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Poetry for Those With No Road of Hope

Novel By: Christopher M Brown
Poetry



This is a book of my poetry that I put together in the hopes of getting published soon. Kids, well, not only kids, but teenagers and adults too of this era are finding themselves in the throes of an epidemic named depression. Inside are the poems I wrote during my depression and after I got out of it. This book is meant to inspire people to hang on, to make something of their lives and to know, that somebody out there has gone through the same things as they themselves have and emerged victorious on the other side. Everybody has greatness in them, it is thus their part to find themselves in the mess of everything else around them, and to learn what it is that they are supposed to be great at. Everybody has their place in this thing we call life, and hopefully I have found mine with the writing of these poems and this book. View table of contents...


Chapters:

1

Submitted:Jan 18, 2008    Reads: 178    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


This is dedicated to my older sister Rachel who was always there for me when I needed her to be, my little brother Jeff who I just met and saved my life, and my little sister Alicia, whom I hope despair never reaches.
Life is a funny thing. It has given me many insights into my own soul over the short span I have lived so far, and has provided me experiences that are hard to explain and were hard earned through the pain and suffering which seems to be the mode of thought for this era. I honestly think that technology has wrought upon us this impending air of depression and brought a darkened veil of it over the eyes of most of the people in America. Not to say that there wasn't depression and turmoil before now, just that most people didn't have the time for it.
A century ago, people were working hard every day, all day long, knowing they played a part in the economy in their own ways. These days, as a child growing up, coddled by the government and turned lazy by the sudden boom of technology of the past century, we find ourselves at a point in time where we have entirely too much time to ourselves to think of everything that has gone wrong in our lives. Whether this is true or not, I don't know. It's just a theory I entertain from time to time.
As I grew up in this age, at this time in human history yet to be made, I rose among humble beginnings and am still struggling to rise up out of the ashes of my own swiftly burning past. This is not going to be a tale of that past, in the sense of what you think, but a collection of my poetry dating from the time I was seventeen to the present and the changes I made along the way, including the dramatic ones of the past few years. Along the way will be commentaries from me, and I hope that you not only enjoy the ride, but gain inspiration to make something of your own lives.
Everyone is born to be great. They just have to discover what it is that they were meant to be great at and follow it passionately. It's not always what you think it is or will be, but something inside of you that has to be brought out as you come to understand who you are.
I began writing poetry at the age of seventeen, before I knew that the mood I was in was called depression and this poem is the first one that I ever wrote. Short, maybe not to the point, but it one that I wouldn't leave out.
Nature's bloom
The story of life
A mortal's doom
Stricken with strife
The spiral of death
From dawn of time
To reapers breath
Has no reason nor rhyme
The futile efforts of man so bold
Are nothing of sorts
When man grows old
We toil from dawn to dusk
Without asking why
We do what we must
Until the day we die
It will be too late
To be happy or sad
To love or to hate
Or to jump at each fad
To think we have grace
To think that we're special
When we're just a speck in space
Nothing more, nothing at all
Man's own egotism
Shall herald man's fall

The Saga of Man

I believe all poets who have gone through depression start at some point similar to this in their writing, where the shadow of impending doom lingers over everything they think, write and speak. Even if they themselves don't know or understand it, their subconscious speaks out through their conscious thought and tells anyone willing to see the signs what is in the thoughts of the poet. The feeling of being small and insignificant is normal, but nothing to dwell on. We may be small in the large scheme of things, but to those around us, we all play a very large part.

