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Little Brown BagThis little brown bag was made just for you,
A little brown bow spun atop its thin paper covering,
Decorating something soon to be torn to shreds.
Painstaking hours spent crafting each fiber,
Weaving each thread into a microscopic work of art,
Respected by the artisans of nature.
Children screaming in joy at the sight of the bag,
Ripping open the organized chaos in a fit of their own,
Hands flocking to the remains of the fine-crafted bag.
The brown bow being tossed aside and trampled,
The bag ripped into smaller and smaller pieces by the second,
To reveal a scorching white box of a practically glowing disposition.
Stained fingers

SOC: Why?It's such a simple question,
With such a simple answer,
Overlooked by those who seek,
Coming to a chosen few in time,
Patient in their resolve,
Wanting nothing but receiving everything.

Playing songs fashioned on impossible instruments,
Writing verses in unknown shades of ink,
Drawing pictures with pens wove from silk,
Burning barriers in magnificent flurries of light,
Treading with feet silent and burning with cold,
Whispering a word with a simple answer to all who will listen;
Why?

I Remember-Do You?I remember nights
when it was just you and I-
with no one to tell us
we couldn't be together-
When I cried
you held me tight,
when I shivered
you kept me warm,
and when I refused to smile
you sang me
the softest lullaby.
I remember how much
you loved me,
and I remember how much
I loved you-
because I still do.
I remember-Do you?

Angel TearsImagine a raindrop is an angel's tear
Falling from heaven on Gaia's mortal fear
Weeping in unity their children's lost soul
Heaven's pure spirit evil now doth control
Eden of rapture consumed by time's flow
A lost utopia where gluttony doth grow.

Alluring serpent's lair humans covet the bait
Devourer of truth so poisoned with hate
Innocence now lost in maelstrom of desire
Purity long blackened by greed's hungry fire
The spirit debased evil darkens the heart
The nefarious abductor tears the soul apart

The moment approaches the farmer shall reap
Love now eternal for faithful lost sheep
Gnashing of teeth those left in despair
Time

Freak

Freak

My abnormalities

Are seen as abominations among humanity

I'm a another stereotype labeled by society

Even though I'm trying my best to just be me
-
I may not walk the same
But I still have my own path

I have my own footsteps to make
And my own happiness to grasp

You see me how you want to
I am who I am

You have your own narrow point of view
But I am just another human

So many words to be said / So much hate to be meant
Lash out towards the difference / Guilt trip my already-clouded conscience

I am not the one who is typical
I choose to look a different way

You need to look in the mirror
And ask what does a dictator always say?

Dear Boyfriend, In TheoryI would be such a good
love letter writer.

I would take each part of your body
like your eyes and lips, yes,
like the hard vertebrae of your spine,
like the soft curve from the crook of your knee
to your ankle,
apart one by one

color it with paint and crayons
name it

I would stitch it up
pin it down
with words you didn't know you wanted.

I would seal the envelope with a kiss and I
would make an honest metaphor out of you.

The Alchemist: Chapter oneHe sat alone in the dark, his face half hidden by his clammy, clasped hands. The gold wedding band on his ring finger gleaming in the flickering light of the candle beside him. The clouds below him roiled with rage, as the storm dragged ever on. They passed quickly as the thunder rolled, the mountains cutting through them like so many jagged knives. Were he not flying above them, he would have been even more on edge then he already was at this ungodly time of night. With his eyes closed against the terror in his heart, he did not see the stars as they twinkled merrily over the endless clouds. It would be quite a few hours before they landed i

The GuardianAs told by Daniel Valentine

Panic.

The archeologist ran as fast as his long overworked legs could go. The terrible shadow was catching up quickly, running him down like so many fox hunting hounds in spring. There was only so much the young man could deal with, and as the sweat poured down his face with the exertion, he found, this was not one of them. He’d already reached the outer halls of the sanctum, how much longer would the creature follow him!?

He could see a door ahead, but as the beast behind him roared, the ground shook, nearly throwing him off balance and caused large chunks of the ceiling to collapse in his path. Soon he w

Late for the TrainO' where've you gone
My little one
My sixties child of gold
Roses in your sallow hands
Daisies in your toes

the images still vivid–
even now
she; gaily flowing print skirt and coy smile
slipping a stem into the barrel of
the guardsman’s weapon
cultural icons plying chords
to give peace a chance

O' where've you gone,
My flower child
My sixties child of gold
Your roses lay all withered now
Our daisies wilt and mould

Fractured FairytaleOnce upon a time there was a girl that had it all
With eyes like shining beacons and her body mystical
She walked along a sacred path devoted to the light
Her spoken words and actions served a purely humble plight

But hunger came and wrecked her soul, it disemboweled her
A hunger so relentless that the path became a blur
Her body craving power while her soul still struggled back
Alas, it lost the fight and now her heart was turning black

Day by day and night by night the girl was further gone
Malicious hands and viscious tongue, her morals long foregone
She now had fame and power, so why would she want more?
With record deals and perfect ha

NarcissusThe cardinal at the side window
went to war this morning.
I woke to the sound of his tapping
on the glass, a steady rhythm of
red beak against window
as he went in for the kill.

Every few moments,
between the jabs against his reflection,
he would chirp at himself,
a high metallic chip to ward off
the intruder in his territory.

I watched inside from under the ceiling fans
as he struck the window,
as if the red-breasted bird he saw
had uttered some unspoken travesty upon him.

My sister said he found himself handsome,
had fallen in love with himself years before
and kept coming to see his reflection one more time.
He came

The Elf Maiden and the Huntsman“Ouch!”
The tin soldier's ambush had been a success. Little Bell licked the torn skin on her knuckle and frowned at the taste of blood. She glared at her little brother. “You play fair,” she told him, “or by yourself.”
The boy giggled at her, undoubtedly relishing his victory.
Bell's hands balled into fists. If her father hadn't made her promise to use force in only self-defense, she probably would have beaten the boy to a pulp. Then again, she might have held back because he was still small and skinny–either because of his age, or because he shared more with their mother than just her freckles and wild frizzy hair. In a few more years, Bell might take their sibling rivalry to a whole new level. But for now she'd turn to her father, who reclined in his armchair by the fireplace.
“Papa!”
“Yes, Isabell?” his deep voice asked from behind his newspaper.
“Nate tore my finger!”
Her father lowered his paper and blin

The Page of Promise: A Winter Solstice TaleIn the depths of a night that's about to begin
with the feeling of snow as it melts on your skin
and it covers the land with a dream so intense
that it returns us all to a child's innocence
And then what you'd thought lost and could never retrieve
is suddenly there to be found on Christmas Eve
-Trans-Siberian Orchestra

The sound of her boots breaking the snow is delicate and light, like meditated, unhurried piano notes. She walks gracefully between the pine trunks, their needles making a cover for falling snow above her head. Her face, a frozen petal of porcelain, eyes of crystalline frost, is framed by the hood of her white, fur-lined

The ShadowHe is the creature who comes in the night
to clean the kitchen and return
that sock you lost in the laundry last week. He is
the hooded figure who stalks by you
in a darkly lit alleyway with his hood up
when you're dead drunk at 3 in the morning and
you just know he's
going to mug you or worse
but he doesn't, just
turns a corner and disappears. (He is
going that way to gently chastise
the man who had an entirely different idea. The man
runs home, cries, remembers nothing
the next morning. He goes
to his parole officer and confesses
several violations.)

He is the one who whispers
into your ear in the middle of the night
terri

A Sea of Memories and DeathHis pale tender flesh
Was salted by the ocean waves
That thrashed and beat the whispering sands
Along the shore of a memory
Erasing the footprints in the moist ground
The evidence of a childhood
Damned and broken the childhood was
Like his soul a stained-glass blue
The sky was wounded, pierced and scarred
Similar to a soldier that marched on and on
For decades, dedicated yet stubborn
And the yellow sand seemed to darken
Whispers echoed into screams
He pulled on his hair and screeched
In pain of the tears like acid
Scorching his eyes and mask
With that it cracked
The facade he held up with his broken bones
And trembling limbs
The sign that screamed: "I am normal!"
With that he broke and choked and drowned
Under the muddy water of the past
The things that once were concrete
Moments away from his grasp
Like an infant he grabs at it
Opening his hands in rhythm with the rain beating down
Closing them with disappointment
Crying out with his own curiosity
Yearning

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NaPo #8: LUSTChoose your path
Play your hand
You've waited long enough
Do what you do best
Tempt and corrupt
Destroy another life
And feel no remorse

NaPo #7: BURNPast mistakes
Affecting future choices
Making our world burn

NaPo #6: GOODBYEA darkened mind
A darkened body
A darkened heart
Waiting to be put out
Trying to live
In the light
Singing flesh
And bleaching bone
Hoping to survive
Just to say goodbye

NaPo #5: TWISTEDTwist your vision
Of everything around
See what you want to see
Twist your mind
Only accept
What you imagine
Twist your life
Only enjoy
What your sight
Permits you to see
What your mind
Permits you to accept
Start a new life
While blinded
By self-righteousness

NaPo #4: NEWOld habits
Die hard
But what happens
When old habits
Become new
When ideals
Are revised
When the out
Becomes the in
What happens
When the old
Becomes the new

NaPo #3: AFRAIDYou run
From what you know
You do not
You hide
From what you seek
To avoid
You cower
From beautiful images
Of pastel devils
You fall
From smiling faces
Masked with deceit

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A World of Words

by =blooperman12, Nov 19, 2012, 4:27:03 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

This written word strung together,
Played off in a cacophony of beauty,
Dancing around in a field of verses.
Visible to all with eyes in their heads,
Or ears sensitive and perked,
But only known to those who watch.
Those chosen few who sit in silence,
Listening to a mute orchestra,
Or watching an invisible ballet.
The truth behind what is visible,
Is seen and created by their worn minds,
Lips upturned with furrowed brows.
Broken hands feeling no pain when creating,
Their minds, hearts and souls filling the page,
In a cacophony of beauty, spilling across the world.

A World of Wordsby =blooperman12

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

Little something for my portfolio in creative writing. Enjoy!

The Artist has requested Critique on this Artwork

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~IceyColdone247 Nov 19, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

You are, by far, my favorite poet. Can I give you to my English teacher?

=blooperman12 Nov 19, 2012 Student Writer

; u ; Thank youuu! Yes, of course you can! I'd mean so much!

~IceyColdone247 Nov 19, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

*picks you up* Or maybe I should keep you. e3e

=blooperman12 Nov 19, 2012 Student Writer

<.< >.> Pocket poet?

~IceyColdone247 Nov 19, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

I was thinking another place for you~ ewe

=blooperman12 Nov 19, 2012 Student Writer

O_O ajsofiasdnfgiouaerklds;jflk *runs*

~IceyColdone247 Nov 19, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

*tackles you down* Nope! Your mine~

=blooperman12 Nov 19, 2012 Student Writer

O_O_O_O_O_O_O_O Well then. Ummmmm..... Why do you want me.. Exactly?

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A World of Words

A World of Wordsby =blooperman12

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