My art

[ixcrisxi]

Here's something I wrote a little while ago. It's probably the most personal I'm going to get with you guys. Just kidding... It is coherent with my moods at the time. I forget what exactly I was writing about... Oh well!

And I hate this. Yes, I'm loathing everything. There's nothing to hope for. There's nothing to wish for. I'm dying day by day. You're a folly worth saving but can I take all this? I'm so new inside my soul. My heart knows not when to let go of all the things I hold so dear. You are wonderful. Hard to imagine that you even love me as I am. Do I play a smaller role than what you like to tell? I'm so indescribably tempted to run away. I'm crying and dying so slowly, now. I'm falling on a downward spiral into the abyss of my own horrors. I hear so many tortured souls. Seems they know what all I know. What to do? What to do? I wish I could get away. I wish that there was some reprieve. I need a little break from a life of waste and haste. Why can't we all calm down? Wouldn't it be easier that way to just accept our faults? To just get on with life? To just get on with life? I know I can tread the stormy seas much longer than I do. And you can, too. And you can, too.
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Now that I think about it, this was written a while ago. Maybe six months or so ago. I think I was writing it about a friendship that just fell through. Given that it was the first year of high school, I lost a lot of friends. That's life...

[hazyshadeof]

I've always said those things personal are the things that show the best emotion when writing about them. You should keep on writing ix. More. You're much like I was when I was your age. Always putting your feelings/thoughts on paper.

Thank you for taking the time to read what I wrote eldee and ix. I appreciate it.

[ixcrisxi]

No problem, Hazy! It is my pleasure to read your writing! So, tell me about your book. I'm very interested in reading the finished product, someday!

Here's another piece for you. Not my poetry but just ranting, I suppose... I've added some wonderful smilies to liven it up, too!
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After all of that, I still sit here. I wonder what I can say - what I can do. I'm free. I've been set free. All over my body, I can feel a sensation. It is warmth. It is that prickling sensation you get before a darling surprise. I love him. I was so scared. I still am. My mind is at an unknown level of ease. My, my... How willingly love came to me. It guided me and still, I hesitated. Oh! I love every moment within the grasp of the arms that protect me. It is so heavenly. Alight, my heart is a fire that no longer flickers for him; it burns a blaze of eternity for him. I still can't believe it. I can't. I mean, what will happen in the years to come? People change... So does love. I'll never let him go. Never. I've finally found a person to be my companion, someone who understands me as I am (without prodding & poking). I am not so naïve. Life deals me the strangest hands - but still I gamble and I command. Life has been fickle to me. I still live on - only surviving for tomorrow, living for today.

[unexplained]

Hazy and ixcrisxi, Great work!! I've read the postings and I enjoyed it truly.

[unexplained]

A poem I co-wrote.

Enough?


I Love You
That's all I Know
Give me a clue
Is that all I need to show?

The Romeo says
It's a fume of sighs
Which I think is quite true
But secretly c'mon so do you

Fume of sighs it may be
Glorified by majority

Supposed to bring ecstasy
But grow up little child
Not to all can't you see?
Some think it vile

For it can hurt like nothing can
Leaving scars for another to mend
For some no one can
Some too deep,
For even a friend

Don't get caught up that's all I can say
For love is blind as far as I can see
Some get serious some just play
But it's all finding worthy

But that's just another dream...

[hazyshadeof]

For one of them rhyming things, that's not bad unexplained. Not bad at all.

Thanks for sharing!

[ixcrisxi]

I agree. ...

[eldee]

You folks are so talented! I never tire of reading something new here!

[hazyshadeof]

Why write? (the same can be said for those who paint, play music or do anything remotely artistic)

To escape. I lose myself in a world only I can create. It can be dreamlike, visually filled with bright colors and description. It can be a dark hellish nightmare I desperately seek to avoid. Usually, it is a reflection, not of how my life is going, but of how I am feeling. A mirror if you will, of the thoughts going through my mind. Only when I do this can I put up the barrier that prevents me from interacting with reality. This is my blanket of security. I feel safe. Comforted.

To dream. Like a movie, they all come true. I am rich, in love with the most beautiful of women, successful, happy and powerful. People love me for who I am and not what I am. Society copes with one another, lives with one another, no hatred or animosity exists, no division or derision is abound. Now, it is all possible. I can walk down the street and not have to watch my back. I can smile at someone and they won't automatically assume that I want something. Reality.

To learn. Nowhere else will I learn more about myself or others. Who am I? That question is answered, powerfully and concisely. The words I share tell others who I am, and what I am about. There is no escaping that. Even in fiction viewpoints and beliefs creep out. Try as one might to fight back the urge to reveal who they are, that is much like a dream, the one we write about. I am drawn to others, who can relate with my words, who understand in some way where I am coming from. Through their comprehension I come to know who they are. Knowledge.

To be free. I can say whatever I want. No one can tell me I am right or wrong. I am only what I want to be. I can tell the world views considered reprehensible, and if I tell it believably, then regardless of the subject matter I can be understood. That is freedom, the ability to say what you truly want to say, without fear, and be understood. Freedom.

To laugh. By sharing my cynical, sarcastic views I can laugh at the world and with them as well. I can hear the laughter of others as they read my words. No sound is sweeter than the sound of joyous laughter, genuine and reflective. Celebration.

To live. Without ideas and the ability to express them, I am dead. Writing is who I am, and what I am. I don't necessarily always do it well and I am aware of that. But I write, because with every word I am one step closer to truly living. Breathe.

Why write?

Why not.

[colby_d]

Well, y'all are all great writers, but I've done a few more pictures that I'd like to share: