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.
Time Is Now
I Come From A Time Where I See Poor Women Rise And Rich Men Crumble, Where Freaks Are The New Normal And The Normal Is Shunned Upon, Where The Silents Becomes Heard And The Loud Mouthed Become Quite. And It Changes Everyday, They Say History Repeats Itself I Say War Repeats Itself. The People Change Everyday But I Believe If The Truth Doesn't Come Out It Never will cause time is counting down in it will be lost and the sand of time with us at the bottom and the corrupted at the top.
By Timothy Moss8 years ago in Poets
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
