Miss
Do you miss me sometimes?
Because sometimes I miss you.
Whenever I'm alone
or find myself in a dark room.
My mind travels back to us,
Back to the days shared
and the days lost.
They say you never know what you have until it's gone.
I never thought they'd be right.
I was so selfish.
I was so stupid.
You were so sneaky.
We were kids.
We jumped at the chance to fall.
To let the warm water rush over our heads.
To see how long we could hold our breath.
Sooner or later the water cools.
Sooner or later we have to breathe.
I got chills when the water turned cold.
I wanted out.
You stayed.
You begged me to stay.
You said you could make the water warm again.
I dried off.
There's no point in staying in cold water alone.
So you found warmer waters.
Across the country.
I'll always have the memory of swimming with you.
I'll always miss you sometimes.
And sometimes, I hope you'll miss me too.
Shop the Competition
"Shop the Competition," is a business term used to describe a method of learning what your rival does better. Reading enables a writer to recognize good and bad writing regardless of the genre he or she chooses to write.
Good writers broaden their horizons reading. They read everyday and anything they can get their hands on, newspapers, magazines, comic books, classic novels, anything in print or online. Writers plunge themselves in words.
Submerse yourself in Pulitzer Prize, New York Times, National Book Award books. Be bold, if a Nobel Peace Prize Winner for Literature appears in an English translation, read it. Follow the authors your audience reads. Expand your reading genres to spark your creativity and enhance your writing ability.
Reading what you write helps you learn more about your audience. It builds an inventory of good and bad writing. Exploring other writers in your writing genre sometimes reveals concepts and ideas you thought unique.
Choose books from the New York Times bestsellers (100,000+ copies sold). Extract what the public perceives as a good book. Wander through every book like an editor and a consumer. Discover how the author triggered your emotions and maintained your attention. Make note of the writing’s quality.
Writing is a skill, but a writer's output is artistic. Every piece of art compares itself with previous masterpieces. Writers need to shop the competition and read.
“If you don’t have time to read,
you don’t have the time (or the tools)to write.
Simple as that.” -Stephen King
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Chose
I chose to sit here
I chose to be here
Why would I choose this
Why would I do this?
I chose to be me
I chose to be free
Why would I live this
Why would I survive?
You chose to live life
You chose to live free
Why would you do this
Why would you believe?
You chose to hold on
You chose to keep on
Why would you prevail
Why would you succeed?
I chose to not let go
I chose to hold on tight
Why wouldn't I choose to give up
Why wouldn't I choose to fall deep?
I chose to not wonder
I chose to not be bound
Why wouldn't I be the real me
Why wouldn't I be the free me?
You chose to not murder
You chose to not give in
Why wouldn't you choose to fall
Why wouldn't you choose freedom?
You chose to not conquer
You chose to not battle
Why wouldn't you battle it, why
Why wouldn't you stay here with me?
I get it
It was a losing battle
You were not meant to win
Not meant to survive that long
So I get that you laid down your sword
I get it.
Cup-men
The lid peels away
Exposing the dehydrated noodles
And all the sodium-filled flavoring
The steam rises
From the scorching waters
And the smell stimulates my taste buds
The wait begins
Three minutes, maybe more
And meanwhile I write this piece
The cup-men tastes delicious
I feel the unhealthyness circulating
But I can't resist the hunger, so I eat
On the ledge
I do want to take a sip
To be under great physic
The attraction makes me sick
I have plundered my regrets
Far from heaven, I defect
Yet I want more, never the less
As I ran, quick, to her stead
Breathing faster than a jet
She was missing, not there
The relief that came in next
Was enough to shoo my flare
How easy I slip, I fear.
Cheesy Poetry From a Cheesy Heart
I have visited you more times in my mind
Than in real life.
I vividly remember my surprise
When I realized you were in my homeroom
After spotting you in my history class.
Your smile and friendliness demanded
that I come closer;
Attracting me like a magnet.
You awakened the butterflies in my tummy
Without my tendency of killing them.
I could fill a photo album with your waves
And soft smiles.
My greatest fear is also my greatest desire;
That your heart discovers my heart’s
Secret frequency and finds
That it likes its music.
You will always be my hello
But never my goodbye.
Prism
A ghost in my room
Its shadow glows anew
He boasts with my shoes
Terror solemnly starts to build
Mr ghost, stop being nude
Put a face to your dew
Scare my thoughts as they glew
I declare, says the dude
Your shadow rainbow pukes
like chameleon, pink to blue
Keratin asleep, stood
My skin important muse
Do the latter beat it goons
as they scatter bits to broom
Who delivers? Who is wooed?
Do the brothers share their ruins
Are they strangers as the news
pricked the audience to be loose
I for one, toast to the feud
Ghost and shadow in my room
The body, projected doom
two entities, dragged and used
I Stand Outside on a Cold January Night
I stand outside
On a cold January night
Beneath the infinite void
Of the Great Beyond.
In an age
Full of light
When the light leaves the sky
It rises in the land.
But on this night
I stand outside
With no lights around
And I see
The Sky.
A sky I have not seen in years
Speckled with light
As if an angry painter
Had splattered white paint
Upon a jet black canvas.
Here I am on this night
I stand outside
Unable to see anywhere but above
With only a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts
To shield my body from the cold winds.
But I do not care
If I freeze tonight
And catch hypothermia
Because it will be well worth it
To see a sight I have longed to see.
As the night trudges on
I stand here outside
And as the city bustles around me
I am unaware of what is around me
As I gaze up at the sky.
With no one around me but me
I can behold a scene only for me
And so I shut out everything else
And indulge in the abyssal beauty.
Because as I am alone
I stand outside
On this cold January night
Beneath the infinite void
Of the Great Beyond
And I could stay here for infinity.