Poem Post: "Peaceful Insanity"

Wrote this on a dreary, stormy night. Auditioned it to join in a workshop, and yes I got in.

Peaceful Insanity
MINXIE

source: Google Images

A flash of a very bright, blinding light

Broke through the gloomy skies with might,

As I pleasantly smiled while awaiting

The deafening roar that follows the lightning.

Oh, such thrilling horrid scream of the sky,

Seeping through the gateways of my soul;

My crushed heart squeezing out its earnest cry;

Black matter devouring me as it crawls.

The darkness of the chaotic eventide

Comforted me with unexplainable pride.

Why the sorrow? Why the pain?

Why is hope always found in vain?

The heavy rain fell down like knives and nails

Its sound slashed through frightened ears,

But it went in perfectly for me,

As I unleashed all the hollowness I keep.

This unpleasant atmosphere scares almost all,

But I find imaginary & comforting claws scratching the walls

A scarier and stronger lightning breaks away,

But the storm never placed my peculiar peace in disarray.

Please credit me, by the way, if you wanna copy all or a part of the poem. Thanks. :3

Poem Post: "Forbidden"

This is how my heart goes when I stay at home all day.
Free verse :3

source

Forbidden
MINXIE

Her feathers gleam vibrantly

under the honest sunlight;

her songs are loved,

her voice hypnotizing;

she spreads her graceful wings

and longs to fly

outside a possessive cage

with bars of thorns

that forbid her flight

and wishes her eternal imprisonment;

and more than a thousand times

she attempted to break free

ignoring each throbbing pain

and mind-wrecking suffering

as she incessantly pushed

against the bars

of sanity and greed.

Her bloody feathers drip

under the secretive moonlight;

behind her admirable facade

is a fragile sanity

and wild dreams

aching to escape.

Please credit me, by the way, if you wanna copy all or a part of the poem. Thanks. :3

A Declamation Piece: "Sanity on Fire"

 

Heyyy bats! In 2 days I'll be delivering a declamation piece. I was asked to be a contestant (AGAIN), and I couldn't just refuse. I love taking part in anything if I have what it takes to be so. :3

Okaaaayy, I admit, I'm not so sure if this thing I just wrote is really a declamation piece, as I've never tried writing one before, and I'm not quite experienced with declamations. When I tried using a stopwatch as I recited it, the piece runs for 8 to 10 minutes when recited! O.o But anyway, I'm just gonna give it a try.

This piece is heavily inspired by American McGee's Alice and Alice: Madness Returns, Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, and Emilie Autumn. ♥

Sanity on Fire
MINXIE
A Declamation Piece?

I wake up.
It's the same bad dream. A house in flames.. and voices.. shrieks.
It has always been the same bad dream! *laughs*

*gasp*
 

*sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff*
Doctor? *sniff, sniff, sniff* Doctor? Doctor! *sniff, sniff* F-Firemen! I smell the scent of gasoline in my cell! My cell.. My cell is on fire! I smell smoke! Doctor! Firemen! It's blazing in here! HEEEEELP--

Oh.

Hi Doctor. I was just playing around so you can come by and.. let me out.
PLEASE! I'm not mad! I'm not mad! I only want to end my life.. Please! LET ME! Please..

Huh?

The doctor's gone. Maybe I just imagined him again. Oh well.

A crowd? So many people! How -- how did you get here?! Who are you?! Who let you in?! How long have you been watching me here?! *gasp* Oh, I get it now. You've all come here to rescue me! Is that it? I can't just be imagining all of you here, can I?

Please let me out of here! I'm not insane! I'm not fit to be imprisoned in a filthy cell such as this! I'm the daughter of a landlord! I can't be here! Please! Please! Please.. I'm Mr. Kingsleigh's daughter.. Please..

I only have 2 hours 'til the jailer checks the cells.. 2 hours 'til the jailer locks me up permanently.. 2 hours and.. my family burns in the fire.. Oh, they are screaming! They are crying for me! PLEASE! I have to save them! Please..

WHAT? How dare! I did not start the fire! It wasn't me! It wasn't me! It wasn't me.. Why wouldn't anyone believe me? I'm innocent!

Yes, my twin sister and I loved each other more than anything else in the world. Our similarities never bothered us because it was funny how most people didn't know how to tell us apart. It was funny until then.. Until then. SHE DID IT! She did it! She.. She did it! She.. did it. She.. was obsessed with her lover. Unfortunately, mother and father had to arrange a marriage for her. She was to be married to a landlord for financial reasons. Yet.. she was with child. Her lover's. Thus mother and father had to get rid of the child once it's born.

I can still remember the cold little corpse being thrown into the nearby river. OH, IT WAS HORRIBLE!

