Biography of Aaron Lynn
My name is Aaron Lynn, I am 18 years old and poetry is my greatest passion. Common themes in my poetry: Emotional distress, horror, social/political criticism. My greatest influences are mainly Poe and Dickinson. They both have a very natural sense of rhythm which I admire. I'm also heavily influenced by Michael Gira for his bizarre and abstract themes. My goal as a poet is to provoke thought and touch hearts.
Aaron Lynn's Works:
My poem 'Minor Breathing' appeared in The 2012 Student Writers of Indiana Anthology.
Aaron Lynn Poems
Addicted To The Search
There you stand again, Your lust for youth outweighs your guilt. You'll stack it up and watch it fall, Then turn away from all you've built.
All I've Done
I stare into the glass, I see no answers there. The frost has settled in Once again...
Candles In The Rain
If either of us truly cared As much as we both claimed,
Dispose Of Your Mind
Please dispose of your mind. Oh, please! Dispose of your mind! Gather it's contents and toss it aside. Don't worry! Dispose of your mind!
Fear Of Death
Perhaps you feel as I do, But empathy clouds no one's fate. It's cold hands will smother us all, Regardless of alliance or faith.
There is no tyrant quite like feeling. A bondage that cannot be released.
I Feel A Power
I've seen the sun rise. I've witnessed it's fall. From the frigid to the scalding. I can't pinpoint whats beyond.
Dragged beneath the earth, Looking coldly at the sky. The brainless ones alter their limbs While feasting on their minds.
From Nadir to Zenith
At the zenith of my being, I can see a light ahead. Illumination slowly rises From underworlds of pain and dread.
Salt on the Lips -new-
As floating debris Across the span of the vast Within the primordial womb Our throats, as a whole, would be open
Look into these mirrors. What do you behold?
To His Defense
To his defense, I understand the problem that is at hand. To his defense, I understand the turmoil behind all of this.
Not For Them
Beware the surrounding beasts. They'll consume you, remain descrete. Luring you in with misleading lines. No one will hear your pitiful cries.
Embody me, my majesty. Strengthen these delicate veins. For morbidity, for the holy. For the innocents that were slain.
Yet, dripping with growth.
Give me no mercy, once again.
That wretched time.
Away from myself.
Fountain of lies.
That oddity awoken.
A part of me, then, died.
Replacing certainty with unknown plans.
The fear eternally alive.