A few of my poems

[Erik Ezrin]

Hey everyone
I also love writing, as well stories as poetry, but I never finish my stories :s *sigh*
I still have to learn, so tips and advice would be appreciated. Also pointing out what already IS good and what can be improved would be very nice
These are a few of the poems that I personally like, if you'd like to see the rest you can go to my DA page; http://asrath.deviantart.com/gallery/28905821


The World of Sheep

People watch a shining TV in the middle of the night.
Drive their cars to work, walk through the town's streets.

Buy, consume, work, produce.
Be together, never alone. Don't ask questions, don't stand out.

Dreams are for prodigies. For lucky people.
No one is ever lucky...

And in this twisted world of sheep,
I am a big, black wolf finding my way.



Brainwash

Truths, absolute truths, my head is full of them.
Learn this, accept that, don't think. Repeat.

Don't ask questions, they're only bothersome.
Don't wonder, don't dream, it won't come true anyway.

We don't want you to think. To explore, to discover.
Only to reproduce without questions. Obey.

And if you are one of those fools that think otherwise,
that make up their own mind. Do their own thing. Are individual.
Then we will crush you. Destroy you. Brainwash you. Until you are one with the hive.

Yes, foolish minion. Believe your are free! Believe it!
Only we know, that all you are is a machine,
which obeys, listens and repeats. Mindlessly.

How do you prevent your prisoners, slaves, from starting a riot?
Simple, make them believe they are free men!



Back to the Music


The music, the music, runs through my fingers, through my veins.
It swirls around me like a whirlwind of sound.
Touches me in the deepest and darkest depths of my soul.

It makes me grow wings from my back.
Race with the winds, fly to the stars, open my eyes.

I close my eyes, let the melodies reach deeper and deeper.
Embrace them like an old friend.
Let them saturate my entire being. Open all the gates.

It's sweet as sugar, sharp as needles.
Tears me apart, nurtures my wounds. Heals me and torments me.

Music, oh beautiful music, too long I have hid from your touch.
You belong with me, forever and a day. And then another day more.
I will no longer deny what you ask of me, I am merely a slave in your hands.

As now I realize, that when I fled from you,
the one I was truly fleeing from was
myself.



The light of change.


Darkness, silence, its cold in the deep realms of my mind,
pure blackness strangles me with its ice cold hands.

I shiver, inhale with a shallow breath. I could be dead,
I could die now. No sound reaches my ears, no light touches my eyes.

Lonely world. Cold world, there's nothing here to love.
All I want is leave, all I want is freedom.

Then, a beam of light drops before my two feet,
one step, two step, into the golden light.

Dust whirls around me, like little stars in a small universe,
as I let the light seep trough my pores I start feeling happy.

A warmth I have never felt before fills my entire body,
I breathe in and out. Deeply and heavily. Never I've felt this way.

The light was like a blessing, it opened my world,
I only knew darkness, now I also know light.

Sun rise, sun shine, fill my veins with joy.
The darkness is gone, and it will never be again.


Thanks for reading, and I hope I didn't waste your time with my writing too much

Grz,
Erik

[Robin Mack]

Thank you for sharing these.  You are developing a strong voice, and I thoroughly enjoyed reading them!  I especially liked the irony, eg "for lucky people... no one is ever lucky"

I'm not exactly a successful poet, but I have collected some advice over the years that has done well for me and might be helpful.

The first was to avoid using any metaphor that I had ever heard before in a poem.  If I were to find myself using something like "He looked like death warmed over" it was time to analyze what that phrase meant to me, and express it as powerfully and briefly as possible for me.  Perhaps then I would say "Eyes sunk, skin flapping, spewing maggots and corruption"  (happy turn of phrase there.  )

The second piece that I got was that poetry is writing distilled.  The poet should take and refine the emotion, the feeling they are trying to convey, and produce that feeling, that state of mind in as few words as possible, stripping away extraneous fluff.

And the third was that was that any advice you get should be cheerfully ignored if it conflicts with your vision.