Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → The Words and Workings of Wolf

Cruel winter wind you seek me out in jest
If only, in joy, to tear horendously into my mortal coil
Ah...how the bite of your teeth do sting
Driving all thought and feeling from my flesh.
Leaving naught but the numb sensation of defeat.
Rendering me a vesel of mere dumb mumbling.
Deaf and mute to all passions save the pain you drive into me
And you would call this a masterpiece of achievement.
This you would call your sole purpose.
Fie on purpose! Fie on your self interested ways
That leave nothing but ashes and dust behind.
Bare bones stripped of all warmth from their living shells.
Oh cruel you are indeed; minion of Friil.

All the while you stalk the north ceaselessly.
Lying the homesteads bare and burnt by your dread chill.
Dust only to be swept cleanly away by your unsubtle hand. In turn it leaves a frightening subtlety in it's wake.
And this I shall cannot abide. Nor, I suspect, shall others.
For to abide such a thing is to accept it as truth.
And how can a man accept that which he does not understand?
Understanding is meant for those above such mortality.
Frail though we are.

But it is with us that gods play their games.
Tripping men within wired webs,
Only so that men may stumble heedlessly onward.
Delluded in his belief that it is he that chooses the path walked.
Not the unseen hand that lacks all sympathy. While men
Lack all comprehension. Such a sad world in which we live.
In which men are naught but the tools of cruel masters
Who regard us as naught but livestock. Meanwhile
Fire rages against the winters bitter chill!
The fires of war that bring naught but death to the land.
Kings and Emperors flock to the call. Moths to a flame!
Ah twisted comparison that is so apt for the two. So apt indeed!

But, lo! There is a glimmer upon which I would rest
All hope that I, out of misplaced conceit, have left to my heart.
That these words be read, and, read true. For they do impart
A most bitter truth: That all machinations of gods and men
Lie bare upon the tip of a sword, or ink filled pen.

I AM GONNA EAT YOUR BRAINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Cause I'm a zombie. ;P
But no for real, this was just a repost of other stuff. WE NEED SOMETHING NEW BUD.

>.> very clever

WE NEED SOMETHING NEW BUD.

Yes i'm aware I've been reposting the same poem over. I just wanted the finished product up here. You can nit pick something else, when I write it, when I am not running on 3 hours of sleep

Oh suck it up fewl.
It is when you are tired as hell, that the poetry is high-larious.

I was just joking, really. I don't mind it, really. I'm not one to complain about not having any new poems from you.

Well I do. So shush.

I've got nothing

Forgetfullness

Forgetfulness is so sweet to dream upon.
One day it will consume you;
Leaving me a hollow image,
A ghost of a ghost.
Old and tattered beyond reach.
A ghost of times
I thought so sweet,
Now, grown stale with age.
If you chance upon me once more
Within your hall of memory
Remember I am but the fool
Who loved you
For reasons only I knew.

I like. But this is not the dish I ordered.
WAITER!!!!

Apathy.
Drifts beneath my skin.
Crawling.
So hidouesly seductive.
Escape.
This world of hateful fears.
Forget.
The reasons to care.
Lock.
Away the feelings.
Because.
There's no much pain.

To My Readers

To those readers who have stayed with my work on this thread I thank you. I am currently struggling to cope and gain a handle on my depression. Because of this all my writing will be suspended until further notice. This thread will remain open because I still wish to receive your comments. Should you have any concerns please post on my profile though I may not respond immediately or often I will try my best. Thank you.

The Writer,
Tyler Kent

I will certainly miss your works. Despite not commenting each one, I read all of them thoroughly.
I wish you luck in your struggle (though I know success will come no matter.

No.

It's the all time lows, the short ride of the highs. You write it out, you understand. You 'cope'.

You want to receive our comments? About what? Nothing new, this will die. Mr. Kent, Do you want to learn it the hard way? If you do, I will leave you to it.

I have never been a man short on words, and of consequence, opinions. I have formed opinions on everything and anything that has the misfortune to pique my attention, be it my interst or ire. I form opinions based on my own understanding of knowledge of the subject, and strive to refrain for voicing ignorant opinions. Some one say they strive not to voice unbiased opinions as well, but such a thing is impossible, for in speaking out against a bias, you have created a bias against bias. No matter the thought or deed we create our own bias, even if we wish not to.
It seems redundant to say all this, because I have said it all before in a different manner. From my senseless ramblings to my cynical poetry, or the occasional short story where I lead the reader into the mind of a sarcastic and bitter character more reflective of me than I wish to admit. To speak out against ignorance is akin to speaking out against gravity; no matter how much you say, and no matter how you say it ignorance will still exist. It grows ever more wearisome to speak like this, to impart these words on this page. How could it not? While guilt and regret are the only feelings that at once sustain me and deprive my life.
Burdens. Everyone has their burdens, and I will not presume that mine are heavier than anyone else's, for that is ignorant beyond comprehension. Though, I will not bow to modesty in this and claim my own burdens weigh nothing. No, they are indeed heavy, having been born of my own guilt and regret for all the times I believe I have failed. To only be topped by my feeling of estrangement and the resentment and bitterness that springs from such emotions. The feeling that I do not belong, have never belonged and will not belong. How can I not be cynical? How can I not express bitterness in such a regard? And yet, I only wish for peace, for these feelings to be laid to rest. I formulate on how these things could be done, and I ask, everyday, to take me back, to one moment in particular, and to change my answer to a question a friend asked me. Instead of saying "No," I would say "Yes,". Perhaps then my soul would find the peace I seek.