Treasure Island

Freeform Workshop

Post a message
  • Blood Red Angel (9/8/2006 1:01:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    i hope that yall will enjoy this


    I am my own worst enemy,
    a dark angel strumming my own death's chords
    Helpless against a steady self-destruction.
    Stabbing myself viciously with my self-deceiving swords:
    my words.

    I am the antagonist in my own life story.
    I hold the ropes that choke the life from me.
    I am the killer stalking in my shadows.
    I am the evil that only I cannot see.

    I am the manic depressive
    hidden behind my mannequin grin.
    I am the darkness that thrives on isolation.
    I am the end of what I never begin.

    I am the only one who cannot predict my fate,
    Crawling deeper into my tortured fear's lair.
    Grieving for an empty soul too far gone to save.
    Living only to reach the one thing I crave:
    my grave.

    I am the monster hiding under my bed.
    I am the nightmare lurking inside my head.
    I am the chill that runs down my own spine.
    Whose murderous grasp won't I escape in time?

    I am the murdering mastermind.
    I hold the chains that take my last breath.
    I end my life when I have no hope left.

    Replies for this message:
    • Radio Head (9/27/2006 6:28:00 AM) Post reply

      how very bleak and dreary. I know sometimes it feels good to feel sorry for yourself but this sounds more like a cry for help than a poem.

  • David Gerardino (8/25/2006 10:58:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    what comes first, bipoler or art, or both, i wonder how many poets on this sight write when it hitz, kinda like a push, or kick, good or bad, itz your ride, or some times rides, i call this THE FITZROY RIDE, IF YOUR ONE OF THEM, LET ME KNOW......

    Replies for this message:
    • Mary X (9/6/2006 11:48:00 AM) Post reply

      This is an interesting post. Bipolar can BE art.

  • Lisa Marie Mcmillion-jones (8/6/2006 2:10:00 PM) Post reply | Read 3 replies

    Hello again is this a confusion through your thoughts or is it and intelligent method of explaining your self then what is the problem? Can it be fixed and adjusted to suite everyone's taste in thoughts or is it just going to continue to be consider a race issue. Is the pattern considered jelousy or is it consider evey? What about your emotions that direct your thoughts so what is the psychical means of your intelligence that can be consider what may I ask or is it a riddle type of controls that adjust the thoughts of your personal emotional out puts as a selfish child or is it because you are wanting your own childish ways or is it not because you are racist? So why have you not shown for real the face in view of your own figure. My own music my own words of expressed vision. Is it a pattern of cycle that continue to ryme while others are just revealing not a thought for passion or is it because you have to be the way that you are? Can you get better and can others be left out of the picture or is that a secene again with a movie. Vision the thoughts of an inspired profound judgement that controls the movies in your thoughts or is it in my thought. Lisa

    Replies for this message:
    • Aldo Kraas (2/10/2007 9:04:00 PM) Post reply

      I found this very confusing When I read it Some could thhink that you are insulting than Some may think that you think that others are racist? It is not a good poem sorry This doesn't sound to ... more

    • Kelly Gemmill (10/30/2006 11:44:00 PM) Post reply

      this is a 'workshop' so i'm assuming you put this up to be commented on. I don't think this is a poem. It's not because it's written in prose form, either, because I've seen poems work that way. Th ... more

    • Radio Head (9/27/2006 6:35:00 AM) Post reply

      I like this freestyle a lot. Very fluid thoughts that got me thinking.

  • Lisa Marie Mcmillion-jones (8/6/2006 2:00:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    So, I am different what of it and if that is not what I am stating then what about the black darkness of my skin through hispanic culture? Whom is the judger of my personal backgrounds any ways so are you god then whom are you and why do you care so much about my backgrounds that you control my life with religion. So whom is not knowing the true light of religion then. That can be what ever they are wanting to master in so whom gives you the right to be racist of a persons thoughts for their color of their skin? So, why do you exist within this life time and how come you have no color? Is it because that is what god say or is it because you were born that way, which is it your thoughts or mine throughout the disecions of whom may I ask? Lisa

    Replies for this message:

    To read all of 1 replies click here
  • Lisa Marie Mcmillion-jones (8/6/2006 1:54:00 PM) Post reply

    What is a thought that governs the ability to adjust to reasons of communications that don't show, but is just a blurred vision of expressed opinions that gather nothing but the amount of confusion that is not in existants with the ability to forsee the new days of views and thoughts that arrive for the views of most opinion when you are not present but keep visioning some other person in the mist. Lisa

  • Neil Gray (6/5/2006 5:07:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    Never understood why people feel the need to make poetry rhyme.
    Seems to restricting to me.
    But each to there own.
    For me free-form is the only way.

