When I was a child I always enjoyed the Shel Silverstein books because they were fun poems and they made me laugh, and to this day I enjoy reading them.
My poems, may not be fun or make you laugh. But I sincerely hope... they make you think. And I also hope that, because of the way there written, people from all walks of life, can understand them and enjoy them.
Lately I've been a little depressed,
My life hasn't turned out the way I had wanted it to.
I guess many could say the same thing,
but I really don't know what to do....
Yes I write about killing myself,
the thought really has crossed my mind.
However, I also think about the ones I love,
they have all been so very kind.
I would never want to hurt them,
as my death would surely do.
And so I continue through this life,
not knowing what to do.
I feel so damn inadequate,
and ignorant as well.
It seems no matter how hard I try,
my life is always hell.
I know I should feel happy,
and smile and laugh and play!
But then I would be living a lie,
each and every day.
I guess I've fallen out of love,
for myself these last few years.
But that's the life I've chosen...
Sad and full of tears.
When a person looks at me,
they see what they want to see.
Usually they think I'm normal,
they think I'm smart, they think I'm...
But they don't see the difficulties I have,
They don't understand, nor do they want to.
I feel so lonely, because of what they see.
because whoever there looking at, it certainly isn't me...
Sometimes when the days get long and boring,
the tiredness enters my restless mind.
My body becomes limp and fatigued,
and thoughts of suicide I will soon find.
As I close my eyes and think about my life,
I can only think about moving forward instead.
Moving from this life and into the next,
Passing on from the living and into the dead.
Its not a painful feeling that I have,
filled with anger, hate, or spite.
But a feeling of peace and serenity,
something that feels right.
Nobody I've told about this understands,
instead they think I should want to live.
But how can someone want to live,
when they have nothing left to give?
A pen and paper is all I would need.
The words would come through me, for all to read.
Happiness and sorrow, bitterness and grief.
Some poems would be long, others would be brief.
Then one day, silence, I had felt.
Emptiness filled me, in this place where I knelt.
I could not speak, a word or a sound.
My voice had been lost, no where to be found.
Depression filled my heart and mind.
Still the words, I could not find.
The darkness growing ever so.
Soon the tears, began to flow.
Can the words just leave you?
Without a goodbye?
Does the writing just stop?
Or was it all just a lie?
I am forcing myself to write this now.
With the hope, that I can remember how.
Searching for the words, is a struggle true.
With an empty mind, not knowing what to do.
When we were five and six,
we took the time to care.
Our emotions would run wild,
and our friends were always there.
Life was always so simple,
and playtime was always fun.
Every time we became afraid,
to our mommy's we would run.
But when we became nine and ten,
pain would enter our heart.
We started doubting ourselves,
and our lives were torn apart.
Friendships didn't last long,
and secrets were never kept.
nightmares stole your dreams from you,
in the bed where you had slept.
Teenage years were a living hell,
with hormones out of control.
We did things that we knew were wrong,
such as... lied, cheated, and stole.
The kids you were once friends with,
you avoid as much as you can.
For whatever the reason you think you had,
there was nothing "cool" with them.
Our twenties were a time to party,
And we thought that we knew it all.
Then when we would get in trouble,
It was our parents we would call.
The friends we had in school are gone,
we went our separate way.
It's a struggle to get by now,
we live from day to day.
And then the thirties come,
our lives have settled down.
Most are married with kids,
or getting drunk in town.
It's harder to make friends now,
you need your kids help with that.
Or you buy yourself a puppy dog,
maybe a pussy cat...
Your probably wondering what's the point,
of this poem that seems to be.
Well this is it, I'll tell you now,
so that maybe you will see.
I was happy when I was five and six...
that is the truth I swear.
After that, things went to hell,
and it really isn't fair!!
So I hope you like this poem,
and yes... I'm having some cheese with my whine.
Even though I feel like crap,
I tell everyone I'm fine.
I was born a sinner and my daddy prayed.
Every night of the week that my soul would be saved.
He gave all he could of his hard working hands.
Trying so hard, to keep me out of jams.
He did the best job he could, I know he did.
What did I know, I was just a kid.
My son is a sinner, still everyone cares.
When he goes before Christ, it'll be on a mountain of prayers.
His heart has been filled with solid gold.
I know his soul, has not yet been sold.
Weather it be greed or envy, I do not know.
His love for the lord, has begun to show.
I have worked hard for most of my life.
The more I want the harder I strive.
