The Blood runs threw me,
like the shamefully secret blades before it!
You understand that you drove me to this.
Standing frozen inside here,
with only my sinfully aborted quill to help me write
these torn poems that will keep me far away from the misty Abys.
Words shall never make a Poem Complete.
Only scribing from the heart will survive,
this burning world that dies at our bleeding feet.
Inside a darkened poetic glade, I was exhumed by my fall.
'Twas on a day as black as Twilight's Soul,
that I was Locked in a Dance, with the mirror on the wall.
When a once-apon-a-time nobody rebuked us,
for drowning inside our Twisted Whispers
a midst our Screams, we were excommunicated thus!
Anger runs threw me,
like the grisly decaying rejection before it!
You understand that you drove me to this.
Laughing insanely inside of here,
with only my dirtied ravens feather quill to help me write
these heart-felt Poems that keep me away from the black gaping Abys!

The Dog (Revisited)

Once apon a time there was a Dog. This Dog was nothing special, in fact he was even less than that. He was just a common mongrel who had little family and friends. He had always led a miserable life by himself, alone with no one to love and no one to be loved by. All would turn their noses up at him because of what he was. He was not what THEY wanted as a pet, he was not what THEY saw as being perfect.
But then one day the Dog met a group of Dog who had also been treated like this, and who had banded together to fined comfort with one another. He was the nearest to happiness he had ever been in his houl life.
He new found friends tort him how to howl, how to howl in such a dreadful and horrible way that all the people who herd it hated it (including many of the Dogs who tort him to do so), for it was not beautiful in their eyes. They would throw shoes at the Dog, most would miss (as they were pathetically thrown). But occasionally one would hit home, herting the Dog greatly. This would anger the Dog and slowly and surly he turned to Hate the things that hated him. He thort it pathetic that they should personally attack him when his howling was not directed at the people who threw the shoes.
When he was hurt badly he would stay silent for a while, until he was strong enough to carry on. But after each silence he came back stronger and moor experienced. Wanting to fight moor for his right to houl any were he pleased.
He found other Dogs that did the same as him (the Dogs who tort him to Houl had deserted him as soon as he began to get himself into to much trouble), other Dogs who respected him for what he did. Many Dogs thort him a fool, but a small few liked him because of this rejection. This gave him confidence in himself, confidence in what he did, confidence to carry on.
As he grew older his "song" became better and better, he refined his voice until it was the most horrible ugly thing he could make. With each boot that was thrown he would allow himself a little smile. For he new that they [the shoes] were thrown in frustration because they [the people] new deep down in their hearts, that they would NEVER be able to shut him up completely.

I know this isn't a poem and it shouldn't even be here but I thort I might as well Post it in response.
Grifter, I try my hardest at my Poetry. I am Dyslexic (as you may or may not know) and am proud of what I can write. People like you, although you may hurt me, will never accomplish anything by doing so. If you fined some of it offensive than there is a simple way of combating it . . . type 'next' and then press 'ENTER'.
The Poems I post are the one I like (and I know a Chorus doesn't make a Poem). Many of my Poems are not in fact Poems at all, mearly the lyrics from Songs I have written.
I do not profess to understand the complicated aspects and structures used walst creating Poetry or righting. Lyrics. I write what I write because I like it, and I only hope other people like it as well.
I have never been tort how to wright poetry all of it comes from my mined and from my heart, from my heart especial for some of it!
I have NEVER EVER written a Poem directly insulting any one. Some put across my views, some come from the heart and some are just fun (like my last Poem). If you fined any of them offensive then just ignore them, for if one was written that offended me (but was not directed at me) then I would do just that!
I'm sorry if my poetry isn't bloody good enough for you, sir, but it's good enough for such an unimportant nobody like my self!
I will NOT stop posting unless the Logos himself Bans me from this board. Just because I'm not as good as you doesn't mean you have the rite to tell me to shut up! Everyone can write poetry, every one can try. If they like it, enjoy it and get some sort of personal satisfaction from it, dos it really matter if its not particularly well written?
I like what I write, and I know a few others do as well. Just because it is not your 'cup of tea', or because your better than me at it, dos NOT give you the wright to tell me to shut up!



Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Miraman, in the year 273 AF.