Chewing On Glass… Is That A Funeral? Collection…

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Is That A Funeral? Store Now Open…

Find What Fits You… Help Independent Writers Spread The Word…
Two Birds… One Helping Hand…

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Teething On Concrete… Join Me…

It Has Arrived…

Is That A Funeral? Proudly Announces The Next Great Chapter In All Things Layne Ambrose…

A Poetry Collection Like No Other…

Seriously…

Pick Up Your Copy Today…

Available In Paperback and On Kindle…

Here…

Scarping its way into the world. Teething On Concrete is the newest collection of poetry by Layne Ambrose. Sobering, haunting, and downright depressing. Ambrose takes us on a journey the only way he knows how. Across the razor blades of his mind. Ambrose’s take on what it means to live will not be forgotten any time soon. Whether you are preaching, kneeling, or teething on concrete this collection is here to satisfy all your needs.

“Putting this down wasn’t much of an option.”
M.T. Billings, Shaky Town Rebellion

“Jesus…”
Sylvia Ambrose, Cover Artist

“Concrete never tasted so good.”
Korbin Copy, Is That A Funeral?

Teething On Concrete

Chained To The Floor… By My Own Will…

If I Only Knew

The panic begins as the thought creeps in
My own heartbeat driving everything
I’m so lost against the sound
I don’t even exist anymore
The feelings I once had I don’t have any more
I see myself slipping down further than I ever thought
Chained to the floor
By my own will
A deep dark hole carved into a home
If I only knew, how could I have known
Always give myself one more day
This life is the longest day I will ever know
And starting tomorrow I’ll only have to let go
My fears are only the will to live
If only I knew, If only I had known
My fears would fade away as the day goes on
Existence an excuse to peel myself from the floor
Depression pressed against the skin
If only I knew, If only I had known
Not sure I would have gone on this long
The voices don’t go away they only get louder
Against the heartbeat of what I have to say
If I only knew, How could I have ever known
This would have all become my home
A grave dug from my soul
Told myself I wouldn’t
Not sure I know the difference anymore

That Wasn’t Flying… It Was Falling With Style…

At the edge, could you tell if it wasn’t for the end
Wasn’t going to make it easy
Wasn’t going to take no easy way out
Even if it wasn’t would anyone have noticed?
A silent prayer, the idea digs its way in
Like a moth to a flame
No one ever said I couldn’t but no one knew I could
Infected with thoughts that need no answers
My will was all that was ever needed
Passive aggressive sitting here with you
My mind feels sick but I’m unsure what healthy
Even is…
A long pause between the letters, between the words
Even if I was to get an answer
It’ll never be the one that I wanted in the end
No one ever said I couldn’t but no one knew I could
At the edge left wondering, same as you
Turning around was all that I could do
No use learning today what I already know
Not with all I have left to prove
Call it what you want, call it what you like
A will to live is no different from a will to die
No one ever asked and I never lied
Define the words for yourself
Don’t give up or prepare to die
Trepidation is the heart of fear
Confused, I don’t get the point either
No one ever said I couldn’t but no one knew I could
Figure it all out for myself in time

That last one was a hard one to put together… with a random title like that though… if you haven’t seen Toy Story… We can still be friends… but know that I am disappointed…

It really wasn’t that hard to put together… I had a hard time trying to figure out how to end it… Had a much darker ending before I scrapped it… a lot of my writing is like that actually… My God is famous for saying…“Censorship is the tool of those who have the need to hide actualities from themselves and from others. Their fear is only their inability to face what is real, and I can’t vent any anger against them.”

If I have one weakness as a writer it would be my own self censorship… it holds me back and it is a constant battle in my own head… providing me with plenty of guilt… I think as writer we do face a moral dilemma… at least I do… exacerbated by the this medium we find ourselves in… I think it was easier for our heroes to write with “no limits” given their outlets… their moral compass could be off the rails… because someone else did the censoring for them… someone else was there to say… “Hey, that went a little to far”…

This new generation of writers no longer has that… it is only after what we say is out there… after everything we have said has already been “read” by everyone… that we get any feed back and by then it is too late… what you said is what you said… and what you wrote is how you will feel now and always… it is a challenge we all face in our day to day lives… except fiction isn’t my day to day life… but I have to pretend that it is… through social media… through social existence…

Is what I am saying going to be taken a whole other way?… Did I just give someone the fuel to kill themselves because of something I am feeling or thinking?… Is everyone going to think I am racist… a piece of shit… a horrible person because I used one word over another?… Will they get the context or is it only in my head?… Words are words… Words are weapons… Words could be all that anyone needs… and yet words are all we have… words are what a writer lives for…

