An Epic Duet: The Beautiful, the Bad and the Psychotic – Part 6 (Final)

Part 6 and final of the duet poem I wrote with my friend Just Patty!

No, no, not the final poem we are going to write together! Hell no! 🙂

I meant the final in this particular series!

To read the previous parts, check out:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

I highly recommend you check out her blog, if you haven’t already because Patty is an awesome writer!–> http://petitemagique.wordpress.com/

Enjoy this final part of our insanely long duet!

Patty, keep your pen busy!

–

Great poet

 

Alex –> http://youngadultfictionblog.com/

Just Patty–>http://petitemagique.wordpress.com/

–

The Beautiful, the Bad and the Psychotic

–

Part 6 Final

–

Alex & Just Patty

–

I’m a volcano ticking time-bomb,

A tsunami riptide so hang on,

I can solidify your soul with my eyes,

I have blind hope,

I can topple the very skies,

Seeing you through this storms evil eye,

Cyclops.

A spells cast for evil dead,

A lethal weapon aimed at your head,

A lethal injection prescribed as my meds,

You know true evil has no sex,

Through your keyholes you are next,

In deep holes my secrets sleep in kilos,

Heartless without a cage.

Suicide, suicide,

On my mind, all the time,

Every time I close my eyes,

All I think is,

Suicide, suicide.

Reread again, repeat.

All Hell is breaking loose,

Talking to myself,

You’re in my shoes,

I show and tell,

My horror corridor cells,

Again I have broken myself,

Now you know I am telling the truth.

Tiger, tiger, burning bright,

Symmetry of fire within my sight,

When you scratch, feel my bite,

I fit in well, a façade with stripes.

Hunting prey within this grass,

Running away into my grasp,

Clasp the notion whence you dance,

I’ll be back to a no-one,

A serpent upon sand.

–

I’m a force of positivity

So take my hand and hang on

I can scare the night away

I have blind faith

I can climb every mountain

Swallowing you whole

Dragons

A fiery breath to keep you warm

Sharp claws to defend my treasure

Wings that can fly you right out of here

You know true love has no face

Compassion doesn’t cost a dime

In dark woods I keep my heart

Mindless without shackles

Never give up, never surrender

On my mind, all the time

Every time life breaks me down

All I think is

Never give up, never surrender

Like a broken record

I will fight hell, taunt the Heavens

Talking to you

Lighting the beacons

I show and tell

Breaking down the prison cell

Where you are holding yourself

Captive

Inside your own damned mind

Symmetry of ice, sparkling bright

When you bite, feel my rage

I don’t fit in, never did

A ugly duckling between swans

Swimming in a sea of madness

I will save you from drowning

Save you from yourself

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I’m Losing Touch with Reality – Random Photos of me

I tear into this page with terror,

I penetrate my fate with a diabolical pen,

Dip into my thoughts of blood-ink forever with this feather.

I go to work and put on an act,

I hold a girl only to get her in the sack,

I hold my tongue when people talk about me behind my back,

And I’m still crazy inside.

The horror scenes from my street cornered of crimes follow me to sleep,

Will I one day wake up dead?

Steal my pen!

Trouble has a way of stalking me,

Rocking me rapidly, attacking me, grabbing me, flooring me, throwing me, burrow below me,

My writing takes over to cause a supernova,

I’m taking no more of the same boring rota,

So get ready to see what I have become so far…

I’m living forever, I will die as a blogging dead writer; the haze of pipedreams will eat my illumining soul and corrupt naturally my calm nature nastily. I’m flying off the walls as this is coming off my chest, as a child I ate crayons now as an adult I am chewing on the end of my pen, not much has changed. Maybe this writing business is for me, the page is laid out before me, puke. This website is my last stand and my words are my last resort, I catch-a-phrase and head back the way. Fill these pages with shock value to fill those pockets with evil money to enrich that soul full of peace, I need a piece please. I’m losing touch with reality because I’m thinking thoughts; won’t you step into my fantasy world?

I’m done praying for archaic change,

I’m changing lanes faster than I can age in the face,

Where I’ll be in five years?

A writer if it’s my fate, if only I don’t die here.