The Shadows
Do you see what the shadows hide
When you try to sleep at night
The creeping, sliding silhouettes
Greed, corruption and regrets
Eating into your subconscious
It feeds on your conscious
And creates your insecurities
What do you do with your inferiorities
When the shadows play
Your senses start to slide
Your sanity denied
Shadows dancing pirouettes
Another hypocrite in a world of hypocrites
A sleepless night for the furious
Dreading doom for the curious
And it becomes our insecurities
In the land of our inferiorities
When the shadows dance
Let your anger die
And let go of your wild side
Closing in, the world of silhouettes
Ridding the world of one more hypocrite
No help for the helpless
The world becomes once again survival of the fittest
And the rest becomes history
Another sin punished in the land of obscurities
When the shadows begin to close in
Perhaps it is folly to think that anything means anything, but looking back over my poetry as I compile it into this book, I realize now just how many signs I was putting into my writing, without even realizing what I was doing at the time. We all have the need to speak out and to be heard, but barely anybody wants to listen. This doesn't mean we should give up trying, but to be more careful to whom we reach out to. Sometimes a perfect stranger can be a better ear than some of our closest friends, Which is where I got my inspiration for the next poem.
I saw a man sitting with a plastic bag
While walking down the road one day
Sitting by a city bus sign
He looked like an average guy
As I drew closer
He got ready a paper
For a cigarette he rolled in no time
The very next day
I saw the same man with tobacco bag
Sitting for the bus, rolling away
So I sat down next to him
And started talking a bit
I realized he had a lot to say
He talked about the world
And how it was unfair
He talked about the government
And how they scam every dollar
The more I listen,
The more I learned
The tobacco bag man was quite a scholar
Everyday after that
To that place I went back
To hear what he had to say
And watch him roll cigarettes from his tobacco bag
The fire with which he spoke
complimented the fact that he smoked
He looked so young, but
His eyes told what his tongue could not
An old man in the body of a youth
A soul old before it's time
troubled by ignorance uncouth
He began to teach me how to rhyme
"Everything in motion,
Has it's own rhythm"
He told me to find it and make it mine
The tobacco bag man
Never talked about himself
He always walked, never ran
He'd always greet me with a smile
As if he had a master plan
One day I went to meet him
And to my surprise, he wasn't there
I never saw him again
And it made me wonder
What happened to the tobacco bag man
Will I see him in thirty years
sitting at that same sign with his tobacco bag
Talking to some kid while breathing through an oxygen tank
Looking back on that time
I remember everything he had to say
And the impact that it's had on my life to date
If you're reading this, tobacco bag man,
I just want to say thanks
Thanks for helping me understand
Not that I'm saying you should go pick any stranger to talk to, just sometimes when desperation reigns high above our heads, we turn to someone, anyone, even the strangers on the street or at the bus stop. We don't think about what we're doing, we don't hope that it turns out to be the right thing to do or not, but more often than not, things turn out alright after a while. It always seems like a long time, but when all is said and done, a few years is a short period of time to go through even though it seems like an eternity while we live through it.
Swift anger
A bipolars' fear
Hidden depression
And trouble drawing near
Rising emotions
A bipolars' bane
Worse than acid lotions
It drives me insane
One little push
Sends me off the deep end
Like a sudden rush
I can feel my mind descend
Like a constant battle
Raging inside
Like a herd of cattle
I lose control of my mind
Happy; now sad
Laughing and then crying
Joyful; now mad
I feel like I'm dying...
Then after a while of this, it puts a strain on our minds. We go slightly crazy from it, crying ourselves to sleep at night because for some reason we can not get over all the bad stuff that was done to us in our life. We are broken in body and mind.
This fire inside
It burns me alive
Pain unendurable
Suffering incurable
They say you have to know pain to write
So I write and I write on through the night
You don't know what it's like to be me
Because only I have seen what I have to see
You can burn me
And cut me
Stab me, shoot me
But never will you kill me...
Nothing compared to the pain inside
To the lies that I try to hide
What's physical pain
When compared to the brain
It feels like a stain on my mind
Like I've been left behind
You can break the body
And the mind goes on
But break the mind
And the body's done
When will it all end
And how can I possibly defend
When I've gone off the deep end
When the pain just deepens
You can burn me
And cut me
Stab me, shoot me
But never will you kill me
My soul has been laid out
And I no longer have any doubt
My body has been laid to waste
And I feel that I must make haste
I've got to pick up and run
Before I pick up that gun
I just want to be left in peace
I Don't want to end up on the streets
I wrap my arms tight around my knees
And rock with the tears as they flow down my face
Like they're trying to keep pace
With my heart...
Breakdown; My mind went into lockdown
You can Burn me
And Cut me
Stab me; Shoot me
BUT NEVER WILL YOU KILL ME!!!

The Tobacco-Bag Man

Bipolarousity

Breakdown

The only thing that seems real at this point is the pain. Pain and pain and pain beyond anything anybody could possibly ever know. Or so we think at the time. The truth is that 7 out of 10 Americans, at one point in their life, suffer from depression, hide it from the world and find a way to deal with it. 3 of the 7 Americans ends up committing suicide.

And for those of us who do not fall into suicide or depression there is still the chance of dying the old fashioned way, such as murder.

Life denied
The birth of a scheme
The well run dry
Dead at eighteen
In death he is free
His spirit let go
To a better place hopefully
Though what we don't know
For those he left behind
For those that cry
And the tears that blind
Why do the young have to die
May he live on in our minds
Even though he is gone
The tie that binds
Will prove to be just as strong
May his spirit fly
Let him rest in peace forever

