LJ Chaplin

LJ Chaplin Jul 2013

I'm writing this poem,
As a reminder to some,
That I am just human,
You're not the only one.

I breathe and I sleep,
I eat and I drink,
I also have emotions,
So just stop and think.

The words that you say,
The thoughts that you share,
Will hit me in the face,
Oh, but you don't care.

I am young and I'm sensitive,
I can't handle too much,
But yet you talk about me,
Oh jeez, thanks a bunch.

The damage you have caused,
May not seem so obvious,
But inside I am aching,
And you'll still remain oblivious.

LJ Chaplin Jul 2013

A Different Kind of Boy

I am not the kind of boy who fits the mould of it's social stereotype:
Does sport
perving on girls
has the tendency to treat girls like a piece of meat

No, that isn't me.
I never liked sport.
I was a boy who didn't like to watch or play with Action man or Power Rangers,
Instead I was the kind of boy who would tell his friends that he was going to football club,
When in fact I was going to dance club.
At school I studied dance.
"What lesson do you have next, Lew?"
"History"
Dance.

As the school year rolled on it was revealed,
When I had to perform in front of the whole school,
Nerves
Butterflies
Terror

After that I rolled with the punches:
Gay
Queer
******

It angered me that because I didn't stick with the 'traditional' ideology of a boy I was an outcast,
labelled with a stereotype that also didn't fit me.

I like Lady Gaga
In fact, I adore her.
Because I support the LGBT community I am misunderstood as a person.

To this day I struggle to overcome constant attack of prejudice and disrespect that people show me,
I struggle to hold on to that last thread of self confidence.
I don't dance any more. I am too scared to try it again
I don't tell people that I listen to Gaga and Lana Del Rey. They'll laugh at me
Whenever I say I like a girl people think it's a lie

**All of this because I am a different kind of boy.

LJ Chaplin Jun 2013

Addiction

Sitting in the corner of the room,
Cigarette in one hand,
Black coffee in the other,
Caffeine
Nicotine

The perfect combination.

The sun is melting into the horizon, merging with the darkening landscape,
Like a flame being extinguished as it is plunged into water,
The luminescent glow of the laptop throws shadows against the wall,
Pinned up by gravity.

The relentless scrolling through images of pretty girls and pale shades,
Vibrant foods and tranquil nature,
I wonder which one I should reblog
All of them.

The cigarette continues to burn,
Plumes of ashen smoke consuming the scent of ancient wood and faded paint.
Raindrops begin to tear at the window,
Fogging up the glass,
Echoing through the hallowed halls.

The coffee is gone,
It warms my veins.
I suppose I better make another cup
**After all, this is what I do for a living

LJ Chaplin Jun 2013

Grenade

Pull the pin,
Launch the grenade,
Take cover,
Bang

*There goes my heart

Short and sweet

LJ Chaplin Jun 2013

The Fool

I'm just the fool who carries the load,
Holding all of the baggage with nowhere to go,
Left to handle myself while the people laugh at me,
A one person circus who has no feelings.

Where is my standing ovation?
Can I be offered salvation?

I've cradled your fears but no one will hold me,
Dealing with something that's bigger than me,
Kicking and screaming as you drag me away,
I put up with stress for one extra day,

Now look what has happened again
Imprisoned without a friend

Washed away tears that people have cried,
Over breakups and disputes and people who've lied,
But when I need something to cope with the pain,
I was beaten and forgotten and bruised with the shame,

Nobody fought for me
*Nobody thought about me

LJ Chaplin Jun 2013

Writer's Block

There is something chaotic about writer's block,
A catastrophe that every writer faces during their search for creativity,
The mundane flashing of a cursor on a word document,
The point of the pen barely scratching the surface of the paper.

It feels as if we have been kidnapped from our fantasy and plunged into reality,
We feel trapped, locked away in a place far beyond the reach of inspiration,
A bag placed over our heads and slowly suffocating us,
Each breath dissolving,
Each memory crumbling,
Each ounce if strength weakening.

It seems inevitable,
To stare through the barred windows of our empty minds,
Our hands sliding between the gaps and trying to feel the warm sunlight of creativity,
To feel the cool breeze of an idea,
To taste the forbidden fruit of our inner desires.

And when we think we have broken out of the clutches of a blank mind,
We face the inevitable task of jumping over the canyon we have come to know as a risk,
Flight or fall
Destiny or death
Success or sorrow

**All for the sake of articulating a single word on a sheet to begin another journey into the unknown

LJ Chaplin Jun 2013

Self Control

It has been grasped in my fingertips,
The reins that have steered my conscience,
The compass that has guided me through the wilderness
Of myself,
Forests and vast landscapes sculpted by trepidation,
The flowing river of guilt that flows between the cracks
Of my positive façade,
The tables are starting to turn,
The piece of mind I have allowed to dictate my actions
Has shifted towards the edge of a cliff,
Left to plummet to the jagged rocks of my insecurities,
The storm clouds are rolling in from the horizon,
Guttural claps of thunder erupting,
Pulses of lightning striking the last of my happiness,
Shattering it into a million fragile pieces,
Left to burn in the heat of the growing tension
Of my worries,
I'm slipping,
Clinging onto the edge and not looking down,
Not looking down at the twisted fate below
As if I would be staring into the smouldering depths
of hell

I'm too tired to hold on,
I have to let go,
*I have to fall.