Mouthfulla Th(ink)

Not for Phonies.

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Student Residences

Life inside a student residence was once described by a friend of mine as a high school. A place where nobody acts their age and they’re all immature. I would beg to differ, the student residence is another entity unlike nothing I have ever experience, to describe its rich experience I will go into further detail.

As I write this within a luxurious student residence nestled in downtown Toronto's sprawling Church street area, i glance around as pretty university girls and the buildings management tend to their own matters around me. The floor I’m located on has a heavy red theme, windows to make up the walls to outside, swiveling chairs scatter a cool carpeted area as low round tables beckon study groups and individual to destroy their posture.

What is special about the student residence? It is a competition truly. Who dressed the nicest? Who has a job? Who does the most interesting things, gets people together, and has his/her shit together? Whoever these people are, the rest look up to them, admire them- hormones flood the biosphere, girls swoon to the alpha males, study birds fly to their nests, art students post their free-lance work to social media and people gather, inevitably.

In the student residence being productive is a challenge. Friends flock together everyday. The people around you influence you immensely, and alas mom and dad are nowhere to found. To break away from the comfort of friendship, which is ALWAYS available to you, you have to muster every ounce of your willpower and use it for your own excellence. You can easily skip all of your classes, hangout with friends all day living out on mom’s pension money paying for all of your rent and food.

A student residence is a place of revelation, where you grow in any direction that you could desire. It is not far too different from real life. Spoiled as some of these kids are, they are actively learning about themselves throughout every day. Peer pressure is more powerful than ever as testosterone fuels into these young men, setting them all off differently from each other.

Had I not spent this time in this student residence, I would have surely regretted it. I am happy with the person I am today, and for the rest of my time living here I will enjoy it ever more.

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How To Be A Successful Writer

What is an article? By resorting to the standards of the all-powerful search-engine Google, an article is :   

‘ a piece of writing included with others in a newspaper, magazine, or other publication’

In an age of blogging, click-bait titles and self-made writers; articles hold indefinite power in providing knowledge to those who seek it. As an aspiring writer, I can narrow down exactly what is the difference between myself and some of these accomplished writers.

To be a successful writer you must:

1. Have the work ethic of a writer.

 To relentlessly write and write your heart out regardless of recognition, visible momentum of fame and praise. Your job is to ‘ink’ down your thoughts and hone your craft until you one day have a notable writer’s portfolio or strike yourself a literate gold mine- lending the attention of many to a particular stand-out piece of yours and then using that to make your eruption into the professional writer’s realm.

2. Be unique, different and charming within your works.

A writer must have something that makes him/her standout from the rest of the raffle. People will understand your personality, and come to know who you are with every word and sentence you piece together. Earning the respect and fueling the desire to read your works will be all that you can attempt to achieve in regards to your reader’s audience. This may be done only through the sincere sway of your words, the truth within your message and content, and how you actually manage to help the reader learn or achieve what they had hoped for initially. This is also essential for getting hired as a writer, providing your versatility as a writer to distinguish yourself among a roster of writers.

3. Make the right connections.

Getting the attention of a article-orientated website is hard work. Submitting your own writing pieces or finding the right person to contact is considered one of the most viable routes of success. When you submit your work or go out of your way to contact the person that can make it happen for you, you are showing that:  A) You want this and you are willing to be assessed of your ability, though in this case it is evident that you are confident within yourself. B) You know what it takes to make a break into the industry, just like whoever is assessing your work ultimately had to do once as well. Of course knowing somebody goes a long way and can really make a difference in how easily you are able to achieve what you set out to do, but some people simply do not have those connections. They must learn to do it the ‘hard-way’. So, working with the utmost effort, submitting only your best work and knowing who to talk to about your future success is the usual path for even the best of us.

At last, the writing world is still fairly new to me. I at least hope to have some success within it one day; if I stay diligent enough within my writing practice and continue expanding my writer’s grit, perhaps I might. And so could you! This was my first attempt at writing an article, what are you doing?!

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Low Ink

Dripping ink smothers the page enveloping the light like sun and the shade If these words could help me get laid I wouldn’t even care If I ever got paid

I value love much more than success And I love writing so much I’ll continue it until death

In my casket, leave a no.2 pencil On my tombstone I’ll have J.K. Rowling credentials I’ll pen my way Deep down into earth I hope to find my words again Feel the rebirth

-D.Grecu

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Shatter

How does the Flower still bloom With it's leaves cut It's stem broken, And it's dirt raked

How does the Sun set? With no sky to lean on Gravity non existent, And it's flames dull and quiet

How does the Cat crawl? With its crawls torn out It's whiskers plucked, And it's curiousity riddled away and neutered

How does the man walk? With his heart in a sling His mind lost to void, And his world crumbled into pieces..

