Poetry

I wrote these poems in 2004 and 2005 when I was 18 and 19; I have been writing since then, but only prose. I am posting these here to hopefully motivate myself to try my hand at poetry again. I am actually quite proud of some of these.

Suppression

A word waits
Wanting to be said,
Suppressed
By a sealing silence
And in that moment
When that word is just not enough
(A whisper to a crying crowd)
For the intensity
And feeling
Of that moment,
Ineptness controls.

Now

Sometimes we get so caught up in Now
That tomorrow never happens
And yesterday never came.
Now consumes us,
Eats us alive
And emancipates our care to control
Our emotions, our feelings,
Us.
I’d like to say I hunger for knowledge
Or that I’m just interested,
But that’d be a lie.
Because the truth is Now is digesting me
And I relinquished my sense
When that green monster came.
I ask questions
For the knowledge —
The weapons —
To defeat the nauseating need
For the reassurance
Now has left me longing.
I continue to fight
And everyday I get stronger
But I am weak to my feelings,
And I consistently wonder
If Now will ever die.

Four More Months

She lifted the instigator,
That Hell that would spread itself,
That corrupter that will come to destroy me
If I don’t get out somehow,
Away from this madness.
And as I looked at her,
That tormenter turned toward heaven–
A laugh in God’s eye–
She gulped and gulped
Her life away and mine.
I sat motionless, mesmerized by my present state.
Imprisoned, illusioned….
If only they knew.
And I awaited,
Aware of the altercation that would arise
Out of nothing.
And I smiled,
Knowing that this is my life
For four more months.
Four more months of Hell.

I Remember

I remember
My rose-red face,
My butterfly-filled stomach,
My trembling hands, and
My anxiety.
I remember wondering
Am I the only one?
I remember
Their bright smiles,
Their contaigious laughs,
Their aloof nature, and
Their perfect lives.
I remember thinking
Why can’t I be more like them?
I remember
Your winking eye,
Your hand on my shoulder,
Your smiling face, and
Your selfless gift of love.
I remember knowing
Everything would be alright.
Now, I look in my future and am reminded of you.
Those shadowed memories bring love and hope,
And as I stand in front of rose-red faces,
of butterfly-filled stomachs, and trembling hands,
I’ll try to touch a life, like you did mine eight years ago.
I remember you,
And you changed my life.

A Happy Place

The grownups walked
With penetrating looks, and
Feelings of “Oh, not this again!” and
“Dang that spoiled brat,”
As my mind wandered to another place.
A place of happiness with
Giant swirling snakes, and
Red and yellow and silver poles
That reached to infinity.
A place where I would finally
Be the prince I knew I could be,
And save my invisible lady love
From the snake I would slide down.
Oh, how I would be so high up
…Away from them.
We walked further, slowly, menacingly,
And a voice came down and switched my mind
Back to reality.
First I’d have to eat.
“Welcome to McDonald’s.
May I take your order?”

Untitled

Someday the world will wither
Waiting for the white to flow.
We all lie waiting,
Unsuspecting of the unthinkable.
The Dark will damage, distract, and deform.
Darkness’ tool, sitting on and in front of the world
Devours and diminishes peace, innocence–
As the black arises and arrives to all,
Enveloping, darkening, killing.
A river flows under the rock:
Yellows, browns, purples, and greens,
As the anarchist, the Devil’s tool
Pours evil out upon the world,
Darkening those colors, tainting all.
The right side of stone lies white, untouched.
Hope.
But even it is becoming tainted with black
Pieces of a puzzle polluting
Under the orange ray of God.
And the sky at least remains untouched,
Protected by the light
Of pride, innocence, glory–
All that is good.
And while I stare at that beauty,
I can’t help but think
That it too will someday succumb.
And I can’t help but ask–
What have you done
For that right side of stone?

Old Man

His rough hands,
His dirt-covered fingernails,
And his endless steadily-increasing wrinkles.
Monotony, day by day.
His eyes,
Their feeling of happiness and weariness,
Tears wanting to flow
Out of a strong man turned weak.
Pride, hour by hour.
The crops,
Lined up in perfect rows,
And one in his hand,
Held with delicacy like a withering flower.
The mix of a frown and a smile;
Satisfaction and acceptance.
Unsuspection
Of death, minute by minute.