Good or bad… we base our thoughts and feelings by how others will take it… In person we have the ability to read a room… for example there is nothing wrong with talking about sex… describing sex… most of us have experienced it and will… it isn’t a big deal… a natural occurrence that most of us crave and think about endlessly… I mean if we didn’t… not one of us would be here… Now describe your sex life with your mother… Ask Grandma what her favorite position is… Ask your Dad what his partner’s genitals tastes like… Too far or only talking about things that exist?… things that many of us explore in our writing?… We self censor in our day to day lives… for good reasons… but as a writer why would I ever?… why should I have too in my writing?… Are you here because the sentences are really put together well… because their not… or are you here because of what I have to say?… Because I don’t hold back?… Because even I hold a lot of things back…

We lose this ability to read a room on twitter… facebook… this website… because there are too many rooms to read… granted we have this problem in print form too… except do we?.. sure I can buy a book from some random person… but I still purchased the book… I went out of my way to obtain these words… I didn’t stumble into a room… flip to a random page… and start reading… Though maybe I should?…

I want to be a better writer… who doesn’t?… but I also fear that I never will based on my own limitations… limits I put on myself… in fear that I will push someone somewhere I never intended… writing is so much more than just something to say… something to shock you with… or torment others with… writing is an art… writing is self expression even when it isn’t… writing is so much more than what any one of us thinks it is… I don’t think any of you are stupid… I don’t believe that a single one of you does’t get what it is that I’m writing about… I also know that I don’t know how to read a room… which is how I got into this business in the first place… talking out of my ass was all I ever knew how to do… I mean writing is all I have ever known how to do… Trepidation is the heart of fear…

Get Yours Today…

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Chewing On Glass… Is That A Funeral? Collection…

Now Available…

Is That A Funeral? Store Now Open…

Find What Fits You… Help Independent Writers Spread The Word…
Two Birds… One Helping Hand…

T-shirts… Hoodies… Stickers…

Don’t See What You Want?… Let Us Know Below…

Get What You Desire Today…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Chewing On Glass… Is That A Funeral? Collection…

Now Available…

Is That A Funeral? Store Now Open…

Find What Fits You… Help Independent Writers Spread The Word…
Two Birds… One Helping Hand…

T-shirts… Hoodies… Stickers…

Don’t See What You Want?… Let Us Know Below…

Get What You Desire Today…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Has It Been Felt… Broken Thoughts…

So you think you can tell
All the horrible places
These thoughts can dwell
Every corner, under every action
Gave you all the answers
Now I’m just waiting for a reason
To turn this all around

Sympathetic to reasons already written…

So you think the reasons are
Always on the surface
Dig a little deeper and
Tell me what you think then
Can’t see the sky for the ground
Drinking poison to wash it all down
Not all devils dwell underground

Assuming I’d have any idea at all…

So you think you know
All the horrible things you are capable of
That’s cute, born to destroy
These dreams are always more real
Buried under pain, suffering
|Safe inside my arms but my mind
Is a minefield built to bring you down

Following in footsteps made of glass…

So you think the truth lies ahead
All along, buried in words
And not much of anything else
No one escapes the demons of the past
No one said you couldn’t run
Step after step, breath for breath
That’s what I did until I couldn’t

Broken Thoughts
Layne Ambrose

This was a poem… works better this way… perspective is everything… the first view may not always be the best one… always take another look… decided for yourself… because you should know… someone is always willing to do it for you… Enjoy yourself… because someone will be willing to do that too…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Is That A Funeral? Presents Broken Thoughts Vol. 2

This volume has it all… Short Stories… lots of them… Broken Thoughts… plenty more where that came from… Poetry… because Ambrose just can’t stop… Best of all it is now better tasting*…

Pick Up A Copy Today…

Please don’t eat the books… take our word that it tastes better… Ambrose got very sick… but he did say it tasted better than Vol. 1… more to chew through… paper is not a good source of anything… beyond knowledge and entertainment… please enjoy responsibly… *

Teething On Concrete… Therapy For The Soul…

It Has Arrived…

Is That A Funeral? Proudly Announces The Next Great Chapter In All Things Layne Ambrose…

A Poetry Collection Like No Other…

Seriously…

Pick Up Your Copy Today…

Available In Paperback and On Kindle…

Here…

Scarping its way into the world. Teething On Concrete is the newest collection of poetry by Layne Ambrose. Sobering, haunting, and downright depressing. Ambrose takes us on a journey the only way he knows how. Across the razor blades of his mind. Ambrose’s take on what it means to live will not be forgotten any time soon. Whether you are preaching, kneeling, or teething on concrete this collection is here to satisfy all your needs.

“Putting this down wasn’t much of an option.”
M.T. Billings, Shaky Town Rebellion

“Jesus…”
Sylvia Ambrose, Cover Artist

“Concrete never tasted so good.”
Korbin Copy, Is That A Funeral?

