Writer's anyone?

[The_Dark_Goddess]

ooooooookay....via much prompting and a heavy dose of boredom i have decided to start this thread.
we have a few here to showcase visual art but nothing on writing etc whether it be short stories/poems etc. so i figure i should start since there are a lot of writer's on gatt, as well as artists.

i guess i should start with a piece of my own since i did begin the thread...

Death

Death is Gentle
She shall treat you with care
Death is Kind
She shall show you the way
Death is beautiful
She has the eyes of stars
Death is Loving
There is warmth in her sweet embrace

that's the only thing i have the guts to put out right now, if you show me yours, i'll show u more of mine.

so...what have you got?                    

[Anonymous]

A darkness draws upon my soul
Stealing the essence for its own
Causing my heart to beat faster with fear
Crawling in the darkness, in dispair
Just beyond the reach of my sight
Coming closer and closer within the shadows
The thumping of my heart beats louder and faster
Feeling a tingle within my body
The anxiety is getting to me
Jus wondering what really is there
In the Darkness beyond my reach                    

[Imperial_X]

Denied my kin..... essence of salvation
Left wandering in an aimless nation,
I shut my eyes, there is no hope
Within lies the strength to cope,
This dust, this life,the rain, the dirt
to escape from this pain, this hurt,
Cast out of Heaven and scorned by Hell,
on this earth I do dwell, searching, aching, yearning,
for a purpose, a reason, uncomprizing truth,
Only frivolities of my youth

Denied my peace in violent dreams,
You don't hear my silent screams, my plee for help,
My last bid to save myself,
to reclaim life, my soul and pain,
and go through this discourse again,
I choose to live, I choose to fight,
From shadowed being, to fiends of light,
And at this point, I take a pause,
to sharpen up my skills, my claws.

Ony to begin again, battle hard until the end,
Now will cease this hurt, this dreary fight,
To be crowned Legendary Dark Knight,
I now have purpose, I now know why,
I finally beat......Devil.......May........Cry!!!!!

Woohooo.  I beat DMC on Dante Must Die level... YAY me.                      

[Anonymous]

woi i will put some of my poems here
soon                    

[Evangelion_01]

Ah a writer's thread...

Hmm, lemme wax up some good stuff then I'll get back to ya'll                    

[The_Dark_Goddess]

yeah man umi n eva! i KNOW d two of allyuh could write so no holding out on me!!
so who else?

oh, and imperial, that is a BOSS piece of writing!!!!! :rockon:

G_pinkie's stuff isnt too bad either, i like                    

[androsovic]

A sniper's rifle
ends a life
a tear so stifled
of a lonely wife
why she asks,why

hmm,forgive me,i just made that up                    

[Flippant]

an extempo haiku:

in front my pc,
i watch my drive defragment.
3 more drives to go!                    

[Anonymous]

This is the poem i put in the think bout death thread

I dream these nights of the people long gone
Death that took them in his arms
Away from loved ones left to mourn
Tears that roll down my eyes
The thoughts of good times we had together
The memories will last forever                    

[The_Dark_Goddess]

you dont need to rhyme and you dont need to reason, all you have to do is write

this is pretty cool, and yeah pinkie, i saw that in the death thread.

but all i seein is poem/verse type thing! i know pple have more than just that! let's see some short story extracts or something!                    

[Imperial_X]

I have a story on a Shakespearean porno.  Do you want that?  lmao.                    

[The_Dark_Goddess]

imperial...your @$$ is gr@$$...and I shall be the lawnmower :shock:

get that titanium cup and get it mc fast!                    

[Anonymous]

If u want short story u not gettin any from me, i gots none. All i have and all i gots are poems  :mrgreen:

Golden wings through time and time
Guide us like the stars in the sky
A beautiful vision in my eyes
Yet so lonely i feel a heartache in me
Pain so strong that brings me down
Yet i walk as if unaffected
Yearning, Yearning forever more
That keeps me standing, waiting, hoping, dreaming
And i feel deceived caused it never truly happened to me
Why in life it is so hard to find
That special something inside
Yet others find it easy and uncomplicated
My opinions i feel is not worth a cent except to me

Some people say i don't try hard enough
But life is tuff for me, not as easy as it seems
As all things are different, so are we
It is simple for others, but not for me
Maybe i have little faith, or don't try hard enough
But that is how i live my life
Jus hold me and try to understand
Words don't matter but action does
But the ironic thing is all i hear are words
But i see not any action
Notice i may be quiet and you see my personality
Words don't make a damn difference to me
Yet i complain not except to myself
How i dream of a life sweet and serene                    

[Imperial_X]

Hey, be careful for what you ask DG.  roflmao

Nice stuff there Pinkie.  Very much abstract, but unique all the same.

The bitter-sweet art of rhyming ownz me though.

They shootin!!!!!!  Ahhhh, made you look
you're a slave to a page in my rhyme book.

Nas is tha man.                    

[Anonymous]

Thanks, and considering i have never shown most of my poems to anybody, so i never really had anybody to tell me what they thought about my work                    

[Evangelion_01]

Writer's work is only good if its shared with others G_Pinkie                    

[ShowTime]

yea, this is my piece of dredness that i wrote a while ago.  I don't know how many people can relate, but read it, it's actually better if you read it outloud or so I've heard, but hell, do what you want, i just need feedback.