My sister became quiet for months, and she cried whenever she received presents from her fiance. She told me she heard an infant crying every night and she couldn't sleep. She became distant, lethargic.. At most times, she did not move.

She served us tea one afternoon. She was surprisingly happy then, smiling as she poured the tea to our cups. Her tea was peculiar, though. Too sweet.. too thick.. It made us dizzy..

*faints*
 

I wake up. I'm in my room!

*sniff, sniff, sniff*
*gasp* SMOKE! SMOKE! All around me! The house is on fire!

I run to the door. It's locked! "Mommy! Daddy! Elizabeth!" I turn around and find my window open. I must quickly jump out to ask for help from the neighbors. As I open my mouth to scream for help, I hear my window being shut. I look back. I see my sister through the glass. She is smiling.. victoriously.. peacefully.. readily.. horrifyingly! She begins to burn.. to melt.. Flesh dripping.. darkening.. stripping down.. and slowly eaten by flames.

The house gradually crumbles right in front of my eyes. I could hardly move because of what I just learned.

The neighbors approached, bringing buckets of water. I still could not move. My mind stopped keeping pace with time. All things that moved are speeding past me.. blurry.. surreal. I could hardly hear their running steps.. their consolation.. their accusations. All I could hear is the crackling and hissing fire! The screams of my parents! I'm gradually losing touch with reality.

They brought me to my relatives to be taken care of. BUT I DO NOT WISH TO BE TAKEN CARE OF! The desire to lose this life continues to stain my innocent mind. However, they keep me from doing it.

Rope tied around my neck, one step from this stool and I shall taste the blissfully deadly grip that has the power to take me to another world.

One, two, three! GERONIMO! *closes eyes*
*jumps*
*opens eyes*

It did not.. work! Oh for the love of --
The rope is too long!

"Iracebeth? Can I come in? I have your dinner. Um, I'm coming in now Iracebeth."

*sighs* Maybe next time, Rope.

My aunt is looking at me.
Hi aunt. Meet Rope, a friend.

Of course she screamed, and in an hour, men in white came in the house and took me away.

They imprisoned me in a cell because everyone thought of me as dangerous -- having burned my own family while watching the house break down and such -- and suicidal. They tell me I'm on suicide watch and under treatment!
 

*laughs* HOW STUPID! I'm not mad! Insanity remains to be misunderstood, ladies and gentlemen! I'm not mad. I'm not mad! I'm not mad! I'M NOT MAAAAAD!!! *screams* My mother.. She's screaming! My father needs me! Please! Please! Let me out.. Let me out! They're burning! I have to save them! Please.. I'm not mad.. I'm not mad!

I'M NOT MAAAAAD!!!

*END*

Update:
This declamation piece won second place! ♥ View that post here.
The post contains pictures of me performing it, and me receiving the award. :'3 

Before I end this post, let me share some pictures of Alice in Wonderland and Emilie Autumn! I'm aching to post them here. xD If you want to view the pictures though, click read more. xD

~ ♥ DISCLAIMER: Pictures are all searched from Google. ♥ ~

Poem Post: "The Blackened Rose"

I'm basking under the heavy shade of hate for betrayal :x Composed an hour ago.
I'm proud to finally have written a poem that has rhythm in it! :D I was also inspired by William Blake's "The Sick Rose" as I wrote this. :'>

The Blackened Rose
MINXIE

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Their petals once blushed, once gleamed, once glistened
Their pink heads once swayed when blown and christened
with liquid so sweet, so safe, it moistened
the once solid ground their color sweetened.

Her thorns once found thorns that welcomed her own.
Her brilliance -- a beaut -- once entered their tones
of lightness like laughter in hues enthroned
up on the field where this rose had once grown.

O woeful fate, why did color leave her?
Her bloodless cheeks soon started to wither.
Had their thorns that welcomed her own -- prick her?
Did worms that intrude suck life and water?

Now dark and now wrinkled just like a prune,
had thorns made her shed sad drops of dew?
Had worms watching then eaten her too?
Dry petals now laid on chilled ground wind blew.

Please credit me, by the way, if you wanna copy all or a part of the poem. Thanks. :3

Poem Post: "The Soul in the Doll"

Here I am with another poem freshly composed from minutes ago. :3

Since it's February and I'm told to participate in another Poetry Reading session for the English month, this poem is about betrayal and love so intense that it haunts both the betrayer and the reader. Inspired by Emilie Autumn's Gothic Lolita, I wrote this with dolls, rape, insanity, horror, and blood in mind. Underlying meanings and symbolism, like all poems, are present and fragrant beneath the dark lines and stanzas.

This will be the poem I will present for the Poetry Reading on the week after next, and I'm planning to CosPlay as Suigintou (from Rozen Maiden) since she's an evil doll and she's on my CosPlay list (number 2, to be exact).

