You were scared to release me into the world
You said that the world would have to watch out
Watch out for what? I am not a monster
You said you were doing me and the world a favour
What, keeping me from it?
I could never understand
I still don’t
You said I am too old to learn to like new flavours
But I am not
I still taste new things
I still yearn for more
Life is better in variety
Not shutting away from it and hiding behind the door
I like things that are new
I am not afraid of differences
I embrace them every day
In each and every way
Not like you
You tried to make me – like you
But I am not a fool
Not like you said I was
I am not a fool
But you are
You have lost almost everyone who wants you
You turn them away
Because they are not perfect in your narrow minded way
You can’t stand insubordination
But you don’t understand the extent of your domination
And you never will
You sit back and cry to others, blame me for making you ill
Yet it’s you
You’ve done this to you
With your mean, critical and bullying ways
You, who never tries to mend their ways
You even said
Why should I?
If I die alone, that’s how I die
With an attitude like that, no one can do anything but sigh
That’s why I left your life
You can be nice sometimes
But you are never tolerable unless someone is perfect
Stop trying to make people perfect
You’ll lose them that way
I’ve told you
But you don’t listen
You just get in a mood
So that’s why people have chosen, to forget you
I have read somewhere in the past, that you are what you read and I believe that. The more I read the more defined my tastes have become, my skills, my genre leanings and this influences my writing and art.
With each good book I learn how I want to write and what I want to write about.
With each bad book I read, I learn how I do not want to write and what I dislike.
I do not believe that as a writer you must write things outside of your comfort zone, I believe you should be comfortable with what you are writing – although on an emotional matter, that’s quite different. You must write outside of your emotional comfort zone if you wish to write fear, pain and heartbreak effectively, unfortunately that means opening up your old wounds.
A lot of the time, I like to write about horror, trauma etc. and each time I do, I open up real and old wounds, this is why I often become quiet as a writer and have prolonged periods of not writing, whilst I emotionally recuperate.
I was once told that writers and artists generally go mad after a time and I believe it, we send ourselves mad for our art and stories because we are constantly reliving the horrors of our past for your entertainment and as a collective, we seldom are known or recognized for it.
I am not moaning about my lack of recognition as a writer and artist, because personally I think that’s my own fault. I think I am generally a lazy person and have not bothered to find myself a publisher or to advertise my work very much over the years at all. On the one occasion I did contact a publisher to see whether or not they liked an idea of mine, I was lucky enough to get a letter back within three weeks, but this terrified me, because they loved what I sent them and praised me highly for it; I never contacted them again, I was worried about becoming famous and at the time I was young and didn’t know about pseudonyms.
These days I am more prepared for whatever life throws at me because I will be totally blatant about what I can and cannot do and what I will and will not allow.
Other than twitter, my blog and magazines are there any other steps I should take to get myself known?
Please comment below.
There have been some questions about the last poem, who was it written for and why was it so viciously portrayed?
I have to say this, the poem is purely fictional it is about an immortal war, something I’ve been working on as a series for a long time now; it is a goddess whose going through a hard time with her husband’s betrayal, he eventually turns against her entirety (her creations and realm) and sets her own creations against her, draining her of all her goodness and positive energy. She eventually turns to her family for help against his reign of terror over her and her mortals, but the war becomes difficult as he gives immortal powers to various loyal followers and extends the godly problem into a huge battle that represents something similar to the idea of “the end of days”.
In this story she is demonized by her ex-husband and her mortals forget her as their mother creator and treat her as though she’s a demon etc.
I don’t think this story will be finished for a very long time yet, it’s quite an epic story, rather huge already and I think it could be split into six or seven volumes if a publisher has the patience to get through it, I know the words are already in excess of 250,000 and it’s only a third told so far.
A lot of my poems are based on this story as eventually the goddess is made mortal by her parents to protect her from direct battering from her ex-husbands random and unannounced visits; she lives as a mortal, not entirely sure if her memories are all real and if the spirits whose guiding her back to power are real either, she feels she’s insane and yet reluctant to actually seek psychological help. She suffers in silence, wishing to go home, back as the goddess she was.
This is an idea I’ve had since I was 9yrs old; I’ve only started to think of it seriously as a novel/epic/series for about four years now.
A mix of colors in my jar makes it seem I’ve captured rainbows
My sugary treats tastes so great, I hope that you won’t suppose that I’d share these with you?
My little sweet drops of dew?
They’re mine, all mine!
I will not share
Do not ask for one
Don’t you dare!
They’re my tasty beans
They’re my favorite treat
Oh hang on there, isn’t he sweet?
He can have one, but you cannot
Here you are my little tot
I’d better hurry up and eat the lot
Is it possible for someone who has a disabled/unusable baby finger to find a piano tutor who’ll know how to work around that problem?
I have played the piano since I was five years old (at my grandmother’s house), but never done so properly, meaning, I don’t work well with both hands, I also can’t read music. I am self taught, play by ear, I want to learn how to read and write the music, so I can learn other complex songs quicker and so I can become a songwriter more effectively.
I’ve always wanted to write songs, but I don’t know how to read music. I understand I can learn how to read music without learning the piano, but I want to do both. I want to learn how to use my hands properly, despite the loss of use in the baby finger of the left hand.
When I was younger I was given a copy of cu-base and this helped me compose some tunes, but then I was without a computer for a while and my brother nicked the cu-based and sold it, ever since I’ve always wanted to do songwriting. I just lacked the courage to go to college about it, because I can’t play the piano professionally, or how people expect you to, also my left hand is slow and needs speed training.
In the last couple of days I’ve thought of great beginnings for more poems but I am finding it hard to make a complete poem out of them. One to two sentences and I stop, so this made me wonder, is there such a thing as one line poems? If so, how can I tell if I am unique in what I say or whether or not I am plagiarizing?
Also I haven’t read much poetry in my life, I don’t know much about it. Is poetry still poetry if it doesn’t rhyme? If so, how does that work?
I know I’ve already touched on this subject before, but there are other ways I stop myself from coming up against a brick wall when it comes to writing. It’s a method of which involves what I call “constructive procrastination”.
What I do is I sit back and I enjoy a good game of online scrabble or words with friends, any word game really, and any words my opponent gets, I write them down on a list and I use them for poems or ideas for short stories. For those who don’t play many word games, I sometimes notice there are themes that occur in games of scrabble unwittingly, you can sometimes see whole stories with what crops up, it can be amazing brain-storming.