I only have a glimmer of hope,

A pencil sharpener to butcher words as I go,

I’m simply the best character I have every wrote,

Break my soul apart and turn my words into stone.

Standing in front of this mirror mimicking lip-syncing death-threats to myself, I’m living in a living hell. These pages give me the key to leave hells grip on me, now I will never fail now. This blog is my playground, if you push me, I am swinging! See these words through the world of a wonder. That’s why they call me Alex Kennedy, I write venomously but if you extract the remedy, you will live to see another day. True evil has no gender, so I think I shall wear the crown.

And to all who are down here reading this, yes, all of these pictures are me. I thought it was about time I showed my face. Haha! Alex

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A Flare-up Story – Mental Patient & Proud

The shadowy mother figure from the infamous shower scene. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There once lived a boy named Alex. Alex was a mentally challenged young lad…

One day…

“Alex, did you know you contradict yourself and say you’re a psycho, instead of your actual words you have used, saying you were a schizophrenic?” I did not know that; please tell me how else I can describe my emotional detachment or how I am feeling at that exact moment I write?

But I would like all of you sane people to know, you use words such as Crazy – Psycho – Out-of-my-mind – Mental – Lunatic on a daily basis and you have no problem with reality detachment or have even seen the inside of a mental health hospital… Most of you only need a good nights sleep, stop watching horror movies and step away from the pen.

I HAVE BEEN STRUGGLING WITH THIS SINCE BEFORE I STARTED WRITING!!! I have more of a right to use these terms than you… You textbook quote back to me what mentally ill terminologies I should use – I have lived this…

No matter how hard I run, it will find me. It doesn’t matter how much I write, it will find a way to my forethought. You play and prey on words to make yourselves out to something you’re not as long as your sane voice is thrown across the internet, well here’s mine – I AM A MENTAL PATIENT AND I AM PROUD OF IT!!

I don’t really live, the people closest to my heart may know this about me, but I shall never go into detail and I will never let them see me on a bad day. It’s called keep people you trust most on the planet at arm’s length and it’s no way to live. And the people who pop in & out of my life believe I am a normal funny, happy everyday person, just like you.

Now I know my words I bring to the wordpress classroom for show & tell are perceived as Angry and Out-of-control, but it helps me deal. Now I am not averse to kicking some ass when needed, but if another SANE person strolls along into my blog, browsing only a few of my words and jumps straight in with pointless words and psychology to point stuff out. (I get enough looking after behind the screen BTW) If I am having a bad-day, I am not going to miss you and hit the computer screen.

Now I write to keep my demons at bay, it does help when you try to exorcise me over the internet.

I am broken, leave the mess be, read my blog and have a nice fricken’ day.

And remember… I am awesome.

Thanks for reading. My outburst has exhausted, now don’t we all feel better.

If you have a problem with anything within this post please comment and I am sure I will get straight back to you with some wonderful butterfly and rainbow words of wisdom and where the hell you can go.

Alex

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My Evil Pen Once Again

My Evil Pen Once Again

Crimson hands nailed to the crucifix, a mental martyr for all mankind, now firing mortar shells at their warp minds while I’m on fire. Welcome to my mad world, invasion of the sanity snatcher.  This is a historic event, placing my beating trusted heart on a silver platter of judgement. I am not trying my hardest to get through to you for you to save your own life; I am asking we join our forces so we can destroy sanity together. I am the prime example of the worst writer to grace this planet, Oh, I can write but my words are that dark you cannot read this.

In my head all I hear is… “Life is too difficult, it’s a cynical miracle, if the pains not emotionally whimsical it’s probably physical, poetically and lyrically visual; my words are terribly killing you, sent here by the wind to preferably out-best you to my pinnacle proportions, I put the devil in his coffin, Figaro-Figaro! Mr. Barber let me go and cut open my own throat, I’m abysmal. This world is too much for me to hold so I am running for that door.”

Now is it classed as suicide or homicide if your evil persona tries to kill you?  The temperature I’m blowing is either hot or cold; within the blink of an eye I’ve turned the heat down into a flaming temper. I’m a poisonous flower; as a toddler I was a bad seed little monster. Half the time if I change my mind I have to change my life. Those broken words and these broken wings are holding hostage this world which cannot do a thing. Run for life!! Here comes my pen, again. Follow me – Follow me, you’re the only one who can deliver me towards infinity.

