Slamnation Response 1

Honestly I enjoyed the first part of the slamnation. The asian guy had a certain style of writing and performing that I really liked. I think his writing was unique because of the irony of the stereo type he put into his poem. I Enjoyed seeing competition because im extremely competitive. I want to be the best at what I do. Even if im a rookie and don't have a clue of what I'm doing. The whole concept of adapting your performances according to how your placed by the final round facinated me. I like a challenge.

A Season I Hell

A while back, if I remember right, my life was one long party where all hearts were open wide, where all wines kept flowing.
One night, I sat Beauty down on my lap.—And I found her galling.—And I roughed her up.
I armed myself against justice.
I ran away. O witches, O misery, O hatred, my treasure's been turned over to you!
I managed to make every trace of human hope vanish from my mind. I pounced on every joy like a ferocious animal eager to strangle it.
I called for executioners so that, while dying, I could bite the butts of their rifles. I called for plagues to choke me with sand, with blood. Bad luck was my god. I stretched out in the muck. I dried myself in the air of crime. And I played tricks on insanity.
And Spring brought me the frightening laugh of the idiot.
So, just recently, when I found myself on the brink of the final squawk! it dawned on me to look again for the key to that ancient party where I might find my appetite once more.
Charity is that key.—This inspiration proves I was dreaming!
"You'll always be a hyena etc. . . ," yells the devil, who'd crowned me with such pretty poppies. "Deserve death with all your appetites, your selfishness, and all the capital sins!"
Ah! I've been through too much:-But, sweet Satan, I beg of you, a less blazing eye! and while waiting for the new little cowardly gestures yet to come, since you like an absence of descriptive or didactic skills in a writer, let me rip out these few ghastly pages from my notebook of the damned.

"And Death Shall Have No Dominion" Dylan Thomas

And Death Shall Have No Dominion

And death shall have no dominion.
Dead mean naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.

Winter

Snow.
Simple as the catepillar, but
As beutiful as the butterfly.
I stand in the cold as it gently touches
my face. It's charm makes me numb.

Friends.
Complex as the human brain, but
Useful as an untainted mind. We
gather and join in celebration
in this winter wonderland.

Snow And Friends.
Both delicate as a flower,but
As tenacious as the earth itself.
But even with all of this,
All snow must one day melt.

Reflection

Honestly I don't know where to begin. It feels like it was yesterday I was known as the quiet guy who looks like he hates the world. I was naive enough to beleive that all my friends would still be here with me. Everyday is just another moment where the hostility grows between my friends. I wish I could do something about it. But it has been going on for months. How can I who has just been informed about this just a month ago become a peace maker and fix a mountain of hate? I can't do it alone. Funny how I'm always left to do things alone. I'm the last remanning bridge between our once solid circle. As if one side has exhiled the other out of everything we have made together. I'm in a war as we speak and I'm taking all the crossfire. My writting has been reflecting all of this for months. I have a whole journal filled with this. I hate it. I wish it would just end. From the 15 characters that I have made out of my friends and the 6 different hell whole plots. I want to just burn the book. But I can't. I was the silent killer that became the noble peace maker in a matter of weeks. Funny how things become this way the moment things start going downhill.

The Frail

Her skin is white as mary's lamb.
A rare sighting.Like the blue moon.
Her goddess eyes have lost the glow that illuminated mariana's trench.

She is a lone wolf now.
Reptile at heart, Gazelle at flesh,
But a snake thinks whispering.
Waiting for it's prey.

A single embrace is all her heart yearns for.
Like the hungry newborn awaiting his warm milk.
How can anyone aid her? She vomits all the milk.

The waiting one

Love is lost and this rose was my miracle
Months go by and a petal chases it
Wishing and awaiting a new dawn I stand and hide all my torments

It feels like a century that I have been waiting
Because searching for you will end in vain
I beg of you, reach me. Stop lurking in the shadows

For I who is in dire need of you  cannot hold out much longer
You can follow the trail of petals and blood stains to find where I reside
Until that day I hold this rose by the thorns

When you find me look at this rose
It was meant for you my love
And since your reading this you were late
My scars didn't heal since the thorns kept cutting