Living With A LieYou sit there shaking; emotionally frozen.You check the time on your watch, despite knowing it already.The ever-present numbness, the cold feeling which clutches at your soul;That is what you feel upon the dawn of the lie.To know its nature, to know its being;To have it spill upon your awareness.What words would surmise such a bitter feeling:Betrayal, grief? Perhaps the use of dejection, p
Looking To The SkyLooking To The Sky:Sweet yearning from the depths of my soul.Blessed is my mind that drinks of this knowledge.Though stubborn at first, rejecting its hand.I have learned to accept it as my only salvation.From the streets which have long been my home.I look to the skies and the clouds above.Through my skills I shall rise, so I may catch the stars.Even if the journey might be as heavy as stone.-Chen Yuan Wen, 16th September 2013, posted by Co-Captain Hayes
DesperationI wonder how many days you've spent feeling lost.Thinking that you're going somewhere.Never actually getting anywhere.You look at the same four walls over and over again.You can paint them in different colours,But you know they're still the same.And you convince yourself that you're making progress,Nothing's changed, but you're making progress.Things are getting worse, but you're making progress.And then you wake up and realise,That shit has hit the fan...Suddenly you're forced to do the things you couldn't,The kind of things that you were never comfortable with.And you find out you can do them.You find out that the only reason you couldn't,Was because you were afraid to try.It's hard - trying to take that first step.It's hard - trying to convince yourself to take that chance.But
Sweet SerenityI have searched the very depths of my being,Seeking the essence of the void...To understand its nature,To become a part of nothing...For where else can we be free of turmoil,Where else can a beaten soul go to rest?If not in the comforting embrace of eternal oblivion?...Such is what I seek, away from the noise that burns at my ears.Away from the many voices that drill into my mind.For these are not the whispers of psychosis,Nor the delusions of a twisted psyche.Instead they are the whispers that are heard all around us;The whispers of the every-man.He who desires the body of another.He who desires the fat of his wallet.He who cares only for self-satisfactionAnd He who wishes to stand above all.Voices, voices, noisy voices...Eternally spitting their foul words into me.Even in the realm of fantasy I can no longer escape!For they are here, and I read their words scrawled across th
Being A Good Person is a CHOICE!Now, imagine this situation for a moment:You are a good father, a wonderful husband.You go 'pray' every Sunday, doing a wonderful lip-service.You've taken your kids to soccer practice And you are ready to enjoy your Sunday.Tui bu qi, ni ke yi pang wo ma?You turn around and see an old Chinese lady.She can't speak English and needs assistance.You pretend you cannot hear her and drive away.Smooth-stuff dad, you should return that #1 mug...To me however, there would be no question.I was late to a part-time job, it would actually cost me money;And did I mention I can't speak Chinese either?Instead I communicated with gestures and signs.She wanted to go to the train station, as I later learned.With your car it would have taken five minutes.But we walked and that is also okay.To be honest, you might think you've done more good than evil.You might think there is a welcoming committee for you at the pearly gates.I regret to inform you however, that
Things I Do When I Feel Down :cThere are times in our lives,When we hit the all time low.When the second-hand serenades no longer cut it,And when simply 'letting it burn' no longer works for us.We roll upon our beds like a roly-poly collection of rolltastic things;And we lay face up toward the ceiling, slaying monsters on our portable consoles.But that my friends is when inspiration strikes!That is the moment when I rise up from the covers,When I take a marker pen in my hand and use it as a microphone.When my neighbours wonder what the bloody hell is going on,Because I've started singing songs by Nightwish.And when I get bored of that, IRON SAVIOUR,Heavy Metal never dies! Marylin Manson, The Beautiful People.Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Your Guardian Angel.Because truly when I see you smile,Though tears may not run down my face,I would never in this world replace:The feeling of a success, and the smile it might bringsWhen I entertain you, with the way I sing.And if you've gotten
