The King Is Dead – A Tribute To Ali


In a world full of warriors,
He was feared by inferiors,
Many of them kept fighting
but there is only one true king

His name is Muhammad Ali,
Floats like a butterfly, stings like a bee,
Dreaded for his strategy,
Cause they can’t hit, what they can’t see

He moved flawlessly in the ring,
Like a butterfly you can’t capture,
But his punches like a bee sting,
causing blood of his foes to rupture,

The Thrilla in Manila,
was like King Kong vs Godzilla
He went toe-to-toe with Joe,
As the world watched every blow

In the end he got the victory,
A perfect ending to a trilogy,
And everyone knew his name
For he got skill, fortune and fame

But it wasn’t just about boxing
Ali was more than one thing,
He has helped those in need,
Clearly a man showing no greed,

Now, the young study his every move,
He has nothing left to prove
So even though he is deceased
His memories will never cease

His glory was immense
The world knew what he’s about,
But now the king is dead,
for in the end, life knocks you out.

-The DementED

RIP Muhammad Ali (formerly Cassius Marcellus Clay, Jr.)

Write your own tribute for arguably the greatest boxer of all time, too.

While you’re at it. Check out maria9saif’s cute art about Ali’s famous quote here. I really liked it!

You might also want to check out my previous poem:  A Kid Again


The Voices Inside My Head – Why I Write


Credits to

“I write because…..”

Before I finish that, I have just reached 350 visitors today (Yeyyy!) and therefore, I’d like to take this moment to thank everyone who viewed this blog and to my regular readers.  Now that I got that out, allow me to  say why I’m writing this post.

Most of us who write have reasons as to why we do so. Everytime I visit a blog and read an article, I appreciate its beauty and then I wonder “Why does he/she write?”. So for my readers who are probably asking the same question, this is for you. (or for those who have never read my work, maybe this will convince you to read my pieces.)

To those who have already read a few of my works here, you have probably observed that though not all, most of what I write are dark in nature. I’ve written pieces about death/suicide (A Date with the Dead), failure (Nine Lives), unrequited love (Hopeless, Not Romantic), daily stress and woes (The Breakfast Drama), vices and bad habits (Stories Behind Bad Habits), disdain towards someone (Full Moon Blues), dangers of “being yourself” (Dangerous Business) and even isolation and introvertion (Isolation Nation), etc.

And so, let me continue the first sentence I was about to write.

I write because there are voices in my head. No, I’m not literally demented, as what my username might suggest. The voices I’m referring to are the ideas swirling inside my mind. These voices dictate every word that I type, every sentence, every stanza, every rhyme.

These voices didn’t just exist out of nowhere. They were born after every crucial life event. After I grieved, after I had my heartbreaks, after I had my failures, but also after every lesson I’ve learned. Nevertheless, as explained in my first post (Step Inside My Mind), the things I write aren’t entirely about me. Therefore, the voices in my head aren’t all just mine. Some of them are from my friends, some of them from my family members, some of them from people online just like you. Their life experiences inspire me to write. When I talk to people heart-to-heart, I realize how similar we are in some ways and that we are all going through our own battles.

So while some poets get ideas from staring at the sun, roaming around the city and smelling the sea breeze. (Don’t get me wrong, that’s really great too and I also do that sometimes, but mostly) I get ideas and inspiration from people.

So I write not because I want to be famous. Not because I want fortune or any material thing. I write because the voices in my head are telling me to reach out. I write because they tell me that there may be others who are experiencing hardships and battles similar to mine and to the people I’ve talked to. I write so that when they read my works, they won’t feel so alone. I believe that it’s probably my Purpose. I carried on, people I knew carried on, and therefore, they can too.

That’s probably the most cliche thing you’ve read all day, right? Haha. But that’s all true, and I don’t know any other way to say it. So, do expect more works to come from me. I will keep writing for as long as I can.

So, how about you? How are you doing with your life? Have you fought unimaginable battles too? Don’t be afraid. Reach out. Talk to someone. (You can always talk to me, just see my Contact page) Or better yet, write your own blog. You can paste your link in my comment section and I will find time to read your works. I promise.

Anything will do, just follow the voices inside of you.

