Young Writers Society

Little did she know, She had a friend in me. Little did I know, That- she could see.

I wrote this when I was still 12... So when I was 12 I believed that stanzas had to be certian amount of lines, adn this was during the time ...

None of it makes sense anymore. When cons start outweighing pros, and hope becomes a screaming infant tied to a stick and beaten repeatedly against the concrete sidewalk, and every ...

There once was a tissue named Bradley Who could only do things quite sadly. He snuffled and moaned And bickered and groaned And got thrown away quite gladly.

As beautiful as heaven, Just like a butterfly. They fly around like rain drops Filling up the bright blue sky. You draw you self away from them, Come crashing down ...

The House that Jack Kerouac Built [Second Verse] I have found the weeds which Ophelia wound around wrists and ankles; and Chatterton measured the moon. Flirtaceous perrenials blooms of boyhood ...

My zombie hands clatter across the keyboard the keys rattle and quake and words appear but I can't read them. My zombie breath shoots forth as I cough hacking upon ...

OKay, due to puncuation problems, this post has been editted with the correct poem. In front of us Are piles of books That help us to learn About what has ...

Poor doggie.

We sit along blackened brick walls, playing old records while broken guitar strings— [play melancholy] husky voices singing into whisky bottles. As we sit speaking only in parables, tracing our ...

chapter fifteen descent. she's dry against the mead-colored sunset, bleeding browns and whites. whatever happened to her neverland? whatever happened to riverdance? on waiting list for stronger squall

Something died in there. Hiding under floor planks and making love among wood lice, we were more than willing to grapple for the immediate dissatisfaction, to touch just to tear ...

Here I lay, looking upwards, What a glorious sight to behold. The eternal beauty of the Vast heavens, looking down on me. This forgotten beauty will always be with me. ...

Pork Roast, I wish you were here. Pork Roast, your smell is near. The thought of you makes my mouth water. But I know this is all a deram. Even ...

All the worlds touch Softly in the paper-smelling silence Of sleeping ink. All the worlds breathe And whisper words of wandering Among the wonders. All the worlds sing And dance ...