Poetry

Writing junkie

Mental engine turned on/
My pen is a blur, so gone/
My thoughts are coming alive/
The creativity of my soul is in overdrive/
My pen will bring about a new world’s birth/
Where my intellect alone will determine its worth/
Will there be peace or situations dire/
Lush green fields or cities of fire/
To write is to become a lyrical God/
A chains to stave off tyranny the likes of general Zod/
I feel it, the it burns up my soul/
Just making it all the more easy to write a junkies role/
It would be a crime to take away my pen/
Equated to a soul slandering sin/
It’s time, time to create/
When I’ll stop is not up for debate/
I don’t know who is in control/
Who is the poet, and who has the pen’s role/
I’m a slave to the passion of writing/
Take me away then, I’m not fighting/
Away to create, It’s something I must do/
It’s the easiest way for me to stay true/

Poetic ice

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Poetry

Burnt out

Burnt out like a struck match/
The perfect breeding ground for insanity to hatch/
The mind is stretched too damn thin/
Making the inner demons claw at your skin/
Constant irritation makes you see red/
The inner fire being perpetually fed/
Rage and exhaustion because you need need need/
So I give up my wants and to you concede?/
FUCK that I’m honestly tired/
For the time being from my life you’re fired/
You can’t expect me to blaze on, when I’m at wick’s end/
Back up off me and let my soul mend/
I’m so burnt out I smell of charred embers/
At this point I being tired is all my bod remembers/
Give me a moment, resting is my right!/
After awhile I’ll yet again be able to ignite/

Only if I rest lol
Poetic ice

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Poetry

Missing

I’m looking for someone/
Maybe you could help me/
Something awful must’ve happened, what have I done/

See our lives were interwoven into loves rope/
A bond that was what I thought, sacred/
But seems I was wrong, is there hope?

Hope of your secrets to come to light?/
Will I once again earn a trust I knew not I lost/
Or have you declared war, is this a fight?/

If so brandish the blades, go in armed/
If you’ve turned on me, let the  bridges burn!/
I won’t be the only one harmed/

As you cut through our memories you will know pain/
A time when you need me will arise/
But you’ll be left bleeding out in the rain/

I wanted this fixed/
You chose to shun me/
Now my rage and sorrow are mixed/

I thought you lost, a person gone missing/
A person I could one day find again/
But I found only a snake hissing/

Poetic Ice

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Poetry

Friday Night Freak

Biding my time all week
It’s torture as time creeps
mundane Monday
Tedious Tuesday
Weakening Wednesday
Teasing Thursday
All lead to Freedom Friday
The day when He is reborn
The Friday Night Freak
On the hunt, your soft pleasures I seek
24 hours when my mission is to make you week
Sanity slipping Sex is the goal
Its not a matter of Do you or don’t you
You will be tied up and pleased beyond your limits
You will feel me as I fill you
I’ve been ravenous for the taste of you
I will quench my thirst upon your pools
I’ll loose counts of how many times I conquer your orgasm
I love you that is true
But this is a steamy lust that I brew
I will take you
On top, below, or from behind
I will dominate you so you know that you are mine
Friday Night is a time you will rejoice
because it is now I’ll play in your most moist
From now until Midnight you are mine
This is the time when I’ll slowly Grind
I’m not stopping until we’re both weak
Just another case of the Friday Night Freak

Poetic Ice

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Poetry

Insane sanity

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It’s easy to be crazy, hard to be sane
A fact that rings true much to my disdain/
Oh the humanity
I’m trapped in my sanity
Life’s goal is for you not to be demented/
Not to give someone boots that are cemented/
Just to stay calm and chill
Don’t give in to the orgasmic urge to kill
Be noble, wear a cape like Bruce Wayne
Never be a Joker laughing at a blood stain/
Don’t ever let the blood smear
Hold you sanity very near
I’m wrapped in a straight jacket called society/
Where nut jobs and wackos get notoriety/
They walk loose, everyone is dangerous
Pushing the limits of Gore trying to be infamous/
Yet we are instructed, taught, trained to be sane/
It’s almost a sin to even complain/
Insane sanity, it’s not rare, actually commonplace/
Its almost normal to want to hatchet a face/
But if sanity is insane and insanity is sane/
Then, who is really in the straight jacket? The Joker or Bruce Wayne/
It can really bother the mind
Are you insane? Or sane with an axe to grind?/

Poetic Ice

Who really knows?

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Poetry

Light

For the first time in days
I can finally feel the sun’s rays
we’ve been berated by dark
children sat depressed in the park
no light so save our souls
consumed with noir until we are buried in holes
the sun is now all too bright
it’s almost something to fill me with fright.
the once oh so coveted light
it’s almost a sin to feel so right
The dark has changed our mood
now it’s instinctive to be dark and brood
Fix this dark stained world with light
Do it now with your luminous might!

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Poetry

Dreaming

Dreams
They may be prophetic
Never pathetic
Each with its own meaning
Trying to teach you something
Hoping you hold onto one thing
Sanity barely in your grip
Some dreams cause it to slip
What’s with this imagery?
Oftentimes cryptic dark imagery
To teach you to cherish the light
Yet filling you with abrasive fright
Fall has arrived, time for rakes
Watch under the leaves for snakes
Betrayal and enemies in the air
Your dream warning, the only thing making this fair/
Terrifying thoughts of death
Maybe even material item theft
What do all these dreams mean
Are they just another bout of rapids in my mental stream?/

Poetic Ice

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Original Stories

Sacred Swords Novel Giveaway!

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Hello Heroes,

As you know I write poetry as well as original stories. Sometimes short in length others are novel length. One of my moat Sacred is my novel Titled Sacred Swords. Its a young adult fantasy fiction novel based in modern times. It’s the story of two college students who were on their spring break together during their senior year. They go from normal students to finding out they are descended from God’s and destined to defend the world from a force of true darkness and his physical manifestations of the Seven Deadly Sins. Armed with their Sacred Swords Hurricane, and Soliel they set out to master their newfound abilities and prevent the world’s destruction, all while passing finals. College life is a difficult one.

I’m actually doing a giveaway from now until 9/27 although I may extended it. It’s a simple process. Just go to my Facebook page for the novel, like it, and post something that truly makes me laugh. That’s all, I want to laugh as much as I want you all to enjoy my writing. No gimmicks or purchasing of anything necessary. Just make me laugh and you get a book that I hope you enjoy and share with others

Make me laugh here–> http://www.Facebook.com/SacredSwords

Poetic Ice, aka LeTavious Hemingway

(The winner will be notified and info will be exchanged for the book delivery then.)

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Poetry

Possession

Your body
Now under my control/
To bend to my whim and will/
Possessiin
I’ve infiltrated the corners of your soul/
I’ll twist and turn your passion/
Tangle your fingers in the sheets/
Toes curled as your heart increases beats/
You thought you were in control/
Thought this was your choice/
Silly child, you never had a voice/
Simply the sexual prey/
Never once able to keep me at bay/
You’re the one that was caught/
But feels to good to catch your breath/
Only when I ordain it so/
I tell your body when yo stop and go/
Your orgasm is the lick, I am the key/
Once unlocked, then I’ll let you free/
You are forever under my control/
Oppression? No possession of your very soul/

Poetic Ice

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