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Hand Cannon Overkill
The charismatic recluse
with a loner's philosophy.
Birds of a feather,
the punishments that I endure,
I cannot work beneath
The know-nothing status
in the search for myself
Goes on with trial & error...
All in all, I am merely awaiting
my own return.
5. The End is No End
Never had I beheld such a morbid sight,
Even after all that had penetrated my vision,
And pierced the very innocence of my soul.
Before stood the arisen Gates of Hades,
And but a few steps was I from the source of opposition.
My knees then met the soil and ash that laid below me.
The eyes that had before surrounded me,
Came to once more encircle me…
I knew not the reason, nor did my curiosity overcome my fear.
The drums of my ears felt nothing but a deafening ring,
And every hair arose on the flesh of my arm in alarm.
A familiar presence came from behind me.
I turned my eyes to the Hooded Figure that had bestowed upon me this journey.
Without haste or hesitation, I spoke with my voice high,
"You said to not fear, yet what is this?!
I feel nothing but calamity flowing like scorching sand through my veins,
And my heart pounds like the hammers that forged this abomination before me!
What say you of this journey that has led me to these infamous doors?!"
To me did he attempt to
Long did I hold patience for this to come,
and the cliché cupid had at last found me.
As wherein our lips meet,
this living system of mine reminisces.
What memories have remained
in my forgetful storage continue
to serve my jaw the smiles
that you so know and adore...
For whatever reason, you chose me,
and pray I that God had a hand.
Though I deserve not a thing,
I receive beyond the expectations of my prayers.
Long did I await your arrival,
And I don't believe you were a second too soon.
Genre, Oh Genre
Shame befalls me, for what the muses inspire.
Is such the magnet of my psyche? Such dreadful words from pen to paper?
I question not my sanity, only the purposes for which
such written things flow from me, as to what message is to be sent...
Though dedication fills me to the brink, so does a constant curiosity...
overflowing to the shores of embarrassment.
Shame befalls me, but I write as a messenger, and my muses come from Above,
where even dreaded words are sometimes called for.
3. The Spider Amidst the Structure
Nightfall arrive, accompanied by a darkness, serene.
Silence became all sound surrounding.
Many creatures around me came,
Abounding & astounding to my presence.
Before me stood a massive structure of oak,
Colossal, I envied not, the earth carrying its weight.
Three crosses stood, like giants amongst the trees,
Reaching out beneath and to the moon above.
Attaching them was the seal of the Triune of my Lord,
facing both the Heavens and the Earth.
In its core was a web,
Made fresh by a translucent arachnid.
The flesh of its figure, the spider, was given such life
By the pale gaze of the moon.
Its legs stretched wide, and in the light,
Were but a dwarfed allusion to lightning.
We watched, the creatures and I,
with the inspired awe of the sight before us all.
Back over my shoulder did my eyes glance,
To find at a distance a storm forging itself to life, by thunder and lightning.
From Heaven, bellowed the astonishing sound of a horn,
As the opening line of the first act o
I Can Make You Cry
My heart sank at the sound of the first shot,
Falling deep into black of this abysmal state of mind.
My thoughts rushed in a panic,
Knowing only anarchy the beat of my heart.
I collapsed in a stairwell,
falling upon jagged right angles.
Weeping out of my pointless efforts,
Broken down along the road to saving her.
Shouts came like the voices of ghosts from the 13th floor,
Echoing through a haunting resonation.
Silence became a blanket over my shoulders,
The ghosts and my weeping became mute.
I was to be alone there on,
With her as but a memory,
A dream to bring me smiles,
A nightmare to make me reminisce.
I feared for the future of our child,
Wondering of the consequences,
Feeling little but a bitter hope,
And a cold air over me.
My limbs grew close to lifelessness,
And my shock kept me all but enticed.
My heart, struggling in its climb back to my chest,
Plummeted a final time, at the second shot.
“I can make you hurt,” said Fate,
“I can make you cry.”
I ran, cl
It's Not Delivery, It's Damnation.
So long ago began
the ever growing free for all,
The all you can eat,
dog eat dog world,
are the simplistic struggles.
So out of hand,
that solutions become
straight out and down
from the kitchen above,
down the slip n' slide
through the caverns
of mishaps and mistakes,
I bet it tastes like regret,
and the buyer's remorse,
Reap what you sew say
the teeth of the demon,
With every bite sinks
in a shame filled saliva.
"Maybe we'll slow them down!"
Say the so called thinkers...
I can't help but think against them,
but what do I know?
I'm just a common crumb in the trough.
Above Heaven watches,
restricted by the local law
to keep the peace...
nothing is ever done,
but to keep the balance.
The Changing Tide
The era is now passed through which I lived and favored,
and my patience then packs its bags for hiatus,
with which to remind me that perhaps
brighter days lie in sunny hammocks ahead.
Here and alas lays the road to that sunny setting,
upon which I walk and tread the changing tide.
The next item on the list of Fates agenda and her passionate affair with time...
the seconds will carry on like the beats of my undying heart.
The fire that burns in my eyes, through which I see is only assuaged
by the tears they produce...
the tears I produce in my longing for some peace of some sort.
Yet those tears shall only accompany the sweat of my efforts.
Once upon a time, in the dream come true through which I slept,
did a fairy tale once exist…
that tale of my tale through endless times of a dream come true
and gone by in the era that I once lived and favored.
To the Borders of Cynicism
Mindful of the outcomes,
Truth be told, I've been so bold
As to say the things I've never meant...
A thought process that takes a constant inside look
to the outlines of the underlying facts,
That all else seems to avoid.
