Consequences are, although I write really fast I have to be in the mood to write. I'd never aspire to be a professional poet because I can't really choose when to write, that "vacuum" poem I posted was at a time when I didn't really feel like writing, it's not really full of emotion and more scientific and logical which I don't like in poetry. So something has to happen (and it has to be late at night) for me to be in the mood to write, something not distinct, something that has room. Then I only am in the mood to write for about half an hour, so I write quickly.
For that poem I just wrote, simply, the things that happened were this. I had played 3 hours of Amnesia: The Dark Decent, in one sequence you have to enter torture rooms and there is a brief description of what happened in the torture room. I dunno if moderators would not like this caption because it might scare some people, so if it is removed it is removed, but nether the less I'll put it in a spoiler. [CAUTION: not of the faint of heart]
(In reference to the infamous Iron Maiden torture device, which encases victims in a cage of spikes, not big enough to kill, but big enough to pierce into the victims skin.)
"The traitor stands perfectly still, trying not to move, however his knee twitches just a little bit and blood trickles down his leg. He lurches his head forward slightly from the pain, it takes him a while to notice that he has just ruptured his eye and it is now leaking."
So that concept was so... unbelievably gory that it just got me in the mood for that dark kind of story telling. I really like phrases like that, they can make you cringe even though they have such little words or descriptions. I love it :D
I have a couple of poems to share. They're in the spoilers.
I don't want the gift of being nameless
Being nameless must be a gift
One meant only for those
Who do nothing
See nothing
Attempt nothing
And it is a gift that I do not want
I want to go to college
I want to get a masters degree
I want my paintings in a museum
I want to make a movie
I want to write a book
I want to design the next fashion trend
So i will not be nameless
My only wish is to see the world,
and have It see me for who I am
I want to be myself, and no other person
I want to have the curse that is fame
For what do I have if not recognition for My deeds?
To see
To hear
To taste
To smell
To feel
I want to do everything
I want to do everything
What it means to be: Bisexual
[/size]To love everyoneTo hold no prejudice
To show everyone
To hold onto forgiveness
To live free
To live well
To be bisexual
is to love
live
hope
dream
To be bisexual
is to understand
be undiscriminating
believe
know
To be bisexual
is to be yourself
and being yourself
shows your love the most.
Be proud
Be happy
Show what you wish
Or don't
You're choice.
both of them are rather old. I want to write more poetry soon. I always was quite fond of it.
These are old poems that I have, but I was reluctant to post them because they're quite dark and gruesome. So I'm going to put them in the Spoilers :D
This first one I wrote back in 2011 when I was coming to terms that my sexuality would stay forever and that I'd eventually have to face it.
It hangs off me like a mutilated limb,
Restricting my movements and freedom,
Striking pain with every lurch forward I partake,
Causing a strange savage suffering, eating away.
As mentality fights my body,
In a war my body cannot win.
The agony to scream without voice,
To cry without a sense of despair,
To hide from the inevitable reality I must confront,
To feel the demented pride of successfully hiding
From others and myself;
The perfect poker face.
I know this is unnecessary
To cause myself so much distraught,,
Which in itself consumes my well-being;
For the only reason this is taking place,
Is to my credible dishonor,
I am afraid.
Embarrassed, I'd look at myself
Denied to see what I truly am,
With insufficient courage to accept myself
Question my very existence, and seeking logic
For why this abominable abaddon,
Had been leeched on to me.
But I will consistently pursue
The one ambition that grapples me with hope,
An angels hands, would give me courage
To accept my one and only fate,
And to come to terms
With who I may love.
This other one was when I discovered the horrific Japanese Military Biological Research Center in WW2 known as Unit-731. The fact that no one knows about this is saddening.
Voices stop in blood stained soil,
Remnants of the chaotic turmoil.
The creation of a perfect hell
trapped in a lost concrete shell.
A feat of the extraordinary,
in terms of their treachery,
in order to survive,
in order to thrive.
Pain of the surreal,
Essence of death's meal.
They, with standard defiance,
claim the name of science.
Each "log" processed,
Each disease assessed,
Experiments of the grotesque,
logs begging for eternal rest.
Blood-stained puss drooling
while logs bodies start pooling.
Trapped in small cages,
injected with contagions.
Biologically tested,
in disease, logs nested.
Moving into the operating room,
the real pain will begin soon.
Bodies opened for weeks on end,
50,000 in this trend,
Organs removed and analysed,
Facilities filled with logs cries.
Vessels rapture,
beyond torture,
each infected,
each vivisected.
The infection spreads,
until all are dead
and those who remained,
will be then detained;
Pushed into the furnace,
as logs surplus,
screaming, "I'm not dead!"
as the inferno fed.
These voices unheard,
for reasons absurd,
They teach lies,
as the story dies.
Forgetting is insanity,
crimes against humanity
But i will not let them run
from unit 731
Sun and moon entwined.
The gleaming sun casts it's rays,
Abolishing mental greys,
But undyingly entwined with the moon,
and it's rise will come soon.
Slowly to dusk the orb will fall,
Stealing it's light back from all,
giving in to internal will,
sinking down with a final chill.
Corruptive shadows begin to flicker,
backlit by innocent intent,
creatures of the night forthcoming to snicker,
there is no way to repent.
At it's peak, sending down
Unfaltering rays of harmless light,
but never breaching or peircing,
the many terrible layers of night.
Nice poem I really like it. Especially the second stanza :D
This is kind of more, free writing then structure poetry, I just wrote 2 lines randomly off the top of my head and then eventually formed a poem around it. I got to the feeling you get when so many things happen at once you just drift off.
Hold the hope that keeps me here
The force that stops me floating away
Grasp it with ever gasping fear
For soon I shall not see the day.
please, oh please, I plead to you,
Don't let me lose my only hope!
Without it I know not what to do
The only concept I have to cope!
Fearless and smiling optimism
To pessimistic bloody tears
I shall not think of cataclysm
To open the door to all my fears
Leave my body and my mind
For the universe would never care
For co-existance of any kind
may be just too much to bare
Why oh why! I scream and cry
As I begin to cease humanity
Why friends and love dwindle to die
As I transend to infinity
No hope is left! It is all gone!
Leave this place to go alone,
I will embed to the forsworn
To vanish any way back home.
The hope leaves never to exist
I return to my mortality
As this world continues to insist
That I return to reality.