maddman

Welcome everyone, to Weird Al's Place - Please come in, take a look around, Relax, enjoy the music , sign my guestbook. More importantly. feel at home.
Many of you have arrived at this site because you know me. Others may have been sent a link or stumbled upon it by accident. Regardless, of how you arrived here, I'd like to Welcome you all.
My name is Albert Grunwald and have been writing poetry and songs for many years now. I was 7 years old when I realized I was all alone in life. I am a child abuse and 9/11 survivor. And the things I went threw as a child and as a young adult is reflected in my writing. I learned that writing is a very healthy way of getting rid of unnecessary baggage that one may be carrying...just be honest with yourself and grab a pen & put your thoughts down on paper, it's a great release, a great way to let it all go. YOU are both the author and editor of your story. What's taking up most of your pages?

Stop writing about where you've been and start writing about where you're going. Choose to write about what matters the most to you.

Think about what you've learned from difficult experiences and how you can use that knowledge to be the best version of yourself.

http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/2310010

Finally - one of the best things I have learned throughout the years is that "Laughter is the best medicine", thus the reason why I have always tried to laugh and make people laugh.

Currently, I have 1 book that is availible for purchase online.

Please copy and paste the link below into your web browser - You will be redirected to the publishers site. Here you will be able to Preview the first 15 pages of my book - read a brief description of my book, and order the book in 3 different formats. Thanks again

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My Fears.
Can't look them in the eyes.
They will see the flaws.
They see them anyways.
Judgement follows.
Don't make the cut.
Never good enough.
Feel trapped alone.
Running.
Always running.
Breath shallow.
Heart racing.
Fear creeping in.
Will they ever see the real me?
Will I?
"Everywhere I go, there I am."
Who am I?
The young boy, awaiting Daddy's call that never comes.
The scared teenager, cowering before his mother.
The confused man, jumping at his own shadow.
Who am I really?

A.G.

A Pebble in the Lake

I see our existence

For what it is:

A lonely world, filled

With lonely kids,

Somehow still pretending

They can fix

Inevitability.

There's nothing I can say

To help you.

And there's nothing said

To help me.

You'll be well on your way,

Once we're through.

I wonder what's the issue?

Life goes on, when we're gone;

Our thoughts and dreams mean

Little.

If you think of how you've wronged,

You'll find yourself deserving.

There's nothing to be but swearing,

Nothing to gain but gaining.

Prepare to lose a remainder,

Only for others to choose the same. edit this text.

A.G.

A Candle for Peter

The brighter the candle

The faster it burns

Now the brightest candle I know

Is but a memory

A memory of better times;

Of fiery passion

And boundless laughter;

Of a boy who lived more in 15 years

Than most could in a hundred

Youthful loves that

Make time stop

And broken hearts

That make the world end-

A life lived to the fullest

He knew better than any,

That you cannot truly die

If you have not truly lived:

That is the risk of living

So while we mourn his death

We remember the life he lived

And through our memories he shall achieve

The immortality that has been man's greatest wish

Since we first began to dream

Remember

His beautiful mind

His immortal soul

His unbreakable spirit

And he shall live forever.

A.G

For my dearly departed cousin, not in blood, but in heart.

R.I.P. peter

Listen To Their Voices

The dark side of life's poetry

is pleading to be read,

Gasping breathless through the depths

of words that must be said.

When shadows cloud the evening sky

and mask their hidden choices,

Emote the words when poets cry

and listen to their voices.

The dark side of life's poetry

can hardly be ignored,

When written with intensity

the verses are implored.

Listen to their voices

written from the words of pain,

Ardor the poet's bleeding heart

as he bears his soul again.

A.G.

The Last Battle

If it should be that I grow frail and weak,

And pain should keep me from my sleep,

Then will you do what must done,

For this,

the last battle,

can't be won.

You will be sad I understand,

But don't let grief then stay your hand,

For on this day,

more than the rest,

Your love and friendship must stand the test,

we have had so many happy years,

You wouldn't want me to suffer so.

When the time comes, please, let me go.

Take me to where my needs they'll tend,

Only, stay with me till the end and hold me firm and speak to

me,

until my eyes no longer see.

I know in time you will agree,

it is a kindness you do to me.

Although my tail it's last has waved,

From pain and suffering I have been saved.

Don't grieve that it must be you,

who has to decide this thing to do;

we've been so close, we two,

these years,

Don't let your heart hold any tears.

A.G.

Double click here to edit this text.

Welcome To My Place

Bright Night

You, I saw you in the night,

You were on the road
In pure daylight,

I called you, you answered,

Not a sound was made,

I didn't say a word,

Your lips, pressed against mine,

Our fist kiss

Erased with sunshine

I open my eyes, I'm in my bed

I am alone

You were in my head

A.G.

The Hermit

Inside I'm dying

Slowly and gently dying

As each day is another day

I feel no greater or worse

Moments only

Is what I have

And selfish people take them away

Day by day

Until what I have is nothing but myself

Trapped into solitude

A hermit that dreams of adventures

Some say life is eternal

I feel as if my life is already over

A.G.