Written in honor and memory of Christopher Cody Ballou-English

Along the same lines, are bullies. Now in movies today we are seeing more of the bullies that are mistreated at home or elsewhere and also dealing with depression issues of their own. I had a bully of sorts in my school that always gave me a hard time. A couple of years ago I was hanging out with a friend of mine and he said he had a friend who committed suicide, so I went over to this friends house with him for him to pay respects. I was a little bit surprised when I found out that it was the same bully, who I always thought was stronger, tougher, yet he succumbed to his weakness and let it drive the life out of him. It made me really think about things.
There's no real reason
Why we're here or why we die
Just a simple trick of fate
These emotions of love and hate
It started when we were young
We were carefree and mostly dumb
But we weren't too blind to see
The innocents dying; 1, 2, 3
As young as we once were
We could still feel death's cold shiver
Always an accident that was blamed
The driver too fast or it was just a game
But as we got older
These deaths got colder
More detailed and way too close to home
Reading the words engraved in stone
Now I'm sitting here looking back
To the last death and the skins not black
Just a week or two ago
He lost all sight of hope
With a gun to his head and a bottle to his lips
How easy it is to lose sight of dreams
And regret becomes their funeral themes
Now who are we to blame
If blaming can wash away the pain
Death was bad enough before
And now suicide steps up to the floor
It started when we were young
We were carefree and happy and mostly dumb
But we weren't to blind to see
The innocents dying
...1...2...3...
What is death
And why do we fear it
Who started this mess
And how does it fit
Life spirals down
And leaves us in the dirt
Why do people frown
When it's as natural as birth
The fear of the unknown
I laugh when I hear
We die and rot to the bone
So what is there to fear
All life leads to the grave
Nothing lasts forever
Why can't we be brave
Irrationality has gotten the better
We all die sooner or later
Why fear inevitability
Whether you be punk, goth, jock, or skater
You'll lie beneath the earth for eternity
A year has passed already
Since that day a life stopped completely
A friend that met his bitter end
Just two short months after he became a man
Sometimes I sit and wonder why;
Why do the young have to die
Another acquaintance of mine dead this month
With a gun, too much, he'd had enough
A suicide and a murder
A year apart from one another
So you see the pattern the world takes on?
Misery and suffering and then we're gone
Sometimes you do and sometimes you die
And it's left up to family and friends to wonder why
Sometimes you have no choice
And sometimes you hear the instrument, your inside voice
Screaming for some justice in the world
Hope turning to regret and tide has turned
It's a tragedy spread by wildfire
Day in and day out, millions expire
And more people are left to mourn
Kids dying within two decades of being born
I still have no answer as to why; why do the young have to die?
We're left holding our breaths
Looking back, just counting the deaths
Suicide is on the minds of a lot of people. Not just those thinking about doing it, but people concerned about the people thinking about doing it. It even touched the mind of one of my best friend's son.
A battered sanity hanging on a thread
What's going on inside his head
A solo youth moving slowly through the empty house
as quickly and silently as a little mouse
Bruises cover his face
Blood flowing still, but at a slower pace
Tonight he's had enough
He's tired of being tough
Just a boy at age thirteen
and tonight is his night of reckoning
Step-daddy got drunk again
And this time used more than his hand
The mother is in denial
She's been making him lie for quite a while
But tonight he's finally done
He's sick and tired of being the one
To deal with what shouldn't have begun
He grabs a belt from his step-dad's room
because his wasn't big enough to make the loop
Walking down the hall, he grabs a chair
And positions it where he thinks is fair
He climbs up on top
Loops the belt around the rafter and ties a knot
silent tears flowing as he makes out the letter
Not even wishing anymore that he had it better
He slides the belt through the loop at the end
And slipping it around his neck, let's it tighten
Wobble, wobble, wobble
The chair is ready to topple
The sound of a key in the door…
And the chair tips over
The letter slips out of his hand
A single tear makes it's way down his face
The door opens with a gasp
And now they have to live with their disgrace

Innocent's Dying

Death

Death Count

The Belt

The real story didn't happen this way, Thank God, but it came very close to it. Now I will share my views on suicide, starting with two that I wrote as I put myself in other people's shoes. I never did get around to writing my own suicide note. My life changed before I got around to it, but that's still later on in this book.

Suicide Note

If you're reading this, then I must be dead
Most likely from the bullet I put in my head
To those I left behind: my family; my friends
I'm sorry, but this is where my story ends
I couldn't take being alone anymore
I've gone through the very last door
Because nobody truly understands what I'm about
And because my head is too full of doubt
I have no girlfriend to date
And I'm working a job I hate
I'm the butt of every joke my new friends say
And if I step up, it's another hospital stay
I don't expect you to grieve or mourn for me
I know I'm not who anybody expected me to be
As the days pass by quickly
This gun looks evermore friendly
Becoming to me less deadly
And more a way out of being me
You don't understand, do you?
But that's ok, you were never meant to
Nobody ever does understand who I am
That's why you're reading these words written by my hand
Is it my fault that I suffer so?
Is it my fault I'm different than everybody else?
So radically gifted and yet erratically stinted
But then, nobody ever stopped to listen
To hear what I had to say
They always called me stupid and made fun
All because they never understood
But that's okay, I forgive them all
And in the end, it all rolls into a ball
Is there a god? Do you know?
I've always thought the answer was no
But I've been thinking as my sorrows deepened
And so, for my sins, I do repent
And I hope God forgives this one last offense
My suicide; my eternal weakness
Dear Mom & Dad
Today is the last time you'll treat me this bad
I'm tired of being in this living hell
From day one, pain of some sort has been felt
Mom, remember when I was younger
And you said you wished you'd used the coat hanger
Remember the times you told me I was just an accident
The unwanted result of a careless incident
And Dad, remember how you've beat me every day
To the point where these scars will never fade
I hate you both and I hope you die
This is for every tear that I've cried
For every ounce of blood that I've shed
I'll never be able to fix what went wrong in my head
So tonight, when you're asleep, I'll take your gun
And place it between my nose and my tongue
For every wrong that you've done
The drugs I take no longer get me high
And I'm tired of wearing this mask of lies
When my blood begins to spill
I'm sure you'll be thrilled
I want to die
I want to feel the bullet go through the other side
And feel the snapping of tendons and nerves
I guess you could say I'm a little disturbed
For weeks I've planned this out
Today, I found your credit card and maxed it out
Ran you bankrupt and put you in debt
So now I can leave this world with no regrets
I stopped hoping for a better life
Because it amplified the pain inside
Well, now I have to go
The house is quiet and the chamber's full
Bang will be the sound of my brains hitting the wall

Dear Mom and Dad

My saving grace were my little brother and sister who came into my life shortly before I turned 19. I had managed to track my father down online and was able to meet him in the year 2006, where I found out I had a little brother and sister. That was where the changes really began for me.

A new generation of fools we are
Upper teens, lower twenties
We have made suicide an art
Anything has to be better, they sing
Well the blood that spills
Will not be mine, I swear
Myself, sometimes, I wish to kill
But I've found the thing to keep me here
I don't care about my soul
I could just as easily let the devil have it
With my suicide my penance for
The sins in my life, all that shit
Holy salvation is nice, I guess
But I have no hope that it will save my ass
So I don't live with the hope
Of somehow saving my soul
I love the Lord and Jesus Christ
But for them I do not live my life
Even though I have a cross branded upon my arm
That is to keep my demons from bringing me harm
No, it's for a handful of kids
My nephews, nieces, my little brother and sis
Who I can't leave without an uncle or make older brotherless
Not to say that all I wrote before this point didn't have it's own beauty to it, as macabre as it was. There are a few that I wrote that I do like, even though now I see all too clearly the hidden meanings of them. I would like to share a couple of these before moving on to the next stage.
We slip into this world so bleak
To be surrounded by the weak
Look around and know your place
See the mirror reflection of your face
Distorted, it denies, and then it cracks
Everything you ever tried to grasp
Smashing every dream you ever had
Millions of voices in your head
Screaming out all at once
Catching you up in their deluge
Take a look in the mirror
And see what you're afraid you'll see
Broken glass and broken dreams
Lacerations to your skin
Blood flowing dark and red from deep within
Laugh and the world laughs with you
Cry and the world laughs at you
Slipping deep within your mind
Trying to find the answers you once denied
What is the meaning of life
To feel pain or to share joy
A simple tool of destiny and fate's new toy
And then you scream
You try to awaken from the dream
But the dream becomes reality
The lie becomes the truth
And now it's plain to see
You can't escape your destiny
And then the dream shatters
Broken glass and broken dreams
Lacerations to your skin
Blood flowing dark and red from deep within
Laugh and the world laughs with you
Cry and the world laughs at you
No escape, no escape, no escape
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide
Reality closes in, choices open up
Choose to live, or choose to die
Choose to sleep, or choose to fly
Surround yourself with the weak
And once again you'll know your place
The voices in your mind have ceased
The distortion of the mirror goes away
A misconception of being saved
This breath you breathe will be your last
And then the mirror shatters
Broken glass and broken dreams
Lacerations to your skin
Blood flowing from deep within, dark and crimson
No more laughing, no more crying
The world has had the last laugh, the end is here
I want to speak, I want to yell
I want to scream; curse; I'm going' to hell
Reaching for the world through a fiery veil
Reading through the lines of
Red and black and blood and guts
Wars gone on from before; lasting forevermore
Millions dying, only to get up and die again
These are the souls rejected from Heaven
Misery; suffering; decay intensifying
Demons and devils terrifying; slave-driving
People of all races and times, dying
And I'm one of them; we're some of them
In the world today, who's to say
How many people are pure and innocent
If there are any, I haven't seen them
And in the end; everybody sins
So they say we must repent
Who? The Christians!
But who has time when life's so short
When just walking down the road can get you hurt
Millions of people
some young and some old
The souls of sinners, one and all
People of all races and times, dying
And I'm one of them; we're some of them
And all I've seen in Hell
I think sometimes I'm alive still
Because it seems so much like life
Full of sinners and a lot of strife
But I know I'm dead; brain-dead
Cause every time I see a mirror, there's a bullet hole in my head
Dripping; gushing blood; ever pumping
Down my face and all across me
Wars gone on from before; lasting forevermore
People dying just to get up and die some more
These are the souls rejected from Heaven
And I'm one of them; we're some of them
We're some of them; all of us one of them
Red rain on the winds of tomorrows storm
Glimpses of ages past; future
When man was beast and the beasts ruled the world
6 Sixty-Six
The number of the beast
Born unto the whisper of the wind
Tragically wrought by the Devil's treat
Innocently brought to fulfill a task
One that would bring ruin upon a planet
The beasts that once were part of nature
Will rue the day they fell from grace
Sailing on the seas of yesterday
Lifting the veil of tomorrows secrets
Red rain and destruction
As prophesied by those omnipotent
Judgment Day will be no surprise
To those that could read the signs
An entire race devoured by greed
Inhumanity towards our fellow man
We stopped being part of nature
When we stopped being beasts and
Started the counting
