We Were SoldiersYou'll never hear me say that there's glory in war.More Like This
It is ugly, it is painful, it is frightening...
But I know, in my heart;
Deep within this soul born of freedom.
That what I do, at times, is a necessity.
It is nerve-wracking, most days,
Knowing that when you wake up you may not make it home.
But still I am proud,
Because of what I have managed to achieve.
And tonight; I hope that you're proud of me,
Because I'm sending a hundred of my boys home.
I just wish that I was joining them this time...
How to Insult PoeticallyOnce I happened upon a callow young lass,More Like This
Who apparently thought that it was cool to be crass.
And she turned her tongue upon the profession of writing;
Apparently she felt that it was in need of a smiting.
Though her raving and ranting made very little sense,
She seemed to be taking a rather harsh stance.
Apparently her pain was too great to be understood,
Far beyond the comprehension of this man from the hood.
So I stood there in swagger, clad in my bling.
While she behaved like 'Moon-Moon', in search of a thing.
She spouted some nonsense, some far fetched line,
About never idolizing the keen writer's mind...
If that is the case, then why ape my technique?
Why submit to several galleries; is your brain on the leak?
You are writing to be seen; you seek attention as I do,
What are we if not performers, is that not true?
Did you believe that you could use your past as a shield?
It counts, I'm afraid, for nothing, I feel;
For you see, I'm a killer, as bold a
I Once Loved...She was beautiful.More Like This
And twas I who loved her...
I held her in these hands,
Like a warm blanket,
Comforting and kind.
But she was a bitter poison, toxic and deadly.
No antidote to her venom;
I wasted away with delirious eyes.
A coward they called her,
And it was the truth!.
But to save myself, I would have her bleed.
Her heart a raw panacea;
Crunched between my teeth...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 22nd July 2013
Daddy, Daddy.Daddy, daddy! Come play with me.More Like This
I'll be the princess filled with glee.
You'll be the king, you'll reign over the sea.
Daddy, daddy, come play with me!
Daddy, daddy! Let's play a game
I'll grow up and like magic, i'll change
Into somebody so odd and so strange
Daddy, Daddy. Let's play a game.
Dad, hey dad! Let's do something fun.
I'll pull the trigger of this heavy gun
After I've given you some time to run
Dad, hey dad, let's have some fun.
Dad, come on now, can't you see?
This knife in your back and this bullet in your knee
It's who I've become, who I've grown to be.
Daddy, come on...
Come play with me.
After All..I am a flightless bird,More Like This
And that's alright.
It can't be helped,
My wings have been clipped.
But not out of love.
My wings were clipped out of fear,
A fear that there are things I cannot do.
So I watch you fly,
Fly fly fly.
You beautiful bird.
You're so colourful and bright,
I'm nothing but a background dull grey.
Go and fly,
No need to wait up.
I keep clipping my feathers because I don't think I'm ready to fly.
You can sing all your songs to me when you come home,
You keep learning new ones every time you fly.
And each time you fly,
You fly farther and higher.
And your at a point right now that when you fly,
I can't watch anymore.
And when you come home,
I'm happy your back.
But I'm also sad,
Because deep down I want to fly away with you.
And be with you all the time.
So from my cage I'll sing my songs to my self,
The same ones I've known since I was young.
I'm too scared to fly.
Secrets Should be SilentSecrets Should be Silent: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
BedriddenBedridden: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
Dumbass CommentersEvery so often, I'll scroll down the comments to someone's pictures, because I have no life and nothing better to do with my time. Or sometimes I will have something that I should be doing (like an English project for school), but I'll piss away my time on the internet because I can.More Like This
Anyway, ever since I joined dA, I've noticed something. Among the dozens of comments one might get, there's always some dumbass making a stupid comment on someone's picture. No matter what you submit, some idiot feels the need to leave you a stupid comment for one reason or another. At first I didn't think anything of it, but then as I looked through comments on peoples' pictures or comments that are shown to me by friends, I noticed something- comments that always fit within a certain category! Since there are few things that annoy me more than idiots (which are idiots who think you owe them a favor for some shit they did or sometimes for no reason at all), I feel the need to rip apart their little
Which Bathroom?I am not a boy, not a girlMore Like This
skinny pants with no bump
hips hidden by long shirts
yet I tape my chest everyday
so I can look like me
these eyes look past shapes
seeing souls and inner thoughts
hearing those judgements who can't stand
to stay in somebodies head
'Are you a boy or a girl?'
Can't i just be a person?
walking and talking just like you
moving to the beat of time
The thumping in my chest
singing of a free land
free to express how I want
as a person who likes people
because I am
depending on the time of day
but that cannot be
its just not normal
much too queer for people
out of the ordinary
since I don't fit in your box
Don't you dare try to make me fit
because I am a person
just like you and them
so next time you ask
'chico o chica?'
remember that it doesn't mattter
here's what i think.I was a better person when I wrote.More Like This
I was a better person when I wrote about boys who'd never return my feelings on silver platters, and ships long lost, or drowned, at sea. It sounds like a disaster, but I only write well with the ashes of a crumpled, discarded spirit mixed with the still-warm tears of a troubled soul.
Words kept me human, for they are what makes us human, and they distanced me from the animal I could become. All I do now is stalk around the concrete city, pace about my enclosure, and think about how my bitterness and I can never be released in the wilderness again.
Before the city stole my words away, I was living in the harbor locked up in a crumbling lighthouse, hoping that some northeasterly wind would blow him back to me. I still yearn, but the sea-stained melody gets lost in the traffic and it's easier to be whole without it haunting my every second.
But, the truth is, I'm burning for more.
I'm not whole without part of him missing, and if I'm filling up the