SevenWritez
New Member
After reading enough poems here, I've decided to post a few of the ones I've written. I don't know where they came from, but about a month or two back, I was taken by a sudden urge to write the crap, and I sat there for a day or two just writing loads of things I didn't even understand or want to. I'm not a huge fan of poems, I have nothing against them, but when writing one, I feel as awkward as I would if trying to hump a wall. So, I picked about four or five from my list and decided to put them here, from worst to best based off my own judgement. They're not high-quality works of art, say like something from Manuscript or Vesp, but they're...they're there. Anyhow, here we go.
Cast
The truth of truth is to be no truth at all
An ecstasy of a lie is what we enjoy in the end
Those who wish to see truth are those who want to be free
But from what? From what? If only we could see
These lies they say surround us
The truth is what they are trying to find
Cast these false prophets aside, and let the beauty of a lie
Keep me forever happily blind
Laughs
Giddily walking across my heart into another world of imagination
Exotic smells, foreign voices, this is what I call a vacation
Art appreciators tell me how to enjoy myself
Those silly old shits who think their opinions are above everyone else
My words and my views do not belong in their world
My words and my views belong in my world
Art is what you make of it, not what a self-righteous cunt tells you to believe
If you meet a person who tells you what art is, don’t listen
You’ll only be deceived
When they get angry and again try to reinstall their view of choice
Look at them, laugh in their face
And say “if only you had your own voice”
Stories
I say what I want and do what I do
Only to provoke emotions in the feeble-minded such as you
You come at me wanting me to hear your thoughts and opinions
But when I say my voice you only yell back
You’re funny in this way, thinking I have no hope
I’m funny in this way, thinking I know you knowing me
But why do you gossip? What does it bring to you?
Oh, wait, yes! You are the ones who look for truth
The ones who disagree with my views and tell me I am wrong
The ones who are weak but behind words and law pretend to be strong
Unless you give the full story, do not expect ones to care
Unless you fully give ear, then do not expect me to care
I say what I want and I do what I do
If you can’t handle my philosophy, then in one beautiful phrase of the century
I shall simply say in the way that I do
No good sir, listen to my opinions, and while we’re at it
**** you, too
The Art of Creation
Close your eyes
Cover your ears
Don’t move
Don’t breathe, not yet
Let the sounds come in, from wherever they choose
Let the thoughts rush in, in whatever form of muse
When the world begins to change, and you can hear your heart beat
When the temperatures begin to rise, and you can feel the burning heat
When the sounds begin to alter, and you can no longer clearly think
Just remember to keep your eyes closed, keep your ears covered, and don’t breathe
Not yet
Open your eyes, but keep the lids closed
Listen closely, but keep your ears covered
Move, run, find the scene, make it yours, but don’t stand up
Breathe it in, smell this world, and once it sets in, finally, look up
This is what you make of it
This is what you wanted to see
This is the story that in the days ahead, you can proudly say
“It came from within, the part that makes me, me”
Hope Dreamer Dream’s
I can’t remember how long it has been since I truly dreamed
Those voices that spoke, those images that came
The stories that formed who made me, me
I can’t remember when maturity and spiritual growth took my soul
It is not a bad thing, just a double-edged sword
Growing older faster than should be, I disregard warnings from
The generation before me
Stay young, enjoy my life
But it as if I am trying to destroy who I was with the piercing of a knife
I grow older, and the dreams grow fainter, the voices soft
A whisper
I am growing too fast, I know it’s true
But do I stop myself? No, nor do you
We’re growing, we’re ageing we still have dreams
But we let them go, facing the road of reality
Life has a path, and we all must follow
That is the belief, one so hollow
But what if for one day I decided to look back?
Instead of facing forward, I stared down the road of my past
Back to the boy who was so young
Not in his heart alone, but in the smile that made him young
Those eyes he had glittered with glee
Those were the eyes that made me, me
If I look back to that road, and begin to walk
I will hear the whispers, they will begin to talk
Faster, louder, as if standing right beside me
The voices of dreams walking right alongside me
We will walk down this road, not as separate beings but whole once again
And the voices will say, so low, so faint, that I will hardly hear
“We have hope for you yet, dreamer, your moment is near”
Down the path back to where we had dreams
I will soon find those stories
I will soon speak with the voices, and in time we will come to once again agree
Life is what you make of it
But the dreams are what make me, me
Alrighty, there they are. Not perfect, not close to what the standard good poem is, but I'm fine with that, since it's not my writing field of choice. Enjoy, hate, or read it with something inbetween. Buh-bye.