Without the IndividualWithout the IndividualCan you imagine a world, directed by a single mind?A collective conscious, a living hive.Each time we are born, we receive a part of itAnd when we return, we share in the pool.There would be no fear of death;No fear of the unknown…For a thousand souls would bolster our hearts.We could live—truly LIVE—to the fullest extent of our capabilities.And when we succeed?That success returns to the hive…That success can be shared across the next generation.We would become an ever-evolving organism.One with a thousand faces, but a single driving purpose.Can you even imagine how that would feel?But…I suppose that you can’t.For you, as with all humans, share in a single flaw:The nature of the individual, the ego of the singular man.Existing in a void of his own thoughts—he has no point of reference.He is alone, even if surrounded by other humans,For he shall never share in their minds…
Screaming at the BeastHow many have I had? Why would you ask such a question?I've had--only three! Yes, three I swear.What? No--of course not, what are you suggesting.Those: I can't quite see them clearly. Oh! Oh dear...No, you, you must understand this was--just a bit of relaxation,A little sip to help me sleep.No--No, don't cry, I'm not going back to those days; I'm not!I swear it was just--just a passing shower I...I...I'm sorry...It's just been hard...It's been so difficult!WHERE WAS I SUPPOSED TO TURN?...But it's not your fault, I know that. I suppose I was simply looking for an excuse...I was drowning you know, in the icy water.Cold enough to freeze the lungs.I stopped and simply drifte
Just Smile...Perhaps I should confess to you,That I am trapped within this box of crushing insecurity...Screaming as I shatter my nails against the wall.But I'm sure you'll tell me to just smile and wave.
What Are You To Me?What Are You To Me?:I have walked in this world,And they have told me of kings.Of brave rulers who make the tough choices,Men of example and outstanding character.But it was then that they said,What is a king to a God?What is a mere mortal to a higher power,One who holds our fate in his hands?They said he was benevolent and kind,Wrathful and jealous, magnanimous and selfish alike.He was the perfect ideal, embodying all thingsAnd we were made in his image...It was then that I was laughed at,By he who asked this question:What is a God, to a non-believer?One who lives by the truth he sees...He is the man who acts as per his morals.He lives through his eyes and is judged by his fellows.He submits to no higher being, not a one does he fear;Comfortable with his own conscience...But all three, I beg; I ask ye this:For what is a king to a God,A God to a non-believer,And all three of them in comparison,To the madman who watches the world burn..."I
What's Left Behind...Some days I find myself staggering from this hovel;To stand with shaking legs upon the window ledge.I look down at the tiny world below, wind rushing before me;And I wonder if I'll be able to fly tonight...The caress of the wind, so gentle upon my skin.One step, one leap and I'd dip myself into the eye of the storm.But just before my courage sends me;Just before I take the final plunge.I find myself looking back, at the world I'd leave behind...Stacks of paper and a pot of ink,Reams of stories too precious to burn.Ideas and fears both rolled into one;And pages of poetry left undone...It always leaves me smiling...For these were the treasures so close to my heart.They are the wealth of my mind; my soul, my art.And I could never ever leave them be,Where another might burn them, without thinking of me..."Apologies father, I cannot join you yet:For in this world, a treasure still exists.A treasure tha
Listening to Voices...Lazy to read this? Scroll straight to the description for the audio narration!--------The moon tonight is brilliant, for it casts an eerie-looking shadow upon the moss and the stone. At times I find myself wondering, is that me that I see? Or is it merely another side of me, one that hides amongst the shade?Chase...chase!Ugh, that horrid moaning! That evil rattling, rasping noise! It's driving itself into my skull again, like an annoying repetition that I can't seem to quiet. It screeches at times, like nails upon a chalkboard. It buries itself deep into the recesses of my mind and fills the hole with rot! A fetid fungus spitting serpentine venom from the eyes of a fox!止す...What? What are you saying? What do you mean! Tell me god damn it!Ha...Ha...I can hear myself breathing; barely through the fog. The sound is far away, like the deeps of a bog. I can't believe that I'm rhyming, what the hell
Song of RaineShe scatters the seeds with her tiny hands.And pictures the sunset in a distant land.She dreams of places, where she'd be free.With clouds as far as the eyes could see.And there she'd dance to the song of the rain,While I would watch from my window pane.With a smile befitting such a lovely girl;The daughter I lost, to a cruel world...