Better left alone the curiosities that I so pursue,
bending balance against what
little will it's been given.
These borders provide such a limitless amount
of what I am not to ever know,
like severing the tight rope that holds all of this together.
As if arrogance is what drives me away from naivety,
pride away from ignorance and
deeply into a much darker realm of fear.
The point of know return, deep in a cold hole which
I've dug for years of my existence,
where cynicism becomes my dim lit grave of irony.
Memories of WarMemories of War:
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
To ____To finally die
To call it quits.
To finally end
My restless fits.
My fits of rage.
My fits of despair.
My fits to which
No damage of can be repaired.
To have my last laugh with life
And my final fight with fate
Before I hit the dirt
And think of non more late.
To finally die...
Call it quits...
To put a rest
To my bleeding wrists.
Girl Leaving a Barthe wind picked pace
she could feel the sound
of the music, very
he was telling her
about his sister
through her hair
saying, "You remind me,"
"You remind me."
it was too early
stir with a sudden
turn of crooked fingers
as a car passes,
on broken glass
last night she dreamed
Painted SkinPainted Skin:
He smiles at you, as you enter the office;
Wearing eyeliner made of contempt and disdain.
His cheap cologne invades your nostrils immediately
And you quickly suppress a cough.
"Yes, yes, indeed we have to review this...er, many things are involved."
His face is powdered with a layer of self-importance;
Lips reddened by the polite harshness he spews.
His forked tongue flickers as he prattles on
And you're really getting quite tired.
"Oh I'm sorry! Of course, of course I understand; but my way is much better!"
You're getting really bored now, so you take a look around the room.
The expectation is to see it bedecked with acolades;
Yet bare walls, cold and empty, are all that greets you.
"Are you listening to me, I'm telling you why this isn't good enough. LISTEN TO ME!"
You take a look at the cup of coffee you were offered,
Cheap and lukewarm; you narrow your eyes.
"Is there a problem? I'm being honest, this is for YOUR OWN GOOD!"
It Came From The DarkIt Came From The Dark:
Amongst the ashes, swirling from the darkness of the pit,
Emerged a hand, dragging a battered body across the rocks.
Blood leaked from the wounds so callously self-inflicted,
And teeth ground with a focused determination and seething anger.
It cared not for the warm rubies - staining the jagged rocks,
It cared not for the sensation of pain...
All that it remembered was a dream, An obsession -
One that drove it ever higher; ignoring all else!
Eventually it emerged from this shadowy hole, this dreary depth,
And in that moment, it learned of the truth.
For this creature, denied sunlight and warmth -
-Chen Yuan Wen, 11th December 2012
Sad Poems.As I sit down at my desk, I wonder what to write.
Should I write about hardships, or suffering and plight.
Does this poem have to be sad though, I ask myself all the time.
It hurts me just to think about it, I can't, I won't, not this time.
I think well maybe, just this once, I can go back to my better place.
So I think about the sad times, and almost bring a tear to my face.
I write and sit, and I sit and write, till it chokes me up inside.
I've almost finshed it now, I can read it once, then hopefully put it aside.
Dare I ever do another one, I probably won't this time.
I'd rather write about my happy times, my loves, my goals in life.
So was this writing worth it, in its truth all said and done.
At least the sadness is out the way now, I can go back to having fun.
This is for the ReaderThis is for the Reader:
With the soft touch of his fingers
The piano begins to play, a heart untouched for so long
Bares its secret melody...
When I first started out I couldn't avoid just bein' cold
My life revolved the things that I was always told
I never knew the warmth of standing up to take a bow
It was not a joy that I would ever-ever be allowed
Through all the days I feared that everything would disappear
You held me up and held me close like I was something dear
I never knew I had a part of me that you would like
I guess that's what you feel when you can't even see the light
So this is the only way, that I can
Properly express my thanks
For everything you've done for me
This my way of thanks
My way of thanks
My way of thanks
I can't remember how many times I said I'd quit the game
It felt like I was hitting blocks and always feeling lame
But then you taught me that no matter what, you were here
You read the worst of my works and put
Eyes That Watch MeEyes that watch me,
eyes that don't.
Eyes that follow me,
eyes that won't.
Eyes in my family and
eyes in my friends.
Eyes in nature that
never seem to end.
Eyes that watch every move I make,
every breath I take,
every word I utter and mutter and stutter.
Eyes that judge me, love me and hate me;
Eyes that fear me, loathe me, pity me;
Eyes that want to be me and curse me for existing.
But the eyes that watch me the most,
always the most critical,
are the eyes that
Almost...Almost to the end
Before I ever saw the start,
Close to the heavens and yet I...
Didn't see any stars.
Each and every moment passed
Faster than falling sand,
Going under, grabbing onto...
His now distant, earthly hand.
I wish I would have realized
Just a while before death came
Knowing would have changed so much...
Leaving only me to blame.
The Forward Movement
Tragedy, abrupt to my very soul,
that left me far from whole.
The withered memory born unto my dreams again,
refreshed and once more binding me by chain.
The reopening scars I once upon a time, thought healed,
gape wide to open for the flood gates, red and revealed.
My witnessing eyes bleed out old tears from a rusted well,
Attempting again to put back out the fires of this age old Hell.
The rising waters find my feet and climb,
the two floods meet, where their cause is rhymed.
My heart from which the blood and tears flow,
now at where the pain does ever grow.
Close these outpouring wounds, build back up the walls...
Make for my feet, the forward movement from where my future calls.
Once again I will shed my skin,
leaving behind the marks of where I've been.
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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