[x]

The Highway To Success.The Highway To Success.

Caught in the same cycle,
Venturing on different routes.
Dealt an equal amount of cards,
All attempting to follow suit.
Each path is only built for one,
So the other is destined to lose.
The hungry and the blind are equal,
But who is misleading who?
Multiple mouths moulded to lie,
Resulting in many truths.

So when you offer me....
A way out of this unfair world.
An opportunity to avoid the sheer cold.
To have the freedom of being brave innovative and bold.
A place where all of my dreams are promised to unfold.
Where all of my dreams will be mine to grasp and hold.
And my story will become an infamous l

PerfectionPerfection.

She lodges her fingers down her throat.

Clasping onto the wall as she recklessly chokes.

She reinserts her fingers back in forcibly.

Deliriously trying to make her body thinner.

She swoons and slumps to the floor nauseously

As she attempts to regurgitate her dinner.

Her throat aches as she screeches out coarsely,

With her hand covering the image in the mirror.

Her head now rests on the on the rim of the toilet seat.

She wants to eat but she just has not got in her.

She desperately begins to scream out inaudibly.

Her mouth now tastes of something pulpy and bitter.

She examines the red color of the fluid cautiously.

Re

GuidanceGuidance.

My father once told me that life is supposed to be a struggle
And that everyone has their own specific type of hustle.

Whether it be working in an office or stacking products on a shelf.
Naturally we all share the same aim of accumulating wealth.

He also told me that nothing is promised in this life time.
When you least expect it the man upstairs will throw you a life line.

Something or someone that will give you a reason to continue.
Awaken the hidden belief and talent that law dormant within you.

He then told me that happiness and success are short lived.
In time your name will both appear and disappear from life's short

Money, money, moneyMoney, money, money.

I laugh even though I don't find it funny.
How stressed I am because of my lack of money.

How much my life actually depends upon it.
How much the fate of my future actually rests upon it.
How easily you can lose friends because of the lust for it.
How friends can become enemies just because of the hunt for it.
My stress levels increase to the point where I have had enough of it.
I bury my woeful head because I know it is impossible to run from it.
Although I will always need money, I will never have any love for it.

Without money would there be such a thing as rich and poor?
Will the streets still be filled wit

Reflected InspectionReflected Inspection

Here I am again examining my disfigured figure in the mirror.

Fondling my fat wishing I could trim it down with a pair of scissors.

Relentlessly poking, prodding and picking at my face.

Leaving behind nothing but a black, coarse and scabby trace.

Furiously patting down my cheeks begging them to be smaller.

Standing on the edge of my toes willfully imagining that I am taller.

Folding my ears inwards commanding them to decrease in size.

Hysterically trying to find the beauty they said existed in my eyes.

Scrutinizing my nose using my hands to mould it into my desired shape.

Impatiently withdrawing my stomach to wo

TrustTrust.

Hard to gain.
But easily lost.

The effects will always remain.
Unless we pay the cost.

Instead of abiding by t

The BulliedThe Bullied.

He never enjoyed going to school.
He used to bunk whenever he had the chance.
Although he was not one for breaking the rules.
He refused to submit to their ignorant demands.

He told his teachers about his problems.
How he got bullied every lunch and break time.
They said they would find a rapid way to solve them.
Somehow his confessions filtered through the grape vine.

The bullying became more intense and extreme.
He began wearing long sleeved t-shirts to hide the marks.
He knew his parents would only label him as a troubled teen.
But he yearned for their understanding and supportive remarks.

Eventually he tried tal

ParanoiaParanoia.

I don't want to be this way.

But I can't help but feel this way.

No matter what you do

Or what comforting words you say.

My over active mind will not allow me to believe it.

My weary blood shot eyes will not allow me to see it.

Even though my attentive heart is able to receive it.

My thoughts and my imagination will corrupt and deceive it.

And that's why no matter how much I love you.

For some reason I will always feel cheated.

So please don't blame yourself because you have done more than enough.

You have proven yourself and have provided me with so much love.

There are only so many false accusations you can take.

The

Living a Lie.Living a Lie.

You say things you don't mean when you're angry.
You call me a waste of space and that you can't stand me.

When the dust settles you say you don't mean it.
You say I should know better than to believe it.

As usual I foolishly upkeep your illusive hold on me.
I allow you to mute my thoughts and take control of me.

You promise and reassure me that it will never happen again.
That this is the last time and you will put it all to an end.

But I know promises only comfort fools,
Who readily allow others to pull the wool

Over our eyes because it is easier to swallow the lies.
Can it be a mistake if it happens more than tw

ArtArt.

Imagine...

The world is your canvas.

Society is your paint brush.

The people are your choice of colours.

What kind of picture would you paint?

How would it differ from the image that is currently on show?

Would you go mad and rid yourself from all forms of restraint?

Just how far down the rabbit hole are you willing to go?

I ask because every portrait I create,

Is inspired by what is already in front of me.

So is it possible to even recreate,

Anything that the mind is not able to see.

The picture will always be the same

Because this life is all we know.

Where there is compassion there must be pain

Because it us who made

Home AloneHome Alone.

Everything becomes so much more dark and sinister whenever you are alone.
You're constantly on guard and overcautious just to answer your mobile phone.
Any slight disturbance or eerie creak and you begin to panic.
Retreating back into your secure settee conjuring up the most dramatic
Scenarios that have virtually no possibility of ever occurring.
But that never seems to stop the cogs from continuously turning.
You fasten all the windows and arm yourself with kitchen based artillery.
And man your position surveying the living room as if you were a member of the military.
Increasing the volume on your television set to dis

Self-InflictedSelf-Inflicted

I just hate myself.
  I hate the life that I lead.
    I hate the things that I've done.
      I keep trying to figure out.

