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04-16-24 04:34 PM

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Poetry, not very good.
This is a collection of poems I wrote years ago on another social network.Each with their own title and header. Please let me know how you feel about them. Note: It's a bit lengthy.
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05-11-19 08:45 AM
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Poetry, not very good.

 

05-11-19 08:45 AM
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Ecstasy - A Trio of short notes from Derek Connors
Sapphire orbs in the fertile skies, crying tears of irregularity into the moon, her heart sings an eerie rythym, her ears burn with the sweet words, her mind is broken, her body scrambled like an egg, she has lost it all, where has she gone now, nobody knows, she is lost and afraid, in a hole, her senses wasted, her fingers tracing, her name.......is nature.



Sorrowful moons pass the skies on a night full of tears. Dying ears are called upon, lifeless eyes with no hope of sight. There is nothing left, the plains are barron and dead, so why are we still here? Because the one with "authority" said so, and if don't listen, then we're the bad man, so here's a thought, to hell with war, welcome back Freedom. This isn't even our country anymore.



Blood red empathy sheds her skin like scales of a fiery beast, under it all is a soft flesh, her dress is now on the floor. Even after, she is thrown to the bed, her screams are loud and loving. She screams in passion, but it's all an illusion. Her name is Lust. She doesn't really want you, she only wants herself, for her own pleasure. She will suck you dry, then break you down, for her own needs.


4 Minutes Past 11.
We've all been to the point where we've needed another person to talk to. But what happens when the world stops listening? And those you thought cared didn't? Welcome to the nightmare many face on a daily basis. Every day, suicide takes the life of thouands of innocent people because their cries for help weren't answered or listened to. We've all been to a point in our lives when we think it's the only way out. And to some, we never see it coming until it's too late. This is a story about a man who made that call.



Chapter 1: Midnight at Hand



It was getting closer to the dead of night. He couldn't sleep, as usual. All he could do was think about the one he loved, the one who had left him behind for another. It wasn't right for her to just walk away. He did nothing wrong but she would make sure that he suffered for the love he had given her. He did all he could. He tried pills, showering, and alcohol to get her off his mind so he could finally sleep, but it didn't help one bit. It only made things worse. He had nowhere to go from there. So he picked up his phone and called an old friend. They spoke for a short period of time about how he felt. It was at this point that he began to feel tired and shortly after they hung up, he fell to sleep. The next morning he felt so much better. And for a short period of time, he was happy.



Chapter 2: The Dead of Day



2 weeks passed. He had met someone else. She was the woman who sparked his interest all over again. He had all but forgotten that his once true love even so much as existed until he came home. Once he was home, he was packing his items and found an old photograph of him and his beloved exgirlfriend from ages ago. The photo had to be 6 months old. He couldn't control his tears. He spent the rest of his day in bed, in tears, because he missed her so badly. It was the worst night he'd had since 2 weeks ago. He didn't know what to do, so he tried desperatley to sleep, but with no luck. He repeated a common routine. Alcohol and pills until he passed out. When he finally woke up, he had been admitted to a hospital because he ended up overdosing on sleeping pills. He called one of his best friends and told her what happened, the same person he had called before, only this time....she didn't want to listen. She hung up on him and never answered again. The man plunged into a deep depression and spent the following days alone. He left his new girlfriend, destroyed the photographs of them together, and slept with a picture of his old girlfriend to try and feel like they were still together. And he slept in tears everything for almost a year.



Chapter 3: All Is Dead That Ends In Suffering



It had been almost a year after the man had been admitted to a hospital for overdosing on alcohol and sleeping pills. He was not the same person anymore. It was like he didn't care anymore. About himself, about his friends, about anybody but the girl he once loved. He was no longer able to control his emotions. He couldn't control anything anymore. He continuously ended up in trouble and could no longer handle life. It was becoming such a burden to live. He threw the picture of his exgirlfriend a wall. "This is your fault, you whore!" He shouted in pain as he tore the photo to bits and began to stab himself with broken glass. As he cried, he watched himself bleed as his neighbors pounded on the door frantically., trying to save him from insanity, but it was already too late. The man made his last decision. He took a piece of glass to his throat and made one clean slice across it. He bled to death and suffered no more. His exgirlfriend laid flowers on his grave with a note admitting that she still loved him, but was too afraid to tell him. She never wanted it to turn out like this, but said events could not have been stopped.



