To the InferiorTo the inferior,I know how you feel. The thought of being "less." The notion that you have little to gain. The idea that you don't quite meet the world's standards. It's like you're stuck. Forever dreaming for something better. Forever wishing upon a star. At night, you sit up and wonder when the pieces of your puzzle-like life will fall into place. But isn't that just so cliche? All we do is wait...then wait some more. Yet, we're not far from the mountaintop. Someday, it will be our turn. Someday, we will see our long-awaited desires floating before our eyes, like satellites. And those who've never left cloud nine will finally understand. It just takes a bit of time, and a smidge of faith. Though it's easy to become vulnerable. Remember, even the "lowest of the low" have found their way. Some have even taken on the role as king or queen. And just know, that I am for you. Totally and completely for you. You never have to question your significance again.Sincerely,Everlasting Hope
Obsolete BeachThe lighthouse is catching fire tonight;the infrastructure is caving in.For several bottles of keroseneremain exposed, unattended.And the matches, ten years old,rub against the cardboard lid.Sorcery, or so it seems,taking course of foul revenge.Then fear falls fast on tired hearts;the angels have refused their part.So goes our love, our brick-built home,our oil, and our lamp.Still, we once felt angst before,the monsters piling on the shore.We'll reconstruct our secret placein the ocean's crib.
Tribute to the KingI had once dreamed of being queen. But not the one you might expect. Not the one to turn her back, so ignorant to flee. For you have seen their solemn eyes - the hunger beckoning demise. Still, you raise the cathedral spires, callous to their pleas. Then death takes hold of sweltering skin; guilt takes form of russet hands. Your ego, status as a man, is but an ancient thing. And purple banners start to fall, for the king who thought he had it all. Erect the tables for the feast! We're not disheartened - not in the least.Not in the very least.
Natural RestorationCucumbers like iceconcealing somber eyes.Pigment of chlorophyll -fluorescent green, divine.Capturing the light,conquering the night.Act of photosynthesis,soothing, sublime.
Spatial SerenityBathing in streams of coconut milk,I embrace my inner sense of youth -how calm, how mellow-minded,distinct of the Earth's mantle.A moment spent upon the moon.
Bobby PinConsider a bobby pin.How easy one could snap.Yet it tussles with gravity -leaves an atmospheric gap'tween your hair and your faceand your dimples like stars.I would be a bobby pin,just to unveil who you are.
MarigoldsYou call yourself a man,yet shamelessly crushmy pile of marigoldsbeneath your feet -your old rubber solesgrinding the petalslike mortar and pestle.Those apricot leaves.But you never knew lovein the form of a flower;how vibrant, how gallantlike the sun it could be.And you never knew thatthe true secret to manhoodis boldness with a touchof sensitivity.
PrisonerI hold the gauze against my lips,embrace the snow white fibers of its being -embrace the cotton candy-like tressesready to catch each speck of bloodthat will fall from my stitched mouth.Tonight, I'll break my vow of silence -my long-contained ghostly manner,no matter how much my mouth bleeds.For words weren't meant to be confinedbehind slithers of rusted wire;phrases weren't meant to run drybehind tired, parched tongues.Tonight, the clock will cease to tick,the rosebuds - cease to bloom.And my voice - cease to be mutedbehind the once ivory bandage.
Regarding BrowniesThere's a differencebetween gooey and chewy.
Confessions of a BorderlineHer gaze is the most peculiar thing,she can't hold still for anyone.One minute, it's rosewater delicateand the next - the fire of a Gatling gun.She's exactly what occurs when sugar and saltare mixed in a chemical reaction.Have you seen the way she walks the die?Oh, but it's such an attraction!You may feast your eyes, but you'd better not touch,in fact, you should never go near her.But hide away and lock your doorsand teach the kids to fear her!When she gets upset over the littlest thing,she gets all suicidal(though you really should see her when she gets madshe's full-blown homicidal).When it comes to sanity (or lack thereof),she's Harley's fiercest rival.Can't calm her nerves to live her dreamthen she stuffs up every recital.She very hardly discerns her feelings,she may hate you but she'll need you to live.But she's barely a person, so it's perfectly fineto use her till you've all she can give!And you can't fall in love with a girl like her(unless, of course,
DevourOh I'm well aware of my own limitations,Unlike you, I do not quite have the talent.I cannot warp the minds of the young and malleable,I cannot make them believe I am greater than I am.I am simply, not like you...But if I were to eat you, I wonder.Would I too experience such glory?If I were to devour your flesh,And drink your soul as if it were a fine wine.Would I too become great?Let us find out you and I;And I'll thank you in advance, for the lovely meal!
DownfallAnd in this dark harvest of seasonMy life has completely lost reason,For which or against to decide.All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tideIn sadness and in kindnessIn light and in darkness.In a boat made of hopeI shall sail to tomorrow,In a winding hurricaneMade of treachery and sorrow.There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...Piercing, slashing though my head.Starting somewhere in heaven,Ending somewhere in hell.Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.Are the armies within.In my head they are all thrashing.On the heaven's and hell's whim.To be light or to be darkness.A perpetual array.It's not merely my choice,But the choice of the way.It's an option of the voice,It's a thin line of gray.Is it a choice forced by fate,Is it a pre-set time and date?Or a choice to which I myself sway?But here's our story anyway
."Nothing that I do will matter.As all things will merely shatter!"All my hopes thus darkness scatter,As it shoves me a decree.As it si
Losing ItI'm kind of going crazy,I'm caught inside my mad mind.Ten different things weigh me down, but I'm still fine!The words are coming slowly, my mind is on a slur.I can't string this poem, because the brain is on a blur!And I get so frustrated, I tear away at skin;The hair is falling down and the voices make a din!I wanna shut them out, but I can't find a key,So all that I can do is simply shut away the ME.
Back BiteIf you think that you can beat me with your fakery,That's FINE!I won't let you break or put me down; I'm a landmine!And if you think that you can ever silence this deal,Then sew your lips shut, while I show you what's real!You live inside your fairytale world,And you're ever right.Think that you can cloud us with this fantasy?Sit tight!I will show you venom and I will show you poison,I will spit you verse that is as raw as its poignantSo why don't you sit back, arms flat, relax;Let a new man take control of the apex!And if you think that you can touch with flower-kissed verses,I will take your dreams and I'll turn them into curses;Don't think that you can fake a writer who's real,Or I might have to show you how the real dark feels!
Reasons We Love Homestuck“Reasons we love H O M E S T U C K.”[Free-style poem]Why do this love this web comic, you ask?Maybe it’s just the way the fandom rolls,or how mean Andrew Hussie trolls.It could possibly be Eridan’s accent (WWyeh?)or even Feferi’s keyboard trident. (---E)Some people say it’s Equius’ broken bows and arrows, ( D →)but what about Nepeta’s meows and roleplays? (:33 <)We really do love Sollux’s lisp,and also when Karkat’s pissed. (FUCKASS!)Including Kanaya's fabulous lipstick,it's also Rose's amazing magic.How about when Dave starts rappingand Jade Harley begins napping?We love Vriska’s eight-pupiled eye,and how John is such an adorable guy.Or maybe it’s with all the spritesor how prospit glows bright.Can’t forget about Derse’s darknessor Gamzee and all his soberness. (WHOOPS.)There’s also this thing with Tav and stairswhich he t
Writer's Block Is...When a writer is feeling blocked.Yeah, that's all I got. :/Hence the term, "writer's block."