Posts tagged creative writing
Posts tagged creative writing
It was in the Dark Room,
where my good Father sat
Our shadows connected and loomed
in the place I
grew up at.
Rigid, and strict
The room had always been —
Midnight, the clock ticked —
the secret released upon
this very scene.
His face was handsome and hard,
but his eyes were warm and saddening.
He peered inside my soul of shards,
and the allurement became
He gestured me to the fire
with his books neatly set aside
He, the man, who I’ve always admired
and the cause of
our worlds to collide.
I walked over to Temptation and Sin,
feeling the notion of a pinned butterfly.
The fabric of forbidden seemed so thin,
and bequeath the weakness,
I began to cry.
“It is Fate with the wisest choice—
“Hush, my little child,”
he said with the softest voice.
“The night is young,
and savages run wild.”
He brought me onto his lap,
and covered me with chaste kisses.
His lips on my cheeks were sweet as sap,
but it tasted bitter with such
My fingers brushed his soft dark hair
as I came for an embrace
He gave me his smile with a lustful air
and I leaned onto his chest,
closing up our remaining space.
he whispered in my ear.
“You come to me from the Witch’s Tower;
Curses from God that soon becomes
“Damned Father,” I sighed in despair.
“You are already condemned in your blasphemous love.
So let your pleasure be in my care,
and our unison be watched from only
Slowly and abidingly aroused,
our white blanket lay forgotten,
pass the morality that we, together, have vowed,
where tender touches were
The mood rose as the curtains lift
He trembled. “We can’t go on.”
Lies, as our movements became swift
“But you called for me, dear Father.
Your innocence is long gone.”
I know we were both drunk with desire,
and apologies were said with the most hypocritical regret
He groaned with the fiery of hell’s fire,
and I let him because my destiny was
I want you to whisper to me
a soft lullaby
a song to ignite me
like fireworks to the sky
I want to dream of the light
as supernovas of your heart
bursting from a love
as a priceless work of art
So whisper a song
your heart sings true
a soft lullaby
of just me and you
I have always had a guilty pleasure for dark and transgressive pieces of writing. It not only invokes negative feelings such as disgust, confusion, fear, and frustration, but if done well, it invites a different perspective on the world. Such authors include Anne Rice, who beautifully intertwines Christian faith into love that exceeds gender biases, or Chuck Palahniuk, who directly hands us the skeletons hidden in our closets.
Except, not all agrees with this point of view. Unfortunately, I do not everyone to.
Society has developed an interrelational and complex system that encourages morality, ethics, structure, justice, and overall goodness among the people. One step across that line and you are ‘not right’, evil, stupid, crazy, a troublemaker… But how does one define good in the absence of bad? This type of thinking is what causes close mindedness and bigotry towards those who dares to step out of the norm and take the road less traveled. The perception of bad and ugliness are subjective. Death can mean an end to life, or a supplier for new and young life. Solitude can be loneliness or a mode of meditation.
For this reason, I always find it disturbing that people want to ban books because it is too violent (Dark Materials Trilogy by Philip Pullman), too sexually explicit (“Kite Runner” by Khaled Hosseini), too magical (Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling, or too gay (“And Tango Makes Three” by Justin Richardson and Peter Parnell).
Therefore, I thank the writers who have written materials that have stirred up controversy and excitement for our restricted reality, and to bring us out of our needless fear of change.
As Philip Pullman said, after hearing the news that people wanted to ban his books:
“They never learn,” he said. “The inevitable result of trying to ban something – book, film, play, pop song, whatever – is that far more people want to get hold of it than would ever have done if it were left alone. Why don’t the censors realize this?”
This is a wonderfully refreshing picture book. I enjoy the pessimistic, yet comforting point of view it takes on. It is real without sugar coating death.
‘What is thy name?’ I heard myself ask.
‘My name is Love,’ answered the stranger.
‘You are Lie and Deceit,’ I replied back,
‘because Love is already dead.’
”Tis true I am Lie and Deceit,’ He replied,
‘But I am Love in the form that you believe
in thine’s defeated eyes.’
Inspiration from Lord Alfred Douglas’ Two Loves
Did you hear?
Yes, yes, I did.
I can’t believe it!
She did what?
He did that?
Stop fucking with me.
They want to do what?
Can we watch?
Which one is it?
Stain on her pants?
Stain on HIS pants?
He caught them!
He ate it.
You mean “her”.
She did it.
You mean “him”.
Who’s with whom now?
But she’s with him!
He hates her?
But likes him?
Straight, my ass!
No, into HIS ass.
Let me breathe.
But tell me more!