Tired, Exhausted, DrainedTired, Exhausted, Drained:I am bloody exhausted! Drained to the core of my soul.I wake up every morning with bags; burning ever deeper into my eyes.Sunken masses of flesh, reminding me that the dreamscape -One in which I sought refuge; is now buried where it lies.Yet still I force myself to trudge through this wilderness.Forever caught in a moon drenched, delusory twilight.An endless cycle of failure and renewed hope;Giving rise to the very stubbornness that defines me.-Chen Yuan Wen, 5th February 2013
Memories of WarMemories of War:What is this long-lost memory inside?Where oceans turn; what have we left behindWith star-burned wings out above the sky.The sleeping sons are lovingly left to lie...A thousand tears you've cried for all,Now its time for you to fall!Will you open up the door,To the future we ignore?Are you simply lying broken,From the memory awoken;Are you simply living lies,Bitter taste with ropes you tie...And the world will soon forget.Fill my heart with this regret?For the victims written in stone.Unspoken sin you now atone...Yeah I've seen this world where we livin' in pain,Wrap my body round with chain
Chasing Shadows of You...Chasing Shadows of You...No matter the years that pass me by,It seems I am forever trapped.For when it comes to deceiving myself,I'm afraid I'm rather apt.In the end the truth which I sought to avoid, is now knocking at my door...A rabid rat that chews at me; one I can't ignore.And though I might have grown this body, from the lonely years I've seen.I'm afraid I can only chase the shadow, of my dearest Angeline.- Chen Yuan Wen, 14th January 2012
Counting All the VoicesCounting All The Voices:How many voices choose to speak; a debate within my head. As I lie awake, counting cracks, on the wall above my bed.I seem to think of random colours and things you've never seen. But I don't like to hear the ugly voices, some are rather mean!Though I suppose we are a loving family and thus I must accept That when it comes to stashing bodies, we are most adept...Best of luck detective, you have three days to find her (^_^)/-Chen Yuan Wen, 8th February 2013
Poetic Practice - Love Like AshPoetic Practice - Love Like Ash:Yes sir, he is clinging to insanity.He remembers all the things he said, profanity.Bare the shame on his naked old humanity.He is the doll claiming love for his vanity-When he woke up, desire!He made a move like fire.His whispers; a liar,His heart snaps, like wire!But what are you thinking of this man as I make him out?Is it an image or a type that you seem to tout.was it all his fault with no one else to blame,Or were there cracks in the story that they both will claim-Spit that and live that,Hate when you love that!You rip that and tear that,Scream like you know that!Stop for
DeceptiveDeceptive:Little butterfly,Tempting with beautiful wings;Poisons quickly.-Chen Yuan Wen, 4th January 2013
UndyingUndying:How many days do you spend now, putting me down?The coffin call for a dead man waiting around"He's just an underground laughing stock, never to rise"But on the seventh day I'm coming back; these are my ties!The kind of promise that you made with the devil insideYou try to take away my soul, but I take it in strideI ain't a doll that is crushed by the weight of his prideI am the real and the raw of the things you denied!You're playing snake games, selling oil, pass it off strongYou're just a pot head, weed dead, smoking your bong.You try to look away, play and hide; apathy's bestBut I'm the kind of bad boy you don't put
Eagle GirlEagle Girl:She soars above clouds,Beloved, wild, unrestrained.Ended by envy.- Chen Yuan Wen, 27th January 2013
The Way We LiveThe Way We Live:We all have our own little struggles;Pushing on forward as the tragedies double.A life led with pain and exhaustion too immense,I'm pushing down walls as my muscles go tense.But these are the words that you'll never hear me spit.I'd never say I'm 'giving up' or if I should 'quit'.I'm really freaking stupid so just tell it to my face,And even then I'd never give up the right to race.I'm like a lone arrow drawn and shot from a bow,Blustered by the winds of all the things I don't know.I'd never figure out if I'd reach the final mark,But I know that I'd never lose my glowing inner spark.And that's all it
Sending Me To HellSending Me To Hell:I close my eyes, as the black smoke fills the air.Incense burned to create a semi-choking sensation.A tiny inkling of the perceived suffering,But it is enough to make this difficult...Next, wounds are carefully opened.Patterns carved into the flesh,Resembling the nine circles of suffering.As each begins to form a red river,An ocean pools beneath my stained elbows.In the distance I hear the cackling of witches;Accompanied always by the mad shrieks of those beyond.Already they can taste the red wine that I oozeAnd eagerly, their tongues wag; anticipating the feast.Concentrate...I have to concentrat
Practice Poem - Poor Little TimmyPractice Poem - Poor Little Timmy:Down into well, poor Timmy fell,Down he fell into the pits of hell.Brought into hell by an eldritch spell,Poor little Timmy who fell down the well.Alone he cowered and shivered and shook,He shook for hours, so long it took,So long it took for him to feel well,Well enough to explore this hell...Through pathways littered with scenes most gory;Most gory indeed was little Timmy's story,A story of fear and suffering defined,Poor little Timmy, he ran out of time...Now then, I think I'll go welcome my little guest...-Chen Yuan Wen, 14th December 2012
Waking NightmaresWaking Nightmares:It begins in the same way, every single nightFire spreading from an altar in the darknessAs all living beings are slowly consumed,The coruscating flames appear wet with blood The scene then changes to a flooded hallwayLive wires dangling just above the water,Like venomous serpents slithering in the darknessA single pounce would end my life Eventually the hallway ends with a door,One that reminds me of forgotten yoreAnd my thoughts shall be in rhyme at this pointAs though lips and tongue are eternally joint What maddened schemes have they in mind?It is not a questio
