My poems and lyrics are posted here:

http://celledamage.deviantart.com/gallery/

Biography of War- Part I (Emily)

This is Emily
Emily the Great
Emily the dreamer
Emily the lover
And Emily the fighter

Emily was a wife
Emily was a friend
Emily was a sister
Emily was a daughter

The dreamer made us happy
She crafted new worlds for us
Our futures seemed so bright
Love painted the scene

The lover kept us happy
Our joy was slipping
She helped us gain steadier footing
And get a grip on the real life

The fighter killed us all just a bit
Foreigners needed to die
Needed to pay for their blamelessness
And Emily was there

Signed her name in blood
Made a pact with the devil
Red flowed out
And controlled her every thought and action

Red is rage
Red is intolerance
Red is murder
Red is death

Raging against her fellow human
Intolerant of his needs
Murderous slaughter of innocence
And revenge hit her in the throat

Red flowed out
Life flowed out
Emily flowed out
And our hearts… gave out

The husband
The friend
The brother
The mother

Dark tears stain the earth
As bones are revealed where concealed
Black holes, all of them
Blame is the order of the day

But how can she be blamed?
The president needed more souls
The prime minister needed more bodies
The king needed more bones

The fearless warrior
The brave, the mighty
Yet at the same time
The murderer

Biography of War- Part II (Why?)

Here I stand, thinking
The bystander
The stranger
The fellow human

Why Emily?
Why me?
Why you?
Why anyone?

Why should I care?
Why shouldn’t I care?
Is she not a human?
Is she not my family?

Have they controlled you too?
Have they brain-dirtied you too?
Escape now
Now that you are still free

Emily lost that
She became a number
A statistic
A nobody

She fought for her country
But has her country fought for her?
She went out believing she would protect our freedoms
Yet so many are still lacking

War seems to be a common solution
That causes more problems
Hate, tension, bitterness
Don’t go away with a word

Time heals all wounds
But time is infinite
Time has been used to replace love with hate
And so far, we have succeeded

Yes, we…
I have contributed, and so have you
I stated my opinion
You put in your two cents
Small scratches yield a large gash
Tiny sparks produce a wildfire
Unnoticeable tappings shatter the glass
Everyone plays a part

How do we stop?
How do we turn back?
How do we weed out the hatred?
Easy… LOVE.

Love everything and everyone
Never let contempt, jealousy, rage, or anything else come between you and love.
The second you do, the balance is broken,
And back to guilt, death, and war we fall.

I wrote new poetry and wanted to share....

How horrendous these walls,
these barriers that keep us shackled,
keep us unnecessarily tethered in a place so cold and far away.
The money infested waters and our crazy, corroded tongues.

I can see you, but I can't touch you; a mirage of water cannot quench.
I reach you, but cannot speak to you; visions of food cannot satisfy.
How cruel my body and mind! TOUCH! SPEAK!
But my mind refuses to obey.

Why won't it obey?
Why can't our tongues be exchanged like parts in a machine; well-oiled and in tune.
Instead my tongue grates my palate, scratching my mind, and confuses all my speech.
Why is a color, and object, this vile thing we use to gain more separating me from the ones I love?

What cruel torture is this!
Is there no remedy?
There is but one; and to claim it I go.
I must claim it, for if I perish in my step, my soul will remain incomplete.

why is this thread always buried?

would anyone want their poems displayed on my site?

http://musichasm.110mb.com/Gallery/Poetry.html

its cause i made the thread.

don't say that...80% of the lost topics are mine

last post ahem aug 20, 07?!... by the encouraging words of interpolarity this thread will now be resurrected!
(also the find button at the top was very helpful)

I don't know what led me to write this but it was about 1am, wide awake and the song Cath kept playing over and over in my head so here you go:

Red uneven
Too dark at the corners, pressed, caked
Her stick like a crayon
Stick out your tongue
To put moisture
But your mouth is as dry
As your heart for the person beside you

The veil you wore today
Was seen at dinners
And at the altar collector's
And they played out like a mirror
Of the things you would succumb to

Everyday you'd awake at the same hour
You'd ask yourself why
And you'd set dinner plates
And eat your meals
And taste the lipstick you wore
On your wedding day

- I guess a tribute to Cath (?!), or else past midnight madness :]
(this was posted briefly on thread for things that don't deserve threads, just moved it here seemed more appropriate although anything goes on that thread) :]

It happened again today
My soul was screaming
He grabbed my ribcage like prison bars,
and shook me down to my stomach
He messed up my head, making me feel anxious
My face felt twisted and ugly,
but the mirror cackled otherwise
He whispered shouts and hurled them to the back of my mind's ear,
Yelling. Saying hurtful words.
I felt pain in all forms attack my senses.
I wanted to cry, but he stopped, no
He forced the tears inside. They dripped,
Thick and heavy with guilt into my heart
I try to make it go away with a song,
But alas, he was there too!
The familiar notes became the house of
Childhood pain and anguish
I tried ignoring him, but he was so persistent
He didn't stop until I was so sick, I couldn't vomit.
He laughed cruelly as he left...
I still don't know what he wants from me.



