"eveline" poems - Hello Poetry

I don’t play my mandolin everyday anymore, let alone my guitar or tin whistles I can’t let this die I listened to 7 year old Japanese math rock and want just a speck of that An identity where I can sift right through all this mediocre destruction all around No one even has the gall to admit they’re killing or the decency to even cover it up anymore They videotape themselves dancing and murdering kids for lebensraum then turn around and say “no we’re not” I’m tired of surface level house maintenance followed by immobile phone scrolls I’m looking for that lesson we’ll all learn after finally going too far I won’t play the victim or the hero no more I did my part and now I’m too old I need deeper art to escape samsara for good and maybe that’s the best I can do comrades I’m sick of details grown so scattered and thin My whole past feels like entrails smeared across vast deserts There used to be rainforests here but now it’s hard to find the pictures Just when things almost get too competent and nice they let decadence do its worse out of fear that the improvements would make goods and services too cheap not to be free Socialism’s bad for business owners so we lay off the workers and overcharge even more Let the octogenarian billionaires buy up more water and air to keep the fellas in the favelas gnashing and grim Bunker complexes, spaceships, missiles coated in spent uranium; these are all more important than starving children Why do the poor keep having poor kids? Still a conundrum We gave them a chance to compete some ephemeral time ago and they blew it What can we do? We tried to teach a man to fish… Imagine Jesus Christ just giving folks fish and bread for nothing in return?

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Jan 26, 2024

Jan 26, 2024 at 3:27 PM UTC

kageysage

Eveline was Tired

I don’t play my mandolin everyday anymore, let alone my guitar or tin whistles I can’t let this die I listened to 7 year old Japanese math rock and want just a speck of that An identity where I can sift right through all this mediocre destruction all around No one even has the gall to admit they’re killing or the decency to even cover it up anymore They videotape themselves dancing and murdering kids for lebensraum then turn around and say “no we’re not” I’m tired of surface level house maintenance followed by immobile phone scrolls I’m looking for that lesson we’ll all learn after finally going too far I won’t play the victim or the hero no more I did my part and now I’m too old I need deeper art to escape samsara for good and maybe that’s the best I can do comrades I’m sick of details grown so scattered and thin My whole past feels like entrails smeared across vast deserts There used to be rainforests here but now it’s hard to find the pictures Just when things almost get too competent and nice they let decadence do its worse out of fear that the improvements would make goods and services too cheap not to be free Socialism’s bad for business owners so we lay off the workers and overcharge even more Let the octogenarian billionaires buy up more water and air to keep the fellas in the favelas gnashing and grim Bunker complexes, spaceships, missiles coated in spent uranium; these are all more important than starving children Why do the poor keep having poor kids? Still a conundrum We gave them a chance to compete some ephemeral time ago and they blew it What can we do? We tried to teach a man to fish… Imagine Jesus Christ just giving folks fish and bread for nothing in return?

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chiffon tights on her broken knees she clings to dear life but she aims to please she wants nothing more than to be seen but this is her life, sweet Eveline this is the world; this is reality but she's filled her mind with insanity what's coming to her: she always sees death is upon her or so she believes so last night she told me "goodbye my friend" "i'm sorry to say this, but this is the end" i tried to make her stay the night but she ran away, out of my sight

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Jul 17, 2013

Jul 17, 2013 at 2:53 AM UTC

janel-schroth

eveline (song in progress)

chiffon tights on her broken knees she clings to dear life but she aims to please she wants nothing more than to be seen but this is her life, sweet Eveline this is the world; this is reality but she's filled her mind with insanity what's coming to her: she always sees death is upon her or so she believes so last night she told me "goodbye my friend" "i'm sorry to say this, but this is the end" i tried to make her stay the night but she ran away, out of my sight

16

Hearing a voice sounding familiar Making my way to the living room Looking at a person with an old face Rembering it was my grandfather. Looking at him made me cry He was sick, couldn't talk or walk. It hurt looking at him. It was like bullets shooting through my stomach. Seeing my grandpa smiling at me Telling me he is okay I knew he was wrong Leading him to the bedroom Crash! He is hurt Blood in his nose Hearing him cry My dad helps him up My tears flowing like a river Next day came He is lying down Lying down with him made me safe Looking up on his face Seeing him smile down at me Midnight has come Seeing him asleep Waking him up for a glass of milk Shaking him No movement Crying, screaming, and yelling I knew my grandfather was dead By Eveline

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Apr 11, 2013

Apr 11, 2013 at 1:01 AM UTC

eveline

Memory Poem

Hearing a voice sounding familiar Making my way to the living room Looking at a person with an old face Rembering it was my grandfather. Looking at him made me cry He was sick, couldn't talk or walk. It hurt looking at him. It was like bullets shooting through my stomach. Seeing my grandpa smiling at me Telling me he is okay I knew he was wrong Leading him to the bedroom Crash! He is hurt Blood in his nose Hearing him cry My dad helps him up My tears flowing like a river Next day came He is lying down Lying down with him made me safe Looking up on his face Seeing him smile down at me Midnight has come Seeing him asleep Waking him up for a glass of milk Shaking him No movement Crying, screaming, and yelling I knew my grandfather was dead By Eveline

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