To the day of reckoning
Winter winds and what is left
After the world was stained red
From the innocents killed and the blood shed
And in that moment when Judgment called
It was said that the rain was red
For every one of those people killed
God cried tears of blood for the mistake he made
When man was a beast and beasts ruled the world
Glimpses of the future; past
Red rain on the winds of tomorrows storm
Idiomatically speaking
We started on this road thinking
What good things lie awaiting our endless joy
As time gone on and words came through
Enjoyment seemed so far away
Along the winds of tomorrows day
Idiomatically, problematically
Even sympathetically and ideologically
Living in this world of sensible nonsense
We want joy, but give pain
Want happiness, but give sorrow
Where Truth turns to lies
And feelings end up hollow
Journeying through this world brings so much down
Upon our shoulders and yet we grow
With each passing day we become our own
Deciding which road we'll take
Depending on the choices we make
Periodically choosing which regrets we'll have
Learning along the way to think of what's been lost
Does it seem surreal to live so thoughtlessly
Destroying the world we live in
And yet in the end, does it matter when
We leave this life the way we started
Emptied of our treasures we tried to hold
Wondering if our memories would survive our bodies cold
When we leave this world of sensible nonsense
We want joy, but give pain
Want happiness, but give sorrow
Where Truth turns to lies
And feelings end up hollow
I want you all to think
About the actions performed from day to day
To the tears spent when things don't go your way
Will it all be worth the end result
When life could leave the body cold
At any minute of the livelong day
Sensibly we speak, and nonsense we perform
So richly given the power to act without thought
So poorly given the understanding of what our actions hold
Where our lives will go, or even when just to let things go
Sensible nonsense is what it's all about
The lies we tell when truths we want
The sorrow we feel when happiness sought
Down to the hollowness we end up with when
Our feelings are lost
We live only until we die
But in the end, shouldn't we live for more than that?
In this world of darkened deeds
Of those who are blind to everything
We slip into a twisting turmoil
Swiftly spiraling towards our death
Hoping for a change in our depression
Reaching for the light and ending
Reaching and grasping tainted tranquility
Alone and so cold, so cold and alone
Feeling the shiver of deaths breath
Stealing our souls from our still-warm bodies
Converting to the greed and destruction
That eventually dooms our kind
Noticing something wrong and not knowing what
Wanting a change and not realizing why
Reaching for a world of beauteous happiness
And grasping a tainted tranquility
A mixture of good and bad
A spiral for those that can accept their tragedy
And move past to open their eyes
To everything around them
You can wish for a world with no evil
And end up wishing in vain
But to accept it and move on
Instead of becoming hollow and empty
Leaves you grasping a tainted tranquility

Fools and Suicide

Lacerations

One of Them

Red Rain

Sensible Nonsense

Grasping Tainted Tranquility

During my time of depression, I ran across a thought that scared me senseless and made me extremely happy at the same time: the thought that someday I'll be a father and have children of my own. This thought scares me because I'm afraid that in some way I will end up screwing it up but I hope anyway that I'll turn out to be an alright dad.

Fighting For You
Slip your arms around me
Hold me tight to feel me breathe
Let me forget the pain that I hold in
Hoping this moment will come again
The smell of your hair
my eyes clenched in fear
Let me cry upon your shoulder
I'm tired of being strong, being the holder
Of such twisted thoughts
These evil memories of times thought lost
Wrap my hands in yours
And tell me that it will be all right
I just need to hear those magic words
As you hold me tight
Knowing you'll be there, to take my swords
When I take a break from this bloody fight
My hands are stained red
From the words let slip from inside my head
Feelings that I've hurt
And the memories that must be remembered
But every time I catch your eyes
I see only understanding
A peace I don't remember, but I have known
A comfort that stretches back to long ago
That which was felt inside the womb
For so long I've felt alone in a crowded room
Until I saw your face, looking back
My heart slows its pace, before it starts the next attack
Wrap my hands in yours
And tell me That it will be all right
I just need to hear those magic words
As you hold me tight
Knowing you'll be there, to take my swords
When I take a break from my bloody fight
Your little hand envelops mine
Holding on so fierce and tight
Your eyes, so much like mine
So full of love, so full of life
My future child, my unborn saint
Reaching back as I reach forward
Your presence in my heart is what keeps me sane
Meeting through the sands of time
Wrap your hands in mine
And I'll tell you it will be all right
Because we both need to hear those magic words
before we go back to our respective fights
Knowing you'll be there, holding your swords
Fighting for me, like I fight for you on these lonely nights

Even though at times I felt like losing it, I also kept around me a sense of humor. Some people don't understand or like my sense of humor and then others find it endlessly hilarious. I joke about things that are real to everybody because I've come to accept the truth and take comfort in it instead of not wanting to hear it. I thrive on the truth.

MPD
This voice inside my head
Driving me crazy
Making me lazy
And making me wish I was dead
It's destroying my sanity
Erasing my humanity
And taking the comfort out of my bed
This voice has a life of it's own
Talking to me
Needing to be
The meat upon my bones
Telling me to do things
To bear fangs
And telling me to burn peoples homes
This voice is the one that decides
Everything that I do
Morning, night, and noon
The voice does not apologize
And it becomes in my stinted sanity
The end to my humanity
Telling me to wear a mask of lies
This voice
...this voice
Echoing
...echoing
And when the time is right
...time is right
It thinks for itself
...you're damn right
This solitary voice
...burn it, you have no choice
The death of my sanity
...my split personality
Socks
What is happening to my socks?
I search and search for them
But it appears to be a lost cause
I wash them and dry them and then
They disappear
Seemingly into thin air
And my feet are not warm
No, not at all
And so I search everywhere
Every room and down the halls
Trying to find my missing socks
I think I used to have a lot
But they've been coming up missing
their numbers dwindling
And I've put their pictures on milk cartons
And on trees with the word 'Missing'
So if you find them, please call me
Tell me how they're doing
If they're happy with out me
Then send them back to me
For another year of foot-bound slavery
At the same time, though I tried to keep in mind that other people were going through the same thing. One of my fans committed suicide. I didn't know him for too long and I remember thinking if I could have done anything to help, and the answer was no, I couldn't. Another fan of mine asked me to write a poem about them, and gave me a few things to go on as we talked, without knowing that she was giving me stuff to write about. I handed her the poem later on and she said it was perfect. She asked me not to share it with anybody, because she didn't want anybody to know it was about her, but I share it now, because if this is to be a story about pain and suffering, then it must be about everybody's, not just my own. If you're reading this, then I apologize to you about this, but keep in mind I am not naming you, nor will I ever, not until you're ready to deal with this.
She sits in a darkened corner
Lights off in the house
As she sits and thinks about her
Own past, the demons abound
A child still when she had a child
And 13 years later she buried him
A bond between mother and child
Is stronger than anything imagined
And it destroyed her sense of mind
Battered and beaten by a husband who
Had little sense but lots of liqueur
The scars will never fade
From the times he beat her
And she allowed it
Because she saw herself an unfit mother
For her child to be murdered
years of tragedy and grief
tears like rain, running the streets
Devoid of any real thought
Just an obsession
To be so punished
Or so she thought
And God has a plan
Everything that has happened is meant
and now it's time to move on
To forgive if not forget
To let go of hatred and anguish
To see the light of love and hope
and see the beauty of the tress in the wind
and time moves on, forgetting not
The senseless tragedies of those
Who history does not mark
But still it happens
And life goes on
She sits in a darkened corner in a little room
In a house that's hers in name and title
Wondering where her life had gone
What happened to all those years
wasted, no, not wasted, in misery and grief
For in the end she's a better person
And through the darkness rises a spirit
Of beautiful light
Reaching for god, and wanting to be
Needing to be, yearning to be, free
Angry and alone, and time will heal all
Enough for just now, to let the tears flow
One last time
Before she moves on with her life
And so she embraces the night

The Battered Woman

The truth is, pain and suffering effects us all, in a different way for every single person, and no other person can help another except by being there, to listen, to relate and to show that yes, somebody cares. People dealing with depression need constant reminders of this very simple fact: somebody cares. Otherwise they lose all perception of things and fall into a hole which they can not rise out of. Sometimes all we can say to ourselves is, hey, I'm still here, I'm still hanging in there. Even this in itself carries an important message of ones own hidden strength.