Warning: Poem may contain deeply disturbing content for some readers.

The Soul in the Doll

MINXIE

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O John, how I loved thee with all my heart!
A priceless companion, a blessing thou art.
Youth galloped with us through moor and heather,
Thine embrace I thirst, thy presence I hunger.

Thy love my breath, and thy laughter my soul;
Through feuds we endured, through summer, through fall.
My heart was yours, my destiny tied with thee,
O John why didst thy heart drink treachery?

Thy hands found another's, thy lust removed me;
Purity she hath poisoned, a snake was she!
Right in front of mine eyes, swerved Betrayal;
Trust bade me farewell, still I stayed loyal.

Thy desires still I fed, though how intense.
I swallowed thy coldness, wrongs and wishes.
Alas! Thy lust soon impaled my innocence
with bottles, bludgeons, broomsticks and brushes.

A scent of alcohol... sight of a saw...
Then pain... numbing pain... an evil guffaw,
scattered limbs, ruby pools and manic power;
merciless, suddenness, no time to cower.

The bleeding heart torn between love and pain,
I'm screaming for the love I lost in vain.
Thus a hundred centuries and three scores,
I chose to stay behind his dirty doors.

Crimson in nightmares, along halls I crawl,
With his descendants I live as a doll,
For John dear, O John dear, this feeling's true,
Thy bloodline I hold close, for I love you.

Please credit me, by the way, if you wanna copy all or a part of the poem. Thanks. :3

My Two New Books!

Hi bats!

I've been frequenting the BOOKSALE book shop lately. BOOKSALE sells a good load of secondhand books, mostly bestseller ones! Some of them books come from other countries, but they come in really cheap (the cheapest one I've seen so far costs P5.00 which is around 0.123245 cents if you're from the US. O.o) I've even seen a book that still bears the name of the previous American owner, complete with her mobile number, her school, and the address. Hahahahaha.

So yeah, I'm pretty happy I have two, new books to read! I'm halfway through in "Never Slow Dance With A Zombie" by E. Van Lowe. It's the book I bought frist. Genre is teens, comedy, drama. I bought it because of the cover and the title. It's pretty fine though. But I surely can't wait to read the second one, "Ravenloft: Scholar Of Decay" by Tanya Huff! The genre is Gothic horror! I miss reading Gothic books! ♥

Never Slow Dance With A Zombie by E. Van Lowe

Book Description: 

 

Principal Taft's 3 Simple Rules for Surviving a Zombie Uprising:

Rule #1: While in the halls, walk slowly and wear a vacant expression on your face. Zombies won't attack other zombies.

Rule #2:  Never travel alone.  Move in packs.  Follow the crowd.  Zombies detest blatant displays of individuality.

Rule #3:  If a zombie should attack, do not run. Instead, throw raw steak at to him.  Zombies love raw meat. This display of kindness will go a long way.

On the night of her middle school graduation, Margot Jean Johnson wrote a high school manifesto detailing her goals for what she was sure would be a most excellent high school career. She and her best friend, Sybil, would be popular and, most important, have boyfriends. Three years later, they haven't accomplished a thing! 

Then Margot and Sybil arrive at school one day to find that most of the student body has been turned into flesh-eating zombies. When kooky Principal Taft asks the girls to coexist with the zombies until the end of the semester, they realize that this is the perfect opportunity to live out their high school dreams. All they have to do is stay alive..

Scholar of Decay (Ravenloft Books) by Tanya Huff

Book Description:

When Aurek Nuiken travels to Richemulot to search for a spellbook that will save his endangered wife, little does he know that a beautiful woman, a family of wererats, and his own brother will cruelly conspire to turn the tables against him. As hideous monsters of Ravenloft close in, he is drawn to the brink of madness in a world that preys on the innocent.

Poem Post: "Void"

Composed on a bitter morning way back when I was 15.

Void
MINXIE

source

O, the woe of it all

when all thou see is nothing

but the eerie darkness soothing

from the tortures I receive

night by night

the corners of this poor soul

captured and pinned down

by the most disturbing voices

crying in destined suffering

just when I created

the most perfect choices.

Nothing lasts forever

but what am I to do when such

is made eternal in my tower

brittle and dark amongst red skies?

I curse none else but the soul

of which this materialized entity carries,

subconscious filled with everlasting grief

and mourning deep within a distorted abyss.

I pity the ever-following and loyal shadow

of such a worthless, unfaithful soul.

The mystery of darkness could never swallow,

such emptiness carried by

this impudent, immaterial ghoul.

This body is merely stuck,

in unreasonable worldly drought

twisting the mind and spirit without luck

creeping and seeping in my thoughts.

 Devouring nothingness and emptiness so sick,

suffering though had always amused me,

but see that as I stay and watch each second tick,

I still have nowhere to run..

Please credit me, by the way, if you wanna copy all or a part of the poem. Thanks. :3

I Asked A Girl In School If She's Goth

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This took place way back when the first semester was halfway over.

I was in the library to accompany a friend while she does her research, and give her a hand in case she gets stuck. I let her go about the shelves she needed to look into, while I approached the fiction section to see if there was any Edgar Allan Poe, Anne Rice, Bram Stoker, Stephen King, or Mary Shelley, though I didn't plan to borrow one if I'd see any, I probably only wanted to have that feeling of contentment and satisfaction to have learned if there was any presence of Gothic fiction among the shelves. I bent down to the short, waist-length shelf and saw a couple of Victor Hugo's works, Charlotte's and Emily Bronte's, Mary Shelley's, William Shakespeare's tragedies, and some interestingly morbid titles. I stood up when I was a bit satisfied, and scanned the room in place to look for my friend, when I saw an interesting girl from the other side of the short shelf. Her hair was teased and tied up, resembling that 80's Goth look; she had a big, wooden cross hanging by her school ID, and she wore a good amount of eyeliner both in her upper and lower eyelids. Without much hesitation, I asked her immediately and straightforwardly; I didn't care if she gets freaked out. "Excuse me, are you Goth?"

She was also searching for books in the same shelf when she heard me, and she was really surprised by the sudden question from a stranger. "Wha--?"

"Are you Goth?" I repeated with a polite smile; half-excited, half-pessimistic.

"Go-- what?" She chuckled cutely at her ignorance and the awkwardness.

I paused half-smiling now, and thought for a moment. My hopes went down, because if she really was what I thought she was, she would've heard the word the first time I said it. "Goth, as in G - O - T - H." And if she was, spelling it wouldn't also have been necessary.

"Goth? What's that? Uhh, I.. I - I don't know," she shook her head as she smiled and stammered innocently, her face had an expression that completely says she had only first heard the word just now.

For a split second, I remembered how some Goths deny it when they were asked this question. I remembered what I read online, about how rejecting Goth labels made you even more 'goth'. So I followed it up with questions of reassurance. "Really? You aren't?"

She shrugged and shook her head again as she politely smiled, "I don't know.. I - I don't.. know."

Thus I searched for a good question that would probably give me a good answer; a question that will clarify, a question that will seemingly haul in an answer that creates the verdict. "What music do you listen to?" I asked, smiling as politely as she did.

"Anything that everyone listens to today."

OUCH.

How To Sauté A Husband Who Threatens A Wife That Couldn't Cook

This is originally written in Cebuano by Cora Almerino. I'm gonna write the Cebuano version first, and the English translation will follow.

Uhhh, I guess you're wondering why I'm posting this. Taaahaha. Well, I just think it's a nice literary work to share to everyone! It's funny and mad, and feminist. xD The first time I heard this being read aloud in a gathering of poets from my school one night, I instantly thought that I should post it here.

source

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 ~♥~

.

Unsaon Paggisa Sa Bana Nga Manghulga Sa Asawang Dili Kahibalong Moluto

1) Inita ang mantika sa kaha.

2) Gisaha ang sibuyas bombay ug ahos.

3) Ilunod ang iyang kumo nga iya kunong isumbag sa imong nawong.

4) Isunod ang iyang mga tiil nga iyang ipatid nimo.

5) Isagol'g apil ang ubang bahin sa iyang lawas.

6) Pabukali.

7) Tuslok-tusloka sa tinidor. Mas maayo kon kutsilyo.

8) Timplahi dayo'g pamalikas ug maldisyon.

9) Tilawi.

10) Ha-una.

11) Kan-a. Kon wa'y lami, ilawog sa iro.

-- hahahahaha otoy kay sa?


ENGLISH TRANSLATION:
How To Sauté A Husband Who Threatens A Wife That Couldn't Cook

1) Heat oil in a frying pan.

2) Sauté onions and garlic.

3) Mix in the fists that he says he'll punch you in the face with.

4) Add his feet that he's gonna kick you with.

5) Also mix in all the other parts of his body.

6) Bring to a boil.

7) Try poking it with a fork, or better yet -- with a knife.

8) Season with swear words and curses.

9) Taste it.

10) Serve.

11) Eat it. If it doesn't taste good, feed it to the dogs.

.

~♥~

.

This made my day! xD Cora Almerino is an awesome Visayan writer. Suwayi ra gud siya ug search. Hahahahahahahaha

Poem Post: "Dear Sir"

Warning: Lengthy poem! XD

Here's another poem I just composed this dawn, out of anger and uncontrollable rage that I had to tame and contain within. It's a work with an obvious meaning, not so creative, yet full of passionate wrath that is gradually and evenly released from the heart.