    Replies for this message:
    • Radio Head (9/27/2006 6:41:00 AM) Post reply

      Its not a statement jessica, it's a poem. clever

    • Jessica Clark (6/29/2006 7:16:00 PM) Post reply

      I absolutely agree. I find when I try to start rhyming in my work that I restrict the language I use as well as the imagery I am trying to convey. It seems tethering.

  • Blood Red Angel (5/11/2006 1:28:00 PM) Post reply | Read 3 replies

    hey i just found this today and im new at writing free form

    its madness inside my mind
    its dark and i cant see the edge
    i dont know were to go
    or from where i came

    the pits of hell seem nice
    ive fallen over the edge
    into rambling
    i am insane lost and blundering
    everything is changing

    why do you look at me that way
    you all tend to stare
    and talk and whisper
    its madness the place i am in
    if you could see inside my mind
    if you could see the darkness
    that i created to escape the stares and haunting whispers
    with the evil glares you would run

    you would scream
    its madness
    in the darkness
    and its calling your name
    come and play
    with me inside the madness
    of this mind

    its taunting you the way you all have taunted me
    for the way i am
    you drove me to the darkness
    then came the madness
    and you wonder why i am that way
    now you know
    and its your turn

    the darkness is calling
    and its screaming your name

    by: blood red angel

    Replies for this message:
    • Jessica Clark (6/29/2006 7:24:00 PM) Post reply

      This seems to portray the isolated emotional state that young adults can struggle with very well. Although some of the imagery was strong I found the narrator of the poem hard to finger- a homeless in ... more

    • Teresa Miggs (6/5/2006 8:19:00 PM) Post reply

      I like it.

    • Mary-Elizabeth Conn (5/14/2006 4:02:00 AM) Post reply

      That's really cool in a gothic/emo kinda way. :)

  • Heather Spaulding (4/21/2006 12:21:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Hey, I'm new here, this is my first poem. Hope you like it.

    Let's depend on each other
    just like psychologists say not to
    you can be my
    cause and effect
    my deep affection
    pursuant persuasion
    my vital piece of

    Replies for this message:
    • Jessica Clark (6/29/2006 7:26:00 PM) Post reply

      Oooooh. I like this. Very nice. The co-dependancy of strong affection and love. The healthy unhealthy. Fantastic.

  • stan pelfrey (4/12/2006 4:43:00 AM) Post reply

    Hi everyone.
    I signed up here quite a while back and kinda forgot I did until recently, sorry. I really enjoy everyone's work on here, and look forward to, as I come by more regularly, getting to know some of you. *cheers*
    Thanks to everyone who has read and voted on my stuff,

  • Seshendra Sharma (2/24/2006 3:54:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    The dim darkness-the diffused light-dimness of one merging into the other-
    imparting more length to the long trees that are standing like stretched out
    shadows wearing stars in their hair- silence is imparting more depth to the darkness
    in this advaita where darkness is merged into silence, my mind wakes up,
    now not only sound but even a ray of light is a violent disturbance to the proundness
    of peace- in such moments deep truths unveil themselves-
    now I realise it is not sound but in silence melody lives-

    I am born out of flowers and silences- while passing my hand brushed against a flower,
    I asked 'are you bruised? ' 'Me or you' smiling, the flower questioned back- the heart
    of my pen broke and split blood; - I do not know which paper can bear this pen-

    In the gigantic silences of forests, which touch the blue skies, the carpenter bird pecks
    at the trunks of great trees which echo, far reaching sounds-
    what can he do among the tiny crotons?

    I ate days like fruits-now I eat drops of tears like grapes-frightened by the sun
    took refuge under shades-sitting on the pavement eating dreams from eyes like ice cream
    with spoons- measuring my life with dark evenings- I distributed my wealth
    once with metres, now I scatter with handfuls my future
    letting it fly in all directions-

    I washed my heart in tears and dried it over poetry- walked past
    wearing people on my body like shawls-
    in the assemblies of flames; in countries abroad I raised my gypsy voice
    and sang mixing earth and sky-
    this country is the graveyard of my genius- however fast I walk
    the distance remains the same. This land is thirsty for my blood,
    it is snoring in the little shades of pigmy trees-
    I picked my pen and dipped it in the sun
    to write a summer song for my nation-

    -Seshendra Sharma

    Replies for this message:
    • Aldo Kraas (2/10/2007 9:11:00 PM) Post reply

      Congratulations Your poem is wonderful It is music to my years And it is joy to my heart

[Hata Bildir]