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Teen Poetry #7
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a messy first draft
| Teen Poetry #7 |
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a messy first draft |
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davidmerriman Member
since 2003-04-30
Posts 123Dallas, TX |
thanks for reading it! EDIT: I have revised it slightly, namely, I added a few things. EDIT: editted it again ------ Philosophy doesn’t work Waking up in the morning. Instead, I need the some-what scalding, Some-what chilly pounding of the water Shooting in hard clumps down from the shower. But even after facing the watery bullets, My hair quickly surfaces back into snarls. Snarls of hair are on me, always, Matted and chlorinated, black and strong. I pull the tightness of my hair and touch my face, And I search myself for what feels unclean. Staring in the mirror, I don’t see clusters of cells, Or molecules, or the quarks of particles, Or tiny vibrating strings—nor do I see God’s beautiful soul manifested in me. I see the pile of skin that collapsed against the floor, Dragged unwillingly like a sack of limbs and bones As I struggled to get out of bed. I see my hair tussled, my eyes complacent, Spoon-fed and bloated and cultivated am I. Look how I sit in air conditioned, Insulated rooms, watching lights Flicker from the screens of metal boxes. And later, see how fits of melancholy Wash over me in the lonely dark. Existentialism doesn’t provide A warm pair of arms to hold me. Sometimes, as I glide across the hallway, Or stare at a dead patch of pastel wall, Philosophy will come back to me. The images of people swarming past me, Or the bumps on the old ugly wall, Are recognized as they are: sights, sounds, and smells My brain interprets. I feel a completeness, Unparalleled and detached from the society Buzzing within the minds of the masses. Most of the time, however, I am a human being. I am always under the microscope, Scrutinized by you and you and you. And most of the time, I’m gazing down telescopes, Watching the future me live his fantastic life, While the me in the present is hopeful and beaming. And if these fantastical things do happen, It’s as if a rush of joy flings me upward Forcefully and carelessly, Like the plaything of an overgrown baby, And I feel used, and cheapened, and wonderful, Clutching a clump of dirty green paper, Or stroking the shiny, flashy luster of metal, Or praising the granted freedom From moving a pencil with my hand. But when fortune never picks me up, And I’m left to myself in solitude, I do not feel depressed, nor do I feel sadness. I am cold, so I need the warmth of a genuine touch. I am human; I am not an abstraction. Alone, melancholy surrounds me, And I burry myself with the brunt of my hands. To escape, I start talking, prating of nothing, I transform into that social creature, The monster of conversation—with two heads So one head is always talking. Which version of me will you see today? Will I be obscene, happy, social, Off-the-wall, intellectual, insightful? Will I watch what I say or ramble incoherently? Will the eyes gazing at you be the real ones? Is my vocabulary pretentious enough? Do you think of me differently when my hair is snarled? Do you think of me differently when the battlefield Of my chin explodes with fragments of red, Dotted like spots or clumping in mountains, Pores exploding, damaged, ugly, The days I cover them with nervous hands. Do you know my name, would you die for me? Or am I a tally on your friendship sheet? Snarled hair, what if I don’t want to comb you? You are not my enemy. Why should I expect you to be subversive? Who else has their life straightened in order? Look at the universe around us; It as absurd and chaotic. This is the way we as humans see it. We witness only five senses, But who knows how many more exist? For us, only with ignorance is there order. Only when a mind is closed is it firm. But aphorisms are useless. Words—order is useless, When you wake up early in the morning, When you’re boxed in and can’t see the sky. my writings "We talk so abstractly about poetry, because we are all bad poets." - Nietzsche [This message has been edited by davidmerriman (03-25-2004 12:32 AM).] |
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| © Copyright 2004 David Merriman - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Lexy Senior Member
since 2003-01-28
Posts 1038California |
so...david. this is amazing to me. I have often had these thoughts and feelings, but haven't been able to pin point them enough to put them into words. Your not alone. I agree with a understand everything your saying. I like the way that it reads now. This inspired me...to write. Greatly...enjoyed. ~Lex |
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davidmerriman Member
since 2003-04-30
Posts 123Dallas, TX |
wow, thank you! i wrote this yesterday for an Open Mic contest tomorrow night. I'll let you know how it turns out. BTW: I edited/revised the poem somewhat. |
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