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I Am a WriterI am a writer.
Yes, it’s easy for me to fall into a dream.
But there is nothing wrong with being tighter
With a story’s theme.

I am a writer.
That is all I will ever want to be
In the end, my story will be lighter,
And my characters will finally be free.

I am a writer.
There is nothing easier to say than that.
I will never let a story wither
Nor let a story fall flat

I am a soon to be author.
With several books ready to be read,
I want them to have great honor
And wish there will be tears shed.
To HooverHoover state: waking up to sleep
because that’s all I’m good for;
out of work, out of time again
and my brother won’t spare a dime.

Blanket sweat reminds me of this
Hoover state: waking up to sleep
in depressions of this planet;
the moon weeps for me in daytime.

I yank my pockets out, like it's
my country's flag; punch-line of the
Hoover state: waking up to sleep
in my sagging skin on decline.

I've no penny to my name,
jumping out the window (one
last time) makes me worth more in this
Hoover state: waking up to sleep.
Twinkle StarTwinkle twinkle little star
Noone cares just who you are
When you fall the fall is far
Twinkle twinkle superstar.
The Soldier's Letter To HomeI write this from my death bed
My eyes fading in the light
Drowned in crimson red,
Drowned in shaking fright.
The enemy has won
The war now has ended
And though killed by my son
May his sins be ammended.
For this is Civil War
I cannot change the tide
So from you I implore
Do what is right.

Bury me somewhere nice
Near, and fair to look at
And forgive my son his sins;
For in war, no one wins.
Take Death's HandI do not fear Death.
My life has been long enough.
It's time I take my last breath.
I shall not rebuff.
Death stands by my side,
his hand extended for me to take.
His face is veiled like that of a bride.
This life I now forsake
as Death takes me away.
I do not regret
for I am free of the fray.
Please do not fret
for I am okay.
Continuous VoicesIt all began when I was ten
I found what lingered in my head disturbing
And it wasn’t until I grabbed a pen
And saw what truly lingered when I began writing.

There were continuous voices within my head
I was not one to favor them dead
Although, they had violet images attached
The way I wrote them matched.

Since then, the voices have changed
Octaves have risen and lowered
Their words have exchanged
And eventually became uncensored.

These continuous voices have brought war
Ones with an uprising roar
And at moments I want to kill the sound
For they are so profound.

Yet, they continue to crescendo
And welcome me to a hidden story
And so
Aur si plumbUn gând de aur, dar se simte
mai greu ca un pumnal de plumb
ce intră-n coaste, se învârte,
și caută să iasă prin minte...
Stilou de aur, scrie versuri,
dar lasă urme ca de plumb,
pe foi mânjite de cerneală,
și de cafea, și alte resturi...
 
Un glonţ de aur, dar se simte
mai tandru ca o zi de plumb,
îl pun aici, închid capacul,
și ca un gând, îl scot prin minte.
EndlingHere am I, the captive thylacine
Treading my tiger-striped, ungainly way
Around the metal-mesh confinement of my cage
Here am I, exhibited, exhumed
Brought from the brink to pace another day
A living testament, a final thumbmarked page
Here am I, the only specimen
Bereft of mate, of pups, of kin, of kind
Watching the claws of history extending
Here am I, the final thylacine
The only one, the last, the lost, the endling.
ContrariwiseSilly little Alice,
Forget all you thought you knew,
For deep inside your head,
Everything is all askew.

If they tell you that one plus one,
Equals twelve and half, my dear,
Don't worry yourself about it,
For two is so last year.

Don't even try to be different,
Or it'll be "Off with her head!",
And you'll find it's better to live a lie,
Than it is to end up dead.

So heed this socially accepted advice,
Ditch any scraps of your insanity,
To cavort with the Hare in March,
Join the Hatter for a cup of tea.

Fritter your days away,
Dancing under a Cheshire moon,
Don't mind the surrounding chaos,
Ignore impending doom.

But even as you join in
Who Was HeHe stood at the average height for men.
His built was quite average.
His eyes were that of cyan.
Nonetheless, he was average.

His hair was that of blonde,
Nearly, white.
His walk and personality had a great bond.
He was a confident sight.

His skin was a delicate peach.
His muscles were quite firm.
So irresistible, a teasing reach.
His appearance had its own term.

One that the dictionary cannot confirm.