This world belongs at the back of my mind,

When I have flung my body back in time,

My tongues not working I guess it’s time to write,

One lost person isn’t cause for a riot,

I’m back from the dead, the baddest to death; madness vents while my friends and family burn.

You have no remote chance to control me,

I never hang my head because I channel this anger well,

No soul has a hold, a centrefold that should be censored gold but my words promote worm food.

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What Type of Writer?

“Writing”, 22 November 2008 (Photo credit: ed_needs_a_bicycle)

For my Writing Friends

I stand now; I stand a man with no future as of yet, twiddled by his past and troubled by his condition but still I stand toe to toe – nose to nose with this epic-fail named my life. Yes it may have a detrimental state on my being but in life’s chess game I can hold all of its weight because they call me Alexander the Great Writer.

I am different writer from all of you, which inevitably makes me stand away from the pack, I’m a lone wolf, you hunt your prey, I am more of a devilish creature; I wait for my food to come to me. Decipher that how you will. But I have watched and seen so many of a’writer creep up to a literary agent with a piece of work or a manuscript, shaking with so much possibility for a publication or perhaps a good phrase. But —

“Excuse me; this is my manuscript, its call Dead on The Water. It’s a psych-thriller novel. Everyone who reads it says it is awesome. Could you give it a read, please?” The writer stammers as he shudders in his boots.

“Sure thing, it will be the first thing I will do right after I do this other thing I have to do.” The clips of the high-heels simmer away through the double doors of the agency.

And what a shock! Nothing comes to pass.

—

But I devised a plan. One that will be more treacherous and longwinded than your way, I will write a blog! Write everything I can, whenever I can. Gain views upon my work through the blog and social networks. And in time the RIGHT-EYES will stumble upon my words. – The idea doesn’t seem that great when I write it down like that, but if I do my own thing I should get to where I am going through gaining attention. Oh yeah, for all you wannabe writers. A blog can be used as a portfolio for your work, so anyone wanting to know what you write like before contacting you, can view it, so write your best pieces. It’s a lot like putting on your party-dress and attending a ball, you want to be the best piece of polished writing-skirt at that place, so you get lucky and go home for the best damn night of your life. I think I got carried away with that part, I’m back now.

Now my talent or skill; to me it resembles a ship on the ocean, it could be calm and controlled on the water but like the weather, within an instant it can turn harsh, deadly and challenging and then there’s days of waves of poetry; but you have to look out for them.

These words I give birth to can conquer all forever, whatever the weather whether I wither or whether I turn killer and send this world into global terror, I shall. Whether I use poetic stories or general stories to get my emotion pen across, I will, by any means necessary. I may be a female pin-up centrefold and my words may be censored gold, but the reality is my reality is something I can never truly hold, my job sucks and my bed is never cold, fact.

But I write everything and when I say everything, I write everything on my mind at the time I am thinking about writing. But in a way that is educational for other writers due to my ability to play with the words. Also in diary fashion so people just wanting to pop in and check out if other people are having bad days just like them. And then you have my dark side that gravitationally yanks people in to show my mental illness and how I write about it, along with the why strapped to it and the ferocious way I chuck words around that they could never even muster to think about using.

Take away this hurt, please. It feels as if my brains will flower-blossom from beneath my skull, splitting my life into death. I am crumpled on the floor taking this beating from myself because I must; squish my eyes shut so no tears are spilt.

These med-kits have no instant direct-hit on these chugging headaches.

You see I write everything I see. I could be watching TV and everything the characters on-screen are acting I am writing EVERYTHING that I see. –

Davis stretches through the doorway, gun handle strangled, index finger at the ready to twitch. His eyes mean business with his bad acting; but the bad guy is going down. The shadow of a silhouette passes the kitchen door; Davis barely caught it in his peripheral vision.

So on and so forth. Hey, you can always watch what I was writing.

But it is a great way to further your talent. Watch something and rhyme off quickly and efficiently, so when it comes to tackling you work, it’s not only a great piece of writing it’s also a piece of pi$$ to do it.

Stay shiny!

Keep those pens busy!

Alex – The great writer, it’s got a cool ring to it.

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