Psych (Cryptic - Screech)

Psych is a poem I came up with about a month ago. It's pretty much what I see myself as.
Now the name does not make sense based on the poem, since the poem is about a bard. Well, you see, the bard's songs make him a psych. The songs may help people, maybe, possibly, hopefully.

Regardless, that's enough exposition. Do read on...

Psych

I'm a dose of reality,

I'm a companion through the misery,

I'll always be here,

When nobody else is.
I'm a bard,

I sing my songs.

Tales larger than life itself,

Cultivations of my mind.

I'm a backbone.

I'll always be here.

For anyone who needs a hand,

Or anyone who needs an ear.
I'm a voice,

For when the silence deafens,

I sing my songs,

For the war and its veterans.

People have tried, people have failed,

When they've come to me,

Looking for riches and fame.

Many I've judged,

They've lived up to their shame,

Hidden away beyond the streets with no name.

It's a great power, and a greater responsibility.

I've known secrets, and I've known conspiracies.
They know I sing, but they don't know I listen.

I can add well, six and one makes seven.

But I've disappeared,

Haven't I? For a while?

It's alright, not every kill is a crime.

I've killed my time.
Looking back now,

It seems so long.

I've made it this far,

Somehow it seems wrong.
Like it's just… a different song.

I'm not a god,

I'm no hero,

I'm not a friend,

To most, I'm the end.

I’m not a dreamer,

I’m somewhat of a schemer.

I speak what is real,

While the songs I sing,

Are figments of my imagination.

Very few understand,

What I mean and what I say.

The others, they don’t quite know,

But they can’t seem to stay away.

Something always brings them back,

And they hear my songs once more.

It helps them to move on,

They come and tell me so.

But I’ve been gone,

Haven’t I? For quite long?

It’s alright, not every journey is a straight line.

I just follow every sign.

Looking ahead now,

It seems so feeble.

I’m on my merry way,

But there’s just so many people.

Somehow it feels I won’t last,

Haunted by the songs of my past.

What I’ve done,

What I’ve known,

What I’ve sung,

And what I’ve told.

It will be,

The death of me,

Unless I swear to secrecy.

So I go on,

Singing my songs,

Tales larger than life,

Cultivations of my mind.

Hoping someday,

Someone will find,

A hidden truth behind all the lies,

And live on to tell the story.

I’m a bard,

I sing my songs,

Tales larger than life itself,

Figments of my imagination...

Cheers... ScreechDrummer...

Unstable (Cryptic - Screech)

Stability as a concept has always intrigued me. How can you know if you're stable? How do you explain it?
People explain their state of stability in weird ways. People cope with loss of stability in weird ways too.

Anyhow, I guess it's easier to see when someone is unstable rather than when they're not... isn't it?
It's easy to tell whether a bridge is safe to cross or not based on whether it's swinging violently, or quiet and calm as a sleeping puppy...

Why am I saying all this? Do read on...

Unstable

A slow burn, a blunt force trauma.
All she had in mind, all she stood for,

Burned to ashes, crumbled to dust,

Like a rock that's part of a falling star.

Shame, oh such a shame,

for someone destined for greatness,

There's still moments,

Far and few,

That show the potential she has.

But she's a mess.

“Ignorance is bliss"

Is what she believes,

She thinks she knows how it feels,

But that's not what it means.
Her ignorance is feigned,

Her laugh, excruciating.

How can someone pretend so much?

How can she ignore all the pain?

It's blatant, it's obvious,

There's a problem.

But there's no effort,

To solve it.

There's just a dull little anthem.
She sings it everyday,

Hoping things will change,

She's lowered her stance on living,

And existing doesn't seem strange.

Lost in her own mind,

She's lost the one who knew.

She's lost her light in the darkness,

And she can't find her way through.

Name? What name?

There's no name for the faceless.

How can you identify someone,

Who's lost in a synthetic psychosis?

Game? What game?

There's no game without the pieces.

How can you help anyone,

Who's lost to the fear of the masses?

Unstable. That's what she is.

Yes, it's a little harsh to say.

But there's no other way.

This isn't a game that one should play.
Time will tell, how far she fell.

From the seventh heaven,

Gone straight down to hell.

These abstractions cannot do wonders,

When someone is torn asunder.

She knows this well,

But does she remember?

She's afraid of heights,

So she's afraid to fly,

Living amongst the rats,

She's forgotten the color of the sky,

Yet she wonders why.

Same? What same?

There's nothing same about this, it's hopeless.

How can you see the good in someone,

Who's unaware and lost in a fairy tale bliss?

Tame? What tame?

You can't tame the insane.

How can you show someone what's real,

When they're lost with the fictional and mundane?

She seems to think,

But then says otherwise,

To hide behind,

A cloak of thin ice.

They think it’s part of her fickle mind,

They are obviously blind,

Drinking gin with cyanide,

Superficially smart little finites.

They trap her in her own words,

Slowly choking the ways out.

The only time she ever is free,

Is when there’s no demons around,

Or when the bard sings,

And breaks the clouds of doubt.

What is going to happen?

Nobody seems to know.

Maybe it’ll all be clear,

Maybe it’ll open at the close.

Will her story be sung,

In glory or in defeat?

Remains to be seen.

Possibly a new scene,

Starting off pristine.

Cheers... ScreechDrummer...

Dear Diary (Poem by Screech)

Greetings readers. It's been a short while. Let's get straight to it.
Dear Diary is a weird concept, even I can't fully explain it. It's about a person who doesn't write everything into their diary, just the stuff where they feel overwhelmed by something.

It's heavily inspired by the works of Steven Wilson. I'd been listening to Happy Returns on repeat for a while before I came up with this. Maybe that explains something, maybe it doesn't, but do read on...

Dear Diary

Dear diary,

I met this girl today.

A troubled young lass,

Who kept laughing away.

She saved my life,

And didn't want to stay.

She hates her problems,

And runs from them everyday.

Dear diary,

I'm moving lower down the list.

I feel I'll hit rock bottom,

And never come back up again.

I keep on going,

Too fast for my own self.

I'm getting tired,

And giving up on the chase.

Dear diary,

My will seems broken today.

I still have the hunger,

But the thirst just won't go away.

I've kept my promises,

I've made my mark,

But somehow, everything,

Just seems over the top.

Dear diary,

The lass is tired.

She's running, like everyone else,

Too scared to face what's wrong.

I'm trying to help,

But I think I am too harsh.

My views are a little extreme,

But it made sense right from the start.

Dear diary,

I've stabbed myself in the back.

Knowing everything, yet nothing,

Am I stupid to think that I'm right?

I've made it this far,

In spite of what I lack.

Does it make me a believer?

Or does it mean that I'm mad?

Dear diary,

It's a closure I'll never get.

Like every other page I've written,

It will just be another with text.

I've made decisions,

I've read into every fact.

It's all too good, I suppose,

But I hope I have an impact.

Dear diary,

It's all standing very still.

It's eerie and it's quiet,

Though I hope it's not to kill.

I've become who I hated,

Does it mean I was strong?

Or am I playing a game,

Where all the buttons are wrong?

Dear diary,

It makes no sense to me.

Am I stubborn and selfish?

Or are things actually meant to be?

I've held on to everything,

It keeps dragging me down.

But it's a necessary evil,

I'm here because of what I've known.

Dear diary,

Have I even got it right any time?

Or is it just too fucked to care,

Am I always running in blind?

It is sad, or is it?

How does this fit...

Into the grand scheme of the world,

And what plans you have for it?

Dear diary,

I'm slowly fading into decay.

But I hope I get my answers,

So I'm writing all this today.

I'll go to sleep,

I'll dream of dreams,

And hope tomorrow is a better day.

But these chains keep clinking,

Maybe I'll find the key,

Maybe it'll all just be a dream,

And I'll finally be on my way.

CHEERS...
SCREECHDRUMMER

The Rebel Is Not Dead (Poem Collection by Screech)

Six Months, Six Poems.

That's how it has been my dear readers.

I've not posted for a while, and I'm thinking this will be a recurring theme.

So, let's get straight to the point... :P

"The Rebel Is Not Dead" is essentially a story about a person who used to get all his energy from his anger.

But when he met two lost souls, all the rage built up inside him started to fade, and he kind of lost his way...

But, as all stories go, he found a way to get his energy back... how? that's for you to read on and find out.

