[x]

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

Last RoadTwo people, both alike in personality,
Shared a home where the scene was played,
From shattered souls to new beginnings,
Where screams were heard on this doomsday.
From golden moons crisp as the sun,
A mother who has not yet won,
The illness will strive until the deed is done,
Even if the daughter has not begun.
The road that lies ahead,
Is now a mother who is dead,
With hugs and kisses that are gone,
The daughter who will beat them all;
Thy which your eyes and ears can pretend,
What here shall be a transformation undid.

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

Faded bluesShadows dance of patented hues,
Yellow folded somber blues
Fear I tried in vain forbidden.
As all I long for is e'r hidden;
Shadows coved in bloated lies
My heavy heart, buzzing like a thousand flies.
Shadows Welcome by means of trust,
Yet terrified of misted dust.
Shadows threaded within the dawn,
Ever soon to be gone, unseen.
Motions treated in colored hues,
And my wold is simple now...
Shadows of faded blues.

Browse More Like This

Download File
TXT, 0 bytes more ▶

More from ~woozster

Paradox

I am tears locked in person
I am laughter and giggles in truth
I am love and kindness in being
I am the darkness you once forsooth.

I am sunshine smiles and warm hugs
I am pain encased in night
I am empathy in chilling winds
I am the goal that you lost sight.

I am honest in my lies to self
I am true to none and all
I am broken and disfigured inside
I am beautiful in my flaws.

I am emotion bottled for sale
I am the sweeping tide that cleanses the soul
I am a child afraid of being hurt
I am a woman who knows not her "role".

I am proud of that.

Champagne High

On a champagne high
of lighthearted smiles,
breathe in a contented sigh
and walk the miles
to light, a sight,
for memories you fight;
don't think, just try
Celebrate the day
as if we touched the sky
and in your heart,
you'll magically fly
upon miracle bubbles
of a champagne high.

Time (Part II)

It's been a long while since I've felt like myself
It's been a long while since I've felt anything.

Lost count the times
I tried to reach out
and reach for
Perfection.
Tried to help
make a difference,
indifferent to
my need to heal
all that I can't deal.

I'll take some time now
I'll be okay now.

Give me whispered moonshine
and life sublime;
gentle (hushed) saturnine
dreams gossamer-fine.

Ethereal angels
in my delusion,
wake up
amidst confusion.

Wake up.

It's just a phase
(Isn't it?)
through running days...
But I think
I really do think,
with time,
I'll be me again
I'll be alright again;
Relatively sane
Dancing i

Time

Seconds tick by;
an everlasting sound
in my head.

Minutes in sighs;
The spirit bound
and feeling dead.

Hours I cry,
but no peace found
after all that's said.

Days I try
to walk around;
far away I'm led.

Months I deny
my fall to ground;
lies I shed.

Lose sight of the year,
Self I jeer.
Whispered dreams
Tattered seams
-stay-
All that's left
seems rather queer.

"I gots the flu..."It's coming I know
Through my bloodstream flow
Them little germs, out to get
me ill, they are set
but before anything I can say or do
I hold my nose and go *ah choo!*
"Mommy, mommy, I gots the 'flu!
Hurt all over, I can't.." *ah choo!*
Wipe my nose and drink some juice
Perhaps with these bugs I can beg a truce?

Miserable and achy, my nose all red
"You forgot your Vitamin C", the doctor said.
Awful syrups the colours pink and blue
Tried swollowing and went *ah choo!*
Whine and cry to mommy while in bed
"They're having too much fun drumming in my head!"
She took my temperature and made me take the yucky stuff
"I'm feeling much

View Gallery

Featured in Groups:

Not currently featured in any groups.

Details

Submitted: April 16, 2001
File Size: 0 bytes

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 14
Favourites: 3 [who?]
Views: 640 (0 today)
Downloads: 222 (0 today)

[x]

The Perfect Love

by ~woozster, Apr 16, 2001, 9:17:31 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

Perfect Love

If I should say that perfect love exists
Then I’d be lying to you and to me
‘tis lust disguised, not easy to resist
And bound in chains while thinking he was free.
The quest for perfect love is hard, unfair,
It is more than just proclaiming “I care”
'tis not elusive, tis' not even there
'tis just a beautiful dream we all share.
There’s no such thing as sweet perfect love
‘tis all lies, an impossibility
‘tis the wise who realize that from above
Amid the heavens, in all God’s glory;
Perfect love is divine, as the dawn breaks;
Human love is filled with flaws and mistakes.

The Perfect Loveby ~woozster

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

A cynical view of the passion we call "love" and the futile search for this "perfect" emotion in the form of a sonnet, inspired ironically by Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet".

~DanielMellor Mar 25, 2004

Here we have the definition of irony: a perfect poem describing an imperfect love. I am truly amazed by this piece; not only does it boast excellent technique, but everything that has been mentioned is ever so true. This poem has no false emotion: a problem with some others that I have read.

Well done.

~axis- Nov 20, 2002 Writer

im in accordence with your contention. heh i firmly concur..... and i wish i could write anything close to that, AND I HAVE TO, i have a sonnet due in 16 hours. and i have to sleep for a majority of those hours leaving me screwed...lol gimmie your tallent! for a couple hours

~netguru Apr 25, 2002

I like it, yet I will still continue to search for perfect love....If I never find it my lust never take it's place. :fav:

I would like permission to add this to my favorites devpack please.
-----
...Helping people love life through caring. :-) (Smile)

Seeking out Copyright abuse...
Current Favorites: [link]

°jsenn Mar 19, 2002

I wonder...

if we should memorize this and say it over and over until we believed it

perhaps we should write it in our palm so we see it when we reach to touch another

it's ancient, decided, unclear to the innocent and yet...painfully true.

your poem is perceptive and well done
-----
J Heart

~itsprobablyme Oct 16, 2001

lust... i sure do agree with u!

---------------------------------------
who?? me??? huh?? me???

I dare ya! --> http://screaming.cjb.net

~basilius Jun 20, 2001

why do all of you have to express their feelings in senseless blind words, full of real world´s obstacles, deaf by shoutings of one dirty mouth against another?

`vm May 17, 2001

wow, give DP to this right away please : )

That's a great poem wooz..wich I can relate to so much, because i've been hurt so much by that mysterious "Quest for the perfect Love" before..and I realise now that the words you speak here are true, in some way..

The eternal romantic in me says there is such a thing, but the "Real world" is telling me a different story..

virtual mirage : v2
http://www.vmirage.net

`liquify May 2, 2001

as a poet, it's hard for me to be pleased with other people's writing, not that i'm conceited in the least bit, it's just that i feel that their influence on my writing makes it not my own, i would, however, like to say that i am simply blown away by one line in this poem, it's something that i could not have come up with on my own, and that you have earned my respect by writing.

"Human love is filled with flaws and mistakes."

not only is that one of the truest lines i have ever read but it fits so wonderfully at the end of this piece, it's so matter of fact, perfect.

when confronted with hate and ignorance, one must liquify.

~savis Apr 17, 2001 Hobbyist General Artist

so true, so true, and yet utterly depressing. Nice piece of poem though, I like it

~arleetec Apr 17, 2001

You got that right wooz, right on. This poem is very unique. Good use of words.

More from ~woozster

Featured in Groups:

Details

Statistics

The Perfect Love

The Perfect Loveby ~woozster

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style