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Literature Text
Undying:
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 inside
You try to take away my soul, but I take it in stride
I ain't a doll that is crushed by the weight of his pride
I am the real and the raw of the things you denied!
You're playing snake games, selling oil, pass it off strong
You're just a pot head, weed dead, smoking your bong.
You try to look away, play and hide; apathy's best
But I'm the kind of bad boy you don't put to the test!
-Chen Yuan Wen, 7th February 2013
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 inside
You try to take away my soul, but I take it in stride
I ain't a doll that is crushed by the weight of his pride
I am the real and the raw of the things you denied!
You're playing snake games, selling oil, pass it off strong
You're just a pot head, weed dead, smoking your bong.
You try to look away, play and hide; apathy's best
But I'm the kind of bad boy you don't put to the test!
-Chen Yuan Wen, 7th February 2013
Literature
The Little Girl Blinked
The little girl blinked and he was gone
Unsure if he was ever really there
But she knew that something had inspired her
To do things she wouldn’t normally dare
A teardrop too many he once told her
Had brought him from the shadows of her mind
As those around her began to wander
Across her imagination's fine line
But now he seemed to have walked away
As she found the life she had long sought
He slowly drifted back to the shadows
From her notebook and her beautiful thoughts
And the fools around her carried the spades
Burying him with her imagination
With an epitaph etched on a tombstone
‘Here lies my potential for creation’
Literature
In a Little Girl's Mind
There sits the girl with the things in her eyes
Monsters, destruction, and sweet butterflies
Hopscotch and daisies, surrounded by screams
Beautiful dresses now torn at the seams
Crayons and paintbrushes, villains and grins
Young, gladsome innocence, hatred and sins
Little red houses on roads left to fade
Gorgeous moonlight shining off of the blade
Blood pouring out as she cries her own name
Knowing she's forced to take each bit of blame
She could have stopped it and left it behind
All of these things in her troubled young mind
She could have saved them if she dared to try
Rather, though, she left herself there to die.
Now, others watch as she
Literature
When Your Best is Not Good Enough
Don't speak.
Don't move.
Don't think.
Don't dream.
Don't hold yourself together.
Don't fall apart.
Don't pretend it is all going to be okay.
Don't act like it won't be all right.
Don't touch me.
Don't look away from me.
Don't be so needy.
Don't be so grateful.
Don't act silly.
Don't be so serious.
Don't have so much fun.
Don't be so sullen.
Don't cry.
Don't laugh.
Don't smile.
Don't frown.
Don't love anyone too much.
Don't be so selfish.
Don't ignore me.
Don't love me too much.
Don't breathe.
Don't exist....
And hope? Hope is just a lie you tell yourself so that tomorrow, you can do it all over again.
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So yesterday DA shuffled my work...don't know why, but it kinda sucks that it's happening again. Anyway, I used to get mad but this time I'm like whatever I'll just use it as more writing material. Hopefully they won't shuffle this piece, but if they do, oh well.
It seems that they're always doing it whenever I'm starting something. Like yesterday, I was trying to advertise my shot-glass poetry style which I'm using for my second book '50 Little Glasses'. If you'd like an example, check this out: [link]
Anyway, about tonight's piece. It was written from an old experience back in school, sort of a rapid-fire rap really. I remember this one pot-head who used to think he was cool because he smoked, but honestly the cool smokers are the ones that don't brag about it like it's a top priority. Got nothing against the people that partake but this douche was just =__=. Anyhow used it as a model for this piece so I can show that no matter how much they shuffle me (or no matter how much that douche put me down) I'm cool in my own way and the more you oppress me, the more I'll rise ^^
-Captain Chen of the Black Fedora Pirates
If you like my work and want to support me. Come buy my e-book for $1.99. I promise an epic fantasy you won't forget:
Want to stalk me? Here are some cool links:
My Facebook Page: [link]
Youtube Channel: [link]
My Gallery: [link]
Want to sell your soul to me? Join up with my pirate crew:
It seems that they're always doing it whenever I'm starting something. Like yesterday, I was trying to advertise my shot-glass poetry style which I'm using for my second book '50 Little Glasses'. If you'd like an example, check this out: [link]
Anyway, about tonight's piece. It was written from an old experience back in school, sort of a rapid-fire rap really. I remember this one pot-head who used to think he was cool because he smoked, but honestly the cool smokers are the ones that don't brag about it like it's a top priority. Got nothing against the people that partake but this douche was just =__=. Anyhow used it as a model for this piece so I can show that no matter how much they shuffle me (or no matter how much that douche put me down) I'm cool in my own way and the more you oppress me, the more I'll rise ^^
-Captain Chen of the Black Fedora Pirates
If you like my work and want to support me. Come buy my e-book for $1.99. I promise an epic fantasy you won't forget:
Want to stalk me? Here are some cool links:
My Facebook Page: [link]
Youtube Channel: [link]
My Gallery: [link]
Want to sell your soul to me? Join up with my pirate crew:
© 2013 - 2024 WordOfChen
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I couldn't help myself, but as I was reading this, I ended up reading the words to a certain rhythm, like rap, basically. That's the power of poetry, kids.
I like this piece, but it seems kind of vague. And generic, I should add. No offense, Captain, but it seems that your works are starting to slide; it doesn't seem to the same effect that your previous works had.
I do the message to heart, however. There are many people out there who have the talent for what they love, but a lot of people realize that the person in question is better than themselves, so they belittle them. Yet we rise above it all; making a name for ourselves and proving those our adversaries wrong.
Great job on getting the message through.