Violent Waters

When time was translucent
And laughter was the only pleasure sought
When seasons were the only change
And words and numbers were the only battles they fought.

 When rain and wind

Were the sole creatures that moulded their fear
And no abstract thought was given                   
To anyone far or dear.

 

                                                            It’s a pity time cannot fly backwards

And transport

Them to the time

When happiness was the solitary fixation they would export.

Now he gazes,

And gazes,

And feels the heart in him – which was once as light as the summer breeze that softly blew past his cheeks

Gradually get heavier

And transform into….

The wintry winds that did crash against his body;

Creating a blizzard.

 Now he gazes,

And gazes,
And watches
The waters washing over his soul – which is now a rock
And smashing into him
From all directions
Constantly.

Missing out on things that he enjoyed,

Hoping if himself where to be destroyed

In all the minuet ways.

Then that voice that always says

“Your existence is pathetic and you should be ashamed”

No matter how he tried those thoughts couldn't be tamed

So he attempt subdue with masochistic ways,

Hoping it will make him free one of these days.

He can't deal with shame so that's his next plot

"I'll blurt all my secrets and feel my mind rot!"

His friends will laugh and his humiliation will rise.

He looks in the mirror to see the pain in his eyes

But it still isn't enough to subdue what lies inside.

What other happy feelings could he brush aside?

He finds nothing so drinking came next of course

And he continued on such paths with no remorse.

"It is my body" he cried "and I choose this pain"

Until his thoughts escalated  "why not cut a vein?"

He never chose to be so broken and alone

It was the only way he could attempt to silence his mind's moan.

.

I am sorry if you find this depressing but I wrote it and I am proud of it (mainly the number of science references I could fit into one short poem).  

hope you like it anyway... if not please comment STOP WITH THE SADNESS WE WANT MORE KITTENS... or rainbows... I personally prefair to combine the two...

I am rambling

POEM!

Dealing with existence

Requires more persistence,

Perhaps some assistance,

More than I have left in me

My mind decaying and emitting debris.

What is my mental half life?

Is there anything that could lesson my mental strife?

for now the poems flow, the decaying slows 

Am I better? Who knows?

I think social interactions pain me most,

Inside I am praying to become a ghost,

more gentle and less engrossed.  

Sadness decay triggers the production of radical thought.

Why can’t happiness be taught?

Although would anyone be truly distraught?

These can be annihilated by radical actions.  

I wonder if neutrality could be achieved through this reaction

but I should remember two negatives lack attraction.  

Why are my thoughts so corrosive?

implosions rather than explosive.

I feel I should express

But what have I left to confess?

Just a random poem. Got the idea from the details thingy poem.

"What is it?" she asked.

I shrugged and looked down at the floor.

My hair fell down and masked

my face which flushed red.

I stared at the holes in my converse,

seeing if I could spot a bit of sock.

It didn't matter how many times I had had to rehearse,

the conversation which I was about to have,

the heart still beat too hard in my chest

and I still felt as though I was about to faint.

She took hold of my shoulders and tried her best

to get me to give her eye contact.

Instead, I looked past her

at the rest of the teenagers in the canteen.

A group of pretty girls sat messing with their shiny long hair

and several boys were playing a game of cards,

one of which had mastered the skill of being able to bluff.

At another table a girl was smiling up at a boy she fancied

while he tried to impress by acting manly and tough.

The boy's friends tried not to laugh

as he flexed his muscles which did not exist.

The table behind, a crowd of friends sat talking and joking,

whilst making a list

of those to invite to the wild party on Saturday night.

Hidden in the mass of noise and people sat in the room,

a few students were sitting all alone,

thinking about their lessons which couldn't come too soon.

I watched them as they ate their lunch in record time,

regularly throwing glances at the clock which stared down at them from high up on the wall.

It told me that I had been stood in silence for almost a minute.

A minute didn't seem right for all

that I had seen happen around me,

from when I was asked the terrifying question,

to the moment I look back at my friend with compassion

and reply, "You". 

I promised someone a poem about cake and this was the best I could do.  If you can't tell I like portal.  

"And at the end there will be cake"
"The cakes a lie, the cake is a fake,
I don't even think you can bake"

But they don't understand our words build momentum,
Make far greater leaps than those that are quantum
In Becca's verse or maybe even Lucy's strum.

I can't help but feel in the position of GLaDOS, it was a test after all
I trusted them to be there to laugh when I stutter or fall
But I suppose they had no portal gun to shoot at the wall

I doubt they would understand anyway or even construe,
Words we speak from our point of view
"And all the cake is gone.  You don't even care, do you?"

It strikes,
Once, twice, thrice
It will suffice
Let the icy
Wind slice

When the brain regains control

Stupid emotional girl,
Spewing feelings that make me hurl,
What did you think you would achieve?
I laughed watching you on New Year's Eve,
Wiping tears on your sleeve, 
I still Laugh as you grieve.

Your feelings were not shared
And now I see you're scared.
I asked you not to speak,
But the words you typed now leak
and now I hear your internal Shriek.

It shames me to share mental space with you,
Things fall out of your mouth and you have no clue.
If you let me take over I wouldn't have said a word
And maybe now we could speak less slurred,
Better than knowing they think we're absurd.

And now we're stuck being obsessed,
Telling others "I am just stressed"
And then we look and they are still perfect,
Despite that we're desperate for a defect.
I know you tried to help us recover,
by trying to shift obsessions to another
But who could match their beauty, intelligence,
Humor or benevolence?
From this moment onward we are banned from feelings
Because I can't cope with more dealings
Of the feelings such as this we discuss
No Dopamine nor serotonin for us
As the withdrawal symptoms are rough
For a silly girl who is anything but tough.

Ode To A Patriot

N/A: Should be performing this for the NSPCC event tomorrow - if I can get it memorised by then. I've got a Patriot's outfit too - despite that it's all black. Ah well, take what you can! :3

- - - - -

I was told I’d be a hero - that my death would be worthwhile,

That I’d be given freedom, a medal, a smile.
Maybe if I’d known before; not all things spoken are factual.
Then I could’ve saved myself – not sign up for something contractual.

The bullets – they don’t hurt – that’s not the thing you should fear.
It’s the looks of hate in your enemy’s eyes whenever they draw near.
It’s as if they enjoy the death; the chaos they create.
If I’d known these monsters then, maybe I too could predate.

Why should I die with blue, when I could perish with red?
Those Loyalists kiss the Kings arse; but I could sleep still on a bed.
 At least then I might still be shooting, and I’d get some wine on the side.
Who do these Patriot generals think we are? We’re soldiers; not bona fide.

Maybe I’d get clean clothes too – not rags stolen from a corpse.
Recognition, pay, a working armoury – something to thank my works.
Yet, it’s one thing to dream about enemies, but another to be one instead.
I’m a Patriot, always was, I’ll not let my integrity be dead.

There’s more behind this uniform, and behind this face.
I won’t give in – I won’t back down. I’ll always start the chase.
And when those dogs start running, and they see us charge behind.
They’ll know, right there and then, that they shouldn’t be so blind.

A Haiku

The waterfall glides
Crashes down on peaceful rocks
Demolishing dreams