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Literature Text
In this day and age people will judge you
Merely for the color of your skin
Everything has to be set in stone
Whites with the house and the dog
Blacks loud, mouths to feed
But what about me?
What about someone who falls in between?
No where
You're alone
The image has already been set
Break and you'll be punished
Whispers and snickers from children of all
Eyeliner, skinny jeans, rock
Who does she think she is
Doesn't belong
You're not white, be loud
But that's not me
I cannot change, no matter how hard I try
The insults hurt, tears stream down my face
So alone
For simply being who I am
Merely for the color of your skin
Everything has to be set in stone
Whites with the house and the dog
Blacks loud, mouths to feed
But what about me?
What about someone who falls in between?
No where
You're alone
The image has already been set
Break and you'll be punished
Whispers and snickers from children of all
Eyeliner, skinny jeans, rock
Who does she think she is
Doesn't belong
You're not white, be loud
But that's not me
I cannot change, no matter how hard I try
The insults hurt, tears stream down my face
So alone
For simply being who I am
Literature
Writer's Block
A writer's block is something nobody can bear,
That's the truth, that I swear.
We all have a specific goal that we write for,
Even if it sometimes start to feel like a chore.
When our minds are shrouded and we can't think clear,
That's perfectly normal have no fear.
We might not be able to write about the things we like,
Then sometimes the most brilliant inspiration will strike.
Until we get inspired we should practice writing more,
Even if it's just a simple story about how you went to a store.
We must broaden our horizons for new themes and such,
Maybe we find a subject for which we have a special touch.
So prepare for your insp
Literature
Writer
I am a scientist;
Pinning down ideas
like butterflies
preserving them in
their fragile beauty
as I take away their freedom,
their life.
I am a parasite;
sucking the soul out
of music and leaving it
a hollow shell
that plays like
the noisy silence in
my ears.
I am a thief;
taking what is not mine,
the world around me,
and pouring it into
a mould that
I claim is
my own.
I am a blasphemer;
playing God in a
sacred place, changing
the world to my
liking when the orchestra
is not under my
conduction.
I am a liar;
selling false havens
to lonely runaways,
giving them a glimpse
of a world more glamorous,
more fantas
Literature
The memiors of a poet...
A poet is no mere
artist, that incites and writes,
- but dares to
fabricate, the nothings into
- - extrasensory realities,
beyond all imagination.
Like a painter,
the poet needs oil & ink,
- to set the eyes
and mental capacity,
- - into a hypnotized state
of suggestive attention.
As a quilter,
the poet weaves
- embroidered tapestries
with spectrum;
- - that only prisms
could master -
- - - with simple imagery.
The poet revives,
the deadened, flat soul
- of sentence,
to have a personified
- - existence among our
world of third dimension.
The poet's life,
isn't just a joy
- but a pain;
to tell the world
- - from their hands
littered with
Suggested Collections
One poem from deep inside... :\
© 2011 - 2024 dwkeiko
Comments3
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this is so true. i hate people today who judge others on the tone of their skin. it's not their fault, and whats the difference anyways. we are all human and thats all that matters, that is the only thing that keeps us from becomeing savage. but mankind has many faults that show brightly. i hate many people these days.