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I am a writer perhaps because I am not a talker.

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Paperback Writer

(LennonMcCartney)
Paperback writer
Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book?
It took me years to write, will you take a look?
It's based on a novel by a man named Lear
And I need a job, so I want to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
It's the dirty story of a dirty man
And his clinging wife doesn't understand
His son is working for the Daily Mail
It's a steady job but he wants to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
Paperback writer
It's a thousand pages, give or take a few
I'll be writing more in a week or two
I can make it longer if you like the style
I can change it round and I want to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
If you really like it you can have the rights
It could make a million for you overnight
If you must return it, you can send it here
But I need a break and I want to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
Paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer (fade out)

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Sweet Talker

(coverdale/marsden)
I can tell by way you walk,
You give it all away
By the sweet way that you talk, yes you do
You got long legs, a black girl sway,
The way you shake your booty
Gives your schoolgirl game away, yes it does
Youre just a sweet talker, bad daughter,
An youve just begun
The bitch is in heat,
So you better run
I know you know
You got what it takes,
You got the fever,
But, you give me the shakes, yes you do
Straight out of lolita
With nothing to lose,
When I got your number
My juke box blew a fuse, yes it did
Youre just sweet talker, bad daughter,
An youve just begun
The bitch is in heat,
So you better run, you better run,
So you better run, you better run
Or you better hide
Sweet talker, bad daughter,
Youve just begun
The bitch is in heat
So you better run, you better run,
You better run, you better run,
Or you better hide
I can tell by way you walk,
You give it all away
By the sweet way that you talk, yes you do
You got long legs, a black girl sway,
The way you shake your booty
Gives your schoolgirl game away, yes it does
Youre just a sweet talker, bad daughter,
An youve just begun
Sweet talker, bad daughter,
An youve just begun
The bitch is in heat,
So you better run

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The Writer's Dream

A writer wrote of the hearts of men, and he followed their tracks afar;
For his was a spirit that forced his pen to write of the things that are.
His heart grew tired of the truths he told, for his life was hard and grim;
His land seemed barren, its people cold—yet the world was dear to him;—
So he sailed away from the Streets of Strife, he travelled by land and sea,
In search of a people who lived a life as life in the world should be.
And he reached a spot where the scene was fair, with forest and field and wood,
And all things came with the seasons there, and each of its kind was good;
There were mountain-rivers and peaks of snow, there were lights of green and gold,
And echoing caves in the cliffs below, where a world-wide ocean rolled.
The lives of men from the wear of Change and the strife of the world were free—
For Steam was barred by the mountain-range and the rocks of the Open Sea.

And the last that were born of a noble race—when the page of the South was fair—
The last of the conquered dwelt in peace with the last of the victors there.
He saw their hearts with the author’s eyes who had written their ancient lore,
And he saw their lives as he’d dreamed of such—ah! many a year before.
And ‘I’ll write a book of these simple folk ere I to the world return,
‘And the cold who read shall be kind for these—and the wise who read shall learn.

‘Never again in a song of mine shall a jarring note be heard:
‘Never again shall a page or line be marred by a bitter word;
‘But love and laughter and kindly hours will the book I’ll write recall,
‘With chastening tears for the loss of one, and sighs for their sorrows all.
‘Old eyes will light with a kindly smile, and the young eyes dance with glee—
‘And the heart of the cynic will rest awhile for my simple folk and me.’

The lines ran on as he dipped his pen—ran true to his heart and ear—
Like the brighter pages of memory when every line is clear.
The pictures came and the pictures passed, like days of love and light—
He saw his chapters from first to last, and he thought it grand to write.
And the writer kissed his girlish wife, and he kissed her twice for pride:
‘’Tis a book of love, though a book of life! and a book you’ll read!’ he cried.

He was blind at first to each senseless slight (for shabby and poor he came)
From local ‘Fashion’ and mortgaged pride that scarce could sign its name.
What dreamer would dream of such paltry pride in a scene so fresh and fair?
But the local spirit intensified—with its pitiful shams—was there;
There were cliques wherever two houses stood (no rest for a family ghost!)
They hated each other as women could—but they hated the stranger most.

