| Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse | ©2012-2013 *WordOfChen |


Where Angels Play Where Angels Play:
A lonely spark appears before me tonight
amongst the struggles deep inside of me...
Should I give in, will I breathe in?
How much more can I be forced to take
before my soul breaks?
Shards crashing into me
letting me know I am alive
If only
I am barely breathing...
The moon lights my pathway
deep in dark, where we will fade
I've walked past the archway
Where angels will play...
The warmest touch, upon my skin
Wings that glow with sacred light, from deep within
They have come to take me back, to where I've been
Gone away into the winds, my voice forever lingering
Do I alone escape this and find my peace
wi


Why I Hate My Life Why I Hate My Life:
Despite the fact that I'm a trained professional
I have to work odd-jobs making deliveries on a motorcycle
The only girl who I ever loved
was just using me as a replacement
The only girl that actually likes me
runs a bar and took over my house
I don't have the guts to kick her out
so I end up sleeping at an abandoned church
I've recently picked up a strange rash
it hurts and I have to wear sleeves to cover it
My only friends are a guy that never comes out from a forest
and a girl that's always looking to steal the meager possessions I have
Everything sucks really
because the one person who cared about me
is


My Beautiful Filth My Beautiful Filth:
We'll start with the rose petals
scattered lavishly across the bed
A symbolic collage of my broken thoughts
like memories crushed and thrown into the winds
they lie where they fall, forever forgotten...
Tacks and nails shall line the floor!
A perfect representation of my painful steps
To walk forward was to suffer
to stand still was to endure
Like the insults thrown at me, like the physical abuse
they drive their way into my skin and remain embedded
Unable to be removed except by force
And now comes the masterpiece, the perfect finishing touch
A wall of words and photographs depicting my sorrows and greivance


Whispering to Lucifer Whispering to Lucifer:
Humans are such wonderous creatures
even when granted the gift of knowledge
They fall prey to their own insecurities
slaves to their own fears and paranoia
Such is the father's gift of free will...
Yes my lord, I understand
but do you not feel disappointment?
The great bringer of light has condemned himself to an eternity of darkness
simply so his father's children may roam free
Without adversity, there can be no acension...
Ah, such a philosophical statement from you
I am well aware that humans must experience both extremes
Without tasting joy it would be impossible to understand sorrow
Yet I fear that my


Mercenary 1-1 MERCENARY
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
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I noticed this poem got quiet a mixed amount of reactions and feelings towards it. I agree with about 98% of what you are saying. However, men can stand up for themselves if they see that they are not being treated equal. Just as the african americans did in their freedom movements, as the woman did for womans rights, ect. But I appluad you for taking a stand on this specific topic, and doing it well. It is only an insult to injury when artists cannot portray what theyre feeling for a cause. You did well!
The short, almost choppy phrases put an emphasis on the thoughts and words, and drew the reader's eye to your main focal points. This gives it a more powerful feel. LIke a controlled anger, which is quiet an appropriate idea for such a poem as this.
Your voice is strong, and can clearly be heard throughout and within your words.
The visualization is brash, and prodes its way into the reader's imagination. Thus creating a greater affect on the impact of your poem.
Wonderful ideas and writting. Your style is bold, and I believe that because it is such a debateable topic, it will be loved more by the audience. One side feels like they're finally being heard, while the other feels the need to be heard. Wonderful vicious cycle yes? Vicious in a beautiful, dark way that is.
Keep on writting, I'd love to see more poems parrallel to this one.
May the odds be ever in your favor!
-LuvThemHungerGames
It was rare for this to happen and the last time it happened, I was listening to "Pathetique" by Tchaikovsky.
The other time was reading "The Raven."
I can't place a finger upon it, but I felt a great sense of loss at the end. A part of me died. Sorrow gripped me as the I read it, and it multiplied as I read on. Another powerful poem. People have said that a picture is worth a thousand words but this poem had painted a lot of pictures more than I can count.
An outstanding command of moods and the ability to blend them. Really original. I applaud you for creating yet another masterpiece.
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