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I Am a WriterI am a writer.
Yes, it’s easy for me to fall into a dream.
But there is nothing wrong with being tighter
With a story’s theme.

I am a writer.
That is all I will ever want to be
In the end, my story will be lighter,
And my characters will finally be free.

I am a writer.
There is nothing easier to say than that.
I will never let a story wither
Nor let a story fall flat

I am a soon to be author.
With several books ready to be read,
I want them to have great honor
And wish there will be tears shed.
To HooverHoover state: waking up to sleep
because that’s all I’m good for;
out of work, out of time again
and my brother won’t spare a dime.

Blanket sweat reminds me of this
Hoover state: waking up to sleep
in depressions of this planet;
the moon weeps for me in daytime.

I yank my pockets out, like it's
my country's flag; punch-line of the
Hoover state: waking up to sleep
in my sagging skin on decline.

I've no penny to my name,
jumping out the window (one
last time) makes me worth more in this
Hoover state: waking up to sleep.
Twinkle StarTwinkle twinkle little star
Noone cares just who you are
When you fall the fall is far
Twinkle twinkle superstar.
The Soldier's Letter To HomeI write this from my death bed
My eyes fading in the light
Drowned in crimson red,
Drowned in shaking fright.
The enemy has won
The war now has ended
And though killed by my son
May his sins be ammended.
For this is Civil War
I cannot change the tide
So from you I implore
Do what is right.

Bury me somewhere nice
Near, and fair to look at
And forgive my son his sins;
For in war, no one wins.
Take Death's HandI do not fear Death.
My life has been long enough.
It's time I take my last breath.
I shall not rebuff.
Death stands by my side,
his hand extended for me to take.
His face is veiled like that of a bride.
This life I now forsake
as Death takes me away.
I do not regret
for I am free of the fray.
Please do not fret
for I am okay.
Continuous VoicesIt all began when I was ten
I found what lingered in my head disturbing
And it wasn’t until I grabbed a pen
And saw what truly lingered when I began writing.

There were continuous voices within my head
I was not one to favor them dead
Although, they had violet images attached
The way I wrote them matched.

Since then, the voices have changed
Octaves have risen and lowered
Their words have exchanged
And eventually became uncensored.

These continuous voices have brought war
Ones with an uprising roar
And at moments I want to kill the sound
For they are so profound.

Yet, they continue to crescendo
And welcome me to a hidden story
And so
Aur si plumbUn gând de aur, dar se simte
mai greu ca un pumnal de plumb
ce intră-n coaste, se învârte,
și caută să iasă prin minte...
Stilou de aur, scrie versuri,
dar lasă urme ca de plumb,
pe foi mânjite de cerneală,
și de cafea, și alte resturi...
 
Un glonţ de aur, dar se simte
mai tandru ca o zi de plumb,
îl pun aici, închid capacul,
și ca un gând, îl scot prin minte.
~Evil creatures~
They're evil creatures in the night
Lurking in the shadows but still seeing there sight
From they're pale skin and glowing eyes
Out there graves they will rise
Moaning and groaning is what you hear
Your body will soon fill with fear

They walk or run in a fast pace
Here they come for the chase
Get ready for the fear
Coming through the door they are here
Board up the windows to keep them away
This is the place you don't want to stay

It's too late now they're breaking in
It's a fight you may not win
Grab you shotgun prepare for the fight
This battle may last all night
Pain and blood come from your arm
A bite from these creatures can cause muc
EndlingHere am I, the captive thylacine
Treading my tiger-striped, ungainly way
Around the metal-mesh confinement of my cage
Here am I, exhibited, exhumed
Brought from the brink to pace another day
A living testament, a final thumbmarked page
Here am I, the only specimen
Bereft of mate, of pups, of kin, of kind
Watching the claws of history extending
Here am I, the final thylacine
The only one, the last, the lost, the endling.
Who Was HeHe stood at the average height for men.
His built was quite average.
His eyes were that of cyan.
Nonetheless, he was average.

His hair was that of blonde,
Nearly, white.
His walk and personality had a great bond.
He was a confident sight.

His skin was a delicate peach.
His muscles were quite firm.
So irresistible, a teasing reach.
His appearance had its own term.

One that the dictionary cannot confirm.

Who was he?
That man with his own sea?
He was one without a name.
His appearance was a taunting game.
He was one without a number for an age.
Forget it, he’s fake on this page.
SuicideThere's no blood on her hands
Bullet holes in the door
Nothing but colored pills
And her lying on the floor

You look at her face
There's despair in her eyes
And you wonder what she thought
As she fell and died

And maybe you're begging her to come back
And maybe you're asking why she let go
The hurt in your chest feels like a heart attack
And now you finally know

Maybe you could've helped her
If you'd looked past your own nose
Maybe she'd be alive now
You had a chance, this is what you chose
Now maybe you'll learn from things
That you didn't see
Maybe you'll open your eyes
And rescue him, or her, or me
Maybe she cried a prayer
For the oth
ContrariwiseSilly little Alice,
Forget all you thought you knew,
For deep inside your head,
Everything is all askew.

If they tell you that one plus one,
Equals twelve and half, my dear,
Don't worry yourself about it,
For two is so last year.

Don't even try to be different,
Or it'll be "Off with her head!",
And you'll find it's better to live a lie,
Than it is to end up dead.

So heed this socially accepted advice,
Ditch any scraps of your insanity,
To cavort with the Hare in March,
Join the Hatter for a cup of tea.

Fritter your days away,
Dancing under a Cheshire moon,
Don't mind the surrounding chaos,
Ignore impending doom.

