[x]

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

It Came From The DarkIt Came From The Dark:

Amongst the ashes, swirling from the darkness of the pit,

Emerged a hand, dragging a battered body across the rocks.

Blood leaked from the wounds so callously self-inflicted,

And teeth ground with a focused determination and seething anger.

It cared not for the warm rubies - staining the jagged rocks,

It cared not for the sensation of pain...

All that it remembered was a dream, An obsession -

One that drove it ever higher; ignoring all else!

Eventually it emerged from this shadowy hole, this dreary depth,

And in that moment, it learned of the truth.

For this creature, denied sunlight and warmth -

was me...

Memories of WarMemories of War:

What is this long-lost memory inside?
Where oceans turn; what have we left behind
With 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

You Have No Right To LiveYou Have No Right To Live:

Hey, what are you doing?
That's mine, now give it back.
You're stupid, you should just go die!

Okay, I'm sorry...

What, you failed again?
Just how much money do you think we're spending on this,
Do you think it just falls from the sky?
I can't believe you; and don't give me that look!
You better straighten up now you hear me
And if you keep looking like a dead fish,
I'm going to make you wish you were one.

I'm sorry...

Hey, being around you is driving me nuts,
You never want to do anything, you don't even care,
Why bother even breathing if you're going to act like you're dead!

I'm sorry!

You're
Pat

FEARFEAR:

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

Machine ManMachine Man:

It began with but a simple command, "to do as we are told".

Never to deviate from this path - never to nurture the soul.

We are told that we are given a purpose; "a part of something great!"

Yet why oh why am I so weary of that which is my fate?

Am I an error, a single anomaly, unable to feel intact?

Or am I missing some special attribute - a facet which I lack.

In a society made of fleshed machines; robots wearing skin,

Perhaps I'm simply seeking something, to fill this metal tin.

-Chen Yuan Wen, 16th November 2012

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

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

The Pirate SolsticeThe Pirate Solstice:

There is tale around the Galbin Coast,
Of a black ship that appeared on the Winter Solstice.
It arrived at a town near Bismarch,
Struck heavily by famine and crop plagues.

The ship drifted silently upon the ocean currents,
Not a creak nor groan could be heard from its frame.
It docked at the port like an ominous reaper's vessel;
A metallic boarding ramp - much like a daemon's tongue -
Slithered slowly from its deck to meet with wooden jetty.

The crew descended, wearing black cloaks and black hats,
Fedoras, I believe they were called.
These figures made little noise as they moved,
walking slowly, silently and

The PoetThe Poet:

He smiles as he sees her sleeping
& gently covers her with a blanket.
He goes to the window and looks out
watching snow fall, ever so slowly...

He sees people in the streets,
Chatting, walking. Some happy,
Others sad. Hearts beating,
Hearts broken; some warm, some cold.

He looks back at her, as she stirs in bed.
A yawn from her, brings another smile to him:
"How cute," he chuckles as he strokes her head.
He runs his fingers through her hair and is content.

Yet, even if he is happy here, again -
He is drawn to that window and finds himself
Staring out at the street and watching;
Marveling at the disparity and wonderin

You Left Me StrongerYou Left Me Stronger:

Hey there, it's been awhile, do you remember me?

I guess you might not, since I wasn't very important to you.

You know, I spent so many days thinking about - what I did wrong

I questioned if maybe, I was at fault or if I was screwed up.

I thought a lot about the things you said...

The things that were my fault, my problems.

I took them to heart at first, but then I realised you were wrong.

I realised that you are selfish and ugly on the inside.

On the surface you pretended to care, but like a cancer;

You amputate someone the moment you think they've gone bad.

You hide from the rigours of life and only emerge l

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

An Oath to My FatherAn Oath to My Father:

The chill of winter is nothing, when compared to the cold inside my heart.

A fire, once stoked by the warmth of family, has quietly died, five falls past.

I dream of my father, who watches from beyond the realms - and my ancestors

Who fought against an endless army of giants, to win the lands we have today.

Just as a devout man honours his God through worship, I honour them through my axe!

Each stroke of the whetstone, each screech of the metal, brings me closer to them -

Even as I draw closer to my doom. Oh how I can feel him, for the anger in my blood

Boils evermore as I sense him approaching my camp. He is hun

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

when writers cryAwake on strong, black coffee drinks
Words on paper, liquid ink
Dreams of pen tips, future lies
Tragic stories, quotes of the wise
Nights have carved their dark, deep valleys
In the hollows of my eyes

For you see, my friend, when writers cry
There are no tears, their cheeks are dry
But ink dipped fingers, worn out wrists
Chewed up nails and bloody fists

You see, it's strange when writers cry
Their hearts are true, their words don’t lie
They mourn in silence for a few days
Of paper cuts and tear-less haze

Of coffee mugs and smoky paper
Liquid spills, and water vapor
Sorry dreams and wasted hours
Putrid smells and dying flowers

(Torn

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 3.2 KB more ▶

More from *WordOfChen

White Lily GirlWhite Lily Girl:

They say that love is plenty
But mine is simply dead.
She sleeps amongst the flowers
I grew upon her bed...

I wonder if she's dreaming
Of smiles and happy things.
Or playing her favourite game
Of rubber balls and strings...

She used to mean the world to me
But humans took her life.
Oh lord that took my child away
I offer you this knife...

It bears the blood of your faithful humans
The ones you taught to scream of hate...
How many more will join the ranks
Of the damned that I create?

Droolings wrecks and putrid bodies
The ultimate art of sanguine pride!
The dead that groan in utter pain
Will stay forever by

The Sanguinary OfferingThe Sanguinary Offering:

We lay her down upon the altar
With chains to hold her hands and feet.
She will not stir and she will not speak;
Our eyes she will not meet...

This girl was made for a single purpose
She is here to serve in death.
A simple container of blood and flesh
Soon to be robbed of breath.

Our hands bear the ancient markings
Scars we open with trembling hands.
For the scent of our blood shall awaken him;
The sleeping lord of our land...

With heads pressed to the dirty floor
We cower in fear at the Raven's cry.
For the bird shall serve as the master's herald;
And none would dare to meet his eye!

Cold and lifeles

The Legendary Thunder WolfThe Legendary Thunder Wolf:

In the darkest of times his tale is told.
The Thunder Wolf of legends old...
He came from the mountains on a stormy night
To save the Lycans from a dire plight...

Our race was young and growing still
Born into the world by Luna's will.
She gave us hearts of the purest light
And told us that the world was bright.

But Luna was a child, small and naive;
She saw the good in which she believed.
Sadly for us, we lived the truth;
As we were hunted for fang and tooth.

Knowing nothing of weapons or war
We were slaved and broken to our very core.
It was then that he came, hammer in hand
And he swore to us to

The Traitorous GreybacksThe Traitorous Greybacks:

Shunned amongst the Lycan tribes;
The great betrayers of faith.
We bear the mark of our sinful past
This ancient scar of hate.

We wear it proudly upon our backs
The fur that's ashen grey.
The sign that we have sold our kin
To live another day...

We werewolves live as tyrant beings;
Immortal as we please...
But we alone are forced to bear
This fetid filthy disease.

It eats away at flesh and bone
Until all that's left is sludge.
Lost alone in horrid pain;
Through empty days we trudge.

But we have learnt a secret way
To stop our bitter end...
As long as we can steal a pup
From our blessed neighbour's

Eternal Life [Remix]Eternal Life [Remix]:

We are creatures of mortality
Born to live and die.
Yet there are those amongst us
Who resent the last goodbye.

They see it as an end to things;
The call of colder waves.
They have a fear of being trapped;
Locked away in graves.

But deep beneath the buried earth
No one hears you scream.
Pound and smash against the coffin;
End this horrid dream!

Kiss the flower of the reaper
Bear his blissful touch...
Soon you will be wisked away
Warm within his clutch!

But now you know the dreaded fear
Of why we cannot die.
We hear the reaper calling us
That we cannot lie.

In both our dreams and waking nights;
We se

View Gallery · View Prints

Featured in Groups:

#Dark-Asphyxiation
A group for morbid minds!

#written-from-within
Written From the Soul

#MindOfLead
Art Community

#writeaway
Find Your Inner Voice

#artist-exposure
Club Supporting Artists

#Writers-Guild-DA
writers everywhere

#Constructive101
Contructive Criticism

#Pencils-of-Doom
After School Art Club

Show all (400)

Details

Submitted: November 23, 2012
File Size: 3.2 KB
Submitted with: Sta.sh

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 698
Favourites: 1,446 [who?]
Views: 11,562 (3 today)
Downloads: 365 (0 today)

[x]

I Am A Writer

by *WordOfChen, Nov 23, 2012, 7:37:36 AM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Urban & Spoken Word

I Am A Writer:

Gentlemen, today I speak to you
To convey an issue that has plagued the core of our community.
For so long have we been considered second-class;
To this day there are those who still believe that we are not artists.
But today is not about freedom, today is about honour,
Because there are many writers that still seek to shame us all...

I speak of those individuals, who take art from others.
Covers, photos, paintings, digital art, anime and manga.
It matters not where you draw your source from,
But every action impacts upon us as a community.
Why?

BECAUSE I AM A WRITER!

When I craft my works, when I write each and every line,
I paint using expression; metaphors are my colours.
The words are my brush and each and every rhyme is my medium.
I do not ask to be considered an artist, but I do ask to be considered.
Why?

BECAUSE I AM A WRITER!

For someone who practices his craft day and night,
Painstakingly learning how to use each and every word.
It shames me, that we are known for 'using the works of others.'
If you have pride, if you believe in the things that you write,
Then let the words speak for themselves.
Why?

BECAUSE YOU ARE A WRITER!

You are not a thief and you are not a bandit;
You are an individual with a soul!
However if you let that soul become tainted,
If you corrupt yourself with dishonour and shame;
What will be left of you except a worthless plagiary.

It is not flattery, it is not a situation where 'all is fair'
We live in a world of rules, rules that keep us from becoming amoral.
To take someone else's work without permission, to use it for yourself;
That is selfish, that is a crime and that is a brazen act of attention seeking!

After all, if your only desire is to add a visual to your art,
With a claim that you are writing for yourself...
Then why are you so afraid to write without an image?
Why are you so frightened of putting up words and having nobody to read them?

Start with honesty, admit that you are an attention seeking thief
And then, then you might restore your honour with an apology.
For here, we are all writers, we are all artists in an art community.
There is no justification to use the work of another without proper permission.

If you are truly a writer, body and soul,
If you truly hold the hope of someday publishing your own book.
Then learn to let your words stand on their own.
Why?

BECAUSE YOU ARE A WRITER!

You do not need to attach an image that can only show a static scene,
Because we are capable of playing an entire movie, through the words that we use.
A picture might be worth a thousand words -
But six words alone, can paint an entire picture.

"Theives without honour, hung by rope..."

-Chen Yuan Wen, 23rd November 2012

I Am A Writerby *WordOfChen

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Urban & Spoken Word

Hey there, faves comments and shares are greatly appreciated ^^ Each one helps me get a little better known and/or a little better at my art, plus I rank for popularity, so clicking those buttons are the best way to help :3

If you'd like to hear me do some live comedy, answer questions and read poems LIVE then check out the latest two episodes of my show, where I will read this poem (episode 6) and several others (episode 5)

Episode 5 (Reuploaded): [link]

Episode 6 (Reuploaded): [link]

Author's Comment:

Alright mates,

Tonight's poem is another bit of Slam/Spoken Word.

The basis of it is rather plain to see, but I made it so that I could delve into a problem that has plagued the community during the entire exam period (I actually got a couple of notes about this).

Essentially the problem is that artists are giving proper credit nowadays (at least they put up proper links) but most of the time the link doesn't go directly to the deviation page or the source. Instead it goes to a master page. Why? To disguise their tracks, artists think that giving credit = a right to use. IT IS NOT!

You must ask permission to use the artwork unless you are strictly doing fan art (tributes fall under this). If you are using it to add visuals to your work or something similar, then you are breaking copyright laws since there was no express right of use granted to you by the owner.

Remember unless an image clearly stipulates that it is free to use, it is basically bound by copyright. Silence does not equal consent and a lack of a copyright logo does not mean a lack of copyright.

You might think it won't bother you now, but one day when you are published people will trawl through history and if you've got something like this on your record, then you are definitely at risk.

Don't make yourself a target by thinking there are no consequences to your actions, they may not show themselves now, but they certainly will down the line. So please be true to the art of writing and take the time to ask for permission, wait till it's granted and then use the image.

Using a google search does not excuse you from this process, googled images are still copyrighted as the search engine is helping you find the source (it is not the source itself). Simply citing the reference isn't enough, otherwise we could easily cite the reference when writing our university parties and plagiarise entire portions of it from texts. This does not stand in academia and the consequences of the world beyond your school are far harsher than mere disciplinary action.

So please act responsibly. If you believe in your writing, don't use an image you don't own/have the rights to.

-Captain Chenbeard of the Black Fedora Pirates

Other Poems by Me:

Sensual TortureSensual Torture:

You are but a simple pawn;
Caught in a maelstrom of ill feelings and turmoil.
You were not meant to be here -
But unfortunately, here you are my friend...

Now then, I do not wish to drag this out;
There is no purpose in badgering someone who knows so little.
However - without your confession - I'm afraid that
I would not know whom I should share my - pleasures with...

Though I'm certain that you will be sharing plenty...

Of course, it will probably be a poor idea to make you scream,
At least not while I'm still enjoying your fear.
Instead we'll begin with a simple agony;
A quick taste of your pain to whet my appe

Other Literature by Me:

Mercenary 1-1MERCENARY

Chapter 1: Blood is Beauty

Release One: Pages 1 - 3

THE COLD AIR in Baron Rorke's study did little to calm his nerves. He was expecting visitors this night and they were not the best of company. A shiver of dread ran down his spine and he spent most of the twilight hours staring out of a large window which stood behind his writing desk. It was amazing, he felt, how quickly a man could become attached to a life of luxury; only to be made painfully aware of how easy it was to lose it. War was always a frightening thing, even more so when one had the knowledge and sense to realise that it was no longer an exercise of glory, but a si

Critique by ~oflird Nov 23, 2012, 10:37:34 PM

woow this is truly inspirational and written with the emphasis of having a great moral for whoever reads its.The light you've thrown on the great issue of art theft whether it be writing or painting or any form of art is truly alluring considering this has become an uncontrollable problem for artists who have their works stolen and are incapable of doing anything about it,yes one feels helpless and angry when ones art forms are stolen for we put great thought (at least most of us) in our works of art and to have them be stolen by strangers is a nightmare.You've written your words with such audacity and compassion that i hope whoever reads this should think a thousand times before stealing someones artwork!

What do you think?

Fair Unfair

The Artist thought this was FAIR

34 out of 41 deviants thought this was fair.

2 Replies

Devious Rating

Vision

Originality

Technique

Impact

Critique by ~Tempest-PROjects Nov 23, 2012, 10:00:13 PM

This was inspiring to me. That last quote was amazing too, I am a writer on here (albeit not a very good but still a writer nonetheless!) and I can agree with everything you said. You built up momentum and fed off it.

You basically stated that we could draw inspiration from anything anywhere at anytime. I'm not good at giving critiques (This is the second one I've done) and I think that you are right about everything you stated, You are a good sense of aspiration and inspiration. You have honored yourself and I think every other writer here.

What do you think?

Fair Unfair

The Artist thought this was FAIR

27 out of 31 deviants thought this was fair.

2 Replies

Devious Rating

Vision

Originality

Technique

Impact

The Artist has requested Critique on this Artwork

Please sign up or login to post a critique.

~~mad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~KokoZhang Apr 16, 2013 New member Professional Digital Artist

to be honest i envy you , most of writer in dA have very good imagination , concept.
unlike nowadays "drawers". they forgot concept , imagination. what the care it's just the execution
the effect , proportion. not mentioning has a standard imagination and mainstream concept.

~Shocker7776 Jan 26, 2013

You are right. We need to be honest. Really, most of my work are fanfics, but I have a couple original stories and several ideas. I've think writing may be the greatest art and you are the greatest I've seen in a long time. And I just discovered you tonight. You are amazing!

~SplitNinja Jan 5, 2013 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

Nicely done.

~bloodibattered Dec 30, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

May I use this on my facebook page please? I shall give you full credit. I just wish to get across to my friends that writing in itself, is an art form.

~ThexSilverxWolf Dec 19, 2012

A-freakin-man!

~noorelven Dec 3, 2012

Hear Hear! The Cap'n speaks !!!

~ChickyChicky003 Dec 2, 2012

*Applauds*

Wow. That's pretty much all I currently have to say, wow. You really have a way with the written word, and a standing ovation to you.

*WordOfChen Dec 2, 2012 Professional Writer

Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it ^^

-Captain Chenbeard of the Black Fedora Pirates

~ChickyChicky003 Dec 3, 2012

I may have to yell "Because I am a writer!" at random people now.

~Krusnik03 Dec 1, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

So true. c: Amazing as always. ^^

More from *WordOfChen

Featured in Groups:

Details

Statistics

I Am A Writer

BECAUSE I AM A WRITER!

BECAUSE I AM A WRITER!

BECAUSE YOU ARE A WRITER!

BECAUSE YOU ARE A WRITER!

I Am A Writerby *WordOfChen

The Artist has requested Critique on this Artwork

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style