I'm going to try something different yet again, since I'm not getting much feedback on my other pieces.  Who knows, maybe if I keep posting, this place will liven up some more!

So I'm going to post a piece that's from my personal past.  It's something I wrote while in  highly emotional state, and I wrote it three years ago.  I remember I was in a rush, hence it's shortness.

But I think it's a good example of impacted quality.  (In other words, it may be short, but the words are strong enough to make it meaningful and a good read.)

Then again, I might just be slightly biased since I know the story behind the words.

"July 10th, 2009 
You'd think that 23 years meant more than that.  Meant more than oily words spilled over a keyboard and 2,000 miles.  More than pretty pixels and five broken hearts.  The bastard! 

I know they say the truth ain't pretty, but what do you do when a whole childhood slaps you in the face.  Round one and the knock-out is fatal.  Like a bullet ant stinging you in the heart and you can only hope the world is getting its laughs by playing some kind of sick joke on you. 

The worst thing is that you never see it coming, and yet you always knew it would.  Denial and realization mixed in a vial of memories and happy days.  Of course the doctor knew the vial was fragile.  Among the shattered glass is putrid hate, ill feelings, and punches never taken back.  They may have lived in one house, but that hellhole house was torn into two different worlds galaxies apart. 

Still, you'd think 23 years meant more...more than this."

Singelli : That was deep… I don’t know why you haven’t been getting feedback because you’re good. If you ever want feedback please let me know.

You should turn that into a song, and put it on youtube.

bvd1002:  Wow really?  Thanks! I wasn't expecting something quite so positive once I tried to read it from an outsider's perspective.  LOL  should I post more things like this then? I have several poems and short stories (a few of which I've posted here), but maybe I should post little blurbs like this?

pokedude38 :  That just sounds odd.  LOL  Besides, I can't sing or put music together, or even put things on youtube...

Singelli : It really was. I’ve been writing for years and I will say there is no critic that is worse than I am on myself. I still try to do as much polishing as I can when I am writing. This year hasn’t been as it normally is due to computer trouble and being unsure about where I am in regard to my work. (It’s a struggle just to get paid and thus it has been a struggle for me.) I have also been through much stress and expense in regard to my writing and I wonder sometimes if it’s worth it to keep going as in this is what I do for my vocation and such. I do love writing and thank God for it because once I realized and accepted it as the gift that it was I devoted myself to it. I am convinced that writing was one of the things that helped me straighten out even though I wrote on and off during my teens. As you can probably tell I express myself in my writing and for me it is a therapeutic thing. I wonder sometimes how bad things would have been (and they were bad) had I not had my writing.

I am a reclusive person by nature and as I have gotten older I have come to appreciate the concept of living quietly, writing and, just doing what I need to do and avoiding being irresponsible and such. I guess it’s part of the maturing process but I do wish that I had that mindset when I was screwing up. It probably would have made things easier on me in the long run.

Keep at it and I’ll read whatever you write and offer feedback if you want. I especially liked the Boxing reference.

Withdrawn.
I don't know why I posted that here.

nice. oh yeah i have been thinking of making a jornal too ! but i dont know what to put in it.

Singelli : I like this one. The way I read it, it's as if a person has lived their entire life as a "good person," fixing all of their problems in their lives and trying to do what's right. But the dirty feeling, to me, is the realization that there is still something out of place, something missing. And to me, that would be Jesus.

And I'm not saying that you're missing Jesus or anything. I'm saying that the sentiment of the poem reflects the absence of what really matters, and the superficial excesses, what's been "cleaned," really does nothing to change the feeling of the filth and muck that plagues us in this world.

I also want to commend you on the "Spick, Span, Sparkle" line. I think it did wonders for the flow of the poem, setting the stage for the perfect clinching line.

Good work! I'm not a big poetry person, but I can appreciate a good work when I see one. Keep on writing; don't let a lack of feedback keep you from showing off your talents and really devoting yourself to your creative side. As another user said, we are our own biggest critics, and sometimes that keeps us from going out and putting ourselves at there. The leap was worth it in your case, I would say!

Sometimes words escape me.
They sit there on my tongue.. heavy... burning... aching.
I can feel their eagerness to depart from my trembling lips.
Words I shouldn't say?
Or words that need to be spoken?
Only they know, and they're secret is kept from me.
The tickle my tongue and cause my throat to swell.
Even my eyes feel the pressure.
But right as those words start to make that trip...
I try to swallow them back.
They wrestle with my tongue
... tossing their weight around.... 
Twisting,
Turning,
Taunting.
But by the time they escape, their exhaustion has muted them.
And even I know not what they wanted to say.



-------
The tongue is dirty and cheap.
Quick talk and trick shots roll from its gloating surface.
"Use it, use it," they all urge me.
But whatever for?
So I can have the same turned on me?
So I can feel dirty and cheap, like a common her?
So I can quit denying what I know and live a life less hopeful?
Hold it back, bite it down, tame its sting.
This is what I keep telling myself.
Hold it back, and the rest will be held back.
Holding.

Holding...


--------------
Emptiness.
I feel it crawling upwards from the sole of my feet and up into the roots of my hair.
I feel it seeping through every cell, permeating even my hard heart.
It creeps around and giggles at me.
But it's the empty laughter that haunts my ears and makes me doubt my sanity.
Is it me?  Or is it the other?
Am I lying to myself to make that emptiness feel like... something?
More and more, I begin to think it's me.
I KNOW it's me.
Full of emptiness, and because I enable the feeling.
Why is emptiness so painful?

I just wanted to remind you.....

I wanted to remind you of the promises you made, the secrets you've kept....
The health you've let fade, and the nights that I've wept.
The heart that you've broken, the pride that you've bruised,
The life that you've taken, twisted, and used.

The glass you've shattered and spread 'neath our feet,
The words that I've swallowed to keep things 'neat'.
The names you've used, the things you've said you would start,
The pressure, pain, and heat on my heart.

I'd like to remind you....

I'd like to remind you that those things.. they hurt.
They bring me down, and make me feel like dirt.
I don't want to come home and again see the neglect,
Of house and home and bills we collect.
Of pets and tables and cabinets so bare,
Hearts and emotions and words gone unaware.

I'm tender and gentle.... can I admit those few things?
Or shall I doubt them and hate them, and hold to the sting?
The sting that perhaps, I'm really to blame
That I've discouraged and crumpled and destroyed and made lame?
That I've taken someone wonderful... marred their surface
With pits and scratches and hateful disservice?

Am I at fault, for what we have become?
Which is the lie to which I succumb?



(disclaimer: This is not about me.  Just a poem about feelings.)

Since when have you had a journal / blog thingy ma bobber? And since when have you done poetry? I have never noticed you doing any before? Maybe it is because I have been so busy with work that I just find threads that I can post in, and post in there where staying on topic, but I could be wrong.

~Aloha.