This page has links to all the poems in this collection. Read on... and may these words help you some sunny day ;)

Ice Queen (Lost Souls Part 1)

Dämon Kaiser (Lost Souls Part 2)

Harmony (Lost Souls Part 3)

The Best Of Both Worlds

The Rebel Is Not Dead

Butterfly (The Psych's Shrink)

CHEERS... SCREECHDRUMMER

Butterfly (The Psych's Shrink, The Rebel Is Not Dead - Screech)

Butterfly (The Psych's Shrink)

Entry 1 - The Butterfly's Words

You know, there's a version of me,

Not by choice, but it's as sad and miserable as I can be.

It's vulnerable.

But everyday I wake up, I choose,

Not to be another broken person in this already broken world.

I choose to be happy, because that's what I want to be.

Entry 2 - The Wind

I let you in,

You let me in,

That how it all started.

You intrigued me, and I wanted to get to know you better.

Still do.

But I knew enough to know, there was something different about it all.

Some say opposites attract,

Well, we should be stuck for life then.

The things you say to me are never lost on me.

I get everything you say,

But sometimes I pretend not to,

Just to hear you say more.

I see the perfection,

That you and I can be,

More than the reflection of,

The stars in the deep blue sea.

We're harmony.

The things of the heart,

Are complicated,

With a million strings,

Leading to a billion different clues.

But with you it's simple,

Straightforward and easy,

It takes no effort to speak my mind,

Because you have something to speak right back.

We're like a surreal supernova,

The consequence of the butterfly effect,

Halfway across the world,

Separated by the date line.

You're a wonder,

That never ceases to amaze me,

You're the lightning to my thunder,

That always illuminates me.

You probably don't realize,

The things you do,

They make you,

Exactly who I know you are.

Entry 3 - The Hurricane

You and I are not so different, you know.

I be whoever I need to be.

Depending on what I see fit,

I talk in that persona.

You like talking to people,

So you be what you want to be around them,

You be what you see fit for them,

Say what you see fit for them.

I'm like you,

But I exercise a little more control,

All in or not, nobody can ever tell,

Whether I'm gone or I've already fell.

Energy balls, that's what we are.

But I control my outlets,

Because that's what brought me this far.

But you let me out of that cage,

You let me burn up all my rage,

And soothed it with your talks,

Probably not realizing that,

We're on a journey,

Of a thousand walks.

A black hole in front of you,

I know my way around them,

I could help,

But that's your call.

Whichever way you want it.

Entry 4 - The Psych's Shrink

"Let's talk",

She says,

But he can't,

He's too disconnected.

"Tell me why..."

She begins,

But he can't,

He's too afraid it'll end.

Like all the times before,

The people got scared and ran out the door,

Like every other face he'd seen,

With an expression of horror and disbelief.

Like every night he'd stayed up talking,

To people who barely knew him,

He'd listen to all their problems,

He'd solve them with the best of intentions.

And every time he spoke,

About the things that he faced,

The same people called him,

Mad, insane, and crazed.

"It'll be fine, you're okay.

It's just a bad day."

The things he'd made them believe,

He could never believe in it.

What he said was impersonal,

It didn't fit the problems he saw everyday.

But she dug and dug,

And he didn't resist.

He nearly dug it himself,

Not a grave,

But a foundation,

Of a place he had once erased.

A person long forgotten,

A hero that he once was.

A performer craving for a stage,

A poet, writing away on a page.

Entry 5 - The Rebel's Words

The exception in an exception's life,

Guess you never saw that coming,

It's all just the rhythm I'm drumming,

The beats of our hearts,

The chords that we're strumming,

We're both just running.

It's never been this real,

With anyone else.

I guess you made me let myself go.

I hope my words help you,

Some sunny day.

It's like that song I like to sing,

About that angel afraid of the light.

With a broken halo but fight in her eyes.

I'm the music, you're the lyrics,

It's a combination, that can awaken dead spirits.

I'll tell you what people know about you,

They know that you have a slightly troubled past,

And a somewhat restricted present,

That you know the world is a fucked up place,

But you don't care, you've made your own space.

You're happy, you're sweet,

You're almost innocent.

You care too much,

And you hold on too long,

And you want everyone to be,

As good as you are.

I wish one day, you see at par,

You accept that you're meant to go far.

Hold on, though I'm just another star,

Don't burn out too quickly... you're my shrink, after all.