creative thoughts

A Day of My Fate, Which Is Hate...

Emotional Poems

"Emo," they call me
I respond to my "name"
They laugh at me
I hang my head in shame

I walk down the hallways
I do things my way
They say, "hey, emo! You can't stay!"
I pick up my notebook and walk away
I'll stand up for myself
Just not today...

I don't fit in
People stare at me, like I am a sin
I won't fight back
My world is already black

I want to run away
I want to escape
I want to hide away
I don't want my fate

I wish it was too late
I never even got a chance
To change this hate


BY, a small word.
Like a girlfriend - absurd.
Before a Quill name.
It gives a status - name.
Like an ant on the floor.
It opens great doors.
That spot of recognition.
By - separates the past.
Status word of the writer.
Many pass over its clout.
BY - like a branded cow.
Such a tiny word of designation.
BY - is just that word.

2007 from
search: POEWHIT


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The light
does not shine
on you
it shines on the ones
who have yet to come
to the place
that you refused
to go

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Psycho- Confessions "A Psychological Confession"

Psycho- Confessions: A Psychological Confession
Authored by Matthew Wayne

List Price: $10.00 (!!!SALE!!!)
6" x 9" (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
250 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1466426245 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1466426241
BISAC: Psychology / Emotions

Psycho- Confessions;
My Anthology of poems, literature, tangents and journal entries going as far back as 10+ years. Most of what is found here can be found on my webpage, (

CreateSpace eStore:


I believe in the conscious attempt at better understanding who we are, that at the very core of every atom there is energy, there is empty space, there is potential for limitless possibilities, and that is where miracles are born.

“Gaze upon the fire of a star, to become lost within it's halo. To know heaven, to see the gamma ray and to feel the vibrational energy as it courses around us, through us. To experience love in a world of brutality where the earth becomes the devil's playground through the minds and hearts of man”


'Crimson Sunset' – Unknown written date.
“I feel compelled to write, so I write. It's ironic seeings how writing even if it's just notes, or completed sonnets they are my only true form of expression, I write what I see and what I feel. Many great authors and poets have done the same. I often write before I think, sometimes I get lost to my emotions so deep in thought I don't know what I have wrote until I look it over. Awhile back ago I decided to keep a journal. Now looking back on it, over the hastily scribbled words I see the emotions of a madman, a hopeless romantic, a lost dreamer and even an angry citizen. I ranted on and on about the most trivial stuff, yet at that moment in my life they were the highest of my priorities. I cannot help but pity my own past, and I am not fond of that, for to feel pity on another is to stab the already rusted knife that much deeper into the fool's chest. An added insult which never finds home in any situation. I could never figure out or understand why I felt like my writing could infest a person's mind. Like a plague it opens a gateway to an infectious cancer. Manipulating the readers mind, the harvester to a black death. Where I become my own demon.
It may sound selfish however, I must state that I write for myself alone, not for the readers who happens across this passage. No I would encourage them to write, and write for themselves never for another's pleasure. I hold no regrets in the way I live my life for that matter, and will apologize to no one for breathing the air.”

“Blood flows like oil,
Killing our mother, polluting our soil
Insanity runs wild, with stupidity on the rise
our addiction to violence will be our demise.
War, famine, and greed
losing our humanity like a disease
Death becomes second nature,
determined to bring forth our rapture
a myth we are trying to usher”

I - Overture

II – My Seventh Level

III – Confessions of a Madman
(journal Entries)

IV – A Notion of Thoughts
(Editorials – Commentaries)

V – Random Madness

VI – A Pathological Muse
(Sonnets - Poetry)

VII – Serenity

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is just a tease to try and tempt you into getting the book which is my best work in my opinion. I have lowered the price as far as I can without taking a hit to my own pocket. I am not looking to make money off this book, as it's a collection of basicly my very soul. I have time to make money later, and can ;) but if you can afford it I would recommend you grab a copy and enjoy....

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Veil of A Thousand Tears

In the morning of the darkness, the star shines throughout her body.
A remnant of the life she lived, and the ways she gave.
As the light begins to shine, the angels weep.
Was it the time for sorrow?
Is this how we bury tomorrow ?
This veil of a thousand tears covered the skies

My choice; Both Exist

Our job, to choose
To sift and to sort
Which thoughts bring us down......
(.....Abandoned, bereft......)
Identify, recognize.

When we are young, we put out feelers
What is life? How must I act?
Coney Island; my kind of place?
Are outlaws my people?
Peeling paint my freedom?

Buttercups covered the hillside
Looking like Heaven to me
Golden hill in my mind's eye.....
Peeling paint and rough people.....
My choice; both exist.

Data collecting, reality tasting
All part of youth's task

Collected, tasted, and now
I'm ready to choose.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I had a health scare. During it I tried to watch my thoughts. I saw that I zigzagged between concensus reality and heavenly viewpoint in which 'all things work together for good'.

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