HomeAbout MeCartooningAnimationWeb DesignWriting

About My Writing

I started writing short stories when I was very young, my earliest attempts at writing being Pokémon 2000, not to be confused with the official movie Pokemon 2000: The Power of One, and Wally the Wombat, which won 3rd place in the Whittlesea Show Writing Competition.

Since then, I have started writing some longer short stories, one of which I have included an excerpt of, and a lot of poetry.

The House of Man (Poem)

The earth in the air,
Sky arrows where I make my place.
Underneath the sea of beacons
Great giants, stones of safety for Him.
Oh yes, He likes it so very much.

He cares not, about what this land is feeling.

The House of Man is calling,
The roaring lights tear me away,
From these cities of green.
The waterfall comes crashing down,
Round ruins of this city we built,
On broken words and broken-hearted men.

 

 

Arc~ (Short Story Excerpt)

Melancholy. Apathy. Loneliness. Expectancy. Exclusion.
People everywhere are affected by things that others don't notice. But for the people with these problems, it'll be blatantly obvious who is affected by what. People don't think these are big problems, but they can be serious enough to drive people to suicide.
I suppose I'm one of those people.
My name is Issac Beirmond, and I suffer from the main melancholies, to the point where I consider anything to just make life more exciting.
It's a bit of a dangerous position to be in, as there are many things I could possibly end up regretting, but that's the thing. In the moment, I only care about the thrill of the chase, so to speak.
But I think that there has to be some better way of dealing with my melancholy, but I just need to find it. 
But where do I start looking?

Insanity and Tears

Fuel of nightmares, fueled by fear, glowing in the darkness, watching near.
Clockwork soldiers, rigid chase, once made joy, this desolate place.
Stained walls, memories, in these walls, laughter echoes through these halls.
White and blue, blue and white, flaming eyes, burning light.
Mad and hungry, full of fright, you run, escape, survive the night.
Fuel of nightmares, fueled by fear, always with you, always near.
Since one night, looped inside, mind reducing, justified.
Laughing, running, tears on your cheek, find you, crying, growing weak.
At you now, the manic cry, sympathy, pity, none you'll find.
Arms reach out, cold and bright, only comfort for black night.
Never knowing, how to be, anything but nightmares only.
Lonely, crying, both become, embrace the shadow, once made fun.
Mixed through twisted, insanity and tears, love is made, a love for fear.
Outward, projected, crazed and mad, inward, sheltered, cold and sad.
Found now, you sob, becoming warm, fear itself becomes your home.