When you were born, he impatiently told the world this great news. You looked so small
and insignificant, but you were so beautiful to him.
He watched you grow up. He watched you learn how to walk. He taught you how to talk. As a
kid, the harsh reality of life doesn’t seem to affect you.
But it affects him.
It keeps him busy all night, mumbling things like “avoiding bankruptcy” and “a place to
live”. Nevertheless, when you showed him a picture of your drawings, he would still give
you a warm smile and shower you with compliments.
As you get older, he teaches you more and more things. He believes in you. H
Snow White Syndrome by grew-up-a-screw-up, literature
Literature
Snow White Syndrome
I seem to have forgotten the sound of my own heartbeat
Splitting apart my limbs I've found the source of my insanity
Coiled around veins and arteries
Star dust and a lazy man’s drug
Has put me to sleep under fictitious pretenses
Of forbidden apples and two faced prince charming’s
The Little Girl Blinked by CloudNumber8, literature
Literature
The Little Girl Blinked
The little girl blinked and he was gone
Unsure if he was ever really there
But she knew that something had inspired her
To do things she wouldn’t normally dare
A teardrop too many he once told her
Had brought him from the shadows of her mind
As those around her began to wander
Across her imagination's fine line
But now he seemed to have walked away
As she found the life she had long sought
He slowly drifted back to the shadows
From her notebook and her beautiful thoughts
And the fools around her carried the spades
Burying him with her imagination
With an epitaph etched on a tombstone
‘Here lies my potential for creation’
boys who love their grandmothers by learningtobefree, literature
Literature
boys who love their grandmothers
never fall in love with a boy who loves his grandmother.
he will be too gentle with your lips,
too sincere when he whispers blessings into your ears
pleading that he doesn't deserve you.
his tongue will not slither between your teeth.
instead, the heat of his mouth will melt your scar tissue
until there is no trace of your travels.
never fall in love with a boy who loves his grandmother.
he knows patience.
you will try to convince him
that it is one of the many virtues
you don't yet possess,
but he will dig through the flesh in your ribcage
until he finds it lodged beneath everything
you're too scared to confess.
he will teach you forg
Grip my neck tight and don’t let it go.
Forgetting to let me breathe.
So I can taste blood, as I bite my lip.
Today is the day I please him.
With my innocent body.
Asyouripapartmysoul
“Admit you like it”
Rip my heart out, and drink the remains.
Then chain me to the bed, a neck with scars.
“Oh my oh my, you've been such a naughty girl”
Pitied by the daytime, it’s when vampires like you sleep.
“Oh my oh my, you've been such a naughty girl”
I just want to rip out your wicked heart.
Please forgive these tears running down my cheeks,
I swear I’ll devoid myself of all emotion
Six Words For A Slump:
You're tired, unable to create anything.
You feel angry; the anatomy's wrong!
Why won't these words come together?
"Nothing's right anymore, my hands tremble..."
Yet the solution is fairly simple...
I'm showing it to you now;
Break up your ideas, smaller sized.
They come together, like in Tetris.
Rotate the blocks; shape your art.
Draw chibis and stick figures too.
Instead of epics, try a haiku.
How about a six word story?
If your mind is blocked, overheated.
Let it cool; take it slow.
By attempting all the smaller things,
Your art is sure to grow.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 5th January 2013
“Why are you a poet?”
“I’m not a poet.”
“You’re not?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Then what are you?”
“A word-rhymer, a heart-breaker, a word master. I could go on for a very long time, you know?”
“Oh, I know.”
“And how do you know?”
“Because I’m not a writer.”
“You’re not?”
“I’m not.”
“Then what are you?”
“I am a word slinger, a heart’s reflection, a person maker, a story teller. I can go on you, know?”
“Indeed, you are not a writer.”