Biography of James Grayson
Im James and im 21, from Manchester, England. I like alot of things, writing is one of them. i like exersise, i do weights n boxing. I have bin thru alot realy, read my poems n you'll sort of see what. Ive been locked up in a mental ward, my own fault tho. When I was younger I did alot of drugs and thats what caused it. That was about 2years ago n im only just gettin back together realy, its been hard coping with everythin. Dont get me wrong tho, at the moment im realy happy, my girlfreind has realy helped me, n i realy help her. I love writing, i'll write anything i can think of. most of my is in my books, n ive got loads of it, but u'll get the new stuff mostly. Every now n then i'll put the older stuff on, one by one so i dont giv 2 much away lol. I hope you enjoy, my things about my life are true and come frm life expeiriances. Enjoy.
James Grayson's Works:
lol no... not yet anyway
James Grayson Poems
“slow Down, Sir”
When’s my time up? I do not know. But I refuse to move With the worlds fast flow.
To see the smile on Her Face, Means more to me than Gold.
Essence Of Time
Awake and arise, breathe the Essence of Time Awake and arise, breathe the Essence of Time Bare this in mind, today may be your last so Awake and arise, breathe the Essence of Time
A Hard Lesson Learnt
Last night a lesson was learnt, And it just goes to show, It doesnt matter who you are, Or even who you know.
When Death Is Near
I am dying. I can feel him breathing Down the back of my neck. I do not waste time crying,
Once again a years past by, I’m so fragile yet I haven’t died. Death has smiled upon my face, Allowed me to breath and given me space.
Made Of Iron
I am a solid iron bar and I stand proud and tall. People come from afar To try and make me fall.
I Am Free
For the moment I am free. More so as I Quicken my pace.
Bobs Bad Day (May Be Found Offensive)
I’ll tell you a story of a man who was coy. Bob was his name and was practically a boy. Thin was his structure and pale was his skin, Only had half a b*llock so he never had kin.
I’m sick of life I’m sick of its ways I’m sick and tired Of playin these games.
I cry. Does this mean I’m weak? Does this mean
I know exactly who I am And what I do! Im a Hoodie
Im walking. Hood up. On the phone. I shut up.
Cocaine On The Brain
As it rush's through the note And up into my nose, Theres no better feeling Every coke head knows.
Used by so many and misunderstood
My object is simple as I
Pierce and shed blood
Feel my coldness
Feel his rage
Feel all you can
Because it is the end of your days