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A jail in which I may have grieved
My own sanity's decline
Has no bars but only weaved
In curse'd bails of twine
Like some tangled marionette
But the strings are not my guide
Thoughts contained inside a net
Guessed I'd live there till I died
I escaped from bars that clutch
The thoughts you hold inside
They never let you see as such
That my mind had truly lied
This place I know will be no cage
In there I shall not wait
For against myself I tried to rage
Until, I thought, too late
To fight alone against your mind
Is a lonely curse indeed
And hardly do we ever find
That someone shall succeed
To win the battle, you must fight
But you have to first admit
Your mind can be the bars, not light
And you won't see them till you quit
There is no someone stopping you
And no-one left to blame
Your own mind is all that's who
Is giving you this pain
It howls and lies against your heart
And leaves your soul for dead
Escape from your own mind and start
To live again, instead
And if these things shall fade and die
Then let death be surely met
For long as light be brought to eye
I shall not be ready yet
But if I pass a blinding light
That shakes me from the path I tread
Let any road that's shown be right
And I shall live until I'm dead
If I cannot find my path
And I have no drive left to use
Allow my heart to do the math
And calculate what I should lose
No voice inside will cause me pain
No state of mind will cease my breath
I will not be prisoned by my brain
And I shall live until my death
My own sanity's decline
Has no bars but only weaved
In curse'd bails of twine
Like some tangled marionette
But the strings are not my guide
Thoughts contained inside a net
Guessed I'd live there till I died
I escaped from bars that clutch
The thoughts you hold inside
They never let you see as such
That my mind had truly lied
This place I know will be no cage
In there I shall not wait
For against myself I tried to rage
Until, I thought, too late
To fight alone against your mind
Is a lonely curse indeed
And hardly do we ever find
That someone shall succeed
To win the battle, you must fight
But you have to first admit
Your mind can be the bars, not light
And you won't see them till you quit
There is no someone stopping you
And no-one left to blame
Your own mind is all that's who
Is giving you this pain
It howls and lies against your heart
And leaves your soul for dead
Escape from your own mind and start
To live again, instead
And if these things shall fade and die
Then let death be surely met
For long as light be brought to eye
I shall not be ready yet
But if I pass a blinding light
That shakes me from the path I tread
Let any road that's shown be right
And I shall live until I'm dead
If I cannot find my path
And I have no drive left to use
Allow my heart to do the math
And calculate what I should lose
No voice inside will cause me pain
No state of mind will cease my breath
I will not be prisoned by my brain
And I shall live until my death
Cheers - and thanks for choosing me staffies
This stuff still embarrasses me so much
This stuff still embarrasses me so much
Hm! Very good. Congrats on the GAD Mr Thraves.
When I do something like this, whilst I'm doing it, I think 'boy, this is the best thing I've ever written.. nay, this is the best thing ANYONE has written. I'm going to be famous for this. People will be quoting my name in schools, they'll be analysing my work, they'll be read by people and it'll give them HOPE'
Then I wake up the next day, can't even bother re-reading it and think 'oh christ not again'
I think I'm gonna try and get back into story telling. Poems are one thing, but there's really only so much you can do with them. I want to write humourous stories, create a nice world that's full of magic fantasy and laughs. All my stuff is a bit serious.
Thanks for the comments anyway, I do appreciate them but it kinda falls on blind eyes because I really, really can never be arsed with the things I write after I finish them.
Cheers though! And I've got that On Writing book, Pb got me to buy it ages ago. Must read it again some time, I only got half way through last time before I discovered something else to do.
Then I wake up the next day, can't even bother re-reading it and think 'oh christ not again'
I think I'm gonna try and get back into story telling. Poems are one thing, but there's really only so much you can do with them. I want to write humourous stories, create a nice world that's full of magic fantasy and laughs. All my stuff is a bit serious.
Thanks for the comments anyway, I do appreciate them but it kinda falls on blind eyes because I really, really can never be arsed with the things I write after I finish them.
Cheers though! And I've got that On Writing book, Pb got me to buy it ages ago. Must read it again some time, I only got half way through last time before I discovered something else to do.
I was just flicking through On Writing looking for the quote - apparently his family confronted him by emptying the bin out right in front of him, which was:
(found the quote on wikipedia):
King's family and friends finally intervened, dumping his trash—beer cans, cigarette butts, grams of cocaine, Xanax, Valium, NyQuil, dextromethorphan (cough medicine), and marijuana—on the rug in front of him to show the evidence of his addictions.
I think it must be one of those things were you start, think it's helping, then if you draw a blank, end up trying something else, until you think you need one hell of a cocktail to get a few lines written.
(found the quote on wikipedia):
King's family and friends finally intervened, dumping his trash—beer cans, cigarette butts, grams of cocaine, Xanax, Valium, NyQuil, dextromethorphan (cough medicine), and marijuana—on the rug in front of him to show the evidence of his addictions.
I think it must be one of those things were you start, think it's helping, then if you draw a blank, end up trying something else, until you think you need one hell of a cocktail to get a few lines written.
