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Just a note to say... I was apparently a very dark and scary teenager. I remember some of it, but other parts of it are all a blur. Don't take anything here too seriously. What did I know? I was just another high school student looking for love and acceptance and contemplating death.
Troubled Teenager
Come take my teenager away
What choice do we have
Send him away
Be together, not apart
Try again
But what really is going to happen
You know that he's going to
Fight you
Fight me
But actually he's fighting himself
I don't think it will work
He's like a "broken angel"
Crooked halo, faulty wings
But an angel is your most
Heartfelt wish
Is your wish for him to come back
Or only to get better
You can't just fix a broken angel
But maybe if you
wish...
| 08 Sept 93 | The moon leaned over and kissed my forehead. She brought to me understanding of all eternity. Allowed me peace and gave me security. | |
|---|---|---|
| 06 Oct 93 | Alone in the silence of everyone's roaring. Together with the ones who would only keep quiet. Then, one day the roaring stopped and the quiet rained down and engulfed the silence of being alone. Together you and me forever. | To suck the life out of meaningless creatures could give pleasure to those who enjoy things of this caliber. But to have life suck is a pleasure of the world and causes meaninglessness to creatures of such life. |
| 11 Nov 93 | promises are made to be broken like shattered glass, they can be heard from miles away but only for a second and then another is made a perfect sphere of complete trust hovering beyond human comprehension but achievable if set high - reach for it, grasp it crush it into oblivion with only your bare hand slivers of the broken promise slide under your skin and painfully remind you of the smooth unbroken ball of light that was complete and ultimate and served a purpose as do the slivers of glass that will always remain. | The clear path - has been clouded and now drips red over the pure and perfect white rose. Flesh divided to be healed no more as the white roses turn to dark. The clouded path ends and the body becomes clear - the soul blackened by the red - to drip through the fingers of the fates till destination decided and purity achieved. The ground turns red and is raped by her soul which struggles to get out so as to become flesh once more on a journey on the clear path. |
As I fall asleep, fragments of the world pass before my eyes.
I can see the pain of affliction
And the joy of life
but never hand in hand.
Small children writhe in agony as they slowly die from starvation.
Where is their food
The answer to their suffering
in the mouths of the well-fed.
Innocent people are shot in the streets over some disagreement
The killers are children
The victims us all
they get their guns from us.
Did you see the mother's joyous face when her child was born
And new life began
Until she saw the evening news
and then wondered?
Are these fragments of the world that pass before my sleeping eyes
Visions of the future
Or only glimpses of the past
starting us in the wrong direction?
This poem is from a class assignment modeling Edgar Lee Master's Spoon River Anthology. We created a town called Little Helsinky, and the citizens of that town, writing about our lives "from the grave." June 9, 1993.
last name appropriate
town whore
but what do you really know
that i died of a broken heart
never loved only used
that i knew my family
but distantly because
i was the mayor's daughter
that i was only 15 when
i left, but everyone always thought
i was much older
all i knew were
men's bodies
never their souls
i was not privileged
so i died lacking
a soul of mine own
for i didn't know what one was.
Watching from the window as she's dancing in the garden
Glassy-eyed, dazed wishing her away
Back went your head as the laughter rang out
Sardonic as usual, with a note of hate
You plot in your head many ways to rid yourself of her as you stare for hours at her figure...
Are you there?
The moonlight makes her skin glow and her hair as black as the night and you lust after her, knowing you can never have her
She twirls and spins, but never falls and then at once she stops. She spys you staring at her from within the comforts of your life, mocking her in
ecstacy and meaningless reproach.
Back again she turns away and into the tress she goes, fleeing from your unbroken trance to her haven of darkness.
Again the next night the scene repeats, but the moon glow is hidden and the sight difficult to spy. Then she is there at the window begging to be
let in, the fear rampant in her eyes. You throw back your head and the laughter peals forth. Then, you sit and wait for her to be consumed by the
dust and so you turn on the light and she watches you dancing in the parlor with a dazed look wishing you would stop.
When you look out the window you only see your own reflection, but in the shadows she is lurking, waiting for your time of weakness - the fall of your
spirit - so she can strike and laugh a hateful sardonic laugh and make you wish you could break the window and have the image disappear and the music
stop and the dancing end.
Are you there she's calling from the darkness; she whispers as she's dancing in the garden to the music of no man
waiting for you to join her in the dust.
-01/21/94, 10:31pm
See this picture hanging on my wall?
It is a pause in the lives of all
people who have ever loved. The surging crowd
is no matter to these two who are on a far off cloud
where time no longer exists. Only a moment of their lives,
but left here for eternity to look upon it. Here it survives
where in reality, it may have ended only moments later.
These people, faces without names, stir
in us the passions of love and affect us with this:
the idea that nothing else really matters. A hotel in Paris,
maybe a trip from afar or possibly an afternoon
outing through the streets of the city. We soon
realize that this is a kiss frozen in time.
Never to end, set at this stafe of bliss. A paradigm
for lovers of the future to follow. The purity of love
captured in a photograph as the other people shove
and find their own way around it. They hide
from love and all of its symbols. For their pride
has more power over them than does this:
love and a kiss...
(enjambement - use of rhyme without end-stopped lines)