Half-Empty

I see nothing special when I look in the mirror
I like dancing, but I’m no dancer
I draw, but I’m no artist
I sing, but I can’t hit the high note
I have a job, but I’m always broke
I run, but I’m no athlete
I play sports, but I’m not any good
I speak up, only to find out that no one was talking to me
I have a lot of friends who are girls, but no girlfriends
I need someone to be more open with
I kiss on the first date
I want to live alone, but I don’t want to be lonely
I defend other people, but not myself
I have a dad that hears me, but doesn’t listen
I have a mom that listens, but only when she decides to hear
I talk my mind; f*ck what everyone else thinks
I watch animes in Japanese, only to read the subtitles in English
I don’t like to wait, and I hate to be waited on
I may not always be right, but I’m never wrong
I read the last chapter of a book before starting the first one
I tell the truth to everyone, except myself
I don’t use the word ‘love’; it’s too dangerous
I would take a bullet for a friend, and die for my family
I have the right to bleed, but not just because I’m not a hero
I have the right to dream, even if I’m not normal
I am always late; never early, never on time
I drink socially, but I’m not a social drinker
I don’t give a sh*t
I let opportunity pass me by
I am quiet, if you don’t know me
I hate to be pitied
I know I must do something with my life, but I don’t know what
I eat for spite
I spend money that I don’t have

I am a ghetto youth, but not because I lived in the projects
I am smart, but not because I can put big words into a sentence
I wear clothes that I like, not just because someone’s name is on it
I believe the pen is mightier than the sword, or gun, or nuclear bomb
I believe in saying ‘thank you’, but not ‘please’
I mind my own business, but I’m comessive
I am not a great cook, but I can survive
I don’t get disappointed at myself for failing, only for not trying
I don’t look at the long-run of things
I never know that I’m dreaming until I’m about to wake up
I am not a good talker, but I listen well
I use pencils, mistakes aren’t as visible as with pens
I write but I wouldn’t call myself a writer
I think about doing things I’ll regret
I listen to all types of music; f*ck the color of my skin
I would try anything once, after that, I can decide whether I want to do it again
I write poems that don’t rhyme, who says they have to?
I lift weights to relieve stress
I sleep through the best parts of everything
I lack motivation and have no endurance
I adjust to change, but I don’t like it
I may smile, but not on the outside
I want to fly, but I can only jump so high
I can’t look at a glass as half-full; I can only see it as half-empty


Property of ShowTime Corp. Copyright 2003                    

[Imperial_X]

Whoa!!!!  Very heavy stuff there man.  Props.                    

[The_Dark_Goddess]

kudos to ShowTime

*bows low and pays homage*

takes a great one to bring the goddess to her knees  :bow:                    

[The_Dark_Goddess]

oh alright!
since no one else putting any short stories or anything here yet i guess i will have to do it!
but i rel fraid so instead of putting something like my personal writing here i will put an essay from school
please note: i have neverbeen abused in any way, i do not/have not ever taken drugs of any kinds before and neither of my parents are either dead or alcoholics.
any information you find here was gleaned from my aunt who is a doctor and was staying with us at the time i wrote this. In fact, the mention of speedballing was her idea, and i thank her for it.


The Black Bag

   They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. I wonder if that will happen to me, and if it does, what will I see?
   I am trying to remember the good points in my life; trying to remember myself before my mother’s death, and my father’s interest in alcohol.
   I was twelve when she died, it was maybe six months later the beatings started. It wasn’t until I was fifteen when, hanging out on the side walk with some friends, I first discovered what we referred to as “magic dust”.
   “Here, Teri, try some of this. The feeling is completely out of this world, you’ll love it!” said Thomas, or Tommy, as we called him. He handed me a small black plastic bag, full of the white powder.
   He was right: I did love it. In fact, I loved it so much I kept doing it. Hardly a day passed by when I didn’t take a hit. When my friends and I couldn’t afford it, we would steal money from our parents. Of course, whenever my dad found out I had taken some money, the beating would get worse.
   But that was okay, it didn’t matter. In the sweet oblivion that was my high, I could forget everything. I could forget the pain of mom’s dying; I could forget the bottles of alcohol in my house; I could forget the hurt from my father’s beatings. It was all taken away, in less than a minute.
   We had fun those days, real fun. It started with the heroine, then we discovered its big brother, cocaine. Usually it was one or the other, but one day Markie accidentally took a hit of both, and he told us all about it. The high was longer, sweeter; the drugs simply took you to new heights. Needless to say, speedballing became a regular thing for us.
   By the time I was sixteen, sex and drugs were the only things that mattered to me. Actually, the sex could take a hike, though it was much better on a high. What am I saying? Anything was much better on a high.
   Most of the people I knew did the drugs for the enhanced feeling; for the awareness and the feel of complete control and superiority. I heard about superiority from Jennifer, she does acid, you know, LSD; says there’s nothing like it. I asked her if she had ever tried speedballing.
   Anyway, I think I am their total opposite. I do it for the numbness. The feeling that there’s no feeling at all.
   Nothing compares to this feeling. It was so hard to keep getting there... it took more of the drugs; but those little black bags kept coming, so I was alright.
   But I’m not alright anymore. I think I overdosed, way too much this time. Will anyone miss me? I don’t think so. Looking at Tommy, at peak high right now, he is too far out to know what’s happening to me. Markie and Jen are cuddled up with some pot and coke behind me. They won’t care.
   All I can think about is this: what if I’m too high to notice my life flash before my eyes, and I miss the good times?
   Too late now, I can see the darkness closing in…or is that the little black bag in my hand?

word count: 562

not my best work but all i have the guts to let the public read.