[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.

Through an Angel's Eye

Some see the world through their rose-colored glasses,
some see it only as bad.
Some see man split into one of three classes,
some see it only as sad.

They say the eye to the soul is a window,
some find such introspect lame.
Still others prefer to focus on shadow,
some look for fortune and fame.

To see the world softly through colors sublime,
requires a heart that is pure.
Yes, to see the world as an angelic rhyme,
the eye must be steady and sure.

Through the eyes of an angel she captures our world,
the wonder of God in her lens.
By virtue of her work beauty is unfurled,
earning her many a friend.

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.

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.

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

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

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

A man such as meHow do you think it would be,
to be like a man such as me?

Copper mane unkempt, unruly, distort,
from showers too long and sleep too short.
Eyes darting erratically, vibrant and blue,
sunken in purple pits, looking blackened and bruised.
A nose, big and red, once hit with a bat,
a maw full of teeth, yellowed, crooked and that.
A beard full and lush, fit for a king,
(one I should trim one evening...)

Betwixt my shoulders lies a beating heart
one which stirs for music, words and art,
one which constantly yearns for intimate love,
but is under command by the grey matter above.
A pair of lungs, tightly restricted by my bulk,
only shallow breath

Stand StrongI stand in awe at the strong winds blowing
Hurricanes rising and tornadoes growing
Housing blown away and long hair flowing
Killing the crops of this year's sowing.
Stay strong, dear brothers; Strong in disaster
Stout in the winds that blow ever faster
Stay strong for your children, strong for your wives,
To get to the morning you must first traverse the night.

What may be a dream?Oh, what may be a dream but wishes mute?
Those thoughts that dance and prance a time or two?
The silent longings of the heart set free
To lift the spirit from chambers dark and cold.
A dream is as a morning mist of spring;
Refreshing, light, and gently promising
To all who sleep and wake in time to catch
The welcome peace and glory they behold.
But woe to waking hours; the bitterness they bring
When dreams escape the loving hold of thought!
The plaintive heart starts longing once again
To sink into the realms of possibility.

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

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More from ~IAmJustASecret

They chase cometsThey chase comets, they chase dreams
Their world's a good place, as it seems
Chasing ideas, on their own
All in all they are alone

They chase comets in the sky
Just doing it, not asking why
Dreams they have inside their head
Bright minds in a world which's dead

They chase comets in the night
Fighting on their endless fight
AGainst society today
Need to think a different way

Dream on, brothers, on with me
Dream's reality for thee
Dream on, sisters, please dream on
And one day you'll find the one

They chase comets, they chase dreams
Their world's a good place, as it seems
Chasing ideas
Together

Pumping the IronGet yourself up
Start to reel
Heavy as Krupp
Is the steel

Pump the iron
Day and nightt
Every ion
Prepared to fight

Go out and run
It's for your life
Not for fun
To stay alive

Now get srtonger
For looks and strength
And live longer
Escape arm's length

Every day I try to gain
Power, and not bad at it
Still I look plain
For nothing I will ever quit
Pumping the iron

Serpent eyesSerpent eyes
Different lies
I can feel the heart of ice

Deep within
There is sin
Laugh at me with evil grin

Look at me
I see thee
Still remains a mystery

Looks so cold
Taking hold
Of my heart, your soul was sould

Serpent eyes
Behind the lies
That is where your heart not lies...

Little Of Various EmotionsThere's nothing which can.t be done
By maniacs or by the lovers
They can create something new
Or divide who were like brothers

Have you ever looked at those
Who in love seem to be?
An emotional overdose
Is what they do to me

A maniac? A happy couple?
I cannot see the difference
All this brightness, blinding me double
Is like an eye- and mindoffense

Never, never, i should love
For i onced has loved you
This is the reason, tainted love
My true love.d be untrue

some kind of nightmareAnother night without sleep
In my dreams i hunted i was
Even though i slept so deep
I had to wake up because
Right behind me, in my back
I felt that creature, crawling near
From behind i did get stabbed
By my thoughts, my hidden fear
Thousand times i twisted round
Trying to escape
I screamed, but there was no sound
I found it was too late
Fear's tight grip around my neck
There is no way to run away
But soon the sun, it would be back
Redeemed by thy light of day

NEAAARGH!!!Happiness wich turned to hate
For constant fear i am too strong
Beware now, soon it's too late
It is too late to change my fate

I will love for nevermore
For i.ve lost peace and rest
I'm gonna run forevermore
To keep at my best

Fight, fight, battle on
No need if it gets hard
Until all my fights are won
A warrior in heart

If i cannot love or laugh
And the sky still shines above
I feel traited by nature
My hate and battle is the cure

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Chasing ink blots and poetry.

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Submitted: December 26, 2012
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We are Apocalypse

by ~IAmJustASecret, Dec 26, 2012, 3:03:14 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

A bright fire in the sky
Women get raped, some people die
They call it sun, they call life bright
Whilst i am waiting for the night

Kids battle each other with guns and knifes
Just after their start they end their lives
Fascists again gain political power
Whoever voted for them is and idiot or coward

Robots are roaming the street
Working for energy and heat
Whilst being blind, until their graves
They will be just some zombie slaves

I watch it happening every night
I would not say that future's bright
In this world of misery
There is no real nice place to be

Children going insane fast
Drugs, every breath may be their last
Armies fighting global wide
No one cares nor asks them why

This is hell? No! It's here and now
The world, a madhouse, just like every day
People don't realize, might lift a brow
And believe not a word i say

We are Apocalypseby ~IAmJustASecret

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

©2012-2013 ~IAmJustASecret

We are indeed
Our world is going down fast, and people care about shit
I am sick of it sometimes

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~Kinrift Jan 14, 2013

This is why I symapthise with Anonymous. They make it their jobs to expose corruption and deceit.

Also, good poem. The rhymes flow well.

Reply

Mood: Joy

~IAmJustASecret Jan 15, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I am glad some people read my written word

And Anonymous are great... But not strong enough
I appreciate every comment

Reply

~Shinitora12 Jan 1, 2013 Student General Artist

I love the title though.

Reply

~IAmJustASecret Jan 1, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thanks, madame. Even though it was the content i hoped for to be good. At least some people read it

Reply

~Shinitora12 Jan 1, 2013 Student General Artist

I liked the poem too. It's just that the title stood out from the rest of the poems I see every day.

Reply

~IAmJustASecret Jan 2, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you though

I am sorry, most of the time i seem to be sarcastic or cynical (which i often am), but i don't mean it that way

Reply

~Shinitora12 Jan 2, 2013 Student General Artist

It's okay.

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