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Wake up loveHush now,
I'm sorry the dream must end.
It's time to wake up
and face the world.
Reality is harsh,
the people are cold,
that's how it is
and you must wake up.
For you have been asleep long enough.
Time to wake love,
and be with your people
they wait for you
and have never given up.
You can't let them down.
The alarm's going off,
and reality is waiting.
You are only human
and cannot do much
but everyone is important
and life is waiting just for you.
Can you hear their cries?
And the bellows of pain?
You can stop them
but only if you wake up.
It's time to wake up love,
and face the world.
They cry for your return
and you can't let them down.
I'm a PoetI'm a poet.
And because I'm a poet,
I have the pride of a poet,
and the background of an artist.
Yes as a poet.
I am overlooked in the group
for the work that is drawn,
and the art that is colored by the painters
I am a writer
and though my words hold power
they are seen as nothing more than words
and never get brought to their original intent
I am a writer
whose every move is watched
whose art is critiqued harsher than others
who's still unknown as an artist
I am an author,
who wears my heart on my sleeve
who leaves everything bare to judgment
who never asks for more than is due
I am an artist,
but I don't always get treated as such
Ice Cold LipsHer cold lips
pink in nature
but cold underneath.
There's no life
in those two strips of flesh.
The rest of her is hot,
but her lips are always ice.
Delilah, do you love me?
Of course I do.
Her eyes are just as cold
as her cold dead lips.
Delilah, do you love me?
...yes, I do
Her hands leave hot trails down my back
but her lips leave frost on my skin.
Delilah, do you love me?
and her cold dead lips
touched my own.
I no longer rule the worldSeems I no longer rule the world,
grains of life slipping through
the end of the time approaching
power, unable to suppress it.
When the world needed a ruler
they turned to me and shouted 'him!'
but there was no surcease of wars
and the famine stayed in place.
And during disease and death
the people turned and said
'he was meant to cure us!'
though king I never was true.
They strung me up
and gathered the tolls
dragged me through the nation
with screams of blood on their lips.
Though I begged
my crimes bared too much sin
for when it came to society
I didn't save the world.
The floor caved in,
the rope grew taught,
my struggles heard around
till the silence reigned down.
But then the pointed
and screamed 'he will lead'
at the man who took my life
and I was left on the gallows alone.
For I no longer rule the world
and the dirt eats up my soul
the grains of time and age
make for one grievous grave.
The Wishing TreeTraveling along a concrete road
until the pavement turned to grass
and the grass turned to dirt.
Just when the land turned barren and bland
an abandoned park stood rusty and proud.
Little Jessica walked along that dirt path
not minding the hot sun
or how her backpack got heavier with every step.
When she finally reached
that abandoned park
Little Jessica played in the slide
and swung on the swings
that creaked with every rock.
She bored soon and left
that barren park
going to the one sign of life
A sorrowful tree, with no leaves left
stood near that abandoned park.
Little Jessica, feet scuffing the dirt
went to this poor alone tree.
From her backpack, Little Jessica
pulled paper upon paper out.
With bits of string and tiny fingers
Little Jessica attached every single strip of paper
to the branches of that leafless tree
as high and far as she could reach
until the dry branches could no longer be seen.
When she was done
Little Jessica surveyed her work,
proud of the job
Why I cryI like to cry myself to sleep at night.
I cry for my cat who was run over.
I cry for my father who left me.
I cry for the friends I have lost.
And I cry for the bullies who push me in the halls.
I cry for me, myself, and I.
I cry for the body that I don't have.
And I cry because I'm not happy.
I cry for my broken family.
I cry for lost love.
And I cry for the unwanted.
I cry for the people death has taken from me.
Every night my pillow soaks,
gathering the tears that I shed.
By morning they are gone
and no one knows I cried myself to sleep.
Sunflower KissesSunflower kisses dance across my skin
laying down in a field of wheat in the afternoon.
You appear almost out of nowhere
and lay down next to me as you were meant to be.
The sun hurts my eyes,
as I squint at the clouds and try to make shapes.
You stare at me and I try to think,
yet the more you stare the harder it is to ignore.
Do you want the sun?
Ya, the sun.
Everyone gives the moon as a gift,
but to me, the only thing that can rival your charm
is the suns great shine,
and even then when you emerge outside
the suns grows dark and burnt.
You never were a poet
I couldn't help but laugh
at how long you probably spent
thinking of that one line.