Let this be a lesson. Love is not worth killing yourself over. Somebody always cares about you, whether they show it or not. Suicide IS NOT the answer. Taking your own life for someone else IS NOT something to joke about. We all suffer, and we always will.

The world's least important loss
It was just one cold February night, like every other one of the years before, or was it? His hands were cold, he lay there motionless, resting peacefully for one in his life, he was at ease, he no longer suffered.



She was so young, so beautiful, 19 and gorgeous, from an Inuit village in Canada, her heritage was interesting, she was unlike the rest in every way, even the way she spoke seemed to be sexier then most women would, she had a really adorable accent. He quickly fell in love with her. They were together for a very long time and they were happy...........together. They seemed so perfect together, so much in common, coupled by so much different, it was a perfect mix. They loved eachother after the long relationship. It had been a while, the longest he was ever in. Sure, they split up every now and then but not for more then 2 weeks at a time, then they were right back together. And they were happy again.........together.



Life every relationship, something had to go wrong. They fought over the smallest things, insignificant and stupid things, which is why they always seemed to split up. He almost completely dropped her after he found out she cheated on him 3 times. They just couldn't keep it together. They tried but it always seemed to end just as quickly as it ended. She was always finding new ways to piss him off, just to try and get back with the ones she had been with before. He was always blamed for things he didn't do, he never lied, cheated, or hurt her. He wasn't that kind of guy. They couldn't be happy unless they were.......together.



It had been too much for him. His emotions were cold and broken. His heart had been turned to ice and his mind was shattered. He was no longer the man he used to be. He was suicidal and chaotic, self-destructive and insane. She had destroyed what he used to be and felt good about it. She knew it would end like this, because this is how she made it. There was no other way to fix it. He rested the barrel against his lips and closed them around it, his eyes were dim, closing carelessly as he wrapped his hand gently around the butt and his finger wrapped around the trigger.



3 seconds later everything was quiet, nothing but a bang and thud in a silent room that nobody dare go near. It took 3 days for them to find the body, which was accompanied by a note. It was short, sweet, to the point and very blunt. "When you see her again, tell her I love her."

(Just so you guys know, these really suck and I haven't written anything since.)
Ecstasy - A Trio of short notes from Derek Connors
Sapphire orbs in the fertile skies, crying tears of irregularity into the moon, her heart sings an eerie rythym, her ears burn with the sweet words, her mind is broken, her body scrambled like an egg, she has lost it all, where has she gone now, nobody knows, she is lost and afraid, in a hole, her senses wasted, her fingers tracing, her name.......is nature.



Sorrowful moons pass the skies on a night full of tears. Dying ears are called upon, lifeless eyes with no hope of sight. There is nothing left, the plains are barron and dead, so why are we still here? Because the one with "authority" said so, and if don't listen, then we're the bad man, so here's a thought, to hell with war, welcome back Freedom. This isn't even our country anymore.



Blood red empathy sheds her skin like scales of a fiery beast, under it all is a soft flesh, her dress is now on the floor. Even after, she is thrown to the bed, her screams are loud and loving. She screams in passion, but it's all an illusion. Her name is Lust. She doesn't really want you, she only wants herself, for her own pleasure. She will suck you dry, then break you down, for her own needs.


4 Minutes Past 11.
We've all been to the point where we've needed another person to talk to. But what happens when the world stops listening? And those you thought cared didn't? Welcome to the nightmare many face on a daily basis. Every day, suicide takes the life of thouands of innocent people because their cries for help weren't answered or listened to. We've all been to a point in our lives when we think it's the only way out. And to some, we never see it coming until it's too late. This is a story about a man who made that call.



Chapter 1: Midnight at Hand



It was getting closer to the dead of night. He couldn't sleep, as usual. All he could do was think about the one he loved, the one who had left him behind for another. It wasn't right for her to just walk away. He did nothing wrong but she would make sure that he suffered for the love he had given her. He did all he could. He tried pills, showering, and alcohol to get her off his mind so he could finally sleep, but it didn't help one bit. It only made things worse. He had nowhere to go from there. So he picked up his phone and called an old friend. They spoke for a short period of time about how he felt. It was at this point that he began to feel tired and shortly after they hung up, he fell to sleep. The next morning he felt so much better. And for a short period of time, he was happy.



Chapter 2: The Dead of Day



2 weeks passed. He had met someone else. She was the woman who sparked his interest all over again. He had all but forgotten that his once true love even so much as existed until he came home. Once he was home, he was packing his items and found an old photograph of him and his beloved exgirlfriend from ages ago. The photo had to be 6 months old. He couldn't control his tears. He spent the rest of his day in bed, in tears, because he missed her so badly. It was the worst night he'd had since 2 weeks ago. He didn't know what to do, so he tried desperatley to sleep, but with no luck. He repeated a common routine. Alcohol and pills until he passed out. When he finally woke up, he had been admitted to a hospital because he ended up overdosing on sleeping pills. He called one of his best friends and told her what happened, the same person he had called before, only this time....she didn't want to listen. She hung up on him and never answered again. The man plunged into a deep depression and spent the following days alone. He left his new girlfriend, destroyed the photographs of them together, and slept with a picture of his old girlfriend to try and feel like they were still together. And he slept in tears everything for almost a year.



Chapter 3: All Is Dead That Ends In Suffering



It had been almost a year after the man had been admitted to a hospital for overdosing on alcohol and sleeping pills. He was not the same person anymore. It was like he didn't care anymore. About himself, about his friends, about anybody but the girl he once loved. He was no longer able to control his emotions. He couldn't control anything anymore. He continuously ended up in trouble and could no longer handle life. It was becoming such a burden to live. He threw the picture of his exgirlfriend a wall. "This is your fault, you whore!" He shouted in pain as he tore the photo to bits and began to stab himself with broken glass. As he cried, he watched himself bleed as his neighbors pounded on the door frantically., trying to save him from insanity, but it was already too late. The man made his last decision. He took a piece of glass to his throat and made one clean slice across it. He bled to death and suffered no more. His exgirlfriend laid flowers on his grave with a note admitting that she still loved him, but was too afraid to tell him. She never wanted it to turn out like this, but said events could not have been stopped.



Let this be a lesson. Love is not worth killing yourself over. Somebody always cares about you, whether they show it or not. Suicide IS NOT the answer. Taking your own life for someone else IS NOT something to joke about. We all suffer, and we always will.

The world's least important loss
It was just one cold February night, like every other one of the years before, or was it? His hands were cold, he lay there motionless, resting peacefully for one in his life, he was at ease, he no longer suffered.



She was so young, so beautiful, 19 and gorgeous, from an Inuit village in Canada, her heritage was interesting, she was unlike the rest in every way, even the way she spoke seemed to be sexier then most women would, she had a really adorable accent. He quickly fell in love with her. They were together for a very long time and they were happy...........together. They seemed so perfect together, so much in common, coupled by so much different, it was a perfect mix. They loved eachother after the long relationship. It had been a while, the longest he was ever in. Sure, they split up every now and then but not for more then 2 weeks at a time, then they were right back together. And they were happy again.........together.



Life every relationship, something had to go wrong. They fought over the smallest things, insignificant and stupid things, which is why they always seemed to split up. He almost completely dropped her after he found out she cheated on him 3 times. They just couldn't keep it together. They tried but it always seemed to end just as quickly as it ended. She was always finding new ways to piss him off, just to try and get back with the ones she had been with before. He was always blamed for things he didn't do, he never lied, cheated, or hurt her. He wasn't that kind of guy. They couldn't be happy unless they were.......together.



