I found some old poems I wrote for English, and I thought I'd share them. I'm not really sure why I used dashes, but I'm not censoring these. Except for spelling. I spelled some things wrong. Okay here you go.
The fleeting feeling - of Peace is rare
It flies away - wisps of cloud in air -
But will burst with color while the sun does set
As the blue sky - turns to red.
Although it seems - that life is gloomy.
The seeds of love are surely blooming
In the garden - my love so fair
And with my heart - she waits there.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Youth
Youth is so blasted confusing.
On the one hand it is a great blessing to be young.
You have a young body, and you don't have as many responsibilities.
On the other, it is impossible.
It doesn't make sense.
You have a young, healthy body approaching your peak,
but you're too young to do anything with it.
The world won't let you do anything with it,
and you're too young to know what to do with it.
But you're too old to be a child,
to be held in your parents arms,
spoken to like a child,
told "everything will be okay".
When you get older,
you look back at when you were young,
and think about how stupid you were.
Am I the only one who thinks this way?
As a 17 year old boy/man, I look back at my 16 year old self, and laugh.
I was a completely different person!
Just a year ago!
So when I get to be in my 70s or 80s I don't want to feel like I wasted it.
I want to live this time to it's fullest.
And I don't want to forget it!
I have the world's worst memory, as some of you know,
and I don't think it'll get any better as I age.
So, I have decided to start writing a journal of sorts.
On here, I'm going to try a more... emotional and vague look on my day,
just to keep myself a bit more private.
And I'm going to keep a more factual, event type journal elsewhere.
I'm telling you all this, so you can hold me to it!
Now that I type that, it doesn't make sense,
but that's my theory in any case!
Hopefully this journal can be a reference that I can look back on,
when I'm older and lost again,
and find the simple truths that I once knew.
Remember that I went through tough times,
and how I overcame them.
Or how I failed, and not to try something like that again.
On the one hand it is a great blessing to be young.
You have a young body, and you don't have as many responsibilities.
On the other, it is impossible.
It doesn't make sense.
You have a young, healthy body approaching your peak,
but you're too young to do anything with it.
The world won't let you do anything with it,
and you're too young to know what to do with it.
But you're too old to be a child,
to be held in your parents arms,
spoken to like a child,
told "everything will be okay".
When you get older,
you look back at when you were young,
and think about how stupid you were.
Am I the only one who thinks this way?
As a 17 year old boy/man, I look back at my 16 year old self, and laugh.
I was a completely different person!
Just a year ago!
So when I get to be in my 70s or 80s I don't want to feel like I wasted it.
I want to live this time to it's fullest.
And I don't want to forget it!
I have the world's worst memory, as some of you know,
and I don't think it'll get any better as I age.
So, I have decided to start writing a journal of sorts.
On here, I'm going to try a more... emotional and vague look on my day,
just to keep myself a bit more private.
And I'm going to keep a more factual, event type journal elsewhere.
I'm telling you all this, so you can hold me to it!
Now that I type that, it doesn't make sense,
but that's my theory in any case!
Hopefully this journal can be a reference that I can look back on,
when I'm older and lost again,
and find the simple truths that I once knew.
Remember that I went through tough times,
and how I overcame them.
Or how I failed, and not to try something like that again.
My Broken Heart/Love of an Orchestra
You can give up anything when you're following your heart
I never had the time to show I could depart
with my whole being, go back to the start
Oh I promised more in vows then I ever give with my heart
but I'll be lonely
Oh I'll be lonely
Oh I'll be lonely
oh again
Broken hearts are a fickle thing and complicated too
I thought I believed in love but I've never seen it through
Oh I didn't marry the girl I loved
I saw my world cave in, felt like giving up
but I'll be laughing
Oh I'll be laughing
Oh I'll be laughing
oh again
I've been looking for hope these days
but loves not finding me
but now my hearts been broken there is nothing you can do
I'm impenetrable to pain
Oh, you can break my broken heart
Oh no, you can break my broken heart
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Fears
I'm afraid of being alone.
I'm afraid of dying alone.
I'm afraid of writing about this, because of how I will feel afterward.
I'm afraid of writing this because of what people will say.
Or what people won't say.
I'm afraid of hurting other people.
I'm scared to open up.
I'm tired of not having anyone to open up to.
I'm tired of living.
I'm tired of not living enough.
I'm scared of forgetting.
I'm scared of loving.
I'm angry at myself.
I'm tired of not knowing what I want.
I'm tired of knowing what I want, and not being able to get it.
The harder I try to achieve it, the quicker it eludes me.
I'm scared of losing my mind.
I'm terrified of growing up.
I'm scared of myself.
I'm scared of what I've done.
I'm scared of what I might do.
I'm tired of not being able to say these things out loud.
I'm frustrated with myself.
I'm filled with hatred and loathing for the fantasies in my head, that seem just close enough to achieve, but I always say the wrong thing.
I'm sick of the dirty looks.
I'm sick of the judging.
I'm exhausted from trying to come up with new things to do.
I'm afraid
scared
tired
angry
terrified
sick
exhausted.
I love my life.
I love my friends.
I love to love.
I love being young right now.
I love the possibilities.
I love the opportunity.
I love learning.
I love the fantasies in my head that keep me sane.
I love writing.
I love singing.
I love dancing.
I love pictures.
I love music.
I love my family.
I love God.
I love art.
I love new things.
I love food.
I love to see.
I love to hear.
I love to smell.
I love to taste.
I love to smile.
I love to laugh.
I live life.
I live with or without a purpose.
I live alone.
I live for others.
I love for others.
This year,
despite all of my fears and all my imperfections,
I am going to be happy.
I am going to love deeper than I have loved before.
I am going to live as the person I need to be.
I am going to progress more this year, than I ever have before.
You are going to try and stop me.
Good luck.
I'm afraid of dying alone.
I'm afraid of writing about this, because of how I will feel afterward.
I'm afraid of writing this because of what people will say.
Or what people won't say.
I'm afraid of hurting other people.
I'm scared to open up.
I'm tired of not having anyone to open up to.
I'm tired of living.
I'm tired of not living enough.
I'm scared of forgetting.
I'm scared of loving.
I'm angry at myself.
I'm tired of not knowing what I want.
I'm tired of knowing what I want, and not being able to get it.
The harder I try to achieve it, the quicker it eludes me.
I'm scared of losing my mind.
I'm terrified of growing up.
I'm scared of myself.
I'm scared of what I've done.
I'm scared of what I might do.
I'm tired of not being able to say these things out loud.
I'm frustrated with myself.
I'm filled with hatred and loathing for the fantasies in my head, that seem just close enough to achieve, but I always say the wrong thing.
I'm sick of the dirty looks.
I'm sick of the judging.
I'm exhausted from trying to come up with new things to do.
I'm afraid
scared
tired
angry
terrified
sick
exhausted.
I love my life.
I love my friends.
I love to love.
I love being young right now.
I love the possibilities.
I love the opportunity.
I love learning.
I love the fantasies in my head that keep me sane.
I love writing.
I love singing.
I love dancing.
I love pictures.
I love music.
I love my family.
I love God.
I love art.
I love new things.
I love food.
I love to see.
I love to hear.
I love to smell.
I love to taste.
I love to smile.
I love to laugh.
I live life.
I live with or without a purpose.
I live alone.
I live for others.
I love for others.
This year,
despite all of my fears and all my imperfections,
I am going to be happy.
I am going to love deeper than I have loved before.
I am going to live as the person I need to be.
I am going to progress more this year, than I ever have before.
You are going to try and stop me.
Good luck.
Attempting a Poem
My words stumble out of my mouth,
like they're struggling to get out.
They don't belong to me,
I stole them from who I used to be.
I speak in parables and rhymes,
that begin with "once upon a time".
Because I'm much too cowardly to say what I mean.
But just know that It's not always what it seems.
You may think that you know me,
from the words that aren't mine.
But how could you know me,
these are just letters in a line.
If you really want to know who I am,
although I'm not sure you can,
Just ask me in person.
My complexion will worsen.
I'll try to hide,
what I'm feeling inside.
But hopefully you can read the pain on my face,
read it out loud and put me in my place.
Tell me where I ought to go,
cause I for sure don't know.
Rhyming is hard...
like they're struggling to get out.
They don't belong to me,
I stole them from who I used to be.
I speak in parables and rhymes,
that begin with "once upon a time".
Because I'm much too cowardly to say what I mean.
But just know that It's not always what it seems.
You may think that you know me,
from the words that aren't mine.
But how could you know me,
these are just letters in a line.
If you really want to know who I am,
although I'm not sure you can,
Just ask me in person.
My complexion will worsen.
I'll try to hide,
what I'm feeling inside.
But hopefully you can read the pain on my face,
read it out loud and put me in my place.
Tell me where I ought to go,
cause I for sure don't know.
Rhyming is hard...
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Bait
Why are you so nice to me?
You build me up.
Make me feel like I'm more important than anyone else.
You spoil me.
I'd do anything to make you give me that smile again.
You love me.
Those little things you do for me.
Only me.
...
I took the bait.
...
It wasn't only me.
You did those things for everybody, I can see.
You don't love me.
That smile I loved has brought me nothing but pain.
You spoiled me.
Made me feel just like everybody else.
You tore me down.
Why were you so mean to me?
You build me up.
Make me feel like I'm more important than anyone else.
You spoil me.
I'd do anything to make you give me that smile again.
You love me.
Those little things you do for me.
Only me.
...
I took the bait.
...
It wasn't only me.
You did those things for everybody, I can see.
You don't love me.
That smile I loved has brought me nothing but pain.
You spoiled me.
Made me feel just like everybody else.
You tore me down.
Why were you so mean to me?
Musical Chairs
You're a saboteur.
You shut them down.
Why do you make them fall for you,
when you don't intend to catch them?
Oh no, you aren't all bad.
You gave them a push off the cliff,
Hoping to jump after them,
and catch them as they fell.
But you can't catch up.
They'll be gone when they hit the ground,
and you'll be falling.
Falling for no reason.
Falling all alone.
Who are you falling for?
The wind rushes past you.
The ground is coming up to greet you.
Look around.
Try to find someone to fall with.
But you can't.
All you see is the one you pushed below you,
and the one you wish had fallen above.
The one that was already in love.
You were too late.
You feel like the music has stopped,
and you were left without a chair.
But this isn't musical chairs.
In musical chairs, if you don't get the one you want,
you move on to the next one.
The chair never protests.
The chair is never jealous of your first choice.
The chair doesn't care whose butt sits on it.
Grow up.
Musical chairs is a kids game.
Look next to you, and say hi.
There's somebody there,
playing the game the teacher says you should play.
Take their hand and get away.
Leave all the sad children,
and make your own adventure.
Laugh and sing.
Run and play.
Run to the cliff.
Push them off.
They're falling.
You're falling.
......
Maybe you should have stayed a kid.
You shut them down.
Why do you make them fall for you,
when you don't intend to catch them?
Oh no, you aren't all bad.
You gave them a push off the cliff,
Hoping to jump after them,
and catch them as they fell.
But you can't catch up.
They'll be gone when they hit the ground,
and you'll be falling.
Falling for no reason.
Falling all alone.
Who are you falling for?
The wind rushes past you.
The ground is coming up to greet you.
Look around.
Try to find someone to fall with.
But you can't.
All you see is the one you pushed below you,
and the one you wish had fallen above.
The one that was already in love.
You were too late.
You feel like the music has stopped,
and you were left without a chair.
But this isn't musical chairs.
In musical chairs, if you don't get the one you want,
you move on to the next one.
The chair never protests.
The chair is never jealous of your first choice.
The chair doesn't care whose butt sits on it.
Grow up.
Musical chairs is a kids game.
Look next to you, and say hi.
There's somebody there,
playing the game the teacher says you should play.
Take their hand and get away.
Leave all the sad children,
and make your own adventure.
Laugh and sing.
Run and play.
Run to the cliff.
Push them off.
They're falling.
You're falling.
......
Maybe you should have stayed a kid.
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