This is a poem about these panic attacks I have been getting lately... it's more literal than it seems...

quote:

Originally posted by interpolarity:
It happened again today
My soul was screaming
He grabbed my ribcage like prison bars,
and shook me down to my stomach
He messed up my head, making me feel anxious
My face felt twisted and ugly,
but the mirror cackled otherwise
He whispered shouts and hurled them to the back of my mind's ear,
Yelling. Saying hurtful words.
I felt pain in all forms attack my senses.
I wanted to cry, but he stopped, no
He forced the tears inside. They dripped,
Thick and heavy with guilt into my heart
I try to make it go away with a song,
But alas, he was there too!
The familiar notes became the house of
Childhood pain and anguish
I tried ignoring him, but he was so persistent
He didn't stop until I was so sick, I couldn't vomit.
He laughed cruelly as he left...
I still don't know what he wants from me.



This is a poem about these panic attacks I have been getting lately... it's more literal than it seems...

Oh my god...this is awkward...what does one say to that...

This is not really poetry, by the way, just some of the emoist shit i have ever fucking seen. get off these boards and get some psychological help, seriously. that's some weird fucked up crap, and i don't think anyone feels comfortable reading it

Uhm, I'll respond because BJ just went on a rant.
I like BJ sometimes, his name is nice and what not.

Anyways interpolarity I skimmed it, it was interesting, getting the two sides of one person fighting each other almost for attention and stuff.

Cool beans.

BJ, do you even know what emo is? For that matter, do you know what poetry is? As a matter of fact, I am seeing a psychologist for the panic attacks, but I am in no way unhappy with my life...
Besides, panic attacks are random and can occur even when one has relatively no stress, like in my case...

P.S. Thank you Aaron. This poem almost won me a scholarship, but I made it to the semi-finalists round
Oh, and it isn't two sides of one person... it is more of an auditory hallucination of sorts... it is really strange...



This is a 'flash fiction' story I wrote for my creative writing class...


Make a wish...
He sadly thought as he blew the candle as he had done ninety times before. He ate the one temptation he had been denied.
His lip quivered as let the last velvety bite slip between his wrinkled lips. He mashed it between his gums with eyes closed as a big grin reached his ears. He put his hand over his flat stomach satisfied and disappointed. His affair with the moist delight was the first he had in his whole life. Tears of indifference rolled down the hills and valleys of his cheek.
I have nothing left…there is nothing more to do…
His mind raced through the reasons he made the right decision. His stomach was in knots; unable to process the bittersweet dessert.
The cake tastes good! It tastes good!
But the mantra didn’t remove the taste from his tongue, dry and ashy like an urn. His stomach started to quiver. The tear dropped on his abdomen and sent shockwaves through his body. Prostrate on the ground he was jittering wildly. His feeble bones picked him up, only to hit his head with the quiet, soft blow of death.

The shaking stopped. The crying stopped. The breathing stopped.

Dark and alone…it tasted good…dark and alone!…IT TASTED GOOD!…DARK AND ALONE!!!

He fought with himself until he realized he wasn’t hurting anymore. He touched his head, it wasn’t bleeding. He touched his heart, it wasn’t bleeding. He slowly opened his eyes to the squinting sun, slapping his eyes shut again. His prostrate body was laid on the ground as the light filled him and smoothed his heart.
He got himself up without the familiar strain of age and looked around to the new surroundings. He walked around in disbelief, dragging the white cloth draping off him. His eyes water as he took in the sweet sight. It pleased all the senses.
But I’m dead…I’m dead…
But the mantra did not convince him.
Joel! Joel!
The voices called him. With a swift pace, he stepped across flowers and grass to the source of the impossible noise.
Joel! Joel! Come here Joel! We’ve been waiting for you.
They beckoned further. He ran with open arms as he embraced them; his wife, his friends, and God. No one else could have brought him such joy. His atheistic apathy became heartfelt homage as his mind raced through the reasons He would make such a decision.
I’m sorry. I want to live for so much more! Please, please!
He begged and pleaded. His eyes watered and tears of pure happiness drenched his smooth face. A giant smile took over his demeanor. His wife offered him a piece of cake with a smirk. He took the temptation questioning his wife's countenance.
The answer came; fire ate his robe, his surroundings disappeared, age greeted him once more and the dessert turned to ash.
And you thought you were in heaven?


P.P.S. I don't believe in hell...

nice... wow, you must really be a happy person haha. Anyway, what is flash fiction?

It's basically a REALLY short, short story. It usually has a twist as its climax. They tend to be no longer than a page or two...

Oh, and I have written happy stories, but they are much too long to put on here (up to eight pages actually...)

ah okay, get it...I don't know if it this is a flash fiction, but its not a poem and I enjoyed writing it, so I'll give it a shot:

I watched the piece of crumb
I starred, I waited
Who knew what that piece of food was anyway
It might as well have been the remains of a chocolate cake
Or a ball of dust
Nevertheless, cautiously a lonely ant approached it
Neither caring I was watching
The ant, sensing no movement whatsoever
Moved faster and faster
Feasting with its antenna, picking it away
After two seconds, I few more ants came
Greedy they scattered around looking for a larger peace of morsel
All the while I kept at watch
I gave a large sigh
And they flew away like dust

This isn't flash fiction actually, because this really happened haha

Anyway I'd like to read some happy stories if you have the time, even if its not on this board. :]