' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ', ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ', ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' ,

It came in waves, beating on the rooftops .

the pain , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

the fear , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

the rage , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ', ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

It came in floods, tearing through the landscapes .

the blood , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

the sweat , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

the bile , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ', ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

It came in tides, pounding at the homefront

the loss , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

the gain, ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

the pride , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ', ' , ' , ' , '

' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ', ' , ' , '

' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ', '

' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

' , ' , ' , ' , ' , ' , '

#ItCameInWavesBeatingOntheRoofTops #Challenge

<font face="Helvetica" size="3" color="silver">01.22.2018</font>

<center>I <br>am <br>the <br>fool <br>standing <br>at the corner <br><br>{puddle}<br> <br>holding <br>the <br>balloon <br>that <br>reads <br><br>"forever" <br> <br>*

#Sadness #Challenge

<font face="Helvetica" size="3" color="silver">01.18.2018</font>

In every Ism a growing schism

yes, even in so-called Humanism...

a larva under the surface of skin

division nestling we know not when

not useful, unclean, seen beneath esteem

us of course being Equals in-a-dream

Man granting to It-self one dominion

propounding wisdom from beyond the sun

though hardly evolved from pupa at all...

our Systems fractured and destined to fall

#ChooseYourIsm #Challenge #Continuation

<font face="Helvetica" size="3" color="silver">01.17.2018</font>

O arbeit! arbeit!

at once the lifeblood

and the parasite—

the good mourning &

the Devil's goodnight

—as we lay ourselves

at the feet of our

impending defeat...

<font face="Helvetica" size="3" color="silver">01.12.2018</font>

1. I get nervous every time I'm about to publish a post.

2. My best writing comes when I don't care how people will react to it.

3. No matter how hard I try to write light and fluffy things, my stories always take twists and turns into the thriller/suspense genre.

4. I always edit with my mom's opinion in mind. She's extremely honest, and incredibly intelligent. So, I figure if I impress her, I'm not doing too shabby of a job.

5. Characters never come to me if I sit and try to think them out. They run across my mind when I'm doing random things like making my bed, changing a diaper or runnings errands.

6. I started blogging because Stephen King told me to. (No, not in person *sigh*. Through his memoir, "On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft". Which I consider one of the best references books out there).

7. I am extremely picky about endings. Nothing aggravates me more than an ending that seems rushed or is unsatisfying.

8. I typically associate one real person to my characters. Whether it's a mannerism, dress style, the way they talk, it doesn't matter, but it helps me bring them to life even more.

9. I still get a little uncomfortable when a character uses foul language. It was never ( and it still never) approved in my parents house, and I catch myself flinching if one of my characters has a foul mouth. Weird, I know.

10. My first novel (which is underway) was inspired by a single word prompt.

www.lexnoel.wordpress.com

An eclipsing purpose

Ignites resolve to fervor

Casting shadow tendrils

Trembling along the walls

Privy to secrets seeking

Abhorrent and admirable words

Alike, their surface shimmers

Synonymous to keener eyes

Now extends my ivory irises

Embracing the black pupil

All consuming, their vortexes

Digesting all for but a sentence

Just as no love persists long

Without sacrifice at its hand

So no craft will embody

Persistence without quarrels

I cradle this blaze knowingly

Disintegrating doubt's burdens

With eyes embroidered by violet

The sheets turn barren and cold

Black and white wings alike

Encircle this silhouette

Diffusing long after dusk

In the mud, tumult and havoc

Are budding allies of misery

For only in their presence

Can endurance unearth discovery

And die, though this might

To tomorrow's coming light

If only for this night

I am briefly ... alive

Turning plague and blight

Into secrets now sifting

Sincerity to keener eyes

A poetic battle of wits

Was what the reports said

Then he wished me well

Before he wished me dead!

Confident I remained

I refused to be intimidated or scared

"May the best poet win!"

Was what I declared!

This battle finally began

Starting on the Fourth-of-July

An appropriate date it seemed

I'm sure that you understand why

The poetic volley was started

As they both stood head-to-toes

A heated exchange of lines was heard

Reciting their cleverly aimed prose

A swipe from the left

A jab to the right

Poetic expressions

Showing their might

The verbal lashings were fierce

With fiery retorts in rhyme

As it seemed to each casual observer

That this battle could last a long time

For hours it seemed to endure

They raged throughout the night

Until the crack of dawn

Through the first glimpse of morning light

Still this poetic battle continued

Both voices hoarse now and sore

Until finally one poet seemed to stumble

Dropped to his knees on the floor

But even near defeat that poet

Refused to give in and concede

How long this would've continued

Before someone would intercede

Finally someone stepped in and said "Stop!"

"This verbal abuse must cease!"

The battling poets were silent

Exhausted, but finally at peace

This epoch battle of words was ended

But neither poet was truly disgraced

When the champion of poets was declared

The champion poet had been replaced!

(c) BAM

4:00 a.m.

and I just feel like laughing.

All alone in my room,

all alone in the dark.

And yet I sit here laughing,

truly happy from the heart.

The euphoria of being up so late,

when everyone is sleeping,

while I smile wide awake.

Who cares about waking up tomorrow?

How tired I'll be,

or that parking ticket fee.

For right now I'm on top of the world,

my heart is swelling up high.

With my hair lying flat,

perfectly uncurled,

I don't care what you think,

I'm just a teenage girl.

These moments where I'm truly myself.

These times where I don't pretend.

Not for my parents,

and not for my friends.

It's like looking at the world through a different lens.

No one to judge,

no one to care.

I think what I want,

and I'll say what I will.

For it's just me and my empty room,

with only my mouth to spill.

And so I'll whisper my secrets,

reveal all my lies.

I'll voice all my worries,

my dreams and my hopes,

and eventually,

time will fly.

And when the clock strikes 5,

I'll lay down and rest,

and reminisce

in

this

happiness.