Untitled Poem
There's a girl in the attic
Her brain filled with static.
No one cares
She doesn't matter anymore.
In a grey world
She dreams
And she screams
But no one cares.
There's a girl in the attic
Her brain filled with static.
No one cares
She doesn't matter anymore.
In a grey world
She dreams
And she screams
But no one cares.
It seems like I've been here before.
Finish reading 'The Size of Heaven' »OK, I wrote a poem last year and my teacher loved it. Well here it is:
I don't really like this poem and I think it is so sad. :'(
Do you hear the click-clack on the streets?
Or the rhythm of the beat
It's Never Just One Maiden, Is It?
A Double Etheree
Inspired by Gustav Klimt's "The Maiden"
Folds,
blankets,
six women,
tumbling over
each other to find
the man they once believed
loved just one, and only one,
fragile, gentle woman so sweet.
Now mangled together in a ball,
hiding unison, silent lamenting
of fallen tears, sweat, blood, stolen away
in black, blue, and brightly colored swirls
of the ecstasy and pleasure
they will never dare forget.
Lost, still thinking; they want
arms to enclose them,
to believe that
they are the
only
One.
Floating like paper in the wind
Going far away from reality
Not knowing, not showing
And definitely not caring.
Through the bars
Down in the dungeon
I scream till my lungs burst
Wearing my hatred like a badge
You rip me and break me
Tearing me to shreds
Broken so I can't walk anymore
You leave me in darkness.
And they will wonder
How such beauty came to harm
But one day I will float
Far away from here.
The central PA pop rock band will be parting ways after the final show tomorrow night at the Strand Capitol. Local favorites have played numerous times in Pennsylvania, New York, New Jersey, Maryland and will end their two year successful run. The band has split due to altercations between the band members and will not announce what the altercations were.
Strand Capitol
7:00 p,m.
Friday, April 25th
She lies on
fresh stalks of thick
and pungent grasses;
they cover her body.
Her pink glistens.
The sun rings -
brings dew jewels;
they fall crisply
settle themselves on
impregnated flesh.
I am flickering
inside her pale stomach
I am sickened
by the smell of it.
Tasting, feeling
the sticky life-juice,
fermented and foul.
Nauseated, I promise;
I will prepare
my own plot.
I like the way you sneak in late at night
Making the gloomiest, pitch-black times so bright
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