Under our blanket of obscurity,
fingers and toes can curiously,
mingle without a care.
SnowflakesSleeping as the snowflakes fall,
burning in the night.
I can feel a silent breeze,
holding my body tight.
I want to GrazeI want to feel,
the wind through my hair,
and the sun on my feet.
I want to burn brown,
and graze like a gazelle.
I want to get in touch with the moon.
Reaching for StarsI am infinite in my attempts,
to reach for the morning stars,
no matter how far they are.
Making a DifferenceTending to her newest need,
she seeks a tiny seed,
to take care of.
Finding peace in making a difference.
I Find MyselfI find myself in my bedroom walls,
Silent and ever watchful.
I find myself in the worn living room floors,
Beaten down until used to it.
I find myself underneath my bed,
Understanding that I am my own monster.
I find myself looking at the door,
Wondering when it will open.
I find myself peeping through the window,
But night leaves nothing in my sight.
I find myself in old conversations,
My heart finally still.
I find myself stamped into black words,
Wishing for white paint.
I find myself in moonlight,
And beg for the sun.
I find myself in a dream,
After all of this nightmare.
I find myself crying,
Because you are still there.
I find myself hoping that this,
This is the last time.
I find myself turning from you,
There is no use lying.
I find myself smiling,
I find myself a lost cause,
I always find myself
Waiting for you.
The Girl Who Was Afraid To BeShe speaks to me fondly
of passions and talents,
of guitars and stars,
with such breathless intensity
then stops short and
for speaking at all.
All because somewhere in her life,
someone she loved broke her heart
her beautiful words
and telling her to
keep it down,
People aren’t born sad.
We make them that way.
Rising from the ashesI sank down
All the way to the bottom
And I thought
I'd never rise again
But I've found my way
I relied on great friends
I fought hard
And even if I still have
A long way to go
I'll keep trying
I will survive
There was a time
when he had long, curly hair
to rival that of any
his father called him
"My little Princess"
but he was always a
Prince, and couldn't see
why his Mother did not
There were two times
where he went to a church
once for a Christmas service and
he couldn't understand how
"God is love," when he
had been cursed with a body
not his own -
another a few years later
when his outside
matched his inside,
but they turned him away
still claiming that
"God is love," and he
still couldn't understand
how that was possible.
There were three times
when other boys at school
followed him home cursing
every bone in his body,
calling him names, there
was one with blue eyes
who had a knife and left him
and the nurses in hospital
called him the wrong name -
at night he cried bitterly
about the world's ignorance.
There were four times
when he wondered if there
was a special heaven
for boys like him and,
hoping there was,
I couldn't see the consequences-
As I tried to trust my heart
I just couldn't resist-
The blind love that ceased my wars
Helping me let go of the struggles-
That I foolishly held in my hands
I freed the thoughts that quarreled-
Tears fell in order for me to stand
Truth can be the worst enemy
Lies can be the strongest ally
Harmony isn't immune to tragedy
Because you made a myth out of your apparent humanity
Mistakes can never be renamed! / Scars can never be erased!
Compassion is used as bait! / Two sides to every face!
A piece of peace is caged! / Watch the bridge burn away!
I'll desecrate the meaning of “passion”
You redefined my every moral
There will be no hesitation
I won't need anyone -anymore-
I ignored the risks-
Of handing over my hope
Killed by a kiss-
Turning my world to stone
I believed in your deceit-
And I fell too hard
My mind endlessly screams-
It Was Never You...It really wasn't...
And I know that I can twist this truth as much as I want...
Whenever I'm sober, when I know I can put up that fake plastic smile;
Just a few formal words that burn like acid from a liar's lips!
"Differences in personality, a divergence in ideals..."
Please, fucking, SPARE ME!
Because when I look in this mirror, I know.
When I see myself looking back at me, I know.
Right here, right in front of my own blackened self;
Those eyes that both reflect and stare into my dingy soul.
I was the problem.
I was the instigator.
I was the perpetrator.
And when I had broken every last bit of her,
I was the one, who let it all fall to pieces.
So please, you don't have to feel sorry for me,
I am a bastard and I've got a very special place in hell waiting for me...
- Word of Chen, Darkest Hour, 16th February 2015
The Bright Side of DyslexiaI was born with auditory dyslexia.
I once heard of someone who wrote, directed, and coastguard in their own movie.
I knew what the right word was, but it still got me thinking:
About the invigorating music of waves crashing against my vessel,
The challenge of serving to the best of my skills,
The pride of keeping the shores of my homeland safe.
That was how I found my career,
And it's been just as rewarding as I had hoped.
An episode of CSI mentioned literature marks on the vic's neck,
Which inspired a fulfilling side project of poetry.
In a later CSI, taunts were exchanged:
"I'm the king of the jingle here! You don't stand a chants!"
"That's what you think! This isn't my first radio!"
(It wasn't a very well-written episode.)
Anyway, with that I tried adding tunes to my rhymes.
The result was better than I expected;
A local morning show even played one of my works on the radio!
My girlfriend told me she needed a shoulder to crayon.
This inspired me to
on the difference between life and livingotherkids grew up learning how to avoid obstacles
while riding their bikes without training wheels
skateboarding in parks with the company of their friends
and a thing called happiness,
Soldier BoyOne day he came home,
A man given freedom.
He looked in the mirror,
And liked what he saw...
The days wore on,
And he lived his life.
Morning PT was a distant memory,
So too were the shouts of a Sergeant.
Training came thrice at first,
Then twice, then once,
The days wore on...
And life became harder,
Sacrifices were made.
He looked in the mirror one day,
And didn't like what he saw.
Not the pot-bellied man working for a few scraps.
Nor the slovenly fellow who'd forgotten how to clean his kit.
He earned his freedom, but he had lost what he respected...
And the days wore on...
And so he went out running, one fateful day,
His lungs burning with every breath.
Yet despite the pain inside his chest,
He resolved the soldier, would return to his best.
"You've been gone a long time Corporal Chen, what say we go once more around
-Word of Chen, One-shot, 24 February