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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Teen · #1353883
Poems i've created over the past few months. Read as much as you like.
Contents (Original) (11/27)
2.Backyards of Society
4.I wander
5.How I love
7.Jesus Wept
8.The Last days of autumn
9.The same road
More stuff I've thrown in recentley
1. It's snowing even though it's summer (12/1)


staring into a pretty nothing
staring at the clock on the wall
hummm.... ..- --hummmmmm
the tv is flickering
nothing but static on the radio

the lights go off and on
and i am outraged
And someone dies
and i care not
white noise, white noise, white noise
white noise, white noise, white noise
i can't fall asleep without white noise
i can't stay awake without white noise

Backyards of society

In the backyards
Every blade of grass must be cut
All the same size, all alike
The poor, misunderstood weeds
ripped from the ground and replaced with a seed
perfected to blend with the mosiac of green.

In the cafeterias
Every unique taste is removed,
leaving an easily digestible mash of food
with no sweet or salt or spice
that everyone will dislike but tolerate
every bit of uniqueness, expression, avant-garde weaned away.

In the society,
Every person who stands against the grain is molded into normality.
For a frown is better than the dimple
The boring more tolerable than the offbeat
Careful lies more seductive than the whole uncensored truth
Black and white easier on the eyes than the full spectrum of color.


There are the shiny bright city lights
That show me the way to the future
But now in these bright shining lights
I can't see the beacon to find my way through life

And the shining bright city lights
Leave nothing in cold mysterious darkness
No alley unturned
No street corner unexplored
Nothing left to find
Nothing left to see
Except the lights
And the people who gather in hordes like desperate pale moths around them.

And now that I'm not in the dark
I can't see the stars
I can't think of anything, feel anything, know anything
There is nothing to find except well lit familiar alleys.

I wander

I wander the streets at night
Looking for someone to talk to
I walk outside the light
Looking for someone to relate to

I dig inside a cave
I dig up old forgotten graves
Looking for someone to speak to.
Looking for someone to listen to.

I follow everyone
Looking for someone to talk to
I listen to everything
Just to hear someone to talk to

How I love

How I love this awful place
How I love the blood-caked, salty dirt that covers me from head to toe
How I love your bitter hate
How I savor the awkwardness of the touch
or the heroin of love.

How I love the baking heat of the sun
How I love the dark cold feeling that comes with the twilight
How I treasure the fear that grips me every night
that I might not wake up the next.

How I love the pain that I feel
How I love the unstable always changing world
And I feel like I could fly, whenever I just sit back and think
that I am just alive.


The rain falls, staining my skin
Washing away my sins
The cleansing cold, the misery I feel
Lifted away

The rhythm of the rain
more soothing than anything else
The darkness of the clouds
Hides me better than the dead of night

And as the flood waters roll in,
I have never felt so alive...

Jesus wept

He only asked that you care for him, and yourself, and others.
And look at you now, a wreck, a highwayman, a burglar.
A sad-wandering-bloodthirsty murderer.
Clinging to the darkness, heeding only the words of the heretics, following only the instigators.
Fleeing enlightenment, ignoring wise men, punishing wise men.
Hating your neighbors, hating your enemies, killing anyone deemed unfaithful.
Killing in the name of the one who told you not to kill.

The Last Days of Autumn

The sun goes behind the trees, casting a
shadow on the orange-stained leaves.
The birds fly overhead, all going
the same direction, all heading to the warmth.

The cold wind comes from the west, the chirping
cricket sounds of summer fade away.
The memories the sunny days, will soon
be blocked out by the shady-gray clouds.

Winter is coming soon, the icy-cold days
will tax the body and the soul.
Nothing is left for me to say, except that spring
will come again someday.

The same road

Drive down the same roads
all your life
Scampering from place to place
like a honeybee
Doing everything the quickest way
leaving no time for the quaint
Avoiding the different
fearing change like darkness
Running from everything
Running from nothing

Down the same road so much it becomes a monotone
Every mile marker on lakeshore drive memorized
The joyous slavery of routine
The chains of happiness
The silent oppression of society
The inescapable ties of marriage, mortgage, monotone
bind this town.
Who knows what lies over the hill?
Who cares what lies over the hill?


The snow falls in sharp crisp flakes
And it paints the landscape the purest white
And all is still
Not a thing moves now.

The winter, the fear
The wishing that it was later in the year
I feel it too.

But now I see
that I should not fear
the snow
I should only fear the world
which turns the snow a sickly grey.
It's snowing even though it's summer

Looking out at my porch it looks like
it's snowing even though it's summer

I'm so afraid to say the wrong
thing that I don't say anything at all.

Cold night, Cold light
People are huddled up in coats, lost boys are freezing to death on the streets
Dark night, Bright light
Everything is bathed in neon, everything is wrapped around in pale fluorescence

I cling on so hopelessly to hope
Lusting for the apple that I can never reach

Trapped between two worlds and I
love both of them dearly but I never can stay in both

Nearby fright, faraway light
I am cornered in the alleyway of a street, surrounded by viscous mongrels
Beating night, Blinking light
The city never sleeps, the whole city sees me backed up against a wall but doesn't care.
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