You see me now before you
The victor of a thousand psychic wars
Still standing tall
Still breathing in and out
Armed with just my strength of will
To stand against Demons sent from Hell
Fires burning brightly
Demons and worse armed to the teeth
Scabbing flesh falling from their bodies
Moving inhumanly, ungainly, speedy
Invisibly towards me
Sent to tempt me into their masters reach
I've been through hell and stand before you
The victor of a thousand psychic wars
Still standing, still breathing in and out
The mark of the cross branded upon my arm

1000 Psychic Wars

Me and my cavalry charging in

God, his holy light and angels all

Sent to fight the next battle

I hope to know love someday. A lot of people are blessed to have been in love with someone early on in life, though usually it ends bitterly. Still I believe it is like the old saying goes: It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. The only time I ever had the feeling of being in love, and not just the loving feeling as towards family and friends was in a recurring, on-going dream I used to have. I would go to sleep and have a dream about the same girl, a sequence of dreams spanned over many years, and then finally I just stopped having them. My last dream about this girl, we were standing near the ocean and she was saying goodbye, she had to go somewhere and she wouldn't tell me where. I feel all to keenly the loss of not having known this type of love in real life, because I have a feeling it would have a much more vibrant feel to it.

In Love With a Dream
What is this I'm feeling?
When I look into your eyes
When I see your face turning
Ever so slightly
In my direction
Oh baby
Your fingertips ignite the passion within
Not lust, the basest of sins
Do I feel now at this moment
But a love most true
That it almost pains my heart
When I look at you
Almost unbearable to lose
This fragment of delight when
I hear your voice whispering
Saying all those things I wanted
To hear, in the dark, When I was all alone
And then you fade off into the distance
Wait don't go, where are you going?
I'll follow you, come back, I love you
Don't leave...
I'm in love with a dream
This same single dream that haunts me
Every night when I lay down to close my eyes
Same girl, same pretty smile
Same beautiful eyes, staring
Directly into mine
Oh I'm in love with a dream
Like the torture of a thousand needles
Peppering my skin ever repeatedly
I watch those movies about romance and love
And wonder when will it be my turn
I read those books where the hero finds his love
Saves her, and then the story ends
And then I fall asleep
And I see you standing there
Ever so sweet
Like my heart coming home
Like my soul so fulfilled
Like the Perfect Sunniest day on
The perfectly warm day
And in this dream I know you completely
And you know me
This... this... this...
Too much to describe with words alone
A perfect world, where sex does not matter
Just your company
Your eloquent chatter
And then you fade away again
Like so many nights before
Who are you? Where are you?
Where can I find you?
Oh torturously I find this as I awake
Gone again into the dead of night
I'm in love with a dream
This mini series of dreams
One leading on from the one before
Then that one leading off to another
A love so true it's a shame
That it belongs to just a dream
With those beautiful eyes that
Stare directly into mine
I'm in love with a dream
Torture is the most perfect word for
What I do to myself here
Trying so vainly to find what
May only be just a dream
And so I watch the same old movies,
Read the same old books
Trying to find a glimmer of something
I recognize from these dreams I have
And so I torture myself
And so I write this down
Trying to explain what I've come to know
This love that we have is oh so real
Even if it is in a world of images surreal
Dependant on you as you're dependant on me
To keep dreaming these dreams
And keeping you alive
Because even dreams have feelings
So hard to describe what they mean to me
These dreams of you and me
Your touch and your lips
Your words and your hair
So radiantly glowing, like the words
that drop from your lips
Like laughter on the breeze
Like raindrops not too wet
But just the right degree
Of, I don't know, but like
Kisses from the sky
And I feel so alive
I just wish that these moments
Could somehow last beyond
Into the waking world
I'm in love with a dream
The same dream series, that has no end
At least not yet
And so we have our moments together
You and I, breathing in that perfect air
Saying those perfect words
A love so true it's a shame
That it belongs to just a dream
With those beautiful eyes
Staring so intently, contently into mine
I'm in love with a dream...
Dear love
This is for all the people who love you
Dear love
I write this for you
And all of your fans
Ok, so this is what I see
People who say they're in love, but don't mean
it, and so they walk around with
Their feet in their mouths and their hands on the ground
Walking like monkeys with this idea in their heads
That it wasn't their fault, they tried their best
To make love see another day
To make it find another way
to work, and so we come to this
People who can't love people
They fall in love with love
And they confuse it for many different things
lust and a certain degree of pain
Masochists the lot of us,
yearning each day for our own lost cause
Love is our muse
Our reason for life
as we know it, assume
And we confuse it
Let it die, and we say
We tried our best
there was no other way
I see it, and you see it too, if you look
The husband who leaves his wife,
The wife that leaves her husband
in different circumstances
And the other cries
They try to reason, they try to rationalize
Why love hurts so much
Why love dies
They have this expectation of what love should be
and they fall in love with it
They love the idea of love
But when it comes to the actual hammer drop
They fall back, and become afraid
Neither side gives all that it can
And so it becomes what we see it as
A broken heart here, a broken heart there
Crying in the arms of a best friend
You know, it's funny, how people wonder
Where all this true love went
How people could die for another,