Who was he?
That man with his own sea?
He was one without a name.
His appearance was a taunting game.
He was one without a number for an age.
Forget it, he’s fake on this page.
SuicideThere's no blood on her hands
Bullet holes in the door
Nothing but colored pills
And her lying on the floor

You look at her face
There's despair in her eyes
And you wonder what she thought
As she fell and died

And maybe you're begging her to come back
And maybe you're asking why she let go
The hurt in your chest feels like a heart attack
And now you finally know

Maybe you could've helped her
If you'd looked past your own nose
Maybe she'd be alive now
You had a chance, this is what you chose
Now maybe you'll learn from things
That you didn't see
Maybe you'll open your eyes
And rescue him, or her, or me
Maybe she cried a prayer
For the oth
WarWhen stories of battle are shared,
They are full of fame and glory.
No one knows what war really holds,
That is, until they hear this story.
At first there is much excitement,
Your chance to be a hero.
Then homesickness begins to set in,
The sorrow makes you feel like zero.
Then the supplies get cut off,
Your stomach cries out for food.
It rains then it droughts, and then you want out,
You'd laugh at your situation but you're not in the mood.
No sanitation, no garbage cans,
You are living in human waste.
The tents are torn up, the beds full of lice,
You wish you were in a different place.
Then you finally go to fight,
This is your chance to prove yourself.
All your comrades are shot down,
So much for fame and wealth...
Cleaning up the bodies,
Of those who used to be your friends.
Not even time for a proper burial,
Too many injuries to attend.
Then there's the sneak attack,
You are all caught by surprise.
A brutal, bloody, massacre,
A bullet between your eyes.
In this little game o
One WindowOne window is all I need
To see the world for what it truly is
With my mind a system of creed.
My talent can depict or dismiss
This world of goals, so hear my heed.

I sit down beside a journal,
My fingers clutching a pencil.
I will make my character’s life spiral
And send them off to a council
Where they must advance through the next trial.

One window is all I need
To watch them afar a long, hazy field,
Where I can study their speed
Of understanding when they will yield
Of life, itself, so they need to hear my heed.

My character’s goal,
As well as mine,
Is to be whole
And see how bright life can shine
Even through the darkness
Oh, Holy FatherOh, Holy Father above, please hear me tonight,
Give me the strength to continue the fight
Against the evil that lies within my heart –
Purify me, let me bleed and tear me apart.
Cleanse me, I beg of you, set my soul free
From the demons that have such a hold on me.
I am a man, a mere mortal, dedicated and just,
I steer clear from sinners and am not swayed by lust.
I am loyal and honest and faithful and true,
And, in my time of need, I turn to you.
I am wounded and broken and on my knees, I pray,
Save me before the sun greets another day.
Protect me from the darkness, let my torment end,
So I can be your Man of God once again.
What may be a dream?Oh, what may be a dream but wishes mute?
Those thoughts that dance and prance a time or two?
The silent longings of the heart set free
To lift the spirit from chambers dark and cold.
A dream is as a morning mist of spring;
Refreshing, light, and gently promising
To all who sleep and wake in time to catch
The welcome peace and glory they behold.
But woe to waking hours; the bitterness they bring
When dreams escape the loving hold of thought!
The plaintive heart starts longing once again
To sink into the realms of possibility.
Browse More Like This
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More from *Gary-thedreamingpoet

