Death by Words

Im about to commit poetic suicide

Im gonna drive into a lake of words and die a creative death

The asphyxiation of liquid paraphrases entices me

Swamped by grammatical sea creatures;

I create a piece….

Under water….

I can’t breath….

I can’t see but I wrote a piece

The struggle resembles the erratic motion of a pen on paper; arms whaling against the resistance of the swamp

The struggles calms

My piece is complete

My creative lungs robbed of its oxygen supply; now filled with literature

My energy weakens and my body tires

The battle has ended…

Words have killed me.

Thoughts to Paper

My urge to write far exceeds my want to fight the feelings I contain within me.

These indescribable emotions frustrate me beyond no end but admittedly give me more to write about.

The thing is; writing gives me the opportunity to express my thoughts, feelings and views in the most raw form.

My aim is to create a piece designed to enable you to understand my understanding

But there isn’t enough words in the world that allow one to completely comprehend the contents of one’s being

So in deep thought I lay in darkness; allowing nothing other than words to disturb me

Ink flowing from my heart through my veins via a biro bleeding on a blank canvas with lines on it

As this canvas becomes immersed with emotion in the common form of blue pigment, my eyes brighten up; the sudden recognition of what being a poet consists of excites me

My poems explain me; so read on....

Writing/Reading

I awoke; not knowing the contents of my soul

So I flicked through the glossary of my imagination and decided that I'll read the first chapter of writing and reading my own poetry

Chapter by chapter I thought of and dismissed many ideas until I decided that I'll be happy; what I wanted was to be happy

So, as the story continued I was continuously interrupted by my thoughts; thoughts relating to happiness.
I put a bookmark in the book that I was writing that i was reading and allowed myself to think

Heres the joke; I thought I knew what would bring me happiness but then I realised that writing this book that I was reading was actually my personalised manual to happiness.....and I wrote it

My poetry was indeed my happiness

I vowed to entrust in my words and with that, happiness would soon come

So I came to the conclusion that I'd write, read and edit my "Book of Happiness" in order to suit me

It's essential that we all write, read, write and read the "Book of Happiness".

Discover what makes you happy and be happy with your discovery

By the way- the "Book of Happiness" isn't actually a book...its errr...its actually about the message in the poem....Create your own happiness