Total Pageviews

Monday, October 10, 2011

My God in heaven above! What in the world leads a teenager (me) to write poems like this? Angst? What in God's holy name is it?

It is, I am QUITE certain, the work of the devil, as little doubts begin to form, as we (teenagers) start to view the world much differently, noting full well, those inconsistencies that are always here.



GUILT (But I have Caused Tears)

Exhausted, depressed,
on the verge of breaking down,
no longer caring, especially for myself,
I reflected: Why am I here?
Could anyone have been created for this meaningless end?
The talents once possessed, are buried now,
laying fallow, with my old ideals, never to be resurrected.

Why? Desires that leave an emptiness encompass me,
desperate sorrow hidden behind mock smiles.
Fear, hidden superficial acts of courage;
Thoughts that can't find express themselves in words;
Joys that hold no meaning. Why?
Have I helped another, or even myself?
No. But I have caused tears;
a waterfall of tears.


Praying for a forgiving God


Alone except for myself
I pull my life's book off its shelf
To see a youth misspent
Aimlessly wasted, I wonder where it went?

Too much time devoted to the trivial
Always was blinded to the meaningful
To late did I open my eyes to see
Through the eyes staring at the empty shell that is me

Defenseless and alone I stand
My fates cast to the winds, drifting out of my hands
The whims of heaven or hell
One day there will toll the bell

Often now I wonder, has my life been worth living?
Oh dear God, please be forgiving.




No longer living in anonymity


No longer living in anonymity
There's six million people nearby
That you do not know.
But if they watch the TV news
They'll learn where you're gonna go.
Invisible once, you can't hide anywhere now.
Your self-inflicted death brings them face to face
Who you once were and why you are not now.

Some put flowers hoping it not too late to reach out to touch you
Or your sorrow, that only you could feel
You were nothing, invisible, until death's hand
Your own hand, cut you down.



Stuff happens

He let you taste his bitter honey
He let you take his sweet wormwood
He left you with a baby in your belly
He left you
To know and feel
The secret silent joyful fears of motherhood.



The Choice, As Almost Always, is Ours

Shall I lose it now?
Shall I give it freely?
I'll only have it once
But I will lose it forever.

No comments:

Post a Comment