Please excuse the comma splices, tense changes, verbosity, etc. I was just a youngin' and now I realize the error of my grammatical ways. Plus, I preferred the flowery and descriptive writing styles of the early 19th century and beyond rather than the short, journalistic post-Hemingway-style of writing. I love intense imagery and descriptions in general. Still deciding whether I should edit my old poetry for grammar mistakes or take the Beatnik approach and fuck it.

Disclaimer: I only wrote/write on bad days. Grand days have never inspired me enough to write as I've always used writing as an outlet. A majority of my poetry is angsty, dark humored, or depressing, however, I don't have depression, and I'm not self-destructive or suicidal by any means. My writing is mostly a tenfold representation of the kind of day I was having at the time. Embellishing the realities of my bad days on paper helped turn them into good days. Not sticking my head into an oven anytime soon (or ever, actually). :P +10 points if you got the reference.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to comment

Thursday, September 13, 2007


My heart pierced with the thoughts of the past,
Will there ever be hope, for my heart is lost,
My eyes fear the the light, for I know it's bright,
This dagger, already so deep, I lack a strong grip.

My hears hear hate and sense its arrival,
I turn away and ignore reality, fake it,
My life turned abstract caused by fear,
The dagger, life on a string, heart weeps.

Reality bites, but I try to let go, escape,
I'm dreaming of a nightmare, so close, yet so far,
My thoughts are endless, my heart filled with regret,
This dagger, eternal, shows no sympathy.

Copyright © 2007

No comments: