Tag Archives: Alex Kennedy

Who am I?


demons pic

WHO AM I?

I’m a walking nightmare, my hands around my own throat, can’t shake awake! I’m dying to write dynamic dynamite; writing is my form of dialysis, I need all the badness out. A mental state of emergence has now been issued to you, personally. This is no jocularity; I mean this all the way down to my tormented soul. I’m rattling and shaking, I’m not afraid; you will twig-on when I snap. I’m digging up my own past, shovel in hand; I need answers and resolve some unfinished business, so you can lollop around my questions but remember this is my job, I write like a boss.

Misanthropy over here! So you’re either with me or against me, I’m going to war with humankind. I swindle and hustle my way out from my psychiatrist meetings; they label my big-toe as sane and packed me back to the free-world I am coming to conquer. If you were smarter you would have caught me out. I bring no attention to my shell, I blend in, disappear and robot-dance my way into the crowd, my circuits have shorted but this has made me a bigger man. If you knew my story, you would burn my book.

I’m heat-seeking for inner-peace,

But before I be seated,

These are my proposed proceedings,

I’m pulling out all my deep seeded beliefs,

A concocted mix of special needs, my inner-beast and deceit,

These are the things which live deep in me.

I am a soldier of the apocalypse,

Holding hostage every major metropolis,

If you can’t topple this, copy this,

Looking for my mind,

As I look for a lost wish.

I’m not a writer; I am the reaper of words,

My life is on an egg-timer,

What can be worse than being the worst?

Strand by strand,

I stand before you less than half the man,

I’m a problem they buried,

Now it’s time to raise hell,

The feeling of lost and deserted,

“This is what you deserve, kid.”

I cut myself to excel the bad blood,

It’s all fun in Hell,

Fall down this wonder-well,

Hurry-up before it gets backed up.

I’ve lost my mind,

A search and rescue team,

They can’t find me,

Yeah, laugh it up!

Back when I was fighting for life,

It was frightening,

My personal war of Clash of the Titans.

It’s time to unbind the blind,

And just enjoy the ride.

 don't-stop-writing

I’m not coming down from this high, until I am grounded and surrounded by stars. An operated opened sternum sense of a nonsensical life, I have. My real name is Addict, I pour a bowl of Pill-pops, add my milk or vodka-shots and spoon my mouth what it needs. No more secrets, I am an opened book… I need help, I think. I have isolated all I love with my ice-cold heart. I am living a double life and people are fatigued trying to figure me out. How do I join the living again?

Welcome once again to my ribaldry! Sanctimoniously I dribble around what I truly need to deliver, but effusively I fumble my falsehood. I am a walking, writing blob of human but with a side dollop of insane lollop; you can be just like me. Still impecunious, but that is okay, one day I will dream and wake to a happy ever after. Perhaps I am impervious to a happier time? What I truly am in most eyes is an indemnifying writing object. I have a storm in my heart and love within my eyes; can’t I just touch the tip? Insatiable! I’m I accurately jejune to you?

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Goodbye – Duet by Just Patty and Alex Kennedy


Worldwide readers & writers, tonight we have a treat for you, myself and the legendary Just Patty shall be teaming back up to entertain you once more. With our poem “Goodbye” some of the best poetic writing within this post. I hope you enjoy reading just as much as I & just Patty enjoyed writing. LIKE & FOLLOW!

I highly recommend you check out her blog, if you haven’t already because Patty is an awesome writer!–> http://petitemagique.wordpress.com/

Enjoy this final part of our insanely long duet!

Patty, keep your pen busy!

Patty NEW PHOTO2014 Alex kennedy

 

Alex –> https://youngadultfictionblog.com/

Just Patty–>http://petitemagique.wordpress.com/

Goodbye

Duet by Just Patty and Alex Kennedy

I fall by my will and one day I know I will fall,

Caught by my cold-hearted chills,

I’m holding up a window to my soul.

Insomnia mixed with paper-cuts,

Is a formula drink unsafe to gulp,

Calm your nerves you save to cut,

Harm the world, you’ve gave enough,

My target is held and their grave is dug,

I’ve married in hell now we lay in blood,

The amount of times tragedy spellbinds,

My face has turned numb.

Demons in my heart,

Monsters in my eyes,

Feed them your body parts,

Until you’re lying there cross-eyed,

Write about your life,

It teaches you not to fall apart,

We know you don’t force these cries,

They’ve carted you a forestry of lies,

Penny for my thoughts means penny for my rhymes,

Plenty more from this entity with empty empathy,

Pointing the finger and death sentencing me,

If I pick up this pencil no one can eventually end me.