The writer wrote by day and night and he cried in the face of Fate—
I’ll cleave to my dream of life in spite of the cynical ghosts that wait.
‘’Tis the shyness born of their simple lives,’ he said to the paltry pride—
(The homely tongues of the simple wives ne’er erred on the generous side)—
‘They’ll prove me true and they’ll prove me kind ere the year of grace be passed,’
But the ignorant whisper of ‘axe to grind!’ went home to his heart at last.

The writer sat by his drift-wood fire three nights of the South-east gale,
His pen lay idle on pages vain, for his book was a fairy tale.

[...] Read more

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Lady Writer

Lady writer on the tv
Talk about the virgin mary
Reminded me of you
Expectation left to come up to yeah
Lady writer on the tv
She had another quality
The way you used to look
And I know you never read a book
Just the way that her hair fell down around her face
And I recall my fall from grace
Another time, another place
Lady writer on the tv
She had all the brains and the beauty
The pictures does not fit
Youd talk to me when you felt like it
Just the way that her hair fell down around her face
And I recall my fall from grace
Another time another place
Yes and your rich old man,
You know hed a call her a dead ringer
You got the same command
Plus your mother was a jazz singer
Just the way that her hair fell down around her face
And I recall my fall from grace
Another time another place
Lady writer on the tv
She knew all about a history
You couldnt hardly write your name
I think I want it just the same as the ...
Lady writer on the tv
Talking about the virgin mary
You know Im talking about you and me
And the lady writer on the tv
Talking about the virgin mary
Yeah you know Im talking about you and me
And the lady writer on the tv

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Writer- a must?

Out of what does a writer write?
Out of hatred or perversion;
Out of denial or deprivation.

Why does a writer write?
To vent his anger or hatred.
To cry out from pain or lust.

How does a writer write?
By borrowing or distorting.
By modeling or duping.

For what does a writer write?
For an applause and a place.
It alone suits him, an idler.

What is the use of a writer?
For him to flaunt his skill.
For readers to idle away

Does the society need a writer?
Does a woman need cosmetics?
Writer is a part of civilization
16.05.2007.

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The Writer's Ink

I am the writer's ink,
So just write with me without any fear;
I will move more than expected,
I will write more than expected,
I am the writer's ink.
Use me slowly or even faster,
I will talk more than expected;
I do have the message to teach everyone.
Of the beauty of communication,
I am used by everyone;
I am the writer's ink,
I do make people sad or glad;
My ink makes rulers sad,
My ink makes personalities sad,
My ink makes the common man sad,
The way i am used matters.
I am the writer's ink,
I am not expensive;
Buy me and use me always.
How can a country like Ghana be poor? !
Ghana has gold, oil, cocoa and timber;
There are also diamond, bauxite and other minerals;
How then can Ghana be poor? !
The writer's ink should tell us more.
Mismanagement is the food in the country,
Ghana has really more than it needs;
This country shouldn't be poor.
What the leaders say on air is not,
What we see on the ground;
I am the talkative ready to talk.
I am the writer's ink,
I will always speak the truth!

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A Writer's Dream

A writer's dream
You keep trying
Never denying to one day achieve
Despite what most believe

A writer's dream
You never give up
Regardless of what others may say
But wait patiently until that day

A writer's dream
Although it's been a while
It made you smile
To see your dream coming through

No matter how long it seemed to you
A writer's dream
You always believed in yourself
That's why your time has come

To be a successful writer
With the privilege of making much income
A writer's dream
You're happy to finally get this far

The world knows just who you are
Now this new sudden fame
Makes you feel like a star

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An African writer

I am an african writer
with the melodious lyric
flowing rivers of endless music
with words filled banks
of rhythmic juice

I am an african writer
the flower with the sweetest nectar
colourful juices of flowing oceans
oceans of endless streams

I am an african writer
dwelling by the shrine
in earnest worship to the gods of poetry
invoking my elders before me
warlord of the verbal war

I am an african writer
born with a pot of words
Caressed with the river of the niger
And burnt with the power of endless chatter

I am an african writer
With dead digits and ancient inks
Torn sheets with flee bugs
bestow to a journey of endless music
And beautiful heritage

I am an african writer!
Forged with letters and blood of lines
Strange eyes to a stories side
And rewarded with the gift of true sight!

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Love A Mortal Who Writes

This be a farce dictation.
But then,
Love a being who writes

Because a writer
Is a liar.