The reason behind this composition needs not be told, for it is clearly stated and neatly elaborated in many of its lines, so without further ado, here is another creation, fresh and new like this morning's rain-kissed dew. ♥

Dear Sir

MINXIE

source

Dear Sir, dear sir:

Shall I kill you now, dear Sir?

Or just watch you die, dear Sir?

For waiting here further and further

might just whirl my decisions astir.

Dear Sir, dear Sir!

How beautiful you doth look like now, dear Sir!

Afraid to die, are we, dear Sir?

Of being beaten or bruised more, dear Sir?

Now wincing in pain, are you, brother?

Oh, but before I do proceed,

would you like a cup of tea?

I shall now prepare some with glee,

as I recall aloud how I have suffered under thee.

Footsteps of dirt, actions since birth:

both beheld from our heartless, old man;

whose else is it, but our father, dear Sir?

A hideous model of absurdity,

a ruthless scoundrel of ambiguity;

a ruffian, a misfit;

a brute, and a savage of numbness;

like mud, he is abhorrent, vague;

however, we wretches, from him were made.

O, how we despised him, dear Sir!

Were we not manipulated, it felt like murder?

Occasionally in a fit of whipping, were we not, dear Sir?

We feared him, discerned him a monster

that owned claws which kept us with his greedy power;

we thrived in meager amounts of love and sincere shelter.

All our years brought us forlorn,

of madness in longing to fly out and soar

while his eyes not fixed on us for a scene of gore,

we rambled in and rambled out

to relish the wondrous beauty we were to live without.

We try a minute or maybe two

to disguise misdeeds we rarely do --

Oh! How dare! Thou but decline my offer of tea?

How about I pour this hot all over thee?

There! How does thine refusal serve thee?

Hush, the sting shan't be for long;

you'll stop breathing before I finish one song.

So where was I, dear Sir, dear Sir?

Have I gone through the things we never

did while he trots about? Ah yes, hear ye:

we grew our separate, silent ways

as you grew colder and far away,

you were prone to his fits of ballistic impulses

to threaten you of riddance those days.

Dear Sir, dear Sir!

I do pity you, dear Sir!

How did it come to your senses,

to follow his example of heartlessness,

and betray me to your heart's content;

caring less of your own growing contempt

of me who had rooted for you bravery,

your soul, and our trampling down of misery?

Had you been less foolish enough,

to follow such unreasonable stupidity,

to make me lose my wits,

my mind, my dignity --

had you not chosen to underestimate me,

to make me succumb unwillingly

to your unruly manifestations of distaste

to me: a poor, young, former crony --

I would not have today done this to thee.

Dear Sir, dear Sir,

why did you choose to humiliate me dear Sir?

Am I such a lowly slut of a sister?

A dumb, pea-brained witch, that you see an idiot of a miser?

Since when did I do you wrong, dear Sir?

Since when did I deserve your overpowering, dear Sir?

Who are you to crush me to the ground, dear Sir?

Why are you resembling the enemy, dear Sir?

Was it fun to berate me, dear Sir --

to yell at me, to mortify me?

Ah yes, I am sorry wicked wretch,

for it is all too late for you to answer:

your explanations, I shan't fetch,

your pathetic apology, Sir,

is now too unacceptable a compensation.

Thus, thou must get ready for a brutal abomination!

Ah, I finished my tea, dear Sir!

I see you've also finished yelping, dear Sir?

How was the hot bath of tea just now, dear Sir?

Swore to silence now, eh, dear Sir?

Or swore to stop breathing forever?

Dear Sir? Dear Sir?

I see you're cold now, dear Sir!

I shall now wrap you with my prepared linens

-- of fresh cottony texture whose deadly color with luminescence

come from hazy fields of where I know not --

to help you be at ease

on your next journey to an intense,

immortally burning, fearful, sulfuric furnace. 

Please credit me, by the way, if you wanna copy all or a part of the poem. Thanks. :3

P.S. : NO, I did not murder him! xD Let's just call this poem a product of murderous loathing; it is highly hyperbolic, and is not to be taken and believed literally. :3

Poem Post: "Blissful Suffering"

I haven't posted much lately.

Well, all you guys need to know is that 1) I've been reading a wide range of literature -- mostly Gothic ones -- and the biographies of the authors of each literary work I read (this is mostly because I'm a Literature major, and my professors are great literary geeks like me which is great); 2) I haven't been going out much, since I ran out of brilliant alibis to creatively disguise all my gallivanting; 3) mom took away the old, unused camera, and my OOTD photographer which is my sister had been admitted to the hospital because of an ovarian cyst O.o (good heavens, she's well) that's why I haven't been able to post OOTDs; 4) my family indeed is a great hindrance :/ ; and 5) I haven't had anything new and interesting to show or write about...