Teething On Concrete

For Those Who May Have Never Known…

Some things in this life are worse than fiction… some things are so real that even if I told them word for word as the truth… no one could ever believe… it is best to remember that not every one thinks like you… that not every one has shed their animal natures… and not every one in this world is good… it is easy to forget… it is easy to push out of our minds… what goes on behind our backs… and in the darkness… but not all horrible things happen in the dark…

This post is very different for me… maybe not in content… I tend to talk about things that are on the darker side of life… no this post is different… because unlike most of the things I post about… this poem is not about fiction… or dark thoughts that find their way into my head… I am a firm believer in the thought… that it is one thing to think or have dark thoughts… and a whole other to actually act on them… sticks and stones will break my bones… but words will never hurt me…I took that cliche in my mind and ran with it… built a fiction collection on it…

That is how I think… that is what I believe… but even with my own beliefs held firmly in place… some words… some ideas can be too much to bear… the topic of my poem today is… Sylvia Likens… and my reverse order for my post is because unlike most things I write… I feel context… what I think… How I feel about what happened to Sylvia… Is more important than the work below…

For those of you who don’t know… Sylvia Likens was a child in 1965… who was abused… tortured… raped… and killed… not by a serial killer… not by a known sex offender… not even by her parents… but by those in her community… by the very children she knew… by her very neighbors… there is so much to this story… to the truth of the event… that I can’t and won’t be covering in this post… more about the tragic death of Sylvia Likens can be found here

There have been movies… stories written… about Sylvia and the horrors she has been through… and even if you have read or seen any of them… then you know they only scratched the surface of her horrible experience… She has long been laid to rest… but her memory is not forgotten… Her tale as horrific as it was… should never be forgotten… Because people… children… still experience similar horrors every day… to this day… this is long over due… it needs to stop…

Many of us may have even experienced some… many of the things she was put through… may be even today… right now as we read… we need to put an end to it… we need to open our eyes… our hearts… and our minds… because… just because you don’t see it… doesn’t mean it isn’t happening… just because you don’t have the time… doesn’t mean it isn’t happening… just because it isn’t happening to you… doesn’t mean it isn’t happening… because it does and it is… in our silence… these monsters are slipping through the cracks… as we look away… people are being tortured… children are suffering… this isn’t an isolated incident… this isn’t something that only happens to someone based on skin color… age… where we live… or sex… these are things that can and happen to anyone…

I myself was a victim of abuse… I know how it can feel… I understand the shame… the fear of speaking up… will it happen more?… if I just keep my head down… then it will pass… I’ll be fine… excuses we tell ourselves to survive… Truth is the monster will always live in the dark… until you bring it to the light… I say you… but it takes more… it takes us all… There is no harder thing in this world than to ask for help… no matter the situation… it is the hardest thing any of us will ever face… but if you don’t… if we don’t… no one will…

Many of the signs are easy to overlook… it was a one off… it was an accident… abuse is hard to define… it doesn’t seem like it would be… seems pretty straight forward… but it isn’t… that is why so many people suffer in silence… reach out and get turned down… because of this one way thinking… because we aren’t paying attention… this is how and why… Sylvia was tortured… abused… until she died… It is easy to point at her tortures… her abusers… as the monster… but in this extreme case… the monsters weren’t just the ones in the room with her… but the society that surrounded her… that’s why we need to be paying attention… speaking up… and taking action… big or small… we must do all that we can…

Accidents do happen… people go to far… as a victim I know the signs… if anything good came from my abuse… my experience is that I know when I might go to far… when I am wrong… and need to take a step back… I know how easy it can be to cross that line… I’m not immune because I am a victim… I’ve said things that I regret… almost done things that I know were too far… I’ve seen the look of fear that I know myself once carried on the face of those around me… a look that has brought me to my knees… to tears… and made me question who it is I have become… I’ve seen both sides of the line… I have felt how either side of the line can feel… and just because I didn’t act upon my anger doesn’t mean I too couldn’t be a monster… I’m not a saint… I am human… we all are… and not one of us is perfect… but… there is a difference between an incident of abuse… and a pattern of repeated abuse… neither of which should go unchecked… or be put up with… seen as okay…

I was lucky… as far as my abuse went… as much as the memories still hurt me today… I was lucky… that I ended up in the hospital… that people around me spoke up… and did something… that my mother said enough was enough… a victim herself… not all of us are so lucky… for some of us… we don’t receive any help… until it is too late… Take care of yourselves… Take care of each other… it may seem like nothing… but is it worth the risk?… is it worth the hurt?…

Sylvia Likens

Kicking and screaming
Dragging and bleeding
Taken to the basement
Time to figure things out
Pressed against what’s left of the mattress
Laying naked next to the floor
What did you call me
You called me a whore
Silently screaming
Begging and pleading
Took me to the darkness
Time to figure it out
Strung up by the wrists
Stripped of everything I had left
What did you do to me
You stabbed me some more
Dying and breathing
Scarring and seething
Taken to another level
Time to let the devil out
Burned the words into the flesh
No one would want me
That’s what you said

Chewing On Glass… Is That A Funeral? Collection…

Now Available…

Is That A Funeral? Store Now Open…

Find What Fits You… Help Independent Writers Spread The Word…
Two Birds… One Helping Hand…

T-shirts… Hoodies… Stickers…

Don’t See What You Want?… Let Us Know Below…

Get What You Desire Today…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter