go for it.. get it of your chest......

Mortal's Wrath

His body arched
And he gave a cry
The night was over
But he'd never die

This had to be a joke
The gun still hot
His blood pooled around
But fearful he was not

A tear streaked his face
The angel's fair skin was oh so pale
He grit his teeth and tried to hold on
It was too late, his life was stale

Already expired
But he gave a smile
A glow engulfed him
And he whispered "I'll be gone a while"

So there he stood
His expression dead
And that sweet little angel turned to dust
He would always remember what he said

A tear streaked his face
And his smirk turned rigid
As his cigarette burned
That church felt frigid

Then he dropped it
And he smashed it into the ground
Standing in that holy doorway
Not once did he frown

He held that holy crown
Forced it above his head
Nightmare's wings sprout out
Joseph was forever dead

That sweet little boy
His mother had forsaken
A plea with the Devil
Had he now taken

Death to all angels
His unearthly sin
All to revenge
A life that could have never been

Now the sun rose
His unearthly look vanished
He looked to the Heavens
And he knew he was banished

His lips curved to grin
And he twirled his gun
It had been a long time
But boy was it fun

He stepped out slowly
And all he could say
In a gentle low voice
was "Nice Day"

(This probably doesn't make sense without the story, xD Sorry Was kinda rushed and wrote it in 30 mins or so to meet my class deadline)

That was fantastic.. really impressed..

I used to write a fair bit of poetry when I was about 20, I think it just helped me through that phase of my life. I'd never say any of it was any good and I lost the bits of paper which I wrote them all on but I still have a book which I bought which I was going to transfer them into. I only got around to putting one poem inside though. I thought that I'll post it although I am thinking that I posted it somewhere before, maybe in my old blog on the old forums.

I have written better ones but perhaps some of you may like it.

Well That's Not My Story

There's no need
It will spell destruction
For all this greed
It breeds corruption

It will mean the end of our kind
Isn't it funny
No-one seems to mind
All they think of is money

The world is full of people like these
What happened to the good
People just do as they please
And not as they should

Ask yourself what do you seek?
Fame, power and glory
By exploiting the weak
Well that's not my story

_________________
Chrissy
Forums Moderator.

Always have faith and believe in yourself.
Never run from the truth.
Have the will to change your fate and your spirit will never die.
Check out the tzone team bios here: http://www.transgenderzone.com/bio.htm

beautiful, magnificent. I'd love to see more of your poems that you may come up with.

Here's a lovely poem about the daydreams of a conscript in 1942 as he is taught to use a rifle for the first time.


LESSONS OF THE WAR
I. NAMING OF PARTS

To-day we have naming of parts. Yesterday,
We had daily cleaning. And to-morrow morning,
We shall have what to do after firing. But to-day,
To-day we have naming of parts. Japonica
Glistens like coral in all of the neighboring gardens,
And to-day we have naming of parts.

This is the lower sling swivel. And this
Is the upper sling swivel, whose use you will see,
When you are given your slings. And this is the piling swivel,
Which in your case you have not got. The branches
Hold in the gardens their silent, eloquent gestures,
Which in our case we have not got.

This is the safety-catch, which is always released
With an easy flick of the thumb. And please do not let me
See anyone using his finger. You can do it quite easy
If you have any strength in your thumb. The blossoms
Are fragile and motionless, never letting anyone see
Any of them using their finger.

And this you can see is the bolt. The purpose of this
Is to open the breech, as you see. We can slide it
Rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this
Easing the spring. And rapidly backwards and forwards
The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers:
They call it easing the Spring.

They call it easing the Spring: it is perfectly easy
If you have any strength in your thumb: like the bolt,
And the breech, and the cocking-piece, and the point of balance,
Which in our case we have not got; and the almond-blossom
Silent in all of the gardens and the bees going backwards and forwards,
For to-day we have naming of parts.


Reed, Henry. "Naming of Parts." New Statesman and Nation 24, no. 598 (8 August 1942): 92.

Through miles of air and open space,
Where birds soar and white fluffy clouds float,
There's more to see than meets the eye,
So, look up, dont miss out

_________________
Definitely From Another World

I know you wanted me to stop writing depressing poems, but I wrote this last night and put it on my IMVU blog, so thought I might as well put it here as well. I'm trying to decide between "Lost but Not Forgotten" or "Lost but Now I'm Found"

Are boys born boys...
Are girls born girls...
Or is there an in between
A hole in which our souls can only read
I know this is so..
For I am near this hole
And I see others here too
We are not alone
They spread around the circumferance of the hole
Like pedals surrounding the center tip of a flower
Something so beautiful that the angels would sing of its appearance

Are boys born boys...
Are girls born girls...
My heart is broken
But my soul holds true
I see not the person in front...
The person behind
The person above
Or the person below
I see only the people beside me
For they are the world

Are boys born boys...
Are girls born girls...
Or is there another
Is it a choice
Or is it destiny
Are we meant to open eyes
Or be used to close them

Are boys born boys...
Are girls born girls...
My soul is breaking
My heart is broken
But my mind holds true
I am falling behind
I can't keep up

Are boys born boys...
Are girls born girls...
Its a mystery my mind continues to chew
On one side the religious
The other side the rumorous

Are boys born boys...
Are girls born girls...
My soul is dying
My heart has turn to dust
And my mind is obsolete...
So what is left...
A hand reaches out
I see not a face
But I take that hand into mine
And I am back with the crowd

Are boys born boys...
Are girls born girls...
Or is there an in between
I do not know...
But if you ask me...
I will answer with six words only...
I... am... an... example... of... it...