Still people are bothering me.
They say, "Come to the lord and you will see."
I cannot believe in something that is not there.
They say, "Let the Lord in and he will care."
In times of trouble, and times of need.
The Bible is where, most people will read.
If the Lord is the one you try to seek.
Believe in His word, and his blood you shall drink.
I tell you all, children of God.
Discipline the child, but do not spare the rod.
Before my daddy had past away.
I told him something, that made his day.
I disciplined the child, and didn't spare the rod.
And in the end, the child believed in God.
You see I am the child, I cleansed my soul.
Now God is in my heart, and I feel whole.
My daddy is in heaven, high above.
I reflect upon my life, and all of his love.
I believe in the lord, I know he is there.
When I see all the people, It is them that care.
Satan always temps me, he always dares.
When I go before Christ, It'll be on a mountain of prayers.
Have faith in me, like a mustard seed.
Because your support, is what I need.
Teach me and guide me, and show me the way.
Help me to grow, each and every day.
I know it is hard, to believe in me.
But with your help, I will learn to see.
Give me some food, build me real strong.
With you by my side, we will prove them wrong.
And so we can do it, just you and I.
With some rain in the clouds, and the sun in the sky.
I know if I try, I will succeed.
Because you are the soil, the soil I need.
I know I can grow, so very tall.
With your help, I will never fall.
Have faith in me, like a mustard seed.
Because your support, is what I need.
Sky is blue, and soft like satin.
Clouds look like balls, of white cotton.
Sun burning up, my face so red.
These summer day's, are what I dread.
The sunshine is so hot and bright.
My sensitive eyes, I've lost my sight.
The air is still, there is no breeze.
My allergies, make me sneeze.
The cloudy days, are what I miss.
The air so fresh, like a freshly given kiss.
The dismal gray, the nice cool breeze.
The rain really helps, the farmers seeds.
There are no sunburns on cloudy day's.
Never any blinding, sunlight ray's.
Build your house, up on a hill.
So when it floods, there's no insurance bill.
But if both, is what you like the best.
Wait 5 minutes, sit down, take a rest.
waking up each morning
dragging my ass out of bed
I rub the sleep from my eyes
shake the fogginess out of my head
I feel the chill of the morning air
the dampness of the dew
I make a pot of coffee
wait for it to brew
I see the people coming
and going through out the day
some of them are family
they want to stay and play
it all seems so normal
tiresome In a way
taking it all for granted
it's how we get through the day
then the night has come
loneliness fills the air
I wonder what it's all been for
I wonder why I care
it's 12am or midnight
the start of a new day
I put the gun inside my mouth
and blow my head away
You left your door wide open,
so I entered through again.
That's when I read your poems of sadness,
and in them I saw your pain.
The poems you had written ,
touched me to my very soul.
I wished I had known you then,
so that you maybe whole.
You show so much compassion,
you have alot of love to give.
I wish I could be with you right now,
to show you how to live.
As I read your poems of hurt
a tear slid down my face.
How could one so young
be hurt by this human race.
I wept a million tears for you
which I would gladly do again.
Just don't expect me to enter
into your house of pain.
Have you ever seen someone go commando,
or O' natural underneath the clothing they wear?
When they bend over or squat down,
you see the crack of there ass all covered with hair.
And whether they buy there jeans with zippers,
or purchase them with a button fly.
If they ever forget to close the front,
it will give all the lady's a cry.
Now if you like to people watch,
the way I sometimes do.
Then this can be quite funny,
when it happens at the zoo.
It can also be hysterical,
wherever you may go.
And when I saw it happen,
I laughed so hard that tears began to flow.
I went to the store today, to buy a few things I need.
As I was standing in line, staring at the things to read.
A gentleman approached, with only one thing I could see.
I suggested he go first, he shouldn't have to wait for me.
He said "No thank you", but I couldn't understand why?
I had so many things, and he only had one item to buy.
I told him that it's really okay, and that I don't mind.
He smiled at me and said, "No thank you, but you are very kind".
"I am out of work right now, and I cannot afford to do more.
And so I walk a very long ways, each day I go to the store.
When I arrive I walk around, looking for something small.
I take my time and shop around, and pretend I'm at the mall".
"So I hope you understand, this is all I have to do.
I really am not lying, unfortunately this is true."
I let him stay behind me, with the only item he had.
And I couldn't be more thankful, even though I felt bad.