... that's why I'm gonna post another one of my poems here to break the silence of this blog. :D

Okay so, this poem was written when I had problems with my "Traumatic Desires" friends, with my family, about being bullied, and when I had absolutely no one to run to but a pen and a paper. I wrote this 3 years ago, though, so yeah, I was still new to the whole puberty thingy and maybe -- just maybe -- I didn't get what everything was about back then. All that "the-whole-world-is-against-me feeling" was entirely overwhelming indeed. Now that I look back, I seem to see my past self as a masochistic individual: I loved pain; I chose pain; and I wanted to receive pain; all because pain was my only companion those days.

Of course, I didn't want it all at first, but soon, and gradually, it was all that I knew, hence it became a great part of me; to the extent that I made it a friend -- a friend that never leaves; a friend that ironically gives me gifts each day. To think that I already attempted suicide when I was 10, and each day seemed a burden, reasonably made me resort to all these serious, stupid, childish thoughts those days.

Oh well! I've gotten over all that anyway! I'm a happy kid right now, and I try to be easy-going and happy-go-lucky every now and then; I tend to stop taking things seriously and go with the flow. However, I refuse to forget all the beautiful things I produced from my past sufferings, and yes, I'm willing to share these to everyone! ^w^

Blissful Suffering

MINXIE

source
YES, YES, it came to a point when I started hearing voices and
feeling imaginary touches -- all because of my loneliness and hopelessness.

A cold eventide zephyr seeps
Like a swerving soul writhes past
Under the blackest night sky
This soothing eerie agony is sure to last.

I grimly write with silent screams
For I cannot hide this chaos no more;
Feeding this leechy creature is useless.
I am being consumed into the void,
Smothering sharp claws of hatred pierce me
Though this state is unexplainably blissful
My dark heart is still crunched by 
the nothingness of the weak.

Why am I taken to this pit?
Condemned of nothing I committed?
My soul’s death awaits;
I am devoured, glum, and clouded

I extremely deny of deserving all this dolor,
But I somehow wished of such sadism;
Thus my veins carry of stagnant blood:
Confused to boil or to give in.
Is this my end, Sir? 
or shall I choose to carry on?

Please credit me, by the way, if you wanna copy all or a part of the poem. Thanks. :3

Strict Parents Make Sneaky Kids

Warning: Lengthy post! Full of metaphors! :p

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I haven't gotten out from this asylum of a house in a long while now, that's why I haven't been posting much because I haven't gone through much adventures this week. I regrettably cannot get released from this prison on my own will, because I'm sadly still being held back and owned like a pet that cannot wander out from its cage; living with dependence: a dependence I bear ill will of; a dependence only existing because of money I am not allowed to earn because I might break free from the bonds. I feel my neck and ankles currently being cuffed, and the cuffs are attached to large, long, heavy chains that have a padlock at the end. 

And MONEY IS THE KEY.

At times, though, my owners hand me the key if ever I have good enough reasons to be released: reasons that should make them happy, and I have learned -- through the long span of time of my imprisonment -- what seemingly makes them allow me to go without hesitations. Since then, I already made up heaps of alibis that should make them say yes at any cost; I have executed spotless plans and excuses to escape from this dreary tower and from unnecessary trouble, and luckily, almost all of them worked. Though because of my wit and stealthiness I have relished the freedom I've always dreamed of, I was only allowed to taste this fulfilled wish temporarily each day.

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Well, albeit that's the case, I have learned many different things in my adventures to the outside world. I finally learned how to buy in stores, ride in tricycles or PUVs, how to avoid talking to strangers, and how not to abuse the addictive privileges that this deceitful, materialistic world offers. All my experiences were not in my owners' knowledge, and everything I have learned were kept secret. I have to pretend to be ignorant and cold as I go on with my chained life.

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Years have passed and I still continued all my journeys to the outside world, all of which were strengthened by lies that my owners so stupidly believed and rightfully deserve. I met countless characters that led happy unchained lives though the same dependence bound them to their owners. Their owners were unbearably kind and joyful -- a sight and a fact too hard for me to keep from envying. I then grew accustomed to the unfairness which at first brought me three years of unstoppable tears. I became aware of all the incurable sicknesses of some people's minds and traits that unavoidably affects other people's lives and thinking.

The once beautiful outside world soon became a gloomy land of silent suffering as I trod the places I've never been before. However, I refused to stop my adventures, for in every experience of joy and sorrow, I LEARNED.

In some of my travels, I have also met and befriended people that are treated the way I am -- like pets: chained, controlled, manipulated, and submissive to each of their owner's orders. I sometimes only hear stories of their unfortunate lives from other people. In some cases, they are luckier, yet in some stories I am. The less lucky ones submit themselves and had never tried going out to the world to learn because LYING -- they say -- is something they cannot afford to do. Nevertheless, I say I am less lucky when it comes to the atmosphere of my relationship with my owners, for mine is awful, awkward, therefore hopeless. What usually strikes me with fear when I listen to such stories is the tragic, life-changing mistakes that these chained individuals do due to ignorance. Some take their own lives, run away, have vices get the best of them, or fall in the clutches of teenage pregnancy.