- D.Grecu

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Dust

I cast it all away An ominous veil cloaks over my rust Open wounds surge with life Old broken habits dry to dust, - My conscience mocks the feathers, Envy riling in subtlety Knowing that they are much better, For they're- Light carelessness smothered in charm Wondrous, playful allure like dogs on a farm Gliding quietly through the present In all given mercy to the presence With no skin of sins, seeking no penance Abiding all joyous tenants Free me of my shackles Sprout the guilt gotten wings, for my severance.

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Independence

Speak French Look English Eat Japanese Think Spanish Act German Love Swiss Smile African Breathe Native Dance Brazilian Cook Italian Innovate Greek Play Australian hate none.

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They , Don't know- What You Don't know. They Don't know none-

-MADVILLAIN

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DOPE

A daily dosage of what-ifs Anxiety aloft with syringe in hand Disagreement with the reflection given Innocence spilling out Through stressed sweat glands,

Pores Opened up; for oblivion

Whores They tease; wishing to be chameleon

Doors The choices; numbering the millions

What to do What to think, The government attempts to fulfill

How to move When to blink, Of the brainwashing I need a refill - I don’t know what to do I can’t even stand to think, And then I met those pills.

-D. Grecu

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Take Charge

Oak and birch shed leaflets Change is inevitable Who can beat it Find yourself new socks Kick down that old habit Show em’ what you got Charge up your raw static Theres always bolts in need of tightening Don't think twice of those jolts That make your life exciting.

-D. Grecu

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Don't Think, Just Floss

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Jackets par the breezy love affair Material patterns reject the embrace of cold air The wind suffers from a broken heart Windbreakers shield none from the dark

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Silken

Heavens stare upwards The true question doth returns, Sharp glances grace familial suppers White wings take their share of burns, A girl paints a red streak in her hair Phoenixes hatch and dye, Murderous clouds storm the air As the ceiling starts to cry, Minutes pass in wonder Everyday is a rush to forget What became that spark of thunder what will ever await us in death. -D. Grecu

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Boy

A boy will fall in love Harder than iron-cut nails Into fresh oak he splinters Naive to no avail Of the drop down he knows nothing His mind set only on the prize No parachute to save him From admittance into a realm of lies The clouds hold no true haven For this flightless bird As he peers up to the sky Not able to say a word A boy will take love And make something of it his own Once the pillars are set down in place He will forever call it his home - D. Grecu

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CHARRED

Rip my universe open Spill forth our galaxies under your pout Leave me there alone bleeding Grab you ugly shoes and then walk out Don't you even think twice Who would dare smile and reminisce? Stake it all to the future For the past deserves not a glimpse Ever nonchalantly you stab away At my innocently weeping heart Know you what lies in store? When it hardens and scorches to dark Eyes bloodshot with doomsday Hands tremble in absence of quakes The strange sound rings eerie aloud A beast emerges out of its wait -D.Grecu

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The best part about riding a bike is infinitively wiping out

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C R 3 A T U R E

An eroding light in the sea of darkness Panning overhead muddled minds What was easy is now the hardest Stained pleasure is all that I find - Delicate interruptions pave the flow of time She is a nuclear eruption in the snow of mine Her unclear seductions melt deep but so divine Unavoidable is the suction to a void so sublime - Tendrils creep up and wrap around my bed Ink gushes through my lobes, all is red May I please live inside a beating heart? Where one can witness love constantly Eyes closed, happy, playing the harp, I could die there very modestly. -D. Grecu

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These Eyes

Eyes are cavernous grottos holstering the saddest fluid Ever known to man

Many feverous emotions temper the iris steel Foolish words streak cuts across the crystal sphere Curious souls creep through the acute crevices Panicking excitement To pry open those elastic eyelids

Within these eyes stretches inward Armies of secrets withheld Reserved for the dead Desires fraught with envy Forced into fruition with desperation Hate and contempt drowned in stress Overflowing from the cauldron infinitely

there is still so Much to be seen So much more to be understood The scenery is set Take a look if you dare should.

-D. Grecu