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Not A Poem--A List
Things found in 'storage':
Storage bags(???)
Children's Toys
Old T.V. Guides (to see what
you have seen?)
Crib and Mattresses
People Magazines
Shoes
Children's Toys
Genesis games
Sega
Games
Nintendo Games
Play Station Games
Shoes
A Can of Beans (who knows?)
Shoes
Us Magazines
10,031 various type Cords and Transformers
Vermin ridden Clothing
Storage Containers
Children's Toys (Saving
these for the grandkids, I guess)
--Me
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Break of Day in the Trenches
The darkness crumbles away.
It is the same old druid Time as
ever,
Only a live thing leaps my hand,
A queer sardonic rat,
As I pull the parapet's poppy
To stick behind
my ear.
Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew
Your cosmopolitan sympathies.
Now you have touched this English
hand
You will do the same to a German
Soon, no doubt, if it be your pleasure
To cross the sleeping green between.
It seems you inwardly grin as you pass
Strong eyes, fine limbs, haughty athletes,
Less chanced than you for life,
Bonds to the whims of murder,
Sprawled in the bowels of the earth,
The torn fields of France.
What do you
see in our eyes
At the shrieking iron and flame
Hurled through still heavens ?
What quaver--what heart aghast?
Poppies whose roots are in man's veins
Drop, and are ever dropping;
But mine in my ear is safe--
Just a little
white with the dust.
--Isaac Rosenberg
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-Poem-
All I ever wanted was some piece
little things are piling up on me
alarms are
sounding
but Im sleeping in
days are counted
but I wasn't aware of it
lives are being lived
and mine just
rots in this hell
Im going back to where
conflict and comfort collide.
--Tashina Tucker
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I am chemical dependent,
I have nicotine scars,
he will rest in pieces,
just like he has always done before,
he has alcoholic blood,
under his beautiful skin,
he will rest in pieces,
just like he has always been,
just
like you have always been,
you will rest in pieces,
before you come alive again.
--By a Friend
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Sing, cuccu! Sing, cuccu, nu!
Summer is i-cumen in;
Lhude sing, cuccu!
Groweth sed,
and bloweth med,
And springth the wude nu.
Sing cuccu!
--Anon., ca. 1240
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Suicide
I don't know how to tell them,
Just really how I feel,
I want to be alone,
It's
not a great deal.
Why won't they believe me,
When I say there's nothing wrong,
They think I'm attention seeking,
And they all play along.
It's just feelings in my head,
I need to sort them out,
I may as well be dead.
I
know they can't wait,
For me to go away,
I'll be here for awhile,
And then be gone the next day.
They're not
gonna miss me,
I don't see why I try,
So I'm giving up on life,
I'd rather curl up and die.
--Meghan Runkle
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I tried to try it,
I couldn't,
I couldn't even try to try,
I have a black patch in me,
That keeps me from seperating the lines,
I've crossed them all,
Too many,
Much more will come
of this fire,
I kept them all in my memory bank,
the interest will treat me kindly!
--T. Tucker
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Another poem:
I forgot about the tulips,
Their color so bright it's beating,
Drumming out a rhythm,
No
one will hum,
I forgot about the sincerity in them,
How they sparkle in your eye,
It reminds me of decapitation,
When you hold them by their throats,
and pull.
I forgot about the tulips,
The morgue of water,
They
grow in,
Fermenting and preserving their color,
So their scent momentarily stands still.
T. Tucker
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ALCOHOLIC'S DEATH
Her lipstick stained the glass,
emptying her past,
she's blinded from
her problems,
chasing away the best...
Leaning on his shoulder,
using him for more,
he is growing colder,
as she is growing torn.
She's drowning in her liquor,
and she is drowning fast,
he's trying to retrieve
her,
but she is fighting back...
The message now is clearer than the blurring of her sight,
the alcoholic
addiction,
killed her,
here.
tonight.
--Amanda Burdette, aka Fallen
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