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This week, dearest readers, I ran out of lies. It already feels like a century of being locked up. So yesterday, I went out of my own will while my owners were away! It has truly been quite a long time since I visited you, O outside world, and I missed your lovely food! I hurriedly unchained myself, escaped the unlovable tower, and walked down the street with ripped tights. I had to visit a friend who lives in a far away place I've never gone to, in order to borrow something.

A typhoon brought incessant rains and soft, unpleasant thunder, but my desire to escape once again was too strong to be stopped. That was my first time travelling ALONE, to a place I did not know where, so I was anxious and excited at the same time.

When I finally got out from the village, I was amazed by everything I have not long seen until then: amazed by the beautiful women walking randomly along the roads, the stores selling secondhand objects, a man wearing a shirt that said "I ONLY DATE HOT MODELS", the passengers I rode with in the PUV, the sites under construction, the fares being passed from a hand to another, the children that annoyed their mothers, and many more. O dreary me, I haven't seen a world teeming with life in a long while! It felt like the first secret adventure all over again: I felt small, shy, and scared, like an ignorant eleven-year-old having a stroll with her friends, without her parents' consent.

I read the directions my friend gave me again, and afterwards realized that I was still too far from my desired destination. I disembarked from the PUV, and was accompanied by ladies in their 40s whom I asked for further detailed directions. They gladly answered and helped, and pointed to what I should ride next. I gratefully followed, but cannot seem to find the right tricycle. I was surprised when some old, kind strangers that helped me find my way. They were strangers, yet they helped a young lost fellow find her way. My owners always taught me that strangers are people who would sell or murder me. But now, I guess, I proved their idea wrong. Not all strangers are not at all diabolical as they told me..
So I finally rode my way to the other city and was to stop by a village across a school.

The sky was dark though the afternoon was young, the roads were dotted with muddy puddles, and the drizzle went on. I was alone and ignorant, and I did not know where I was now wandering around. Around half an hour passed and I still hadn't found "2nd street". I already stopped by a store and asked vendors, approached a passerby, and asked a driver for directions. I barely had enough fare left for me to go back home. But I refused to be afraid. I refused to regret. My God is kind and is always with me. The ignorance and fear my owners have planted in me will soon cease, if I choose to be brave enough.

Hence, I made it.

It was a humble home and my lonely friend prepared peanut butter and jelly for me as I played their piano. There, in that place, I heard her story --  a story which was a bit the same as mine: a chained, submissive life; however her owners were not heartless so she was cheerful despite the unreasonable laws.

Her introductory statement of her feelings caught me:

"I am so unlucky. Here I am, a girl born with an adventurous spirit, kept and locked up here by my family of homebodies."

Her mother had suspiciously stared at me and greeted me with a careful and observant smile before I was admitted in, after I was introduced.

I do understand the dangers and risks that might capture our lives in a bottle of trouble, but I WILL NEVER understand the idiotic intentions of locking up an adventurous soul that will unknowingly get diabolically cursed by IGNORANCE! Surely there are far more creative ways than that!

My visit to her house was not long for a dusky dimness was already painting the already-dark sky, thus I had to leave for home. As I prepared my things, my friend suddenly came to me rejoicing, for because of my visit, she says, she can finally go out of the four corners of her cage even for just a little while. Her owner allowed her to accompany me to a street where I could hitch a PUV for me to ride home.

We walked the streets filled with what seemed to be uneducated strangers, mostly men. We were constantly being called, but we ignored them by indulging ourselves in conversation. A few hundred meters away, she showed me a beach of free entrance as she accompanied me, and we leisurely walked a round in the balcony that looked over the dirty sea. The typhoon's breeze became moderately violent, but we both dismissed this type of warning as a beautiful wind we missed. The gloomy shades that the sky brought was too overwhelming for us to be scared, and our conversation and mutual emotions were too absorbing.

No sooner, she bid goodbye as I got up a PUV, inside of which were whom I guess as the driver's old mother, his wife, and his son. I could not help but listen to them as they conversed. Their sharp, hurtful words toward each other blended well with the characters I observed were surrounding the vehicle; so perverse, fearful, and unkind.

Slowly as the vehicle moved, I heard a choir of angelic voices from a school that me and my friend had passed by from our stroll just a little while ago: a school attended by students from penniless families. My friend told me of their unfortunate lives that was a tad bit too similar to ours: they were kept in by nuns and disciplined hurtfully for the "good" of their future personalities and lives.

