"I spend most of my spare time sketching, less time story-writing, and a very
minimal time creating poetry. For me, the biggest reason why I've never paid much
attention to poetry is because young adults are prone to writing really bad poetry
(Or maybe thats just me). In fact, usually I don't even like it, exspecially when it comes
to my own! Poets and philosphers like Robert Frost, Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson
, MK Ghandhi, Anne Frank, and many others (Mostly trancendentalists) have
inspired me immensly. Learning about their history has made me more aware of
the good existing in all humanity and the unreputable power of individuality."
Dead-Head
Sit still, face front with a gaunt expression. Conform to the environment around. Pick them apart with a mental fork. Spit them out, a taste not to be swallowed. Sneer, rage, hate blindly � The people who are less than sheep. Share no predilections, cut them down! Red tides wash over a bare beach. The sand is white from grinded and grated bones. Followers who could only follow themselves. A fate suffered by many, their own kin couldn�t see the pain. Somewhere the dark angels fly, cutting themselves, cutting away what they hate. Bleeding profusely � Bleeding away the hurt, watch us die� Watch us take our own lives� Greedy, weak, childish, self centered, evil, disturbed, sickened, un-rational, stubborn. Names that stick and burrow. Maggots that silently consume the flesh. Cry your tears � we have cried more, for so many years the tears have turned solid. Our hearts stone. Tell them that you suffer � we suffered more, the weight was so burdening it pushed us six feet through the floor. Heart, lungs, brain, and soul have stopped at the beach with a red tide and white sand. We�re never coming back. So still, so peaceful we lay. Pale flesh and icy cold � A texture felt like rubber. We�re never coming back.
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