I ought to get off the computer and read The Son of Neptune. I can't even listen to music because my dad is here listening to some movie about space at brain damage volume. Infuriating. But I'm not going to say a word because I don't want him to be more mad at me than he already is. (He hates me because I read while I eat and leave pens in the backseat).
So I'm going to post two poems about frustration, about anger, about not being able to express myself in any form but flowing, unattached words.
The first one is called 'Slash at the Sky', and I wrote it in ninth grade, in April or something, after a day at school which I hated. Here we go:
I can still remember this morning
With the blue sky shining even brighter than the sun
I could feel the ground, but I was one, myself,
As I walked along it.
I can still remember last spring
With the blue sky radiant over the fields
I would run every morning amidst the dewdrops
I thought I understood it.
A word of advice my future self will surely not heed:
Love is but a notion.
It feels like you slashed at the sky
And revealed that it was only a painting after all
The torn canvas fell, revealing the black wall
Which really, I always knew was there.
The demon standing behind it (her face)
Jeers at me and says,
“Hey, remember how you tried to conceal your laugh?
You shouldn’t have laughed at all.
You don’t deserve happiness. (you’re not pretty enough)”
So I fell to the ground (I can’t take it anymore)
And begged my reason to return
And tell me what I thought I knew
I thought I could handle this.
I thought this was just a joke, just a game, just a notion
But evidently, it was even more than an emotion.
(passion. is it passion? or merely overwhelming lust?)
I beg the earth to swallow me up (doesn’t matter how smart I am)
So that I will never dare to hope again
Or to see more than what there is in you (spit out that word- your name!)
I want to be one with the trees
with the earth
with the rain
Lying across the ground, finally, again, just like last summer
My violent, shaking sobs fall silent.
A word of advice my past self did not heed:
Love is not just a notion-
But far too powerful for you to handle.
The second one is called "My State of Being", which I wrote about a week or so ago.
An empty glass plate
That’s all I am.
I’m sitting in the dim living room
Where it’s very quiet.
My family’s left
I mean- the family has left.
I’m just a dark shadow
That lives in their house-
Now.
I’m sitting very still
Very quiet
And it’s very calm.
And tears of raindrops
Are running down the glass plate window
Silently.
I’m sitting in my desk in this classroom.
The desk, I mean-
I’m just there because of some
Fluke, some fluke in the order of things.
I can’t show any emotion
Any deep, dark, passion.
So I just display that
Empty glass plate
And hope that no one sees me.
I need to remain invisible.
At nights, I cry
I shudder in sobs.
But that’s when I’m under lock and key.
I can afford to be true to myself
Then.
In the harsh, grating daylight
I can’t afford to be anything
But motionless.
It’s been a long time since
I’ve known happiness.
Happiness got left behind
I need to go back for it.
It’s been a long time since
I’ve had a genuine friend
A genuine smile.
Any emotion except
The boiling cold darkness.
The happiest I can have here
Is a sort of grey stability.
You, and writing, and art
Used to stir me
Into passion.
Now all you are
Is something to hold on to.
Something to balance me.
It’s only a few short years,
I think,
Until I can leave this purgatory nightmare.
Let the rain wash away my tears,
Until then.
Let the darkness hold me close,
Until then.
Because I cannot even hope to dream
Until then.
Well, hope you enjoy the depressing poems, just in time for the holidays! If you want to read something cheerful and wintry, read my last post- "Winter Poems". Four lovely poems about the season.
I'll post something new soon.
-magic*esi
Slash at the Sky
A poem about anger, frustration, and inability to deal with love
“A word of advice my past self did not heed:
Love is not just a notion-
But far too powerful for you to handle.”
April 2011
My State of Being
A poem about the way I feel sometimes.
“It’s only a few short years,
I think,
Until I can leave this purgatory nightmare.
Let the rain wash away my tears,
Until then.
Let the darkness hold me close,
Until then.
Because I cannot even hope to dream
Until then.”
December 2011
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