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There is a second collection, however I will be posting it separately if at all. I wrote these poems in 2006 and I was a very different person then. This was during the time when I was discovering that I was gay among other things which caused me to question God, and even reality as a whole. If you are not interested in reading the poetry of an angsty teen version of me then you are welcome to close this and never give it a second glance. On the other hand, if you are interested, I hope you enjoy. Do NOT ask me to explain anything here, I will beat you upside the head with a shoe! Poetry is about discerning meaning, not having it dictated to you. Figure it out for yourself.\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t","description_bbcode_parsed":"Salvaged from FA thanks to \r\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tSalmy\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t		\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tSalmy\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
and his awesome script!

This is a small collection of poetry that I have kept hidden in a dresser drawer since sophomore year.  There is a second collection, however I will be posting it separately if at all.  I wrote these poems in 2006 and I was a very different person then.  This was during the time when I was discovering that I was gay among other things which caused me to question God, and even reality as a whole.  If you are not interested in reading the poetry of an angsty teen version of me then you are welcome to close this and never give it a second glance.  On the other hand, if you are interested, I hope you enjoy.  Do NOT ask me to explain anything here, I will beat you upside the head with a shoe!  Poetry is about discerning meaning, not having it dictated to you.  Figure it out for yourself.\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t","writing":"The “FEAR” Collection\n\nKrechevskoy © 2006\n\nThis is a small collection of poetry that I have kept hidden in a dresser drawer since sophomore year. There is a second collection, however I will be posting it separately if at all. I wrote these poems in 2006 and I was a very different person then. This was during the time when I was discovering that I was gay among other things which caused me to question God, and even reality as a whole. If you are not interested in reading the poetry of an angsty teen version of me then you are welcome to close this and never give it a second glance. On the other hand, if you are interested, I hope you enjoy. Do NOT ask me to explain anything here, I will beat you upside the head with a shoe! Poetry is about discerning meaning, not having it dictated to you. Figure it out for yourself.\n\n~Krechevskoy\n\nScroll down to begin ^_^\n\nKnow\n\n(Free Verse)\n\nDo you know what scares you?\n\nDo you know why you tremble so?\n\nFear is archaic.\n\nFear is not knowing.\n\nNot knowing what to expect,\n\nWhat is hiding under your bed,\n\nWhat is lurking in the shadows.\n\nBut you must face your fear,\n\nelse you live like a turtle,\n\nslowed by the weight of the shell you carry with you.\n\nDemonic Angel\n\n(Haiku)\n\nHe's always by me\n\nMy relentless protector\n\nFrom that which I fear\n\nDemons Within\n\n(Haiku)\n\nI have discovered\n\nThat the only things to fear\n\nAre my demons within\n\nShadow of One's Self\n\n(Haiku)\n\nI look in the mirror,\n\nSee what fear has made of me,\n\nThen jump in surprise.\n\nPrisons of the Mind\n\n(Narrative Poem)\n\n'Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage'\n\nThis had become the mantra of her life.\n\nShe felt silent.\n\nCrystalline pain falling from her eyes.\n\nA prisoner in her own home,\n\nLocked in bitter solitude.\n\nShe fell to the floor in anguish,\n\nDropping her purse,\n\nGrasping for the doors handle,\n\nBut a force far greater than any physical lock stayed the door.\n\nA wave of fear shuddered through her\n\nFollowed quickly by demoralizing shame\n\nHow could she fear society?