       Where it is exactly that I went wrong.
    No matter how hard I try to evade
  And blame others for my actions.
At some point I am forced to accept.

  That the problem resides within me
    And the answer remains absent.
      I am the common dominator.
        I am

Race Among Race'sRace Among Race's

Racism will always be a complex and hazardous topic.

It is something that is deeply implanted within our logic.

It may be expressed in the form of a humorous joke.

Or may be intentionally announced in order to provoke.

Because they know that it is guaranteed to get a reaction.

And we impulsively give them that much needed satisfaction.

Somehow we feel the need to defend our specified skin colour.

We fight fire with fire to defend our heritage with misguided honour.

That's why racism can never be vanquished or become extinct.

It is how the world works and even if we don't say it, we will always think

How the colour

Unconscious Epiphany.Unconscious Epiphany.

I thrive and depend on your compliments

And it is only then as a direct consequence,

Am I truly able to write with confidence.

Even though your words are only temporary.

I deem your contribution as utterly necessary,

In order to refresh my wavering, selective memory.

My own validation depends on your approval.

Whether it is congratulatory or discouragingly brutal.

Your input is the one thing that is most crucial.

Can I call myself a writer if I don't believe in myself?

When I constantly seek approval from everyone else?

How can I then expect to make any sort of wealth?

Of a craft and skill I still think any

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 1,021 bytes more ▶

More from *KelaLewis-Morin

UtopiaUtopia

I raise my head and tilt it towards the skies.
Open my imagination and close my eyes.

Envision a place where I would rather be.
As far away from any judgmental eye that can see.

A place where all my dilemmas become obsolete.
Free from my troubles and the expanding concrete

Confinement that I am forced to exist in.
A place where it doesn't matter if you don't fit in.

A place where nothing but a smile is required.
Where I can think and write to my heart's desire.

A place free from any physical and mental disposition.
Free from the conflicting and persuasive power of religion.

A place where there are adjustable weather condit

Breaking NewsBreaking News.

That's somebody's mother.

Who was beaten and raped by another

Individual who couldn't control their seedy sexual desires.

Just because you can't smell the stench of burning skin.

Doesn't mean this world isn't intrinsically on fire.

That's somebody's daughter.

Who was kidnapped, molested and tortured.

By another who couldn't control their dishevelled cravings.

Super heros do not exist in this reality.

Does that mean this world is not worth saving?

That's somebody's father.

Who was shot by another individual who would rather

Resort to violence to settle a trivial dispute.

The things humans can do to each other.

No

BirthBirth.

Legs and arms primitively jolt in all directions.

Two bodies intertwined via a maternal connection.

Tufts of hair randomly elevated above a glistening scalp.

A speechless room saturated in compassionate but customary doubts.

Squinted eyes adjust to the intrusive artificial light.

An assortment of ardent illustrations vaguely in sight.

A protruding belly with a crimson chord attached.

Conserved in an amniotic egg instinctively waiting to be hatched

Premature shrills depart from a pair of virginal lungs.

A new unsolicited, unwritten autobiography has just begun

To unfold into an eventful and noteworthy tale.

A stor

LimelightLimelight.

Why do we go for the things we're not supposed to?

             Why are we attracted to things our parents are opposed too?

                       Why can't we control the things we are unknowingly exposed too?

                              How come despite our best efforts, we can be fully composed to

InjusticeInjustice.

Gallivanting on the high street with my peers.
Thinking there is nothing in this world that I have to fear.

Contemplating an appropriate place where we should eat.
I then leant down to re adjust the laces on my feet.

Suddenly a legion of faces loom towards our direction.
Not assuming that we were victims of their brutal inspection.

They approach me in a violent and threatening manner.
My heart clamours and my mouth begins to stammer.

They bombarded me with belittling and derogatory terms
And asked me where I was from as if it any of their concern.

I answered truthfully and tried to mask my anxiety.
I att

View Gallery · View Prints

Featured in Groups:

#Monolith-Verses
DeviantART Poem/Prose/Song Club

#written-from-within
Written From the Soul

#writeaway
Find Your Inner Voice

#artist-exposure
Club Supporting Artists

#TheWritersMeow
Cool Cats Who Write

#Writers-Guild-DA
writers everywhere

#writingclub
write it for real!

#dream-club
For Dreams and Dreamers

Show all (412)

Details

Submitted: November 1, 2012
File Size: 1,021 bytes
Submitted with: Sta.sh

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 15
Favourites: 90 [who?]
Views: 871 (2 today)
Downloads: 5 (0 today)

[x]

Survival

by *KelaLewis-Morin, Nov 1, 2012, 4:26:28 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Concrete Poetry

Survival.

Give a man a fish he will eat for a day.
Teach a man to fish he will eat for a life time.

Give a man a gun he will rob a bank.
Give a man a bank he will rob the world.

We adapt and adjust.
Constantly dithering on the cusp
Of what is considered wrong and right,
Ensuring that our ambitions remain in sight.

We would be willing to do anything
In order to get what we truly desire.
We would be willing to risk everything
Even putting our friends in the line of fire.

We may share the bounty with others,
Allowing them to experience the fruitful taste.
Given the option we will even care for our brothers.
Just as long as we are well endowed with songs of praise.

We are opportunists.
We are convincing and ruthless.
We are the modern day Judas.

Kela Lewis-Morin

Survivalby *KelaLewis-Morin

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Concrete Poetry

Something I have been working on for a little while. I tried to keep the rhythm tight and consistent attemping to use a minimal amount of words. I hope you guys like it and I hope it works