Cast
The truth of truth is to be no truth at all
An ecstasy of a lie is what we enjoy in the end
Those who wish to see truth are those who want to be free
But from what? From what? If only we could see
These lies they say surround us
The truth is what they are trying to find
Cast these false prophets aside, and let the beauty of a lie
Keep me forever happily blind
Laughs
Giddily walking across my heart into another world of imagination
Exotic smells, foreign voices, this is what I call a vacation
Art appreciators tell me how to enjoy myself
Those silly old shits who think their opinions are above everyone else
My words and my views do not belong in their world
My words and my views belong in my world
Art is what you make of it, not what a self-righteous cunt tells you to believe
If you meet a person who tells you what art is, don’t listen
You’ll only be deceived
When they get angry and again try to reinstall their view of choice
Look at them, laugh in their face
And say “if only you had your own voice”
Stories
I say what I want and do what I do
Only to provoke emotions in the feeble-minded such as you
You come at me wanting me to hear your thoughts and opinions
But when I say my voice you only yell back
You’re funny in this way, thinking I have no hope
I’m funny in this way, thinking I know you knowing me
But why do you gossip? What does it bring to you?
Oh, wait, yes! You are the ones who look for truth
The ones who disagree with my views and tell me I am wrong
The ones who are weak but behind words and law pretend to be strong
Unless you give the full story, do not expect ones to care
Unless you fully give ear, then do not expect me to care
I say what I want and I do what I do
If you can’t handle my philosophy, then in one beautiful phrase of the century
I shall simply say in the way that I do
No good sir, listen to my opinions, and while we’re at it
**** you, too
The Art of Creation
Close your eyes
Cover your ears
Don’t move
Don’t breathe, not yet
Let the sounds come in, from wherever they choose
Let the thoughts rush in, in whatever form of muse
When the world begins to change, and you can hear your heart beat
When the temperatures begin to rise, and you can feel the burning heat
When the sounds begin to alter, and you can no longer clearly think
Just remember to keep your eyes closed, keep your ears covered, and don’t breathe
Not yet
Open your eyes, but keep the lids closed
Listen closely, but keep your ears covered
Move, run, find the scene, make it yours, but don’t stand up
Breathe it in, smell this world, and once it sets in, finally, look up
This is what you make of it
This is what you wanted to see
This is the story that in the days ahead, you can proudly say
“It came from within, the part that makes me, me”
Hope Dreamer Dream’s
I can’t remember how long it has been since I truly dreamed
Those voices that spoke, those images that came
The stories that formed who made me, me
I can’t remember when maturity and spiritual growth took my soul
It is not a bad thing, just a double-edged sword
Growing older faster than should be, I disregard warnings from
The generation before me
Stay young, enjoy my life
But it as if I am trying to destroy who I was with the piercing of a knife
I grow older, and the dreams grow fainter, the voices soft
A whisper
I am growing too fast, I know it’s true
But do I stop myself? No, nor do you
We’re growing, we’re ageing we still have dreams
But we let them go, facing the road of reality
Life has a path, and we all must follow
That is the belief, one so hollow
But what if for one day I decided to look back?
Instead of facing forward, I stared down the road of my past
Back to the boy who was so young
Not in his heart alone, but in the smile that made him young
Those eyes he had glittered with glee
Those were the eyes that made me, me
If I look back to that road, and begin to walk
I will hear the whispers, they will begin to talk
Faster, louder, as if standing right beside me
The voices of dreams walking right alongside me
We will walk down this road, not as separate beings but whole once again
And the voices will say, so low, so faint, that I will hardly hear
“We have hope for you yet, dreamer, your moment is near”
Down the path back to where we had dreams
I will soon find those stories
I will soon speak with the voices, and in time we will come to once again agree
Life is what you make of it
But the dreams are what make me, me
Alrighty, there they are. Not perfect, not close to what the standard good poem is, but I'm fine with that, since it's not my writing field of choice. Enjoy, hate, or read it with something inbetween. Buh-bye.