I Am The Mighty!I Am The Mighty:I remember this tale, from a time of brutality; from whence I would have gladly murdered a soul. For the fragile seek to transcend their pain, but ever are they poisoned by it.This man I remember had called himself ‘Mighty’ and I watched from the stands as he delivered his speech. “You are the fools!” he cried to the audience, “for even as you mock me, I am whole. Through tragedies I've suffered, through pain I persevered. I am a greater man and your words may never hurt me.”Fool, is what I thought, for he seemed to take pride in this display. The crowd cheered him on, patting him on the back, but to me he lacked conviction. For I saw through the sham in his boast and I knew that his demons would haunt him again. This time a little earlier than needed.“Yes my friends, I am a damaged man. I have been broken before and my spirit shattered,” he continued to ramble, as I drew close to him.
I Will Believe That You're Okay...If you tell me you're fine,Then I won't question it.I won't ask you about the cuts,Or the bruises.I'll turn a blind eye to everything...Instead I'll ask that you join me tonight,And maybe we'll cook ourselves a little supper.Maybe you'd like to stay over? It'd be cool!We'll watch a movie, play a few games.C'mon you know how much I suck at monster hunter,Be my wingman--er, lady tonightAnd in the morning, let's go for a walk,There's a huge park just a short distance away.We could go on one of those nature trail things!Hell yeah? Hell yeah!And maybe, after you've had some time to think,You'll see that things ain't quite as bad as you thought.And if one day isn't enough to convince you,Then I'm going to try again tomorrow.Hell yeah? Hell yeah!
The Righteous Are LiarsThe Righteous Are Liars:I find it funny, at times,In this reality, of mine.When the heroes fall and demons rise.In the fight for freedom, filled with lies.But such is the nature of the templar divine.With righteous chains, they'll keep us in line.Afraid to face the true demon he fears.He'll punishes the public, for their rightful jeers.And thus ends the "hero's" tale...-Chen Yuan Wen, 3rd November 2013
We Were SoldiersYou'll never hear me say that there's glory in war.It is ugly, it is painful, it is frightening...But I know, in my heart;Deep within this soul born of freedom.That what I do, at times, is a necessity.It is nerve-wracking, most days,Knowing that when you wake up you may not make it home.But still I am proud, Because of what I have managed to achieve.And tonight; I hope that you're proud of me,Because I'm sending a hundred of my boys home.I just wish that I was joining them this time...
Are We Not Free?Are We Not Free?:Ye say that nothin' changes;That all we're tryin' t' do is fer naught.Ye say that nothing's wrong,That we should be acceptin' of our fate.But why should we simply accept things as they are?Are we no' a free people?Are we no' allowed t' speak our minds?Every man, every woman in this land,Has the freedom t' choose their own path.If our ideals must beg us differ,Then that too is a part of the change that grips us.What exactly do ye have t' fear?If yer stoic in ye ideal that nothin' will ever change.Why not simply ignore us;A passin' flight o' fancy that we are...Yet still ye try, ye attempt t' change our minds.Ye pacify us with the notion of acceptance,Highlightin' the fact that the world is fine.Ye say that this is the way that things should be!That m'friend, is yer personal freedom;I'll not impinge upon it, fer it be yours.I only ask, if ye could kindly mind,Not to treat us, like we're bleedin' blind...-Chen Yuan Wen, 18th July 2013
Do not be ashamed of who you are.At one point in your life,you didn't mind being a girl.It was only after you mether that you thought, "Maybethis isn't the right fit." Because,if you're being honest, shedeserves a knight in shining armor.You are not Atlas, my dear.Your shoulders do notmerit a world of troubles,but instead love-lined cloudsthat whisper, "Do not beashamed of who you are."A woman can be achampion whose heart burnswith more gold than a king'scastle holds. Perhaps ifyou had more faith,you might find that's just whatshe needs.