I will lie about how the
Night flames with the warm waters
But you will never believe me
For I am a liar
With a pen and a paper.

Love a writer
For a writer is a soldier
Regardless of state:
A drunken soldier.
An arrogant soldier.
A morose soldier.
A burning soldier.
Whichever.

Love him
For he is a liar.

He is a prolix garden
Of petty things.
He makes the moon an empire,
And the Sun, an asylum.

He will lie about certain things
With sheer beauty
That none of you
Can contain.

Why love a liar, you might ask?
Listen to a painter as he lies
And he will guise himself with
A shallow palette of colors.
Listen to a businessman lie,
And he will be easily defeated
In a warfare of witticism.
Listen to a doctor lie
But then again, science cannot
Feign states or even a love.

And you can think of any other
Occupation that holds a lie,
And I will tell you

[...] Read more

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The Writer and The Soldier

The Writer and The Soldier
By
Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk

The writer writes a sad lament for the love that he lost long
ago,
The soldier mourns the loss of a fellow slain long ago.
The writer has lead and ink on his hands,
The soldier has blood on his.
The writer can wash away the pigments and with them his
memory’s go, but the soldier can only wash the blood on his
skin; he can not wash the blood on his heart nor
The memory’s in his mind,
Burned into his mind with canon fire and the cries of
His falling comrades.
Oh,
When the two meet, they give to each other much needed gifts;
The writer gives the soldier understanding and a few happy
tales to think of when tears try to strike him down,
And the soldier gives the writer a new sad lament to write, and
a new meaning to the word friendship.

Written August 14,2008

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The Writer

Im the writer got a front page cover
Hot gossip bout whos with their latest lover
I write all chapters by the second scene
I call the shots, dont need a fleet street team
I am a writer and Im the news
You cross me you know youre gonna lose
Ill do the story if youre dead or alive
If seconds out or if youre gonna take a dive
Slip out the news or a piece of scandal
Dont toe the line, cause nothings too hot to handle
I am the writer and Im the news
If you cross me you know youre gonna lose
Yeah youre gonna lose
[instrumental]
I am a writer and I am the news
If you cross me you know youre gonna lose
And where you are its because of me
cause overnight you know it dont come free
Ill put you up there or Ill bring you down
cause nothing moves without me in this town
I am a writer and I am the news
If you cross me you know youre gonna lose
Boy youre gonna lose I said youre gonna lose
I write the news I am the news
Got to, got to lose
Oh yeah youre gonna lose
So dont step on my blue suede shoes...

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Writer

I'm the writer got a front page cover
Hot gossip 'bout who's with their latest lover
I write all chapters by the second scene
I call the shots, don't need a fleet street team
I am a writer and i'm the news
You cross me you know you're gonna lose
I'll do the story if you're dead or alive
If seconds out or if you're gonna take a dive
Slip out the news or a piece of scandal
Don't toe the line, 'cause nothing's too hot to handle
I am the writer and i'm the news
If you cross me you know you're gonna lose
Yeah you're gonna lose
[instrumental]
I am a writer and i am the news
If you cross me you know you're gonna lose
And where you are it's because of me
'cause overnight you know it don't come free
I'll put you up there or i'll bring you down
'cause nothing moves without me in this town
I am a writer and i am the news
If you cross me you know you're gonna lose
Boy you're gonna lose i said you're gonna lose
I write the news i am the news
Got to, got to lose
Oh yeah you're gonna lose
So don't step on my blue suede shoes...

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Four Main Types of Writers (personal opinion)

The Lonely Writer

Some writings tell me
This person is lonely
And is reaching out
For the touch of a friendly comment
These writers are sad, solitary,
Isolated, but good persons
And quite often very good writers

The needy juvenile writer

Some writings contain words
Or language meant to shock
And to offend.
These writers are lonely also
But in a different way.
These writers are simply saying
Like a little child
“hey! I exist! Someone better
Acknowledge me! ”
These writers can often write well
But usually don’t, can’t, or choose not to

The Spite Writer

This writer can be of either gender
But seems to be in a female majority
They’ve been spurned or rejected
Two-timed or lied to.
And they are going to vent their ire
In the most public way they can.
These writers can also be very good writers
But too often let their anger get in the way.

