
that all children must answer.
'What do you want to be
when you grow up?'
Her eyes lit up with joy
and she jumped with excitement.
No, an astronaut!
I'll be famous
and in movies!
will be everywhere!'
She listed so many more
until she finally just smiled
and looked at me with eyes filled
with child-like wonder.
'I could be anything I wanted.'
Years and years later,
I saw the same girl again
but her eyes no longer
lit up with wonder.
I asked her,
'What did you end up being?'
She smiled the hollow smile
that adults have when talking to the young.
'Not what I wanted to be
when I was young.'
Nothing more was said on the matter
but I could see that there was no more wonder
in the eyes that once shone so brightly.
Sitting on a cloudMore Like This
Sitting on a cloud
The blue sky,
The blue Earth.
Then I think again,
To this beautiful blue,
Colour of its eyes,
Colour of the ocean,
Filled with tears,
Fallen from my cloud.
On the top of its head,
It's neutral and calm,
It's the anger which dominates,
It's the love which is in the wind.
I look at,
This supreme beauty,
This woman's body,
This new born life,
This new formed cloud,
It's a new beginning.
These small things,
Who makes life.