How CharmingI'm desperate to find herto steal another kiss.Catching Cinderellashould be simpler than this.
Sixty-one SecondsIt took him sixty-one seconds to die. I counted.The beach was only a walk away from there, and the sun was beating down on our heads and our hats. We hid under the trees and laughed. We were in love, if that's what love meant. We hugged each other, as we walked down the burning pavement in loud flip-flops and ripped shorts.We were so close. I didn't know that that would be the last time I'd ever see him alive.I was nervous when I told him, that if we were really in love, we would be together forever. He giggled softly, and told me forever was a long time. I knew that of course. It was too good to be true, I thought. He told me not to think about forever, and we sat on the park bench, overlooking the beach. I leaned my head on his shoulder and I felt his smile light up above me, and I smiled too and closed my eyes. Everything was perfect, that moment there, it felt like forever, a good kind of forever.We didn't notice the shouting. We were too in love.Love can do that. Love is blin
His queen, my muse.Pomegranate seedshave the mostbitter of tastes.She is morethan a myth,you know;unsulliedand untainted,a spring'sbreeze withthe mostarabesqueof lips.There are moreflames beneath herskin than in all ofHades. With everybreath she takes,winter cries outfor redemption.She is magenta.A maiden ofjasper and agate;lily eyelashes andlocks of supple ivy.His goddess:eternal,unwavering—a hyacinth amongweeds and sweetharvest amongthe wretched.
or maybe it actually is.thisis nota love poem:this is not aboutme and how i hatethe way realism tastes.this is about you.this is about how youare one too many shades arrogant,how nearly every night youtry to forget that time hasleft you behind. this isabout your laugh and the way itwhispers "i can't rememberwhat i was like before ibecame this." and,if i'm being honest, this is abouthow i will never see your toococky for your own damn good grin thatmakes me go weak in the knees.this is about youand how you're not real and how i wishto god that i wasn't either.
The WallI punched the wall.The paper broke, a split lipped frown.That was the thin veneer of joy you painted over my cracks with.I punched the wall.The paper bloomed into a paprika tulip.That was the rusting screw in your jaw swinging off its hinge with your lies.I punched the wall.The paint broke into a smileand I chipped out its teeth. They were the over polished hopes of our future.I punched the wall.The plaster spluttered out a storm.Smooth and sleepy; I scratched at its eyes for promising to look out for me.I punched the wall.The plaster coughed hard again.My anger was a consumption and its tendrils spasmed out from the source.I punched the wall.The plaster caved into a hole,reminding me of all I'd given you and would never get back.I didn't punch the wallWhen the dust settled and its small red brick heart lay exposed, vulnerable, afraid,I couldn't.You punched the wall.
Don't be scared, darling.We're going to try something newEating our meals, and swallowing each bite,Not hiding the chewed up remains under our tongue,And not making ourselves vomit through the night.We're going to try something new,Bringing the liquor down from our lips,Not turning to the alcohol for comfort,Until the addiction rips.We're going to try something new,Throwing away the needles, the pins, and the bladesNot searching underneath our skin for emotion,Watching the wounds and the scars fade.We're going to try something new,Darling, I challenge you, I dare you.We're going to try something new...Darling,Why does that scare you?
One Like WaterWe speak.We breathe.We eat.We pray.We stand.We sit.We sing.We dance.We bleed.We hurt.We cry.We laugh.We smileWe write.We read.We colour.We draw.We love.We grieve.We fight.We argue.We play.We work.We all live.We all die.So tell me again.How doesrace,sexuality,religion,gender,make us so differentfrom each other?
BriefLife is full of fireworks;a brief moment of artimitating the stars -They are not stars.Stars are born, they burn,they die.Fireworks are merelypromises made andnot kept.When a fleeting timeof light and beautypretendsthat the darkness is not so.
Thoughts of YouI wonder how many days I spent dreaming,Of all the things I could never say.And just when I'd written it all in a letter.You showed up smiling in front me.And all of a sudden, the letter didn't matter anymore... (^_^)