It had been too much for him. His emotions were cold and broken. His heart had been turned to ice and his mind was shattered. He was no longer the man he used to be. He was suicidal and chaotic, self-destructive and insane. She had destroyed what he used to be and felt good about it. She knew it would end like this, because this is how she made it. There was no other way to fix it. He rested the barrel against his lips and closed them around it, his eyes were dim, closing carelessly as he wrapped his hand gently around the butt and his finger wrapped around the trigger.



3 seconds later everything was quiet, nothing but a bang and thud in a silent room that nobody dare go near. It took 3 days for them to find the body, which was accompanied by a note. It was short, sweet, to the point and very blunt. "When you see her again, tell her I love her."

(Just so you guys know, these really suck and I haven't written anything since.)
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05-12-19 01:40 PM
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I think it's good stuff. I certainly couldn't articulate a passage like this, definitely not for formal emotionally driven philosophy. In any case, I'd say it's a good start. I'm not sure exactly how you feel about writing in general, but unless you have other preoccupations, if you got back into writing you may end up even better the more you practice. I completely get it, when you become an artist for the first time and you start making things, then get a perspective for how good these things can be, you sort of lose that confidence. From my second hand point of view, what you think sucks, I think would get you applied to some kind of... poetry... organization? There are people who publish poetry right? Well, the point I'm getting across is to not focus on how you gauge your skill, but to just let your creativity flow for the sake of the experience.

Or maybe you just don't like writing in your free time anymore, that's fine too.
I think it's good stuff. I certainly couldn't articulate a passage like this, definitely not for formal emotionally driven philosophy. In any case, I'd say it's a good start. I'm not sure exactly how you feel about writing in general, but unless you have other preoccupations, if you got back into writing you may end up even better the more you practice. I completely get it, when you become an artist for the first time and you start making things, then get a perspective for how good these things can be, you sort of lose that confidence. From my second hand point of view, what you think sucks, I think would get you applied to some kind of... poetry... organization? There are people who publish poetry right? Well, the point I'm getting across is to not focus on how you gauge your skill, but to just let your creativity flow for the sake of the experience.

Or maybe you just don't like writing in your free time anymore, that's fine too.
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05-13-19 04:05 AM
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Mecha Leo : Yeah, like I said this is all really old stuff. 6 years old at least and I've had writer's block since then which is a real shame. I wish sometimes that I could write more but it's just not there, ya know?
Mecha Leo : Yeah, like I said this is all really old stuff. 6 years old at least and I've had writer's block since then which is a real shame. I wish sometimes that I could write more but it's just not there, ya know?
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05-13-19 04:33 PM
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I definitely feel you, it may take some time for a thought to propose some kind of artistic motivation, and even then, longer to compose something concrete. Some ideas may linger, being swirled around and modified over time. If it takes a really long time though, you may lose that spark or motivation. Guess it depends on the individual and their interests.
I definitely feel you, it may take some time for a thought to propose some kind of artistic motivation, and even then, longer to compose something concrete. Some ideas may linger, being swirled around and modified over time. If it takes a really long time though, you may lose that spark or motivation. Guess it depends on the individual and their interests.
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05-14-19 09:25 AM
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Mecha Leo : Honestly, I'm not sure if I even WANT to work on poetry anymore. I might get into it eventually but at the moment I don't have any inspiration. The Writer's Block has dulled enough to the point where I COULD write SOMETHING but I don't think it would be anything better than the rest of the items you see here.
Mecha Leo : Honestly, I'm not sure if I even WANT to work on poetry anymore. I might get into it eventually but at the moment I don't have any inspiration. The Writer's Block has dulled enough to the point where I COULD write SOMETHING but I don't think it would be anything better than the rest of the items you see here.
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01-11-20 02:35 PM
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It is a shame that you have been having writer's block but don't worry too much, it happens for most of us at one point of our lives or another. I hope that it ends for you soon though and also I really enjoyed reading all of them so I do hope that you will write more one day!
It is a shame that you have been having writer's block but don't worry too much, it happens for most of us at one point of our lives or another. I hope that it ends for you soon though and also I really enjoyed reading all of them so I do hope that you will write more one day!
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