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I'm AlrightMy mom told me I should stop sleeping so late.
It’s affecting my health.
Mum, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
I have too much I want to do before I die;
And too little time.
It’s arrogant to say, but I won’t be satisfied with just being good,
I want to be the best.
Pokémon Master of the world: It’s my destiny.
From a balcony, is the only time,
I hope you’ll look down on me.
I want to fight the demons in my head.
I mostly feel uncomfortable when I’m not working.
Writing, music, filming, whatever, it doesn’t matter;
I just need to keep myself busy,
Anything to stop me from picking up a gin bottle.
Mum, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
Fuck this health thing.
Mommy, I’m alright.
I just want you to be proud of me.
10 Things I Wish I Could Tell You1.
Didn’t you ever find it creepy while we dated?
You were 14 and I was 17 at the time.
That’s a pretty large age gap.
Thinking back, it’s pretty fucking weird that I was ever in love with you in the first place.
A few years older, and I would have been a pedophile.
So I’m kind of glad you dumped me for no reason ‘cause
I don’t have the heart to tell people
Oh it’s not what you think!
It’s not a three year difference – it’s a…2 ½ year difference. Not the same…
Don’t you ever find it weird that we kept our relationship so low-key?
None of our closest friends knew we were ever together.
We would talk a hell of a lot about each other with them
But we never once mentioned we were dating.
We only met with each other after school
And I would tell my parents that I was going to meet up with “frien
Just Wonderin'This is those cats that favorite shit then dip.
If I wrote a poem without words,
Would you like that too?
Hate CrimeFADE IN.
INT. JOHN’S HOUSE - MID-DAY
JOHN is a Korean-American male in his late twenties. He has a clean shaven face and is sitting alone at a coffee table. He has a mug in hand; it is half filled with coffee. He is slowly drinking from the mug while reading the newspaper which is spread out along the table.
The newspaper’s headline reads “TAIWANESE STUDENT BEATEN TO DEATH”. As John reads the headline, he chokes on his coffee and abruptly puts down the mug.
John begins reading the rest of the article out loud:
Ang Te-Sheng, a twenty-four year old male from Taiwan was tragically killed last
Friday in front of Stanford University at approximately 6:00AM…
FLASHBACK – EXT. Side walk, Stanford University – Early Morning
ANG TE-SHENG is carrying a backpack & a briefcase. He walks in front of The Thinker statue.
He was severely beaten and stabbed.
The only hint of his identity was his was his student ID. Card…
FineEarly mornin’ coffee
Never tasted so bitter.
I’m telling you, I’m fine.
Every mornin’, the same routine.
Why do you still not believe me?
I’m fine, I swear.
I just couldn’t sleep…
But who needs sleep anyways?
I write instead.
I’m fine. Just a little brain dead.
I was just thinking about the past,
And I fantasized
That there was a happy ending.
I’m fine now.
I’m just fine.
How To Write A PoemSee, writing is a lot like walking up to people in a bar.
Let me paint you a picture.
Imagine every action you take as your story
Or your poem.
There is always a beginning, middle & end.
Most usually in that order.
I mean…you could try to go up to a stranger & asking them to marry you.
They’ll advise you to go to a mental institution.
I walked right up to my reader in a bar
As for some reason I often do,
I said, “You must have your sky miles card on today, ‘cause you are lookin’ extra fly.”
Now I know what you’re thinking…Who the hell is this guy?
He’s trying to teach people how to write using cheesy pickup lines.
But here’s my point.
You have to have a way to attract your reader.
As shallow as it sounds, you’re first impression is everything.
You’re first words will draw people in like Moths to a flame
(As cliché as that sounds…)
And if they don’t like it, they’ll be quick to move
I got butterflies…
You’re a butterfly…
You flew away…
I fell in love
With the most beautiful Butterfly.
Born Without Wings
So I thought I could help you shine.
The little secrets that kept us alive.
But it’s sad now
‘Cause no one knows we existed.
You’re just a boxed memory
A musical phrase in my life’s symphony.
In my dreams you never left
You never made me wait.
Let you fly away.
But a beauty like you…
I want to share the same grave
I got butterflies…
You’re a butterfly…
You flew away…
You got in that bus and road away.
I never saw you again, we never speak.
But you triggered a part me that I couldn’t show.
I exposed my music, oh you didn’t know?
It was you that I fell in love with.
It was you that I wrote my first song about.
Pagan ritual; I’m the sacrific
ForgetListen to this here: Here
I know you’re gone,
I can’t forget you
I know you’re gone.
Did you forget me?
Love is like the flu. A seasonal lust over the “one”,
A fatal blow no matter which way the sword is swung.
Hate to be the messenger. But at least I’m not the serial killer.
I named him cupid. He’s quick to shove you in a pit;
Throw you in a ditch; Leave you for dead.
Well, at least he’s nice enough tuck you into bed.
His friend gravity works over time in this economic struggle.
This is life. It’s a ride. I hope you remembered to buckle.
I miss every particle and article of clothes you owned.
I might be fine if I use these people to fabricate clones
Of you. Soon
I plan to
make a song we can both dance to
If I ever finish writing this tune.
The both of us knew that if this ever happened we wouldn’t talk anymore.
But I can’t help but feel odd now
I AmI am single,
but I am loved.
I am not a genius,
but I am intelligent.
I am not breathtaking,
but I have beauty.
I am not a saint,
but I am kind.
To the world,
I am not perfect.
But for someone,
lung canceri will die with your name on my lips
because there is nothing else i'll need to say.
you are my coffin, my funeral pyre.
as my bones disintegrate, popping and snapping,
you will greedily swallow my ashes
until nothing is left of me but secondhand smoke.
i've danced with you, love, across hospital tile,
the scent of antiseptic cloying as valentine's chocolate.
you dipped me into unconsciousness,
and i willingly closed my eyes.
the intrusion of your scalpel teeth no longer scares me.
you, my rigor mortis soul mate, always take me under.
your tent of frostbitten shelter pulls me down, an anchor,
while i gag on pills too abstract to save me.
forgive me, lungs, of my cigarette abuse,
but i've found happiness in a reaper's cloak.
i find comfort in these carcinogens.
i've made my nest in a swaying tree,
my body destroyed by the nauseous rocking.
they smile at me with pity in their eyes,
scribbling nonsense on those jaw-like clipboards.
their crisp, stark white world still has faith in me,
All Her Little ThingsStop hating her for the littlest things.
The things she can't prevent,
The things she can't save herself from..
Stop demanding her to do things,
Things she can't accomplish,
Things she can't imagine being done...
Stop lying to her,
Telling her you love her,
Want her, need her...
When all you've ever done is make her want to
Stop hating her for the littlest things.
The things she can't prevent,
The things she can't save herself from...
When those little things you've done
Take her down...
The little things won't matter anymore.
you've been dead for a year, my deari met you on december 21st,
the longest night of the year.
you had solstice eyes: cold, dark, alluring.
i knew you were not meant to last,
powerful as a gale but fragile as
the tulip stems you snapped,
a sickening cycle of you,
an overwhelming tidal wave.
they say two wrongs will never make a right,
but i made so many bad choices that
i wound up back where I began.
it was too easy to love you,
but getting you to love me back was impossible.
i clawed at your chest until I struck blood,
until my nails split into shards.
you were born a phantom,
and i, your corpse.
holding onto you felt like drowning in quicksand;
i fought but always sank into your arms.
i breathed in dirt, breathed in dust, and
found my organs choked with you,
smothered by your existence.
you sucked out my breath
every time i kissed you.
i died every day with your hand
knotted in my hair.
