fact or fiction
Is it fact or merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the myths and beliefs we hold about what makes a good poem and the poetry rules that were made to be broken.
Who Are We
Who are we is a question I ask, where did we come from way back in our past, are we really from here or some where in space did we come here to colonize are we the reason the dinosaurs are extinct where did we come from, where do you think this is a question I ask repeatedly. Did we hail from another planet dieing like a star or were our ancestors all but killed off, the thoughts I think about have me always curious, did we destroy ourselves and now starting over were we really genius traveling threw the stars. So many questions none have yet to be discovered who are we really how many of us suffered likes those in area 51 we are experimenting on our brothers and sisters this just will not do, but this is just my ideas on the subject what about you?
By Loki Ramsey8 years ago in Poets
Awake at 3AM
I'm currently laying in bed, not able to withstand the heat and the loud chorus of sounds outside my window. Thoughts course through my mind like an uncurable virus. Venomous thoughts spilling what my mouth can't fully comprehend hiding the truth from everyone, even myself. I want to shut my eyes and spend that time mindlessly sucked into a world of carelessness and manufactured scenarios. It's hard to comprehend what my body wants, it's preventing me from controlling it to some extent, as if it wasn't meant for me at all. Silently but deeply wanting to be human, having the ability to feel supremacy over all. Sleep is something special, we don't all get shut eye at night. There will be a day where we can all just close our eyes and get lost in the inevitability of demise.
By Steph Rain8 years ago in Poets
Trapped
I have been feeling a little out of it these few couple of days. I'm basically sleep deprived, I pretty much starve myself, and my mind is on full overdrive. I've been trying to change my body to what I believe is an acceptable way. I deprive myself from a lot of things that could potentially benefit me, but I simply push them away. I have been more anti social than usual, my human interactions aren't usually the best. I hardly speak to my family, I don't keep in touch with any friends or acquaintances. I feel trapped in a bottle of whiskey. I don't care of anything around me, hateful commentary doesn't bother me as much as it used to. I dislike the outside world more than anything, I make up any excuse to prevent leaving the house. Deep down I know I just hate the idea of facing reality, I hated having to be a participant of this battle for crippling happiness. Contemplating whether money or people are the meaning of real happiness. As I see it is not of importance. I'm simply an outcast, a vast soul, a mindless zombie, just a stray. No one understands me or the voices in my head. They let me know when the time has arrived. But I wouldn't push it too much because as psychotic as it seems I kind of feel happy like this.
By Steph Rain8 years ago in Poets
Hopeless Faith
Why do I feel so tired and numb, I have everything I want plus freedom, why is it that I don't feel at home within my own skin, that when I smile or grin, the lights that surround me get dim, I feel as though I'm drowning, I can't swim, I feel as though I'm losing, I can't win, I feel as though I'm filled with nothing, to the brim, I feel as though I'll never truly live, so grim, I look deeply into my reflection, but I just don't know him, what suffering remains to be felt, when I perish will I feel myself melt, when I awaken tomorrow will I feel the same way, or will I remain lost and wander astray, farther out into the land that is nameless, into the place where my ruminations have no directions, just aimless, where I never grow old, just ageless, where I have no body or soul, just faceless, where there is no color, just greyness, where there are no gods to laud and love, just faithless, where absolutely nothing makes sense, just strangeness, where things move up and down, left and right, just changes, where I feel no adoration, no hurt, no love, just painless, where I am seen, but never touched, weightless, where I stay, but always move, shapeless, never knowing if my eyes are opening or closing, wakeless, what shall I be, what shall I become, will I be able to outrun the burdens of old, will I bathe in the affluence of tumultuous amounts of gold, will I waiver, stumble, fall or fold, what will be the stories that are told, will they bring the warmth or cold, will I stay whole, or will I erode, behold the king of cogitation, the founder of truth and elation, the raiser of parables and foundations, absolving damnation, instilling creation, giver of sedation, the perfect aberration, the only vibration, the truth, the salvation, behold the clarity of time, the verity that tastes sublime, the rarity that nobody will ever find again, not with a pencil, not with a pen, all will praise, kneel and whisper amen, over and over again, so much veneration all the living and dead will send, over and over again, I pretended to repent, my mind was barmy and bent, I knew I'd never rise only descend, I harmed my soul, seeking out revenge, spiralling into mayhem, I never prayed for them, I was condemned, to fall deeper into my pain, deeper into the empty flame, feign and broken, was I here for a purpose, was I chosen, was this moment woven in a time long lost, what will it cause, peace or thunderous lightning, will it be loving or frightening, will it let you breathe, or will you feel the rope tightening, will you remain calm or start fighting, falling or rising, will it bring all together or will it be dividing, showing us the truth or lying, will we stop, or keep trying, crumble or continue surviving, living on forever and never dying, climbing the walls of the impossible, macerating every obstacle, the unfettered chronicles, unstoppable, philosophically phenomenal, laudable, optimal, dissolvable, horrible, what will be the fact, what will be the truth, you choose.
By Charles Freeman8 years ago in Poets
