Poems from Ages
Here are some of my poems from 2003 and 2004. Keep in mind I was dark and little sadistic. Probably the definition of 'goth'. And of course, they werent really good poems, but more random thoughts. Anyway I thought I might share.
INVENTION (OR BIRTH OF WHAT IF?)
Insane restlessness
This carpet well worn
Who is to save me
from my own thoughts?
My worst enemy
She reigns not outside
but from within
Locked inside my own (her) head
Alone with nothing else
I'll form it and mold it
And invent another what if.
ETERNAL
"It is the year of the hungry man" *
When 10 year old equals 2 dollar whore
Street corners are a lover's shoppe
sidewalks coated in tainted glass
stars imbeded in a dead man's scalp
A paper mache pasted with blood
And the kid next to you will be shot today
Taught to rage a racist war
Never caring to know why he hates
And a lover's kiss will seal his death
This is the year of Hate
No light to give a drunk man's pain
He beats his daughter all the same
Dinner's cold, so is the corpse
A sister lays, not far away
Spiders in her hair
Nearby a needle too
This is the year of Eternal Pain
THE TWISTED CLOWN
It is in me that I hite
When I cannot bear his grin
In my own refuge, dreams
Nightmares
THe sight of his painted lips
Oh cast the soul into the sea
Before he tears into me
The truth come soon
and I will know
That you are the clown
grinning back at me
From the blood well
CONVERSATION WITH THE DEAD
"This hope, how can it exsist?"
"Love seperates thee from death"
"But what has that to do with hope?"
" Love is what gives hope. Hope is what gives love."
"Which came first the chicken or the egg? Love or hope?"
"They came at the same time. For He created love and hope.
He creates neither first nor last."
"And sorrow and despair? What of them?"
"They came at the same time as well"
"But why create sorrow or dispair at all?"
"So that He may create love and hope."
DEATH WILLING
And as time went on
One of us had to die
For you to live, I lay
The eternal sacrafice
Down upon the alter
Still my love is for your life
A BRIEF DEFINITION OF POETRY
Poetry is
Poetry is flowers in fields and sunsets
Poetry is fucking in a restroom stall
It is
Dried up, sucked up, kissed up
It is me all mother fucked up
Wasted and sober, high and clean
Poetry is nothing
Poetry is everything
It is
FLESHCAPADES
It splatters, running down
walls covered in flesh-capades
Like ice capades, skate on raw bone
Ah thats enough of that crap. I will now give a brief explaination on the ones I feel like explaining.
Invention- Just a short description of how an answer always creates more questions.
Conversation with the Dead and Death Willing- Both written early in my christian experience. Just general thoughts. Conversation with the Dead is how I coped with believing in what others called a Loving God when there was so much pain. How people who claim to follow a Loving God were exclusive and cruel to those who didnt follow exactly what they did. Death Willing is about Jesus. Obviously. A Brief Definition of Poetry was written while I was reading alot of angry feminist poetry. So its a bit graphic.... And Fleashcapades is just random and oddly beautiful to me.
Ok I am off to bed now. I am so glad I'm not all dark all the time any more. I'm also glad I dont write poems much any more cuz most of that stuff sucked!
INVENTION (OR BIRTH OF WHAT IF?)
Insane restlessness
This carpet well worn
Who is to save me
from my own thoughts?
My worst enemy
She reigns not outside
but from within
Locked inside my own (her) head
Alone with nothing else
I'll form it and mold it
And invent another what if.
ETERNAL
"It is the year of the hungry man" *
When 10 year old equals 2 dollar whore
Street corners are a lover's shoppe
sidewalks coated in tainted glass
stars imbeded in a dead man's scalp
A paper mache pasted with blood
And the kid next to you will be shot today
Taught to rage a racist war
Never caring to know why he hates
And a lover's kiss will seal his death
This is the year of Hate
No light to give a drunk man's pain
He beats his daughter all the same
Dinner's cold, so is the corpse
A sister lays, not far away
Spiders in her hair
Nearby a needle too
This is the year of Eternal Pain
THE TWISTED CLOWN
It is in me that I hite
When I cannot bear his grin
In my own refuge, dreams
Nightmares
THe sight of his painted lips
Oh cast the soul into the sea
Before he tears into me
The truth come soon
and I will know
That you are the clown
grinning back at me
From the blood well
CONVERSATION WITH THE DEAD
"This hope, how can it exsist?"
"Love seperates thee from death"
"But what has that to do with hope?"
" Love is what gives hope. Hope is what gives love."
"Which came first the chicken or the egg? Love or hope?"
"They came at the same time. For He created love and hope.
He creates neither first nor last."
"And sorrow and despair? What of them?"
"They came at the same time as well"
"But why create sorrow or dispair at all?"
"So that He may create love and hope."
DEATH WILLING
And as time went on
One of us had to die
For you to live, I lay
The eternal sacrafice
Down upon the alter
Still my love is for your life
A BRIEF DEFINITION OF POETRY
Poetry is
Poetry is flowers in fields and sunsets
Poetry is fucking in a restroom stall
It is
Dried up, sucked up, kissed up
It is me all mother fucked up
Wasted and sober, high and clean
Poetry is nothing
Poetry is everything
It is
FLESHCAPADES
It splatters, running down
walls covered in flesh-capades
Like ice capades, skate on raw bone
Ah thats enough of that crap. I will now give a brief explaination on the ones I feel like explaining.
Invention- Just a short description of how an answer always creates more questions.
Conversation with the Dead and Death Willing- Both written early in my christian experience. Just general thoughts. Conversation with the Dead is how I coped with believing in what others called a Loving God when there was so much pain. How people who claim to follow a Loving God were exclusive and cruel to those who didnt follow exactly what they did. Death Willing is about Jesus. Obviously. A Brief Definition of Poetry was written while I was reading alot of angry feminist poetry. So its a bit graphic.... And Fleashcapades is just random and oddly beautiful to me.
Ok I am off to bed now. I am so glad I'm not all dark all the time any more. I'm also glad I dont write poems much any more cuz most of that stuff sucked!