You left on june 21st,
the longest day of the year.
i bit down sorrow and deconstructed
the labyrinth within me,
the one you hadn't th
Mirror, MirrorMirror, mirror, on the wall,
Watch it crumble, break and fall.
Look at all the bloody glass,
How it reminds them of a severed past.
Watch a reflection slowly disappear,
Looking at all the shattered, crushed mirrors.
A breathless state of mind goes by,
Am I just alive or did I die?
Confused and in an awe,
Careless people unknown to what one saw.
Throat slit so one can't be unlocked,
Too bad the thoughts have become blocked.
Crimson splatters, dripping, breaking away,
Thou shall not know the feeling of all the pain.
Oh, Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Why did you crumble, break and fall?
Eye of the StormI believed I could make the wind blow,
and force the moon to shine at night,
create rainbows just by thinking,
and hold tea parties for fairies in July,
I was the queen of my own graceful lands.
Yet, I grew old and realized,
I am the kind of girl who'd trip and fall,
often for stepping on her own feet.
My crown of diamond and gold
now a rusted piece of bronze,
I lost my throne to treason, my kingdom to hate,
I became the eye of a hurricane,
loaded with mishaps I need to atone.
I felt the soft touches of angels,
and lost my own wings to demons who could crush stone.
Felt the scorching tears run so often,
I knew I must have hit bottom low.
I had nothing holy, no one to call dear,
but here I am, the starting point of my own storm.
I felt fear, clung to shadows,
encased my heart within marble walls,
and threw the keys that can unlock my soul.
So many chances I've lost with no love to seek,
and so many people I turned my back to.
I let the darkness gnaw through my bones.
A stranger walked up to me today...A man walked up to me and asked me for a cigarette… I told him I didn't smoke anymore, and he asked me why? ––I answered "because the person I used to smoke with, isn't around anymore", and he replied…"that's why I smoke."
A woman walked up to me and asked me for drugs, I replied "I have several in store…his eyes, his smile, his hands"…she whispered, "that's not a drug"…and I laughed as I said.. "if only you knew."
A child walked up to me today and asked me to play a game, I told them I was too tired to play games, i'd been playing for years, they replied…"then you must be a pro!", to which I said "yes…a pro at losing."
An old woman stared at me today, and I asked her…"is something wrong?" she answered "I was about to ask you the same question."
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
Don't pick a fight with an Artist
Don't pick a fight with an artist
Wanna fight pussy?
Give me yar best shot
Or will you throw a paintbrush at me?
I'm so scared- not
Excuse me? What did you say?
What is a punch you ask?
Of course let me tell you:
A blow with the fist- it's quite a simple task
Are y' gonna cwyyy?
I dunno what you just said
Why don't you let me show you?
I'll f****** punch you and then- boom- you're dead!?
Pardon? What did you ask?
You need a clearer definition?
Of course, let me show you
I'll demonstrate- with out your permission
Ouch! Hey no fair
Dude you are so gay
You write poetry
I'll make you f****** pay!
Discúlpeme? What did you mutter?
I'm gay? Is that what you said?
Perhaps you need some assistance, let me help
I'll be gentle I promise- I did need new ink! In the colour red<
Stuck The car sputtered and shook as it came to an almost silent stop. The engine had gone silent as the horn beeped loudly through the dark night. The orange gas light blinked mockingly at the woman behind the wheel. It was making fun of her; she knew it was making fun of her. Grabbing the black cellular phone on the passenger seat, she looked at it with full intention of calling somebody to come help her.
“Oh, what the hell?!”
The “no service” sign was mocking her at the same exact time. The horn beeped loudly as she slammed her head against it once again. The day was out to get her in general. She had arrived at all her classes late, and her son was sick with the flu. The babysitter was able to watch him as she went to her late night classes. Giving a heavy sigh, she lifted her head off the wheel to look out the window. Drops of water pooled on the windshield as rain started to fall in a pitter-patter pattern. She didn’t quite understand the message th
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More