I like the sun.
Then I'll wrangle the sun,
all for you.
We laid in the suns warmth
of sunflower kisses
and the tickles of wheat instead of grass
and nothing else mattered in the world.
I love you.
I love you too.
May you rest in peaceYou're gone now and away,
sleeping silently somewhere else
never speaking and always silent.
If we had talked more,
would you still be here
lying next to me in bed?
To bring you back,
I would walk five thousand miles
just like in that song that you love.
But you'll never hear music again
and we'll all be here still
just moving here through life.
And no one gets to see your smile
while your families mourns their loss
and all we have are memories.
To bring you back
I would happily take your place
in the land of the never living.
Because you're being missed,
and no one knows,
what they're going to do without you.
Sleeping silent mourning
the sun never seen again
Lovely AnneI once met a girl named Anne
and what a lovely girl was she.
She sat in corners and talked
and talked when no one listened.
While lovely Anne was so lovely
no one went near lovely Anne
and her never-ending talking.
Lovely Anne with black hair
and dark skin. Never listened
to the voice of society.
Lovely Anne talked of a world
so unlike our own.
No one went near her,
but everyone listened
to the thoughts of a wonderful world.
Lovely Anne lived in a world
where the clocks struck thirteen
where everyone loved
where everyone smiled
and tears were never shed.
The walls and floors
objects and papers
that she talked to day and night
held to her words
and wished for her world.
Poor Lovely Anne had no friends.
But lived in a world that was entirely her own.
Lovely Anne who never left her world
and thought reality was imaginary.
Goodbye lullabyWith our heart in a fierce beat ,
We'll dance together on the empty street.
With your shallow breathing against my head,
We'll sway along to words unsaid.
When you look in my eye,
I know, it's time to say goodbye,
But will you grant me one last wish?
To Hold me in your arms,
And Sing me a sweet lullaby,
To let me drown in your melodic voice for one last time,
And Let me dream of a place where you are mine.
To let the tune wash away my pain,
For I want to relive that moment once again,
When you and I first met each other
And to prove to myself, that there can be no another,
Who could ever take your place.
And our moments spent together,
I'd do anything to retrace.
Alone and Unseen
The chill in the breeze,
The frost on the ground,
Crisp on a moonlit night.
A young boy's figure
Glides through the streets,
His breath a clouded fog.
Eyes like crystals,
Hair like snow,
He walks with staff in hand.
Alone in the world,
Unseen by all,
He strides like a ghost through the town.
Young children seen
Through a window pane,
Bask in the glow of the hearth.
Unseen goes the boy
Who stares unnoticed and lost
At the joy before his eyes.
A tentative move,
A soft hand to the glass,
Which freezes beneath his touch.
He turns away,
To the dark of the night
And raises his head to the sky.
A tear flows unseen,
Silent and soft,
To be dashed on the frozen earth.
Calling winds forth,
Around him to swirl,
His feet lift off from the ground.
Invisible and alone,
He flies higher until
He melds with the sky and the stars.
"I want to be seen
And I want to be heard."
Only one hears this desperate boy's cry.
The Man in the Moon
Stares down on the scene,
At the lost and forgotten child.
Through the looking glassIs this all real?
What is this sensation we feel?
Are we just reliving the life we once lived?
Did we die already and just get revived?
Who once decided what's left and right?
Who sees everything in black or white?
Is this whole world just a dream?
Is this all part of some scheme?
The answers to the questions were not written in ink
It always changes no matter how much you think
Because you're neither right nor wrong
People have been searching for answers for so long
Laws and rules,
Are just some of our tools
Tools to make this world seem more vast
If they are not believed in then they are just the past
Do we have some weird ideal?
Are we nothing yet real?
An answer is that ''we are'' therefore we exist
But that doesn't always mean we can coexist
Searching for answers can lead us to depression
But when we find the answer, do we remember what is the question?
They Watch UsThey Watch Us:
Perched high upon the mountains;
With wings as black as night.
They watch us in the hour,
Before darkness turns to light.
I've seen them in my visions;
In dreams they come and go,
But the things they seem to tell me
I guess nobody should know...
I've seen children that are buried,
Beneath a frozen lake.
A maiden sits there weeping;
Her heart is soon to break.
The crows flutter downward,
A noose amongst their hands.
They take the maiden away,
To a dark and distant land.
And even if I follow -
Even if I try...
