Parable of the Raging River by Dreamkeepers, literature
Literature
Parable of the Raging River
On opposite sides of a river valley lived two farmers with their families- one strong and young, the other a little older. One day a storm rolled in, and the river flooded.
Their homes were destroyed- stone and wood scattered by the raging river. Their loved ones cold and without shelter, both men were angry at the loss.
"I will not stand for this!" the strong farmer cried. "We have the right to live in safety and harmony. We did nothing wrong- but the river struck us. This injustice will not happen again- I will stop the river, destroy it, foul its course!"
He took his sons and prepared, collecting stone, timber, and tools to stop
"I'm fine" is a dirty lie.
The truth is that I want to die.
"I'm tired" is not even done.
It really means "I'm tired of being no one"
"I'm better" is but a curse.
The truth is that I've never been worse
"I'm just cold" is what I say
so my sleeves can hide my scars away.
"I already ate" is said with a frown.
I starve to see the numbers on the scale go down.
"I'm okay" is probably the worst.
It really means I'm about to burst.
All these things are lies to me.
But you take this as the truth because what else would I be?
I Am A Writer:
Gentlemen, today I speak to you
To convey an issue that has plagued the core of our community.
For so long have we been considered second-class;
To this day there are those who still believe that we are not artists.
But today is not about freedom, today is about honour,
Because there are many writers that still seek to shame us all...
I speak of those individuals, who take art from others.
Covers, photos, paintings, digital art, anime and manga.
It matters not where you draw your source from,
But every action impacts upon us as a community.
Why?
BECAUSE I AM A WRITER!
When I craft my works, when I write each and ev
Feel the rain dripping on your face
Sitting somewhere in an unknown place
You might just had your heart broken
Those feelings of yours go unspoken
Let the rain wash your pain away
Let it wash away and find your way
Let the rain slowly heal your wounds
It heals your heart and will hide your wounds
The rain will stay with you for years
It's one of those things that always cares
Because in the rain nobody will see your tears
A cool breeze sweeps across my face, gently stroking my cheeks, a light shade of pink from my fragile immunity to cold. The slight drizzle that had just ceased brought along with her a cool night, a luxury to the residents of the eternal summer of Malaysia. Yet I, an unnaturally weak figure to cold, find myself pushing my hands deeper into my coat pockets. I look up into the starless night, looking for the moon so that she can be 'it'. I figured she wouldn't be coming out soon, so I quit in our little game of hide-and-seek and move on. I walk under the faint, orange glows of street lamps, paying extra attention to the intricate architecture o
Bound by these shackles that cease to release,
By my hand it is so.
Blindly herded into submission,
By a society that deems us free.
But if it were so,
Why do they shepherd us into our oblivion?
Monsters that wear the faces of men beckon to us,
Claiming our souls with petty gifts and pleasure.
Their hunger is ever present,
And so they will feed until we are but empty husks,
Alive,
But without the freedom to truly live.
We are doomed to believe that freedom is ours,
When it is simply an illusion.
An illusion to keep us controlled,
Dumbed down,
Never questioning the thoughts in our minds that long to be heard.
If we are truly free,
I don't know how to explain it,
That feeling of loss after so long,
When the words in your throat are lost,
Balancing on the tip of your tongue.
That look in her eyes was so familair,
Yet, again, she was no longer her,
That smile made my heart flutter,
But there was still a hazy blur.
I was about to tell her something,
But that thought was long forgotten,
Just her voice when she asked me,
The feeling in my heart now going rotten.
Her friends told me what happened,
That she fell and hit her head on the floor,
That she had got amnesia,
Locking those once-open doors.
But I don't care anymore about why,
Seeing the way her face li