Why dear God? Why?

As I watched out the window of the PUV, I saw the sadness and the hideousness lurking in the darkness of the dim streets: poverty, thoughtlessness, frustration, and deprivation scattered all over the world of adventures, never disappearing. I became afraid. These exactly existed from under the roof I live in, not as people and scenes, but as chains and hearts...

... of the owners that continue to bind me, for as long as I don't have my own bunch of keys to freedom.

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Poem Post: "Tears From Today"

Hello again me lovelies~!

I just thought that it would be a great idea to post another poem (I just wrote moments ago) that contains the loneliness I'm actually feeling for today's date -- October 19.

Being Goth doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel bad, sad, or sorry for yourself. We're still humans, we have feelings, so it is but human to undergo moments of grief and loss sometime while we're living.

I've mentioned of a "crush" more than once in some of my posts. Well, in case if you're wondering, he's not JUST a "crush", because he's more than that. We've dated in the past and had feelings for each other for more than 3 years, but it came to a stop because of certain things... And by the way, he's my crush ever since I was 9, and yeah, UNTIL NOW! HAHAHA crazy, I know :p

And today is.. today is..! Today is uhh, a day when I sound so EMO and ew, I hate it! I sound so disgusting. Hahaha xD Nah, it's just that, today's date actually -- never mind. Read it on the poem. :p

Tears From Today

MINXIE

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A sin I was unaware of,
committed one bittersweet night:
a night of silence and strangeness,
a night so different
a night so fateful.

Little did I know
that as the starless nightsky
and the careless cold night wind
stared and waited breathlessly,
a boy will be leaving me
without my heart's consent.

A slip of the tongue,
a joke supposedly funny
cataclysmically drew the curtains --
that for years had been open
-- to a dramatic, quiet close.

A week of soundless broken lines,
one week of false excuses,
a week of undeterred hopes
but a dispirited Monday
so sudden and questionable,
a Monday I still so loathe arrived.

A picture so sadistic
deprived me of happiness
within eight long weeks;
this will feed me with emptiness
until the instant I shall perish.

O Woe!
So evil, so unforgiving
a year of avoidance and deviance
scraping a heart innocently enduring.

Gentlemen aren't nice
for today marks the day
of intense, undrugged euphoria
for a common damsel
so lucky, so clueless,
a complete stranger
who without knowledge
drained my blessings,
caused a brutal tragedy,
and began episodes of
unstoppable downpours of tears
while the red moon rose
and an uncommon melody
reminded my soul
of a love she had long ended,
though she never intended.


Date written: October 19

Please credit me, by the way, if you wanna copy all or a part of the poem. Thanks :3

Poem Post: "The Ugly Doll's Revenge"

Yo~!

I don't have anything to post as of the moment, so I'm thinking of posting some of my poems every now and then every time I get stuck with this same predicament again.

I wrote this when I was 15.

I got bullied in the classroom that time, and as usual, I didn't fight back. I was on my seat when a bully suddenly started ranting at me. My classmates who were near me looked at the commotion, but didn't do anything to stop her. I just kept myself from looking at her, gripped my pen, and looked at my shoes as she kept talking shit. When she was done, I glanced at her devilish face and caught her dramatically rolling her eyes at me with ire. An Emilie Autumn song was playing in my head that time, so I was thinking of stripes, dolls, tragedies, and graveyards. I thought of pouring my emotions -- of anger, frustration, sadness, embarrassment, and confusion -- in a poem, and add all my Emilie Autumn thoughts to it. So this was the result of the mash up. :D

AN UGLY DOLL'S REVENGE

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As a lifeless, worthless, ugly toy

With a bundle of broken nerves

I truly seem to release no joy;

My owner offers the neglect I deserve.

The other dolls the owner keeps

Are eternally with me on our shelf;

But it is I, who always weeps

For an unexplainable pity on a poor self.

Suffering is such a miserable feeling,

Especially when one doesn’t know why it’s creeping

When one lives with the most undesirable

Overflowing vanity of such “people”.

I merely do not understand why

These dolls I live with on me are sly;

I could not help but grit my brittle teeth

For these villainous dolls with worthless wit!

Like them, indeed I am clever,

Even better than some of the others;

But is it just because I am different,

I know not of anything concurrent?

Such good, prominent mouths used badly,

Used against toys: innocent or ugly;

The owner knows not of their facades,

They are praised, while I, left very sad.

As I reach my despicable destiny,

To be destroyed with neglect,

I shall receive a vengeful soul,

To plague all of them with ugly roles.

O, unending painful loneliness!

Why hath thou bite me without forgiveness?

Because of you, they shall behold

The evil me, all of them cannot hold!

Please credit me, by the way, if you wanna copy all or a part of the poem. Thanks. :3