Lizzie

Lizzie Apr 2020

You ask me too often not to care,
"Why do you sit all day and stare
At the shining sea and ships out there?"
But I respond: "No reason."

You ponder again without ado,
"Surely there is something true
Which you find in the water blue?"
But I reply again, "Not so."

Yet each day you do persist:
"Some beauty must have softly kissed
To make you look so long at this!"
But I return, "Not so."

But you won't give up your quest.
"What mystery comes at your behest
To wake your quiet soul from rest?"
But I answer, "Nothing--

"--And before you can ask more of me:
Nothing! And Nothing will there be!
Shouldn't I be asking things of thee?"
And you say nothing.

Inspired by a class discussion on Robert Frost's poem "Neither Out Far Nor in Deep"

Lizzie Mar 2020

Natural and Artificial Flavors (Insomnia)

Each night before I go to Sleep,
A decision has to be made in favor
Of one method or another
To help make that precious name a reality.
Some nights I try the one hand.
At least then my tossing and turning is natural,
And if at last I decide to embrace the Open-Eyed World,
I can.
Other nights I try the other.
The drugs paralyze me for endless hours,
But at least amid my nightmares I'm not conscious
And the next day I can think that I've tasted Sleep.
Every night the decision must be made, but I've come to realize,
Equal mass of skin and bones, neither hand weighs better.

#insomnia #nightmares

Lizzie Mar 2020

something depressing

I'm just a nobody
in this world where I had friends.
I was loved by somebody,
but it was all inside my head.
  What is real,
and what's inside my brain?
  Doesn't matter
- it comes to all the same.
So I look out the window,
Searching the dark skies.
  I see so many faces
that smile with blank eyes.
  Is it all inside my head?
Is it all inside my head?
  Why do they say I'm alive
when I know I'm dead?

Bleh

Lizzie Feb 2020

Drowning

Life is catching up too fast.
I wanna hold, but it wont last.
I find myself choking on its dust,
Falling behind, turning to rust.

Today the tension built then broke.
While I was drinking, I laughed and choked.
My drink comes spurting out my nose,
Snot and tears and juice it flows;

Snot for the sake of humiliation,
Tears squeezed from my pure elation,
And apple juice because the fruit
Once was nice... until the boot.

Things are funniest when you're sleep-deprived.

Lizzie Feb 2020

The Stranger

Another day has begun,
Another day, no special day,
A day among months and years and millenia.
We wake, we eat,
And laughter echoes from hollow souls.
And so Man's nature:
That's the question we never quite answer.
Back and forth, him and her and them,
Rarely I.
We move slowly, but not forward.
Or maybe everyone moves forward but me.
It could be yesterday, but I wouldn't know.
I'm stuck with the problem from long ago.
When I question it, they throw words.
Maybe they answered already,
But I didn't make the connection.

"You need fulfilment-
To be man, you must be man to the fullest.
Work with responsibility.
Motion with pride.
Freedom."
But how can a slave be free?
I think they said this about me,
That I'm a bureaucrat.
They say it negatively.
But how can I find Who I am
If no one tells me what Who looks like
Or how to find it, since
I'm too stupid to know myself?
Maybe they answered already,
And the disconnect lies in me.

Or maybe they don't know,
And I'm surrounded by astronomers,
Which is why in the grand scheme
I'm invisible to them,
And my thoughts never sound their ears.
Yet with all that's stuck inside,
I feel so empty.
Maybe I have nothing good to say.
The astronomers-
They know how to find the heart,
But since they don't know what it means,
They throw stones at it
And wonder why it dies.

The content from this is inspired by "The Stranger" by Albert Camus, "Wind, Sand, and Stars" by Sainte-Exupery, and a class on the nature of man. The style is inspired by Robert Frost.

Lizzie Feb 2020

Boredom

Droning, droning, on and on,
The teacher sings a tuneless song.
My mind gives way to the beat
And finds lessons in counting sheep.

A week has passed, or maybe two.
How long it lasts! My patience is through.
But when I look at the time,
Its only been some minutes - nine.

"Turn to this page," the teacher says.
That's my cue: I lift my head.
I can play this boring game;
I'm master of attention feigned.

What's the point of an hour
Dedicated to fruitless shower
Of words and words I've read before?
I tell you this, I can't take more.

Then it ends and we are free.
My mind floods over with relief,
Until I remember with pain
That soon we'll do it all again.

The views expressed in this poem do not neccesarily reflect the views of the author. ;)

Lizzie Feb 2020

The Poem Nearly Memorized

Poor Ben could not last a verse;
The more he went, the worse and worse.
The Lad came in the door each night,
But never lingered in his sight.

When Ben found one, he'd lose two,
And so the Mondays quickly blew.
A line was had, but not before
Poor Ben had scrambled all the more.

Two months went by with fruitless din.
The Lad went out when Ben came in.
When at last Ben held him tight,
He vanished straight from our sight.

Then Ben stood still (we held our breath).
A verse! Then two! Now three! -- A rest.
All eyes on him with hopeful gasp,
And Ben said all… except the last.

Back in highschool we had to memorize and recite a poem each monday. If we did badly enough, the teacher would reassign it for the next week. One of my classmates was meant to recite "The Lad came in the Door at Night," but he was quite the slacker!