Knowledge /= Power

Hair that once flowed like threads of gold

now falls over her face scarred and scared.

Eyes that once were immaculate sparkling pools

now leak tears that stain her cheeks.

Her smile that once lit up the world

now quivers and hides.

Her voice that once sang angelic whimsy

now cries of pain and torment.

Hands that once supported the world

now grope desperately for help.

A mind that once pure

now is black with knowledge of hate and fear.

A girl that once was happy

now knows the truth.

So. This one. This is a bitter poem. I am of youth that is fed up with the world. I am of a generation that knows the bitter truth of life. I am of a generation dissatisfied and discontent.

Also, based slightly on a good friend of mine. She was a beautiful, whimsical girl in her youth, but as she aged learned more of the world around her, she became hard and cold. This is for you, my love. May God keep his eyes on you and his hands near. Amen.

Ode to Spiderman

Spiderman
Spiderman
Can he do everything
that a spider can?
Does he cook his eggs
in a frying pan?
Is he that much different
from a regular man?
Spiderman
Spiderman

Spiderman
Spiderman
Can he shoot a web
with a flick of his hand?
Does he live in a house
with a garbage can?
Is he that much different
from a regular man?
Spiderman
Spiderman

Spiderman
Spiderman
Can he jump from a height
and safely land?
Does he rock out
to his favorite band?
Is he that much different
from a regular man?
Spiderman
Spiderman

I mean, I thought it was funny.

this was partially stolen from my brother

Sweet Girl

Live, sweet girl, live,
For life is your most valuable possession.
Laugh, sweet girl, laugh,
For laughter is the cure for unhappiness.
Love, sweet girl, love,
For love is the light that will guide you.
Hope, sweet girl, hope,
For hope is the blood that gives you life.
Dream, sweet girl, dream,
For dreams are the wings that give you flight.

This was written as part an assignment for sophomore english. (the second time) I have no real feelings towards it myself, but several people have told me that it's pretty good, so I decided to post it. Well, here you go.

No Flowers For Algernon

I saw a rose today.
It's beauty reminded me of no one in particular.
It's soft and sultry petals brought memories to mind of no one's lips.

I smelled a rose today.
It's beautiful perfume evoked a passion and a feeling that i don't possess.
The aroma was familiar to me like the hair of no one.

I bought a rose today.
I thought of no one as i bought it.
I had no one to give it to.

I saw a rose today.

So yeah. My first Valentine's alone after RaChel broke up with me. I'm so freekin mopey. But I can't help it. And truthfully, I don't mind. I long for this sorrow, and I ache for this depression. You see, without this loneliness, without this pain, then I have no idea the heights of my joy. Life is like a roller coaster. The highs seem so much higher when the lows are really low. If being alone didn't kill me so much, then I would have no vantage point to understand why I yearn for company.

Shibby.

I'm Over You Now

im over you now
but who really cares.
its been a long time
since the akward stares
at the dead body between us
suspended on wire
like a funereal ad
that our hearts were killers for hire.

im over you now
but lets get this right
we both were wrong
we both caused the fight
no i dont want you back
no i dont love you still
all that i want
is to get over this hill

im over you now
but im not over you then
back when my presence
always made your grin
im not over my memories
my thoughts tie me down
the mere mention of you
now make me frown

i miss your smile
i miss your laugh
i miss your kisses
i miss the 18000 notes i got everyday
i miss getting in trouble in class for reading them all over and over
i miss writing 18000 notes back
i miss knowing that when i woke up that morning, someone not related to me cared.
i miss hearing someone whisper in my ear, "i love you too"
i miss checking my cell and seeing that you had called 14 times in 12 minutes, and left a sweet voicemail everytime.
i miss getting poems.
i miss writing poems.
i miss the security.
i miss who you used to be.
i miss being loved entirely.
i miss being loved exclusively.

But.

i dont miss you.

I'm over you now.

Okay, so this is kinda personal. I wrote this to prove a point, more to myself that to anyone else. I wasn't sure if I was really over RaChel. So I started with a list of things that I was sure i wasn't over. Things I knew I missed. And that list got expanded to the poem you see now. And as it turns out, I didn't miss her. Not one bit. Just the things that she was to me. Which led me to find out something about people in general. I don't think many of us ever really get attached to people. Think I'm wrong? Check the divorce rate in America right now. [swish] Count it! But I digress. I found that, we instead get attached to what those people mean to us. Women always fall for military men because they mean security, and strength, and big guns. Men do the same thing. They fall in love with girls who pay them no mind, because men yearn for mystery, they love a good chase, and everyone wants what they can't have.

So yeah. Think about that the next time you're 'in love' with someone. Do you love who they are, or do you love what they are?

For Amber

When she was little
Always with a gleeful laugh & joyful smile
Every inch she took without her daddy's hand in hers
Felt like walking a mile
She danced with her daddy
She danced with her daddy
Sometimes she stumbled, and sometimes she fell
But he always picked her back up again, and
She danced with her daddy
Well a little time passed
And she got to be older
There was a boy
Said he wanted to hold her
But he got too close
And she got too hurt
But then when her daddy
Came and brushed off the dirt,
She danced with her daddy
She danced with her daddy
Sometimes she stumbled, and sometimes she fell
But he always picked her back up again, and
She danced with her daddy
As she got wiser
When she was a lady
She found Mr. Perfect
She's having his baby
But no matter how hectic
Her life got to be
There always was one man
She found time to see
She danced with her daddy
She danced with her daddy
Sometimes she stumbled, and sometimes she fell
But he always picked her back up again, and
She danced with her daddy
Her time to go
Well it finally came
She looked all around
When she heard her name
She ran to her daddy
She fell in His arms
and when He held her up
She danced with her daddy
She danced with her daddy
Sometimes she stumbled, and sometimes she fell
But he always picked her back up again, and
She danced with her daddy

She danced with her daddy
She danced with her daddy
Sometimes she stumbled, and sometimes she fell
But he always picked her back up again, and
She danced with her daddy

Whenever people read this, they invariably ask, "Who's Amber?"
They want to know if her name was really Amber, or if I based this on some famous person, or if in fact I stole this poem, as guys aren't usually privy to these sorts of feelings.

Well, here's the truth.

There is no Amber. There never was. I wrote this poem some idle Tuesday on an index card. Upon reading it later, the name Amber just kinda sprung out at me. Also, the original title of the poem was "An Angel's Song". So there you go.