Alone but AliveAlone but Alive:Oh here I am standing,A lost soul is landing.The coldest December,Can you still remember?Do you even hear me?There's no one around me!Oh shadow that I see,The void right behind me.Yet still I am breathing;Yet still I am feeling.The coldest sensation,Oh worthless creation!Are you still crying?Oh why are you lying - abandoned and cold-Cold like what was left of soul,Made of all the life you stole.Walk divine but made of sin,Worm of hatred squrim within.Sin of lust and sin of pride,Lash the tongue that last has lied.Yours was silver with a promise,Kiss of death and then you vomit.Bu
Coward of a ManCoward of a Man:You stand there whinin', cryin' crocodile tears and playin' victim.Ye eyes demand pity, but yer lips are spewin' nothin' but lies.Flowery speeches o' harmony and unification;It's bollocks and snake-oil I say!I ask ye, as someone who aspires t' be a leader:What exactly are ye worth?Who exactly are ya, and what in th' bloody hell makes you worth followin'?Now I've watched ye fer a long time, and I've known ye fer even longer -Ye always stand there beggin', askin' us fer help, askin' fer a handout;But yer hands are clean, uncalloused, and completely free from sweat or toil.Instead, ye make us promises; promi
Practice Poem - Man In CagePractice Poem - Man in Cage:When I was young I was taught that pain begets pain,Anger and animosity, malice and cruelty;So deeply inflicted, so lovingly gifted.I tasted of its rotten core and dared to call it sweet.But what do I have to show for it?White hot scars that burn in my dreams.Reminders of a fragmented bi-polar self;Self inflicted propaganda, to reinforce the "truth".Truth so lovingly fabricated by a weakness within,So desperately crying out for vindication;Openly denying all that might shed light upon me,Seeking only the company of shades in shadows...Within four walls I sleep in exile;Quietly pretending
Knight Run 3USER THERE ARE currently three targets remaining, it is recommended that we destroy them quickly. Sidric's eyes were immediately directed upward, and tiny fiery circles were used to highlight the positions of the three remaining witches. They swooped and dove in confusing patterns, but with the fiery circles surrounding them, it was almost too easy to track their movements. "How best should I deal with them?" he asked, hoping that the voice guiding him would volunteer more information. User, I recommend using the cannon; it will be easy to shoot them down from afar. Sidric thought about this and then asked another question, "Ca
FeverMy fever is growing stronger and I'm feeling rather faintI can see the walls are moving like dancers in the paint!They cartwheel and turn as they soar through the airI wonder how they do it but all I do is stareThe clock is ticking madly and soon it starts to chimeI think I'll probably turn this into another crazy rhymeI appear to be creative but I'm really rather illIn fact I'm only typing by sheer force of willMy eyes are actually closing as my fingers tap alongIt seems my love for poetry is really rather strong!But before I slip away to sleep I must complete this workI'm afraid my need for excellence might be my only
The Past Will HauntCHENBEARD STARED THROUGH the transparent bottom of his bottle of Fire Wine, before placing it on the table and rubbing his tired eyes. It was rare for him to engage in the traditional pastime of drinking and he often discouraged it amongst his pirates. Yet, sometimes the weight of the world became a little too much to bear and he sought refuge from his memories in the comfort of a drunken stupor. Hello darkness my old friend, he muttered quietly to himself, it's so good to be with you again "Well, well, look at our glorious leader," hissed the spirit known as Sadako; she was one of the more violent and assertive spirits that had b
OBSCUREOBSCURE:The flower of midnight bloomsAs the wind will sway the trees.But my corpse will dangle helplessAs it is blown by the breeze.Feel the prick of final judgementAs I am cast into the flame.Born again into this world;Where my life is just a game.I think and try to rememberBut the night is simply coldI return to the ancient treewhere once my soul was sold.I gather the rope and ladderwhile the moon is shining bright.I kill myself again;In the quiet of the night...A lonely obscure defiance;Where my silent tears will fall.For none will ever rememberA quiet broken doll...-Chen Yuan Wen, 14th May 2012
Our Word is SacredOur Word is Sacred:We have struggled against the chains of fateWe've lived our lives on the edge of hate.Oppressed by the taunting of the foolish and blind;It is time we stood and responded in kind.No more can we sit here, content with our place;Else by apathy alone we shall be erased!Our work is like a candle, a small one at best;It is quickly snuffed by a single breath...For too long have we accepted, the concept of equality;Whilst simply accepting the crumbs of poverty.Our people go unheeded, as madmen and sloths;The "cultured" eat like kings, while we are fed with broth...To create these verses, it takes a lot of
Wings of DespairWings of Despair:A momentary glance toward the birds in the sky;Makes me feel like I am soaring; with a hope to fly.But the chilling winds that wrap me, reflect the cold of this dayAnd the icy frost that batters me, chips me away...It drains the very breath from me, as though the ice is locked withinI feel my hope is fading again; like a jar of captured wind...Where once my will was strong and boundless; now it sits on broken wastesI must admit this crushing despair, it feels as bad as it tastes....From the moment that I acquired them, these were ugly tattered wingsThey were made from my despair, and bound in bitter string
BelovedBeloved:Perfectly pleasantWith a bright radiant smileIf only for me...-Chen Yuan Wen, 4th January 2013
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