If I Could Take Your TearsIf I could say 'I love you'
If your heart were free
If you could see beyond blue
Then maybe you'd see me
But life and love are tangled
Hearts weave complex webs
Broken dreams are cradled
And live inside our heads
So from afar I watch you
Love silent in my heart
Unspoken words a virtue
Though they echo in the dark
Your laugh and smile I treasure
Your kindly words I'l store
And in innocence find pleasure
Sweet soul that I adore
And if perchance you see me
Discern the love I hide
Would rising passion free thee
To sail on sweeter tides?
The birth...You touch me oh, so gently
Your tender fingers trace
Exploring every contour
Upon this careworn face
Kiss that's starts so softly
 I'm held in your embrace
I feel your ardor  rising
As my very soul you taste
Your passion is consuming
I feel the depth of need
Desperately you hold me
Is this love, or greed?
You suck the feelings from me
Bring numbness in your wake
No mercy and no pity
No care for heavens sake
It's billowing in my blood
I feel your poison spread
Killing all emotion
The dread cold touch of death
Trapped within this darkness
I hear your siren song
Evil and alluring
To you I do belong?
Candle light is glowing
I feel your icy hand
Rising from my coffin
You gently bid me stand
You touch me oh, so gently
Your tender fingers trace
Exploring every contour
Upon this undead face...
The Kiss...Sunlight slowly fading
Sets chained shadows free
Dusk her wings unfurling
Sings praise to what shall be
Comes the velvet darkness
Replete with silver stars
Moonbeams join in congress
And herald what is ours
Scarlet billows call me
They rouse me from this sleep
Death surrenders sweetly
Stone angels do not weep
I can hear them singing
My children of the night
Serenade enthralling
My wolves a sheer delight
Through the graveyard walking
I smile and bless the night
You, my love, are dreaming
Such raptures I incite
To your side unerring
Our love it draws me nigh
Life and death deferring 
I kiss you with a sigh
Your dream deftly shaping
I swear you'll feel no pain
Mortal life though leaving
Our love, it shall remain
Scarlet life is flowing
Your blood such honeyed wine
In this gentle knowing
Love, I will make you mine
Now in triumph rising
This hateful dawn I'll flee
One last look espying 
In death new life I see...
By Gary Jackson AKA Garythedreamingpoet
At Last...On summers wings doth heaven rise
And banish dread despair
Sweet succor in the dawns reprise
That brings faint heart repair
Purest blue the welcome herald
Burnished by that princely orb
Winters grip at last annulled
Come golden kiss, let me absorb
See, the hand of God is painting
The rainbow is his brush
An end to endless waiting
How awesome is this rush
Joy and colors bursting
My soul at last is free
With love my eyes are gazing
Such miracles I see
Life from death is springing
Green shoots and petals red
Sights that start me singing
At last the word is said
Spring, be thou the sacred gateway
To summers warm embrace
Bring the sweet and longed for day
Let sunlight kiss this upturned face...
JewelMy eyes they see you shining
Watch you walking with the stars
Brighter than the lightning
Beauty glowing from afar...
And my heart gently weeps
I watch your spirit soaring
Soft wings painting in the sky
Sweet raining words inspiring
See your canvass how it flies...
And my heart gently weeps
I see your sadness bleeding
Savage wounds that just wont heal
And know the love you're needing
The unending pain you feel...
And my heart gently weeps
My poet born in sorrow
What beautiful words you weep
High on that sacred plateau 
Where none but angels sleep...
And my heart gently weeps
The Sea of WonderStarlight softly beckons
And calls this dreaming heart
Sail with me the heavens
Sweet waters we will part
Mighty planets dying
New sun's that brightly burn
Sights that leave you crying
For more your heart will yearn
Sacred wisps of color
Paint beauty in the sky
Here true wonder conjured
No point in asking why
Eternity is painted
On mighty wheels of grace
Where the hand that molded
The blessed eye that traced?
How poor this poet's art
This wondrous tale to tell
So sad then to depart
In dreams this soul would dwell... 

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March 1
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The broken chain

Fri Mar 1, 2013, 1:37 PM
Pandora's box is open
What woes have been set free
From the darkness rising
What monsters shall we see?

Lurking deep inside us
The demons chains now broke
What tides of desolation
What horrors shall be spoke?

The rising voice of anger
The birth of bitter hate
Humanity torn asunder
Must this then be our fate?

Greed and lust unbound
Such savage appetite
Blood it flows in rivers
And yet we fear the night

Forget the tales of Stoker
Or the books of Stephen King
Just look in the mirror
If monsters are your thing...











19 Comments
Skin by *CarinaMijne
:icongary-thedreamingpoet:
Sometimes just watching the news is enough to make you believe that no monster we could possibly imagine could be worse than what we have the potential to become...
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:iconsakunokishimori:
Mood: Disgust ~sakunokishimori Apr 6, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
This poem conveys of how we are terrified of our own shadows.. Fearing of something that actually lives inside us..
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:icongary-thedreamingpoet:
*Gary-thedreamingpoet Apr 6, 2013  Professional Writer
What a contradiction we humans are, capable of the highest good and the darkest evil...
Reply
:iconsakunokishimori:
~sakunokishimori Apr 7, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
True indeed.. It doesn't even seem fair when someone critiques of the act of murder when what they have to say would inflict hurt that more painful than being slain themselves..
Reply
:iconthedarkenedbride:
Mood: Shame *TheDarkenedBride Mar 22, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
sadly I have to agree on that watching news is only for the emotionally strong ones :( I try to avoid news as much as I can - I mean the violent ones - for because of work I need to follow politics and economy
sometimes I wonder if there actually is something people can't screw up :shakefist:
Reply
:iconnocturnejewel:
~NocturneJewel Mar 5, 2013
I know what you mean...the News is so depressing, that's why I don't watch it. It's horrifying what "people" do to each other. There's no worse monster than people...:rose:
Reply
:icongary-thedreamingpoet:
*Gary-thedreamingpoet Mar 6, 2013  Professional Writer
That really does seem to be the case. We have it in our power to make life so very wonderful and yet some seem to live only to create nightmares...
Reply
:iconnocturnejewel:
~NocturneJewel Mar 8, 2013
Yes, if only more people could live in balance with nature and not try to dominate her, if only people could live in this world not try to dominate other people too. The world needs more respect and a lot more love...
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:icondelice1941:
*Delice1941 Mar 3, 2013
Glad to see you back writing. Pandora's box suggests so many things. The verse went in the right direction throughout:rose:
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:icongary-thedreamingpoet:
*Gary-thedreamingpoet Mar 4, 2013  Professional Writer
Thank you :)
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:icondelice1941:
*Delice1941 Mar 5, 2013
:rose:
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