Young Writers Society

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meandering through the hidden pathways of middle class education and pathetic adolescent emotions and treading upon the forgotten lives and ideas of countless silenced prophets. magenta outlines of bl

friday night was just like that wet night, our last in paris. i hung onto Simon's arm, half-heartedly walking next to him under his umbrella, when the rain was flying ...

Hell [was] carved into her head bloody red and puffing but her dappled smile reminded me otherwise of her innocence and [her] grossly unaimed fault of sugarapologies words are just ...

how many times do you need to make me think i'mclose before you blow___me away again i keep playing with words and scrunched up pieces of paper but you've never ...

blood spreads across the linoleum and i fight to find tears the stains in the satin are showing in your face. your closed-eyes say, "it is finised." i loved you ...

Records line the beige and orange walls Volkswagons are only trendy When you paint them in daisies. I don't really know the girl with the beads dangling from the ceiling ...

This is just an early morning ramble whist trying to get my brain to write something good... apparently i dont' think it worked... anyway enjoy. i'm wondering what would it ...

You've been cross-dressing again, dear sidestreet, And I've been staring at you for so long, while the noise Of the seven jazz quartets (almost six cellos in all) Has been ...

7-12-05 Page songs in you, a calculator on steroids, to Pink Floyd music tunes I’m here, listening to it now, a to phones and ringer experiencing the truth of bell ...

OMYGOSHHHHHH. I'm sorry, I don't mean to get all immature about it but this poem is awesome. If I wrote something like this, it would take me years and years. ...

Tagging in the District. Waiting for assistance. Police Cars in the Distance. Tagging in the District. It me first attempt don't laugh

Hey this is Just a stupid poem There once was a girl called Louisa, Who was definitely not out to please ya, She'd give you a hug, Then out come ...

written for my boyfriend who lives, works and goes to school in London. this goes out to all that were affect by the bombings there, and to all that are ...

your golden green leaves decorate the feral branches, reaching over bypassers reaching into their hearts wild strands of bark, fluttering in the italian wind, mesmerising and free the simple flower ...