So, what are the voices inside your head telling you?



An Encounter with the Dream Reaper


Credits to dandwiki

There’s a story hidden
Inside the confines of my flesh
Constructs of reality
And fantasies that don’t mesh

It’s a dream
and it’s getting out of hand
Like an outrageous breakdown
From a sick metal band

But lo and behold,
This world ain’t kind to dreamers
Back then I wasn’t told
That most dreamers turn to weepers

Cold-blooded brethrens
Try to stab you in the back
Judgmental eyes
Try to slag the things you lack

Therefore, I thought
That this old dream is done
My hype and inspiration
Is now nearly gone

As I uttered these thoughts
A dark figure appeared
Came out of nowhere
His face kind of weird

I wasnt prepared
For the next things that occured
He opened a portal
as he uttered the words

“Welcome to the place
where dreams come to die
Just end them now
And no need to vie for lies

No need to tell yourself
That anything is possible
No one believes that
Except the fool and the gullible

The real world is harsh
So evil and so blue
If you want to fit in
This place is perfect you

Forget all your dreams
It’s time to let go
They caused you nearly nothing
But trouble and woe”

As I thought it out,
I realized I wasn’t ready
I haven’t prepared  a
proper coffin and a eulogy

This is the dream
That defined me for years
No wonder I’m struck
And broke down to tears

When I thought it out,
This is not what I wanted
And so I refused
Left the figure dissapointed

I’ve never been an optimist
But this time I’ll try
For I’m good as dead too
If this dream comes to die

The Silent Killer


Credits to liza23q (deviantArt)

In this world today,
Death comes unexpected
From illnesses everywhere
And killers who are demented

But there’s one killer
you often disregard
It’s the silent killer,
The one that strikes hard

His name is Anger,
And he lives in everyone
He lives inside us
So there’s no way we can run

At first, you’ll think
That this emotion is harmless
The hype it causes
Sometimes we even harness

But this little devil
is a tricky troll
He eats your insides till you
Lose your control

He made kings lose their kingdoms
Husbands lose their wives
And made good men end fights
Through guns, swords and knives

He slaughtered thousands
Caused nations to fall,
He burned down bridges
And instead built a wall

He divided the united,
He turned friends into foes,
He caused all kinds of trouble
Tragedies and woes

So you better be careful
Before he comes for you
For he spreads faster
Than the cold or the flu

Always be calm
Dont let your sight turn to red
Have patience and humility
Before ‘Anger’ gets your head.

-The DementED

This is in response to the daily prompt: “Angry”.

A Date with the Dead

I have always wondered
If I could talk to the dead
Should I talk to the famous
Or to you instead?

I know you’re still breathing
And you still have a pulse
But are you really living,
when it’s everyone you repulse

Oh but I forgot,
I’m dead inside too,
I’m always alone
the same way as you

But unlike you,
I haven’t lost hope,
I don’t constantly choke
my neck with a rope

I have scars on my heart
You have more on your wrist
I have my palms open
But you have a closed fist

You barely even eat
You take pills just to slumber
And a love for yourself
you can’t even foster

But you see,
I just want to aid
I wish I could stop
your use of the blade

But I cant understand
cause you wont let me in
You throw my concerns
straight down to the bin

No I’m not saying
I know better than you,
But all I want
is a table for two

You pour your heart out
And I’ll spill my guts
We’ll tell all our tales
No matter how nuts

But since you already said,
that you’d rather be dead,
I’ll just keep on waiting
with anxiety and dread.

– The DementED

You might also wanna see a related poem: A Maiden’s AfflictionHopeless, Not Romantic
Unconventional Love

Nine Lives

If I had nine lives,
then today I have died twice,
I’ve given all my efforts,
But none of them suffice

My whiskers are now bent,
My fur now left shaggy,
It seems so apparent,
That I’ve been through tragedy

I’m often left out puzzled
What have I done?
My swagger is now over,
My swiftness long gone

And I have died before,
I seemed to lose count,
It doesn’t matter anymore,
For nothing, I will amount

I wish I was a phoenix
Each death, I rise anew
But I am just a feline,
Soon enough, I’ll be due


-The DementED