Meka Dragon wrote:
> Didn't Stephen King go further than just being drunk? I seem to
> remember reading that he got to a point where he thought that
> wasn't enough to help him write, so he started on the coke. Not
> 100% sure on that...
Possibly, not sure on that either. Wouldn't surprise me, though. I mean, if your livelyhood is writing and it's enhanced by being off your face, there's always that temptation...
> Didn't Stephen King go further than just being drunk? I seem to
> remember reading that he got to a point where he thought that
> wasn't enough to help him write, so he started on the coke. Not
> 100% sure on that...
Possibly, not sure on that either. Wouldn't surprise me, though. I mean, if your livelyhood is writing and it's enhanced by being off your face, there's always that temptation...
Didn't Stephen King go further than just being drunk? I seem to remember reading that he got to a point where he thought that wasn't enough to help him write, so he started on the coke. Not 100% sure on that...
Nice poem, I love the slightly desperate feeling.
I can understand the drunk thing, though. I find when I've had a bit to drink the stories tend to flow that bit easier. Sometimes I've even re-read it the next day and realised that I'd not remembered what I'd written, but I've liked it.
As long as you don't go down the same path as Stephen King. He was getting so much writing done while drunk that he ended up with a big drink problem. Mind you, some might say his stories have suffered since giving up...
I can understand the drunk thing, though. I find when I've had a bit to drink the stories tend to flow that bit easier. Sometimes I've even re-read it the next day and realised that I'd not remembered what I'd written, but I've liked it.
As long as you don't go down the same path as Stephen King. He was getting so much writing done while drunk that he ended up with a big drink problem. Mind you, some might say his stories have suffered since giving up...
So you were too drunk to judge the contest, but not to write a poem?
It's like that, is it?
As for the poem itself, I liked it, thought it was very effective. Like the similarity between the last lines in each of the last two verses. Are they verses, or is it stanza? Or something else? God I'm crap with poetry.
There were a couple o lines which read a bit long - final line of the first bit, and there was another, but I can't see it now.
Oh, and didn't like 'do the math' it's a bit of an Americanism, and didn't seem to fit.
Anyway, I thought the opening, with the twine and the marionette worked really well, that was by favourite bit.
It's like that, is it?
As for the poem itself, I liked it, thought it was very effective. Like the similarity between the last lines in each of the last two verses. Are they verses, or is it stanza? Or something else? God I'm crap with poetry.
There were a couple o lines which read a bit long - final line of the first bit, and there was another, but I can't see it now.
Oh, and didn't like 'do the math' it's a bit of an Americanism, and didn't seem to fit.
Anyway, I thought the opening, with the twine and the marionette worked really well, that was by favourite bit.
A jail in which I may have grieved
My own sanity's decline
Has no bars but only weaved
In curse'd bails of twine
Like some tangled marionette
But the strings are not my guide
Thoughts contained inside a net
Guessed I'd live there till I died
I escaped from bars that clutch
The thoughts you hold inside
They never let you see as such
That my mind had truly lied
This place I know will be no cage
In there I shall not wait
For against myself I tried to rage
Until, I thought, too late
To fight alone against your mind
Is a lonely curse indeed
And hardly do we ever find
That someone shall succeed
To win the battle, you must fight
But you have to first admit
Your mind can be the bars, not light
And you won't see them till you quit
There is no someone stopping you
And no-one left to blame
Your own mind is all that's who
Is giving you this pain
It howls and lies against your heart
And leaves your soul for dead
Escape from your own mind and start
To live again, instead
And if these things shall fade and die
Then let death be surely met
For long as light be brought to eye
I shall not be ready yet
But if I pass a blinding light
That shakes me from the path I tread
Let any road that's shown be right
And I shall live until I'm dead
If I cannot find my path
And I have no drive left to use
Allow my heart to do the math
And calculate what I should lose
No voice inside will cause me pain
No state of mind will cease my breath
I will not be prisoned by my brain
And I shall live until my death
My own sanity's decline
Has no bars but only weaved
In curse'd bails of twine
Like some tangled marionette
But the strings are not my guide
Thoughts contained inside a net
Guessed I'd live there till I died
I escaped from bars that clutch
The thoughts you hold inside
They never let you see as such
That my mind had truly lied
This place I know will be no cage
In there I shall not wait
For against myself I tried to rage
Until, I thought, too late
To fight alone against your mind
Is a lonely curse indeed
And hardly do we ever find
That someone shall succeed
To win the battle, you must fight
But you have to first admit
Your mind can be the bars, not light
And you won't see them till you quit
There is no someone stopping you
And no-one left to blame
Your own mind is all that's who
Is giving you this pain
It howls and lies against your heart
And leaves your soul for dead
Escape from your own mind and start
To live again, instead
And if these things shall fade and die
Then let death be surely met
For long as light be brought to eye
I shall not be ready yet
But if I pass a blinding light
That shakes me from the path I tread
Let any road that's shown be right
And I shall live until I'm dead
If I cannot find my path
And I have no drive left to use
Allow my heart to do the math
And calculate what I should lose
No voice inside will cause me pain
No state of mind will cease my breath
I will not be prisoned by my brain
And I shall live until my death