The Religious Writer

These writers show people passionate
And zealously devoted to singing the praises
Of the Lord and goodness and charity.
They’re probably austere, honest people
Who almost always write very well.
For the most part these writers seem
To want to spread the word and
At the same time tend to be rather singular
In the subject matter of their writings,
Rarely attempting other genres.

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The Talker

Splashes of words
screaming for
the talker
The words
fear
The talker
could have
forgotten
sentences

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Unchained

You said
I cannot get there from here, baby
And I dont care where Im goin
Heres to your thin red line
Im stepping over
Thought youd never miss me
til I got a fat city address
Non-stop talker, what a rocker!
Blue eyed murder in a size 5 dress
Change, nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah you hit the ground running
Change, and nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah you hit the ground running
No, I dont ask for permission
This is my chance to fly
Maybe enough aint enough for you
But its my turn to try
Thought youd never miss me
til I got a fat city address
Non-stop talker, what a rocker!
Blue-eyed murder in a side-swiped dress
Change, nothing stays the same
Unchained, and ya hit the ground running
Change, and nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah ya hit the ground running
Change, nothing stays the same
Unchained, and ya hit the ground running
Change, and nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah ya hit the ground running
Take a look at this!
Hey, man, that suit is you!
Youll get some leg tonight for sure!
Tell us how you do!
(come on, dave, give me a break.)
Hey, hey, hey, hey, one break coming up!
Change, and nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah ya hit the ground running
Change, and nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah ya hit the ground running
Change, and nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah ya hit the ground running
Change, and nothing stays the same
Unchained, yeah ya hit the ground running

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Ernest Hemingway

A serious writer is not to be confounded with a solemn writer. A serious writer may be a hawk or a buzzard or even a popinjay, but a solemn writer is always a bloody owl.

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Reader or writer

If you are a reader or a writer.
You should be a positive thinker.
You are more like a scientist observer.
Try to be an exact experimenter.
Nothing is too crazy to put on paper.


If you are a reader or a writer.
The reader is a wonderful dreamer.
The writer is a sincere worker.
Its lovely that both can be each other.


If you are a reader or a writer.
You should never say never.
So don't leave behind a book marker.
Make sure you have a word sharpener.

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Magic writer

Am the writer who going to write about the truth
Am the writer who going to write about the things you went throw
Am going to take all the pain out of you
And make magic to it and make it go away
Am the magic writer
I was born in the magic city
Where every one was smiling and happy
Where every kid had their own magical talent
I had the talent to write about people’s pain
And I could take it away
Because am the magic writer

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Writer's gift

The flow of ink in the writer’s pen
The flow of thoughts in the writer’s mind
A golden thread joining the sweet words
An enduring garland fresh with thoughts
A precious gem, worthier than gold
An epic in itself, the writer’s gift
No word is spoken, yet the tale is told
His mind speaks, his heart speaks
He blows life in each of his creation
The verses breath, the verses speak
The writer dies, yet the verses live

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That's My Story And I'm Sticking To It

Kindergarten
King of excuses
Sister Mary Mojo so hard to trick
What can I say
Dog ate my homework
I could play the game
They love me anyway
Alibis, angles and tales from the tropics
Come to my mind so easy and quick
Spacemen from Mars stole all of my money
But I could play the game
They love me just the same
Chorus:
That's my story and I'm stickin' to it
That's my life and all that I've got
Call me a liar, call me a writer
Believe me or not
Believe me or not
Women always know before you tell them
The younger girls so easy to trick
What's that word? I think I'm eccentric
But I can play the game
They love me anyway
Revelations
Love when they happen
Wizards and lizards I choose and I pick
In a hundred years this all won't matter
How you play the game
They love you just the same
Chorus:
That's my story and I'm stickin' to it
That's my life and all that I've got
Call me a liar, call me a writer
Believe me or not
Believe me or not
I will play the game
I will stay the same
I will play the game
Believe me or not
Chorus:
That's my story and I'm stickin' to it
That's my life and all that I've got
Call me a liar, call me a writer
Believe me or not
Believe me or not
Chorus:
That's my story and I'm stickin' to it
That's my life and all that I've got
Call me a liar, call me a writer
Believe me or not

[...] Read more

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