I'll simply end up buried,
Where the frozen children lie.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 10th November 2012
A Sleepless Night
A Sleepless Night
(That Will Never Alight)
This same old nightmare that I grimly fear
An image of my life haunted by your shadows
I'm frozen in place, waiting for daylight to soon appear
But I don't know if I'm ready to take on another loveless tomorrow
Why am I the one who suffers when you're not even really here?
I should not have to be the one inflicted by your falsely bestowed sorrow
You made and broke every one of those promises
You left even though you knew that you'd be greatly missed
You were not the one saying that you're so sorry
You were not the one who was left crying uncontrollably
You didn't feel your heart being ripped away
You never considered the other side of the pain
For you I completely broke down
For you I remain in countless pieces now
But I vow to never go through that again
Because I will never give my heart to someone in vain
I want you to know that this is the cost
For I am the outcome of when you throw away your love
This cage named my he
Letting Go of YouLetting Go of You:
You abandoned me in the past
without so much as a proper goodbye
One day you simply chose to walk out the door
and you never did come back...
I was angry then, hurting badly
I wondered if I was in some way inadequate
I wondered if you left because I am so easy to despise
and eventually my sorrow turned to anger
I wanted to become great
to show you that you made the wrong choice
to take my strength and throw it in your face
just so you would regret it
But then I saw how happy you were...
In the time we've been apart
You've made a new life for yourself
You've found someone who loves and treasures you
and upon seeing that, my anger faded...
Your smile, that which I fell in love with
is more radiant now than the morning sun
a gentle blush upon your fair cheeks
takes my breath away, just as it did so long ago
Of course, I don't hold any hope for us to be friends
I don't think that it would be appropriate for me to come back
but perhaps one day, if
I Comfort MyselfWith a warm drink, whispering secrets to my own reflection.
The struggles that plague me, though none may know,
Are only for the ears of my quiet mirror, who smiles
Softly, warmly and with care. He tells me, I'm fine
I've done well for now and soon I may finally rest.
Though the silence continues to press upon me,
Weighing upon my soul like an iron crate.
Still I find comfort in whispering secrets,
If only to my own reflection - holding a warm drink...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 17th October 2012
Broken MirrorI am not,
What you see,
Although you may indeed,
Choose not to believe
I am a fabrication,
Built to make you smile,
So you don't know that I lie
I am not,
As strong as I seem,
And it is not laughter,
That in my eyes gleams
I am a tale of woe,
And one of sorrow,
So weak that I can't lead,
I can only follow
I am not as whole,
On the inside as out,
I am full of misery,
And so full of doubt
I am nothing more than illusion,
A master of it, I am,
I hope that you don't notice,
I don't expect you to understand
Pieces, big ones and small,
Force me to my knees,
Again and again,
Force me to crawl
Lurk underneath my surface,
Making me feel incomplete,
Making me feel worthless
The silver sheen which covers,
Hides my secrets within,
Keeps from you my shame,
Keeps from you my sin
But, if you look closer,
And come nearer,
You will find I am nothing more,
Than a stained and broken mirror
jlp June 1, 2009
Frantically he scrambles away from the dark
Eager to be free of his waking nightmare
Acting only upon the instinct within him;
Reminded constantly that he is prey
For some time he hides in the pervasive shadows
Earnestly praying that he will not be discovered
A single sound is all it takes to jar him;
Running from a creature that he can barely see
From head to toe it is certainly monstrous
Enshrouded in an aura of absolute repugnance
As the acid drips from its cruel jaws,
Rapidly dissolving the ground below
Fearful, he cowers, beneath boxes and cardboard,
Escaping away into a tiny corner of his mind
Alone with only his anxiety for company
Resting for what might be his very last
From birth, Ever-present, Always Remembered
such is the nature of FEAR
Writing poetry again Doctor Cecil? That's good!
You'll need a hobby to be working in an environment like this
-Chen Yuan Wen, 9th October 2012
Letter to the WorldA note in a bottle,
a message for the world.
'If I scream as loud as I could,
would you be able to hear me?
Thrown into the ocean
for the sea to swallow
the single sentence.
As the sea swallows its prize
she lets out a horrible hollow cry
for the world to hear.
The world does nothing
but capture her scream
and store it for later
when it asks why she cries
and why she hurts.
For if she screams as loud as she could
would the world listen?
Or is it just a message in a bottle
meant to be swallowed by the sea?
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
Keep in Touch!
Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More