\n\nShe felt so futile.\n\nHer fear was ungrounded,\n\nYet rationality could not win.\n\nShe threw her head into the door.\n\nThe pain calmed her psychosis,\n\nAnd she tried to steady herself,\n\nAs she planned her escape from this captivity.\n\nGetting to her feet,\n\nShe felt her empty stomach strain to vomit.\n\nTaking up her purse, she recalled her fake resolve.\n\nReadying herself for the harsh punishment,\n\nThat she knew the warden of her mind would impose for escape,\n\nShe shattered the door of her self-made cell,\n\nBreaking away at a flat run.\n\nPeople streamed past,\n\nSome giving her questioning stares,\n\nAll washing past her like waves.\n\nHer body seized,\n\nHer back becoming rigid,\n\nAnd the air around her denser,\n\nLike a protective bubble.\n\nSmack!\n\nA running man caught her shoulder,\n\nPulling her back to reality.\n\nScreeching at the contaminating touch,\n\nAnd the unexpected distance from the safety of incarceration,\n\nShe reeled,\n\nSprinting back through the portal to shelter.\n\nShe sighed in relief as the door closed behind her.\n\nShe slid to the floor again,\n\nTears leaving a trail down her sweaty, ashen face.\n\nHer purse discarded at her feet as she pulled her knees in,\n\nHer heart returning to its normal pace.\n\nHer stomach screeched with hunger.\n\nShe pulled her knees tighter,\n\nTrying desperately to banish the pain.\n\nShe pulled herself up,\n\nWiping her eyes,\n\nDragging her body back to bed.\n\nIt had been 3 weeks since she had last left her house,\n\nSixteen days since she had fresh milk,\n\nNine since she had bread,\n\nAnd three since she had meat.\n\nShe was confined in mid suburbia.\n\nIn the darkness of her home,\n\nThe woman ignored her pain and basic needs,\n\nAs the fear of facing a street full of people,\n\nFar over weighed any physical inhibitions she felt.\n\nShe was imprisoned,\n\nNot by the cold harsh brick walls of a dungeon,\n\nNor the cold iron bars of a cell,\n\nBut by the constraints set and held by her own troubled mind.\n\nShe had retreated away from the world,\n\nYet she wished she could remember,\n\nWhat it was like to be free and known...\n\nFREE\n\n(Lyrical Poem)\n\nI am I, and Me, and I.\n\nThese words are words, for they are not else.\n\nThese things I assume, assimilate, and consume.\n\nI seek to exterminate terrors, sorrows, and emotion in whole.\n\nFear is weakness, life is pain,\n\nThese things are true to me.\n\nI reside in that which is not light,\n\nIn what is never fair, and cannot be right.\n\nTruth is false, and false cannot be,\n\nThoughts are of memories I hate to see.\n\nHate is me, and I do comply.\n\nFear is gone now,\n\nI give my pain to you.\n\nYou feel, do you not?\n\nPain is my hate, my anger, my rage.\n\nPain is, and that is true.\n\nI thirst for pain, but not my own...\n\nAddiction to your pain causes pleasure,\n\nCauses gain.\n\nMemories fuel my hate,\n\nMake my pain yours too.\n\nYour pain is my addiction,\n\nYour lifeblood is my sane.\n\nSane is clean,\n\nSane is safe,\n\nSane is not of Fear.\n\nSane is your suffering,\n\nYour heavy heart and wrongs.\n\nPutrid are your thoughts right now,\n\nSo bitter, hapless, and null.\n\nThese words are true if true exist...\n\nIf you exist and I persist...\n\nAm I wrong?\n\nWhat is right?\n\nPain is real!\n\nPain is Life!\n\nIF this is true life cannot be!\n\nI'll Hate forever until I bleed!\n\nMy hate, you pain, my pleasure, your SANE!\n\nTell me YOU can comprehend,\n\nMy tortured existence and persistence mends.\n\nI am me and I am hate and I am truth.\n\nYour not me and your not true.\n\nYou don't exist,\n\nNot even if I do.\n\nYou are lies,\n\nYou are fear,\n\nMy conclusion is that your not here.\n\nSo go away and let me be,\n\nOr cut me now to prove your lie,\n\nOr take away my truth, my hate, your sane,\n\nmy pain, your pain...\n\nDark is quiet, Dark is safe...\n\nFear is gone.\n\nPain is gone.\n\nTruth is gone.\n\nYOU are gone!\n\nI am free.\n\n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"The “FEAR” Collection

