Punk

You're wicked--
A master of the art of bending reality.
Maniacal--
An absolute and total curse upon humanity.
Look at yourself smile.
You're proud,
and why not?
The darkness engulfing you
is all that you've got.

You don't even understand yourself, punk.


This poem is to be read slightly tongue-in-cheek. It all popped into my head as I was staring at myself in the mirror with an insane grin on my face. Today was a really hard day, and like always, I began laughing hysterically once all the crying was over. I guess at how silly it all seemed in the grand scheme of things, I don't know.

I was inspired by this music video by one of my favorite artists. I warn you, it'll make you question your sanity:

This unfinished poem will be the death of me.

I missed my post yesterday evening because I was at a funeral. Yikes. I've been meaning to post more often, but I don't want to turn this into one of those blogs made up of nothing but mundane posts about the author's life. Like, I dunno..."Today I ate some cereal I never tried before. I think I liked it. Not too sure. Peace, out."

I, out of desperation, choose to present you with this poem that I began an eternity ago. I warn you that I am a terrible poet, so please try to remember that I'm not trying to pass this off as Poet Laureate material like some writers who clearly aren't strong in poetry do.

****

Night descends like a blanket of lead.

Extinguish the stars. The light is dead.

Now is the time for the things that creep

to arise from their slumber and crawl out of the deep.

****

...and then that's all I got.  I've probably been working on that poem for six months now and that is always as far as I get. Still, it has a nice ring to it. I might throw it in a story as one of those songs that are overheard in the middle of a bar or something.

Though I have no idea what sort of bar would play a song like that, I'll have to admit.

Alabaster Cities

This is an old poem that I wrote a few months ago. I entered it into a contest and managed to snag second place, though I'll admit that it's nowhere near my best work. I've spruced it up a bit since then, so I hope that it's easier to get the message across. It's essentially about racism, but like most poems its meaning can definitely be expanded.

Even unto the realm of chocolate filled donuts. Yes. Even there.

-----

He walks through alabaster streets

Where no one knows his name,

Where they pelt him with stones

As if they themselves have never sinned

And insist that he is less than human.

And he cries

Oh he cries

For Father to take him home.

But Father,

He knows

That the boy has been home all along.

So sing, son of stone!

Lift your voice to your maker.

You are human---

Perhaps more human

Than them all.

Break the ivory towers

Like a concrete-cracking flower.

Crumble into rubble,

O Jericho,

And let the people pass.

We have waited too long

To be freed from your tyranny. 

We are children of the future

And not of the past.