Every time I come here
I think about my dear friend
I see the poems he's written
and the comments he would send
It's hard to believe he left us all
for a place that's better still
I just hope he's got two pennies
instead of a dollar bill
He always made me smile
and sometimes laugh a lot
He always was a gental sort
who joked about his pot
A friend is what he was indeed
to many on this site
He knew he wasn't perfect
nor was he always right
Paddy my dear friend, I will miss you
And I hope you find your way
Your pain is gone, and your sadness too
It's the start of a whole new day
Life is a repeating cycle...
everything you have ever seen
has been seen before
everything you have felt
has been felt before
everything you have touched
has been touched before
every emotion you have had
has already been had before
The only difference is...
it's been done by someone else
or in a different body
during a different life
or a different time
when you were young
or in the years to come
it will repeat and has repeated
for thousands of years
The anger, love, passion, and even
your personal thoughts.
they are never truly yours
others have had the exact same
perhaps towards a different soul
perhaps the same soul but a different time
It all repeats, and it always will repeat
I look at the young, as well as the old
and it's always the same
the only difference is... there faces
Nightmares steal the sleep from me.
My mind is my, worst enemy.
The monsters are inside my head.
Where torture comes, in sheets of red.
I toss and turn and cry all night.
But no one hears, my mental fight.
Is this what's left, of reality?
When I run to find, my sanity.
I bang my head against the wall.
When the monsters, in my mind do call.
There high pitch screech is what I hear.
But the crimson, left behind I fear.
There's a battle going on, inside my head,
If I don't run, I will be dead.
Walls are tumbling, all around.
And bodies cover, the bloody ground.
I wake up all drenched in sweat.
A cup of coffee, I go and get.
No more sleep for me that night.
Sleep will come with strength to fight.
The ancient cry, of the wolf I hear.
Out in the darkness, they come near.
They live in packs, so you can see.
A family's what, they want to be.
They hunt to live, and live to hunt.
From the biggest wolf, down to the runt.
Out in the darkness, home sweet home.
Through the hills, they will roam.
We try to kill, and make them extinct.
But there are places, that they retreat.
They take revenge, on our cattle and sheep.
There pack will kill, while we will sleep.
We take there land, and hope they'll go away.
But we begin a war, with nature on that day.
The wolf is free, and they always will be.
The most beautiful creature, I can see.
I can write about love, sex, or even money, power, and greed.
I can write about Jesus, and how the bible will plant a seed.
I can write about the wealthy, and I can even write about the poor.
I can write about the hungry, and the cold, who will beg of you at the door.
I can write about sadness, loneliness, and sometimes the pain.
I can write about depression and suicide, the sun and the rain.
I can write about all of these things, and so much more.
But there's something I can't write about, because I don't know how, to open that door.
In the dark, the monsters are there.
Hoping that they, will give you a scare.
There is no good, but always bad.
I wanted protection, but where was my dad.
And so I ran, on through the night.
Running forever, to find the light.
The light was not there, and I could not see.
Whatever was happening, happening to me.
I cried for help, but it was weak.
My voice had become, a quiet squeak.
And so they hurt me, one by one.
They laughed and they joked, as they had there fun.
And so in the end, I lay on the ground.
Beaten and bruised, until I was found.
It's my fault, I am to blame.
That's what they said, when they said my name.
Sitting here in the dark
the power has gone out
so I think about my life
and where I am today
I think about the ones I love
as well as the ones who left
I hear the wind chimes
singing there beautiful song
It's funny how a clanging noise
can be so inspiring to me
with the woodstove
releasing the heat within
warms my body and heart
just like the love of Jesus
warms my soul
Every thing becomes so peaceful
when the power goes out
All the distractions are gone
and it's a time to focus
on the things that really matter.
What would happen
if the power went out on you
who would you turn to
who would get you through
what would you think about
what would you do
when the power goes out
on little ol' you
I think of all the poems I've written, and all the words I've said.
And I wonder if I will still be here, a long time after I'm dead.
These poems to me are so much more, then writing on the wall.
They are the feelings I have felt, and help me when I fall.
I look and see the titles, as time has passed me by.
Remembering the pain I've felt, this is not a lie.
Some are controversial, and some are full of fun.
Others are quite a shock, and some are far from done.
But my poems are mine and mine alone, this I can't deny.
I must continue to do my best, I must continue to try.
So if someone were to read my poems, and leave a word or two.
Then my time has not been lost my friend, as long as you were true.