How you could love with all you've got
And they wonder if they'll ever feel that in their own lifetime
They waste away for want of it
And yet, they run away from it
They hide behind pickiness
oh one little argument and the bride runs off?
Oh one little heated discussion and the groom runs off?
People give up way too soon as life goes on
And so they miss their chance
They miss what it is they say they want
Running through life half blind
Love is our muse
Our reason for life
As we live and breathe
And die and become deceased
We try to love as we see it in our souls
But we run away and let it die out
A sad thing to see
In my eyes alone, at least, maybe
A fragile thing, love
And so I write this in the hope
that maybe, somewhere, someday
People realize, they find a way
To understand what love is about
And why people give it away
Why people would waste their lives
To try and find a way to mimic such a love
As they feel in their hearts
I guess this doesn't just go out to Love
Dear love, I'm sorry, but this isn't just for you
It's for all those kids that grew up
Dad on one side, mom on another
For those who don't know mom or dad
And for those who cant understand that
They didn't have what it took to make it
That they chased love and lost it
And so I hope that I leave you wiser in the end
That I leave you with some knowledge you may not have thought of
Too eager to find out what love is
Too eager to find it and make it our own
We rush into relationships and get turned down
Find ourselves at the end of a frayed rope
Wondering what went wrong, where did it turn
I don't know how to find true love
If I did, I would tell you
All I am is another person
In love with the idea of being in love
Having seen maybe just a little bit more
Maybe not, but I'm going to make sure
Brace myself for heartbreak and pain
And make my own way, maybe a little bit more carefully
Than people have before me.
Love is our Muse
The reason life keeps going on
An idea at best, maybe a hope, a wish
Something to get through our lives with
All I know is all I know
and so I must go
Dear Love
Don't give up on us
Dear Love
Give this generation of fools another chance
Dear Love
This next poem is my all time favorite. I worked the hardest on it to make it what it is, and I can only hope that in the end, it does justice to the great man's work that I tried to make it reflect.
Lifted up by the hands of an angel
Your hands: touching; comforting
A goddess like you has only to ask of me
Anything you want and it is all for you
Perfect in your grace as I wallow in my stumbling
But you tell me that I'm perfect for you
The princess and the pauper
Forever divided by the lines of society
Where do we belong, if not together
Doomed to obscurity by those that whisper
A fatal chance has lead this dance
That brought us closer,
Seems like fate has lent a helping hand
And we find ourselves forever
On opposite sides of the road, forever damned
A family born to wealth, and you their heir
A family born to poverty and I, their slave
Forever at war, these two sides, unfair
Creating illusions of the things
They want us to be
Oh Romeo, you call,
Wherefore art thou
And I declare that we are
The sun and the moon, our hearts
Forever together in the sky above
Laughing and crying as
We share our deepest secrets
As those that would divide us devise
A way to hasten our loves demise
A fatal chance has lead this dance
And it's brought us closer
With that night of romance
I hear the wind whisper that
Even fate has lent it's helping hand
But we still find ourselves fighting
Struggling against the odds
The night is young, and so were we
I called out your name, but you did not answer me
The Capulets are fighting the Montagues in the street
And I find treachery in this house of evil deeds
My beloved lies dead
Cold as the winter snows
Hair like a halo, adorning her fragile head
Lovely still as she was in life
Poison to her veins and to my heart
Oh Juliet, my love, I say this to you
If not in life are we to be together
Then death I choose
With my hand I'll lift this dagger
This knife of foul evil and raise it high
Down into my chest, my very heart
I seek, for you, to end my life
But as my spirit rises up, and I look down
I have been betrayed, my beloved makes a sound
You were not dead at all
But their deceit to keep us apart
Tears at your bleeding heart
As you see what their wrath has wrought
I watch you make the same decision as I...
The blood stained knife is raised once more
And your spirit meets mine in the sky
A fatal chance that lead our dance
Brought us closer than ever dreamt about
No longer do we have to take a chance
Within each other has true love been found
In our deaths some good is to be had
The old feud between families is now forgot
One tomb between two crypts symbolizing flying doves
As they see what their fighting has brought
Together forever, our destined love.

Dear Love

Shakespeare

Now for the tough part. But the hope of giving hope and strength to those in need makes the need come out in me to have out with all things. I have felt no need to explain my 'situation' to many people in my life, and I have the feeling that many people are like myself in this matter: afraid to go forward because of the way society still discriminates against… I will say it now, homosexuals. I was raised to hate gay people, to be racist and It's a part of myself I hate still and am aptly trying to work on it. To the opposite of the misconception of people, there is not just black and white, you're either gay or straight, there are shades of gray in between where you can love both men and women. That is where I, and many other people in America fall. Again, to disappoint the masses, there is also no choice in the matter. It's not like I up and decided one day that hey, I like guys a little bit more than people think I should. Just doesn't happen that way, I'm afraid.

It is no more a choice than it is a choice for us to be who we are in any other aspect of life. I fought and struggled with this for a long time before I even told anyone, but when I did tell someone, I




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