Below are a few crappy poems I've written for school. When I write more, I'll add them, and later fix it up nicer. Enjoy.
Ecstasy
Deep trance, a blank mind,
You cannot think, nor decide,
Yet your heart runs wild.
Your Fallen Soldier
Young men and women of only seventeen.
No troubles encountered, not even seen.
Wandered a path so cheerful, so bright.
Everything was all right
Bright sunny mornings, off to school,
To listen to teachers and see friends like usual.
This was the thought among every student,
In school, tardy, or truent.
Sadness, shock, confusion; all felt when one heard the news.
Faces turn like old withered shoes.
Who wouldn've thought they'd hit the towers?
We should've known, Baby Bush came to power.
Everyone knows Osama and Sadaam are behind it.
So we'll invade Iraq and Afghanistan; what will we get?
We'll search for weapons of mass destruction, but won't find it.
Is that the reason, or are we just finishing Papa Bush's bit?
Seventeen-year-olds are aging,
Finishing school and graduating.
It's the last summer before they leave home.
Maybe the last before some step in their tomb.
Why you may ask?
The possible reinstation of the draft.
All of your children will be going to war,
But what for?
Maybe you agreed with Bush at first,
But I doubt you will when worse comes to worse.
The children will be out there, on the frontline.
It's only a matter of time.
Recieved will be a call you were dreading forever.
It's to tell you about your fallen soldier.
To Dish, or Not to Dish?
While walking down the sidewalk
I looked at a house and saw
A weird toadstool protruding from the roof.
I thought to myself, "What could that be for?"
I don't know, but it must be better than cable.
Love/Hate
Love.
Bright, warm.
Caring, sharing, enjoying.
Beauty, happy, anger, evil.
Despising, shunning, loathing.
Black, cold.
Hate.
The Escape
A torn and tattered
Wanderer has escaped the
Atrocity of war.
Bruised and bloodied
He makes his way back to his
Family, away from hell.
A Tribute to TK
Bacon, small babies
And wenches is all someone
Needs for a great life.
Birthday Bash
Becoming a year older.
Igniting the candles.
Ripping open all of your presents.
Tasting the sweet taste of cake.
Having family and friends over.
Doing things your way.
Antagonizing siblings - they wish it was their birthday.
You better make a good wish.
Hostile Franklin
There once was a boy named Pap.
All day and night his mouth would flap.
And then one day,
Frank said "Hey!"
And gave that punk a slap.
The Joy of Balloons
Balloons,
Fun for all ages,
Yet they'll float away
And make you cry and feel bad.
Inflated rubber.
The Fiction We Live
So much is put out in the news and the papers.
Is any of it true, or is it all a lie?
This is the fiction we live.
None of us will ever know what is true and what isn't.
Take a good look at history and today.
Look at how many events are debated and inconclusive.
We'll never know the truth.
They will never come to an end.
This is the fiction we live.
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