But even as you join in
WarWhen stories of battle are shared,
They are full of fame and glory.
No one knows what war really holds,
That is, until they hear this story.
At first there is much excitement,
Your chance to be a hero.
Then homesickness begins to set in,
The sorrow makes you feel like zero.
Then the supplies get cut off,
Your stomach cries out for food.
It rains then it droughts, and then you want out,
You'd laugh at your situation but you're not in the mood.
No sanitation, no garbage cans,
You are living in human waste.
The tents are torn up, the beds full of lice,
You wish you were in a different place.
Then you finally go to fight,
This is your chance to prove yourself.
All your comrades are shot down,
So much for fame and wealth...
Cleaning up the bodies,
Of those who used to be your friends.
Not even time for a proper burial,
Too many injuries to attend.
Then there's the sneak attack,
You are all caught by surprise.
A brutal, bloody, massacre,
A bullet between your eyes.
In this little game o
One WindowOne window is all I need
To see the world for what it truly is
With my mind a system of creed.
My talent can depict or dismiss
This world of goals, so hear my heed.

I sit down beside a journal,
My fingers clutching a pencil.
I will make my character’s life spiral
And send them off to a council
Where they must advance through the next trial.

One window is all I need
To watch them afar a long, hazy field,
Where I can study their speed
Of understanding when they will yield
Of life, itself, so they need to hear my heed.

My character’s goal,
As well as mine,
Is to be whole
And see how bright life can shine
Even through the darkness
Oh, Holy FatherOh, Holy Father above, please hear me tonight,
Give me the strength to continue the fight
Against the evil that lies within my heart –
Purify me, let me bleed and tear me apart.
Cleanse me, I beg of you, set my soul free
From the demons that have such a hold on me.
I am a man, a mere mortal, dedicated and just,
I steer clear from sinners and am not swayed by lust.
I am loyal and honest and faithful and true,
And, in my time of need, I turn to you.
I am wounded and broken and on my knees, I pray,
Save me before the sun greets another day.
Protect me from the darkness, let my torment end,
So I can be your Man of God once again.
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More from =Shuriken95

Music Review: Muse - The 2nd LawMuse has always been a band that I've paid quite a close bit of attention to over the past few years. And over these years one thing has become certain: 
They are possibly one of the most controversial bands to be talking about.
This was definitely the case when, just last year, they released their latest album titled "The 2nd Law."
So then, before I get down into the nitty-gritty of things, there is just one little thing I need to say about this album....
WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED!?
This album is honestly a huge smack to the face to any long-time Muse fan out there. I mean, it was clear which direction Muse was taking with their style of music long before this album came out, but this was completely uncalled for! I had never really had a problem with any of Muse's previous albums, even though it was clear that their original style was deteriorating since the "good ol' days," yet this album bugs me to the point where my inner Muse fanboy-dom just wants to rip his
A Worker's Motivation (Haiku)My merit can/will
stab me, love me, make me bleed
gold and golden flames.

Featured in Groups

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×

You never gave up

:iconshuriken95:

You never gave up.

Forget my consistent efforts,

my coveted idealism,

my persistence from afar.

You came back yet again -

constant aggravation

for such a small embodiment.

Unwanted nuisance,

you never gave up.

 

You never gave up.

Demand indignation

like a fly to the window,

time and time again

you flew blindly.

I simply wished you gone,

gone from this wretched windowsill.

Unnecessary bother,

you never gave up.

 

 

You never gave up.

Recognise my screams,

begging your hindrance.

You won’t stop.

Assault the walls of my mind

- already fortified -

for motives unexplained.

Unpleasant annoyance,

you never gave up.

 

You never gave up.

Never mind my hand

you loathsome pest,

you tried again... again...

Was it mere stupidity,

or cruel desire for my anguish?

I could not understand.

Irritation incarnation,

you never gave up.

 

You never gave up.

Spark my interest,

my utmost confusion

to your true intentions.

Little fly, still hitting my window.

Your never-ending effort

had gripped my attention.

Curious persistence,

you never gave up.

 

You never gave up.

Feed my questioning,

I understand.

I open up the window

and the walls of my mind.

I watched as you escaped

into the freedom you’d desired.

Valiantly courageous,

you never gave up

 

...and finally succeeded.

135

13 7 0
:iconshuriken95:

You never gave upby =Shuriken95

DescriptionDetailsShare
Structure of 9 per line.

In the end, it's the overall message that counts:

Effort makes the difference.
Sometimes what we see isn't necessarily what actually is.


Enjoy!
©2012-2013 =Shuriken95
Category: Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

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Submitted on
April 22, 2012
Submitted with
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:iconreprogrammed:
~Reprogrammed Apr 27, 2012  Student Writer
This is awesome! It's amazing that you can take a simple thing like a fly buzzing around a window and craft a beautiful poem like this. VERY nice job. :)
Reply
:iconshuriken95:
=Shuriken95 Apr 27, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you! :) I should also thank you for your fave as well!
so... thanks!
Reply
:iconlady-crusaderkira:
~Lady-CrusaderKira Apr 22, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
...do you think so??
Reply
:iconshuriken95:
=Shuriken95 Apr 22, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Yes, yes I do!
Reply
:iconlady-crusaderkira:
~Lady-CrusaderKira Apr 23, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
okay.. :) then maybe i'm giving up too soon...and should redouble my efforts...
Reply
:iconshuriken95:
=Shuriken95 Apr 23, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Always worth trying, eh?
Reply
:iconlady-crusaderkira:
~Lady-CrusaderKira Apr 23, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
maybe. :)
Reply
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