modern day youth is so obsessed with dying young because it's "in"
i mean really?
you're nothing but a ******* hipster
the "in" crowd
a fraud
you say you're wild
untamed youth
you say it
you don't live it
you don't actually take drugs and tell your parents to go and **** themselves as you furiously slam the front door behind you because you don't give a ****
do
you
you're pretty lame
you cough when you smoke
and
you have to to ask your parents for permission just to go the ******* cinema
don't
you

The history of my stupidity would fill many volumes.

Some would be devoted to acting against consciousness,
Like the flight of a moth which, had it known,
Would have tended nevertheless toward the candle's flame.

Others would deal with ways to silence anxiety,
The little whisper which, though it is a warning, is ignored.

I would deal separately with satisfaction and pride,
The time when I was among their adherents
Who strut victoriously, unsuspecting.

But all of them would have one subject, desire,
If only my own -- but no, not at all; alas,
I was driven because I wanted to be like others.
I was afraid of what was wild and indecent in me.

The history of my stupidity will not be written.
For one thing, it's late. And the truth is laborious.


Berkeley, 1980.


Trans. Robert Hass and Robert Pinsky

Ever wonder my dear, why my tears fall down ?
it is because your words created gravity,
a field that pulls me down,
now I am forever bound by its laws,
in this creation I will wait,
the curtains draped like a shroud,
would that the faint glow of a sunlit morn be my release,
raising the corners of my mouth into a smile,
not this day, or the next, for everything is pulled down,
endlessly down by the gravity of your words.

We all wonder in the dark
Trying to see the good
Trying to feel warmth

A small red ember falls to the ground
It glows and it gives of warmth
This is how his revolution started
A small speck in the dark

We fed the ember with praise
And likes that made it grow
People gathered as a fire became

People like his light and his warmth
He grew into a bonfire
Though not low on fuel and praise

Our fire has started to wane
Its not quite as bright
Or as warm
But it still changes our hearts

Andy a poet on here is really sick. Though he still manages to change our lives everyday. He's stronger than anything you'll ever encounter. Andy if you're reading this is means you need to kick cancer's **** because we're here to catch you and revive you so you can win. That's what I want for Christmas. For Andy to survive. When he does I will be first in line to say "Andy you've changed my life and I can't ask for a better savior." ---Lukas---