Krechevskoy © 2006

This is a small collection of poetry that I have kept hidden in a dresser drawer since sophomore year.  There is a second collection, however I will be posting it separately if at all.  I wrote these poems in 2006 and I was a very different person then.  This was during the time when I was discovering that I was gay among other things which caused me to question God, and even reality as a whole.  If you are not interested in reading the poetry of an angsty teen version of me then you are welcome to close this and never give it a second glance.  On the other hand, if you are interested, I hope you enjoy.  Do NOT ask me to explain anything here, I will beat you upside the head with a shoe!  Poetry is about discerning meaning, not having it dictated to you.  Figure it out for yourself.

~Krechevskoy

Scroll down to begin ^_^

Know

(Free Verse)

Do you know what scares you?

Do you know why you tremble so?

Fear is archaic.

Fear is not knowing.

Not knowing what to expect,

What is hiding under your bed,

What is lurking in the shadows.

But you must face your fear,

else you live like a turtle,

slowed by the weight of the shell you carry with you.

Demonic Angel

(Haiku)

He's always by me

My relentless protector

From that which I fear

Demons Within

(Haiku)

I have discovered

That the only things to fear

Are my demons within

Shadow of One's Self

(Haiku)

I look in the mirror,

See what fear has made of me,

Then jump in surprise.

Prisons of the Mind

(Narrative Poem)

'Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage'

This had become the mantra of her life.

She felt silent.

Crystalline pain falling from her eyes.

A prisoner in her own home,

Locked in bitter solitude.

She fell to the floor in anguish,

Dropping her purse,

Grasping for the doors handle,

But a force far greater than any physical lock stayed the door.

A wave of fear shuddered through her

Followed quickly by demoralizing shame

How could she fear society?

She felt so futile.

Her fear was ungrounded,

Yet rationality could not win.

She threw her head into the door.

The pain calmed her psychosis,

And she tried to steady herself,

As she planned her escape from this captivity.

Getting to her feet,

She felt her empty stomach strain to vomit.

Taking up her purse, she recalled her fake resolve.

Readying herself for the harsh punishment,

That she knew the warden of her mind would impose for escape,

She shattered the door of her self-made cell,

Breaking away at a flat run.

People streamed past,

Some giving her questioning stares,

All washing past her like waves.

Her body seized,

Her back becoming rigid,

And the air around her denser,

Like a protective bubble.

Smack!

A running man caught her shoulder,

Pulling her back to reality.

Screeching at the contaminating touch,

And the unexpected distance from the safety of incarceration,

She reeled,

Sprinting back through the portal to shelter.

She sighed in relief as the door closed behind her.

She slid to the floor again,

Tears leaving a trail down her sweaty, ashen face.

Her purse discarded at her feet as she pulled her knees in,

Her heart returning to its normal pace.

Her stomach screeched with hunger.

She pulled her knees tighter,

Trying desperately to banish the pain.

She pulled herself up,

Wiping her eyes,

Dragging her body back to bed.

It had been 3 weeks since she had last left her house,

Sixteen days since she had fresh milk,

Nine since she had bread,

And three since she had meat.

She was confined in mid suburbia.

In the darkness of her home,

The woman ignored her pain and basic needs,

As the fear of facing a street full of people,

Far over weighed any physical inhibitions she felt.

She was imprisoned,

Not by the cold harsh brick walls of a dungeon,

Nor the cold iron bars of a cell,

But by the constraints set and held by her own troubled mind.

She had retreated away from the world,

Yet she wished she could remember,

What it was like to be free and known...

FREE

(Lyrical Poem)

I am I, and Me, and I.

These words are words, for they are not else.

These things I assume, assimilate, and consume.

I seek to exterminate terrors, sorrows, and emotion in whole.

Fear is weakness, life is pain,

These things are true to me.

I reside in that which is not light,

In what is never fair, and cannot be right.

Truth is false, and false cannot be,

Thoughts are of memories I hate to see.

Hate is me, and I do comply.

Fear is gone now,

I give my pain to you.

You feel, do you not?

Pain is my hate, my anger, my rage.

Pain is, and that is true.

I thirst for pain, but not my own...

Addiction to your pain causes pleasure,

Causes gain.

Memories fuel my hate,

Make my pain yours too.

Your pain is my addiction,

Your lifeblood is my sane.

Sane is clean,

Sane is safe,

Sane is not of Fear.

Sane is your suffering,

Your heavy heart and wrongs.

Putrid are your thoughts right now,

So bitter, hapless, and null.

These words are true if true exist...

If you exist and I persist...

Am I wrong?

What is right?

Pain is real!

Pain is Life!

IF this is true life cannot be!

I'll Hate forever until I bleed!

My hate, you pain, my pleasure, your SANE!

Tell me YOU can comprehend,

My tortured existence and persistence mends.

I am me and I am hate and I am truth.

Your not me and your not true.

You don't exist,

Not even if I do.

You are lies,

You are fear,

My conclusion is that your not here.

So go away and let me be,

Or cut me now to prove your lie,

Or take away my truth, my hate, your sane,

my pain, your pain...

Dark is quiet, Dark is safe...

Fear is gone.

Pain is gone.

Truth is gone.

YOU are gone!

I am free.

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