This is payback,

As if I owe you money,

I’m way past irony, it isn’t even funny.

Weather calls for extreme conditions,

The Heavens fall whilst we sit back and listen.

I’m holding my heart over you,

This is the moment of truth,

You’ve stolen my youth,

Now I’m too broken to view,

This picture of me,

I’m holding to you,

A splendid entry in dead-end eternity,

Suicide has in its hooks.

Good…

 

I fall against my will, but with broken wings

Deceived by my darkened heart

I’m holding up a barricade

No one gets in, no one gets out

Nightmares mixed with flashbacks

A poisonous gift from the past

Scream it out, I have had enough!

Sick of Life calling my bluff

I lived in Hell, it’s a peaceful place

Sometimes I can’t even remember my own name

My soul has turned numb

Darkness in my heart

Shadows in my eyes

Dreaming when I’m wide awake

Until you’re lying there all bleed out

Sing about your life

It teaches you not to give up

We know you force these goodbyes

And yet another loved one dies

A look inside my mind will destroy you

Devastating demons crawling through my brain

I can’t even remember the time I was sane

Don’t look at me, I will consume your soul

If Life is just a play, what’s your role?

You can keep all

Owe me nothing

Can you see the irony, don’t you think it’s funny?

Surviving calls for extreme measures

Hell will swallow all whilst we lay down and listen

I have nothing left to give you

Gave it my all

Now I am broken beyond repair

This picture of me

Is not even real

Delusional, optional, I think I will heal

But life was always in vain

Goodbye…

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My Chaotic Carvings


Chaotic logo

Chaotic logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I will no longer slave my thinking, a war upon sanity. Inflict hate when I elicit my illicit pen on all which are affectionate towards my bad black blood pump. One chance to rule this world, I am loosing myself within the moment of monumental moulded monsters I shall muster. No treatments I hand Earth, only disease ridden written miracles; I am mad for medicines. I refuse to stay sober, reuse my pain into reissuing myself another high. My instincts are primal but my guts are in knots, fight or flee?

Finally, I am taking a stand, staring at an ocean of people, a sea of waving hands greets me; I am looking upon my attackers. I was a sandwich sort of a picnic and lost myself in the woods, this is where I was hunted and haunted by these words and found this pen, just lying there, calling to me; now I unleash this pens inner anger character and release myself back into the wilds of vile.

I am dissociating myself from this plane of existence; it’s not meant for people such as me. Haven’t you ever seen a man floating from a page? Believe your eyes, I am omnipotent.

I have a heavy-duty headache, the voices want me to carve into my skull and wheedle out this worm, which sinks in its teeth into the little reality I grasp, so much so, I think I am going to die during sleepy-time. I’ve had enough; I am out of this world; point at the alien and be on your way. Systematically the darkman which lives within my mainframe flicked my self-destructive switch, so every swish is a wish or every scribble is literal, it’s quite simple, you should look past my dimples.

Kneel before my writing! I am singing to crazy, dancing frantically to the feared heartbeat you all own. Count your money, paint on your smiles; I know you are all scared of life. Panic on the streets, an army of psychopaths by my side, we’re coming for the Iron Throne. We come from the darkness to steal you light, I am my mother’s sun; she managed to raise hell in this house. My only cure now is not to dig my way out of reality but slash my way out from this page.

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This Pen Is a Monster; It’s The Only One That Gets me!


what-i-really-do-writer

This pen is a monster; it’s the only one that gets me!

I’m coming for it all, one last stand on every piece of paper, crumple it up and use them as bombs or make myself paper aeroplanes. Extremists, Haha! Please… I’m an extreme extremist; I eat terrorists as if they were bubble-gum, see what I did there? I just blew-up another one. Pop! I’ll be waiting here forever on these pages; a pen as my gravestone, a bunch of blunt pencils as flowers and a papier-mâché coffin.  I’m throwing sucker-punches at this page but this isn’t the bible, less holy! My life stinks, I can’t even afford to pay my water bill; I’m the stinky-kid. Help me, I’m a writer! What have I gotten myself involved in? I’m sick of this life; this must be the withdrawal from sanity. What can I do with this life except become a writer; there a light-bulb has just switched on, turn it off! This headache is getting worse. My words jump straight off the page, don’t they? Beware they could blind you.

Lit-Happens-Title

This whole big bad world has nothing on me, why do you think I peeled off my own skin? I wanted to become appealing to everyone. You cannot do what I do; you can only do what I cannot do, which is stop and fail. I’m now stabbing my eyes with my pen, so I can really see what I am writing for you. Can you see passed my words and see the light? Here, let me put this computer over your head. This is what I’m meant for; to me it’s as if I’m carving my name in cement. It’s that easy!

So throw all your pens up in the air, blacken out my Sun, no matter; I write in the darkness. Human emotion is my only kryptonite; it radiates through and clouds my vision, I just have to remember I’m not human. I live in this pen, I live in these words, now you have read me; I’m on your mind – my job is done. Don’t blame my mother; she did her best to raise Hell! From every litter you must have a runt, that’s me. I’m Mr. Brightside though; I must have rolled on my side on this hellfire. I could always count my blessings in life but I’m a writer, I don’t deal in numbers.

when you start getting resentful

I sleep with this pen every night; I think I have contracted ink-poisoning, it’s life-threatening with every word I scribble. Fame is in a frame on my mantle, I’m in love with her but she is too busy satisfying other people but I will be the love of her life, until we’re both dead! I bucking-bronco off all of my mental baggage, I’m sick of carrying all of the dirty laundry; they call me a pig-headed ass!

there is evil within us

Why are you asking me to leave? I don’t even live on this world. These aren’t words, they are only spasms I suffer with, so what exactly are you reading? That’s right, nothingness. Why are you here? You could be writing screenplays, you could be living your perfect life, you could be making money; don’t do what I’m doing, I’m doomed!

On a scale of one to five, in women’s eyes, I’m usually number 4. Why do you think I never step forward in this line up? I don’t want to be underrated. But I did it! It’s like a murder he wrote.

I burst into laughter every time I read my journal, my life is such a sick-joke it’s actually funny. I can’t talk to some people, I get more sense from talking to brick-walls, so I did that and they tried locking me up for that too.

A problem shared is a problem doubled, my words can be infectious. Does Alex live here? Sorry, his upstairs is vacant. This pen is a monster; it’s the only one that gets me. We’re all prisoners behind this mortar; I’m reaching through the brickwork to show you I’m still alive.

rejection

And as soon as my stars have aligned, you can then watch me as I shoot! Because I’ll be a Superstar.

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Excuse Me…. How Do You Write?


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

A day in a life of me, you ask?

What weird knowledge to acquire; each to their own. Some people want sex, others money but for people like you, knowledge is your power, and the power you gain will make you answer the dark questions that are scratching from under your skin; because in my world, we’re all insane, we’re all monsters and murderers; sanity is the illness and the world is just another pill ready for you to pop.

Now as I write, I am writing something that has never been written before, a style of writing that has never been attempted because no one has ever tried non-fiction-fiction. In layman’s terms, basically, my reality when fantasy comes knocking at my skull, an awake-daydream if you will.

This is where our paths pass on one another, you write in a 2D fashion and I don’t only think outside the box, I live there. I live in a place where the my monsters under the bed actually come out and literally try to drag me into the darkness to be gobbled-up.

You should write like children see! What?

I always think the best way to write is to write like a kid, because the way children view the world is sometimes very eerie.

“I love you so much I want to take you head with me in my bag, so I get to see you every time I want.” Thanks to my niece for being really lovely and sweet but also freaking me.

Their view is not harmful but can be classed as “Kind-of-out-there.” I am not saying write like. “The trees are brown, I was wearing black shoes and there were loads and loads of chocolates that fell from the sky.” But see the world in innocent eyes, WHAT IS IT TO YOU?

If I had lived in the medieval times and I came to the present-day and saw an army tank, how would I describe it?

“It was a mental elephant; undead with its dragged screech from its feet; spitting its exploding rocks, taking clumps of life from every structure. The head of the beast turns completely around and heads in for a formidable battle.”

See it like you have never seen it before; it brings the reader into your eyes. No one has ever told you this but most writers who give you information on creative writing from websites and blogs are holding back the major amounts of crucial detail you need because YOU ARE THE COMPETITION! They do not want you to succeed because it will mean less for them.

But I like a little anarchy and if you take on all my information on how to write and become a legend i your own right. That’s awesome. Forget the system, forget the rules.

Write what you love! Write what you need to! It cured me of mental illness. It could cure you of your sanity. So become something great today in words and shock the world with yourself.

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