Category Archives: 2013

If We Only Die Once, I Want To Die With You


If we only die once I want to die with you

If we only die once, I want to die with you. I had a dream of our perfect life together, holding hands in the midst of each other’s battles. If we are side by side we could conquer it all, we could be royal lovers in our ravishing dark land. Too much booze brings out our slurring kiss of life; me + you = us. Self-destruct with me and I promise you will not be alone in this world full of people.

I only have one heart so I can only share it with one other person; you! We have nothing else but this.  You give me life being around you, if you were to ever leave me the loneliness would be my serial killer every day. As time goes by and I haven’t seen your face in a while, I begin to think I could live without you but when you arrive in front of me, the feeling of loving something which is precise for my soul comes flooding back in. You do more for me than you know.

I love you, the term sounds so overused so let me just say I love us. Billions of people within this world and I haven’t met them all but there is one I cannot live without. I want to grow old and senile with you, forget you one moment and dance in our treasured memories the next. I stand a man upon this page ready to fight for love on its own battlefield. Over this past year my life has been about you, you haven’t gone that far from my mind but you always arrive at my door; your knock knocks me down. Something bigger than my ego and passion is at work. I know you and it is a love of stellar proportions. I can daydream of you for hours and hours, to the outside world I am living with a daze but inside myself I am building a greater future for us both, keeping our love alive. A man would go crazy without a proper woman.

I am being held by the angels; does that mean I am in danger? And now I can’t stay with you, I am afraid that death is my cure. Have I jumped my last stepping stone? Let myself in through heavens doors. Set forth from the light beyond, from the fight before I have to stay strong. Laying here, going, going, gone. Then being thrown in the darkest of holes, at the back of my home. My eyes I have to keep them opened, the reaper is soul shopping, he says “More often than none, you will be homed within that coffin.”  No! We could be together forever, until death do us part, I would go further than that just to protect both of our hearts. I would travel to heaven or even to hell, just so I can save you, my love, and make you my world. Now watch me deteriorate, as I feel all this weight, of looking fear in the face, seems like now we’re in a race, in this day and age, can’t be without the key to my cage, “What would they say if I wanted out?” They would say. “Alex, you are not seeing this straight, it is normal for you to be feeling this way.” To me, today, towards this world, keep me away.

Destiny is written within us all, each footstep is a word, each mile is a sentence and each life is a book, no matter how the ending the novel shall be finished.

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Filed under 2013, Articles, Author, Blog, Creative Writing, Fairy Tales, Fiction, Life, Literacy, Love, Misc, Music, Random, Relationships, Story, Tales, Uncategorized, Wordpress, Writer, Writing, Writing #2

Writing Sanity is Insane 2


Insane 11

My opaquely dysfunctional posture stands firm, this sedition could coffin this world. The human race kicked me out of their private club-house, now I am taking up new hobbies, dismemberment.  I am transcending through my writing, my transport to the other world. My climb to the top is in a spiral staircase crisis, giving myself a minuscule nudge into the unknown immortal coil, this is all I know. Read between my lines until you get cross-eyed.

I am a totem of total solemn; my soul purpose in this asylum is to tear until worn-out, my body, collapse these obituary columns which keep me grounded whilst I run away from my demons. Where I have been, your imagination is classed as a weapon for explosive exploitation; I swaddle all of this twaddle I dabbled in. Mirror promises with filled eyes, I can’t look at myself, the fear will become non-fiction.

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I overshadow my own characteristics, feral and feeble, I paint on a clown smile; the tears are real. These words may seem as a pathetic or embarrassing; this is only the top layer of my thick skin I am flaying and writing upon. I emaciate my mind so I can traipse back from the fires inside; I fill these pages because I can no longer afford to fill myself. All I can do is march forward with my fingers.

I learned from when I was a toddler, people are the worst type of monsters; so I grew-some and became gruesome.

I have a way of bringing the best out of you when the worst is going on. I notice everyone jumping on the bandwagon whilst I am fall off the wagon. I don’t want your money or pity, I want your eyes. I can show any extra enemy an empty welcome entry or experimental empathy entirely for eternity, depending on my mood. I will never divide my divine but deny all of this denial as the devil has deeded death on me.

Slinging slithering slander as a sufficient serpent strike suffering in stupendous stillness. This is where I will be, padded cells for all. Blessed with this curse to slur my toxic thoughts from my fantasy world ravished by war, patients versus doctors; who will win? Who will win? Me…

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Filed under 2013, Articles, Author, Blog, Blogging, Books, Creative Writing, Life, Literacy, Literary Agent, Mental Health, Misc, Uncategorized, Writer, Writing, Writing #2

My Darkness Writes Rhymes


new for blog

MY DARKNESS WRITES RHYMES!

——-

Kill my thoughts before they kill again,

My souls holes picked locked,

With this wicked pen,

I have stricken men,

Pets, women and children,

I get vicious with them,

Because my hurt comes first,

This curse is the worst,

But first things first;

I’m taking off this blindfold,

Taking the name of a psycho,

Raising my followers as if I was the bible,

Pressing against this collarbone is my rifle,

Let’s get your ghost out of those dry clothes,

I’m spying on you through my motel spy-hole.

 

I am trying my hardest to bury this sin,

Swallowing a fistful of pills,

I’m merely practicing medicine,

Face droops and head-spins,

‘Til death do us part,

This will be my black wedding.

I’m ready for war, Bring on the drums!

Luckily for me we’re not men of the cloth,

Or we’d all have serious problem,

Alex you’re not regular anymore,

Counting the days on my calendar,

Fearlessness with the spellbinds I write,

My enemies I fight, I dissolve them.

Further into fiction,

Murder with my fingers tipped visions,

When my world stops turning,

Over the lines I’m killing.

 

Slit my write wrist,

Popped the tablets,

Incase you missed it,

Didn’t kick the habit,

Kicked off the blanket,

Shaking in my boots,

No fear factor,

Taking even more bad fruits.

In the eyes of the beholder,

I will be a memory,

So whatever happens,

Please, just remember me.

I’m traumatised from Earths frostbite,

Reading this? I got you cross-eyed,

Forced fed another lost life,

Living in a bombsite,

 Writing is my only foresight,

Superman putting on glasses,

Because in the land of the blind,

I’d rather be four eyes.

 

I fall by my will,

 And one day I know I will fall,

After all someone must hold onto this thunder-ball,

Peeking over the wonder-wall,

Tipple-tailing and somersaults,

Happy-slapping and handicapping,

All the worlds’ underdogs.

Fight this thought,

I’m a writer!

Blinded by these words,

A mad mans mind, the rise and fall,

I’m a silent pen crier,

Deep dark depth climber.

Weather calls for extreme conditions,

Heaven falls while we all listen.

I’m a jack of all trade,

I’ve got the rapid response late,

When my magma words roll this way,

My jagged bones stick out from my face,

And I’m still attacking my soul,

With simply a pencil and a page.

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Filed under 2013, Articles, Author, Blog, Life, Literacy, Literary Agent, Misc, Poems, Writer, Writing, Writing #2

Letter to my Future Children


Hey kids, this Dad.

This is a letter to my future children; a small light upon my all darkness.

I want to tell you the story of my life before you were even born, so you know what I was like around the age you are now. First off, dad was a mental patient; the worst time of my life, I almost lost myself which could have reflected on you never being born. But I want you to know, you are my legacy! You will help our blood carry-on, as well as our family name “Kennedy” We have a creative gene within our family, if you do not have it, your children will.

But Dad was a player at one point in his life, he loved the ladies, yes I did. I was never this way inclined before, I couldn’t talk to women before, I missed that chunk of my life when I was mentally ill but I caught up and overtook all those that believe they could talk and dazzle the ladies. And I have loved some stunning women; some hurt me and some I left with the ache. But every one of them I did love. I have my feelings in the right place now and have tried to build bridges.

Now my writings, here we go, my words are all I have; they were all I really had. I write to make sure that when sunlight finally does blush upon your skin, you will not be born into poverty like me and my brothers & sisters were. I want you to know what life is, I don’t want you to be a spoilt brat like some children I see on movies and TV shows. I want you to work for things so you know about self-respect.

Now your Grandma, my mother, is the strongest person I know. She is my evils kryptonite, she backs it away with logic and riddles, the doctors stuck to a script and it didn’t work for me, but she saved my life. She has been through her own wars, which I can see in her eyes. Look after her; we don’t have many people like that on this planet. People are too hectic in nature; no one smells the roses anymore, unless their I-Phone 5 can squirt smells under their noses.

Now please don’t judge me through my writings, it’s my process to keep the voices and urges at bay. But I know I will be proud of you, I will write the most amazing things this world will ever imagine so that you can have the proper upbringing. I will not stop. Yes, I have a dream and there are certain things I would like, but I must work and fight for what I want; you must do the same.

I am not sure exactly sure why I am writing this, but this is just in case there is an accident and I am no longer Earth bound or I have lost it completely and there is no cure for my madness; if that is the case, do not come and visit me, I do not wish for you to see me in that state.

But I will continue to write for you, even if I die, I will send you secret scrolls from Heaven. But I will continue to write, continue to search for a literary agent and work for a life that will benefit you.

I will love you forever.

Dad

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Filed under 2013, Articles, Author, Blog, Interview, Life, Literacy, Literary Agent, Love, Mental Health, Misc, Writer, Writing, Writing #2

Medicine Time!! My World is Sick


Life forwardThe walls are closing in on me, time to expand my mind again; my last defence against the grim pace of life. I have finally put the knife down and picked up a pen and a handful of pills, cracking open my skull and throwing my brains at the paper, so this world can call my writings masterpieces. This master of writing is laid in pieces, broken and sobbing naked in the corners of the living-room, hiding from the knocks of the door, rocking backing forth.

martin

I can be a pain killer,

Now watch me grill-up these chickens,

Wherever I be, weed suspicions be in us,

It’s a lot me similar to David and Goliath proportions,

Saving Private Problems,

Raging rhyming destroyer,

Wait until I get hold of,

All this weight I hold on my shoulders,

My soul dominates these golden-gates,

So…. Game over!

Courage and Knowledge mix with hate is a bonus,

Anticipate for another brain donor,

I should just escape to my other persona,

Cause I do love no one,

The world is sick,

Time to give it its medication,

Red ribbon wrapped with exhilaration,

Reward myself, a pill I page in,

Suppose to look after this commonwealth,

And still I am a patient.

Stick to what you know, so I am glued to this pen and paper and surrounded myself with memory photos of pain. I am not sure if these feverish tablets are making me sweat, or if I am crying; still not sure.  Tomorrow I will be less of the same man! I can’t handle the wobble of sanity, my fingertips grip on the verge; I will plummet into insanity with my arms wide open and be engulfed into the darkness. Here we go again!

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Filed under 2013, Articles, Author, Blog, Interview, Life, Literacy, Mental Health, Misc, Random, Writer, Writing, Writing #2