Depression

Green-Bird · **Green-Bird**

The minutes before death:

Blood rushing from a wound
The world closing around me
Blackness
Fear
Death
My thoughts our filled
With those things
Death cannot be stopped
Nor can new life

These past weeks made me write this.
_________________
I shake like a toothache,
When I hear myself sing.
Oh, my lies are only wishes,
I know I will die if I could come back new

Wilco- Ashes of American Flags

counterparadox · **counterparadox**

Dude, I WAS having a good day . . . then I read that . . .

I'm super sorry for you man. seriously, I wish I oculd say something else. something more profound. More deep. More good. But I can't. But I do wish that I could.
_________________
anime is teh s uck

Play City of Heroes/Villians? Look me up, Pinnacle server, @C Paradox

Irkan_Warrior · **Irkan_Warrior**

I feel the same way.
_________________
The only truth that realy exists is the truth within the mind of the individual and the way the individual sees the world...

John_Bono_Smithy_Satchmo · **John_Bono_Smithy_Satchmo**

Can't get me down tonight--I'm writing an awesome story. Granted it won't be done by its due date--about 13 hours away. Awesome poem, GB. Here's an experiment for you to try. Take off the last two lines of every poem you write, and see how you like them. It makes almost half of them better.
_________________
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Force-Attuned_Krogoth · **Force-Attuned_Krogoth**

I still like this one. It's from The Perks of Being a Wallflower

(and thanks, John, for bringing it to my attention)

Once on yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts

That was the year Father Tracey
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed alot
And the gurl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he asked his father what the x"s meant
And his father always tucked him in to bed at nite
And his father was always there to do that

One a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote poem
And it was called "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of it's new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracey smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Clause
And the kids told him why
and his mother and father kissed alot
And his father never tucked him in at nite
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracey died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much make-up
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at 3AM he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen
_________________
Krogoth uses Berserk.
Attacks are enhanced but defense weakens.
"Wait, that's not the cure button ... "

Spookmonkey · **Spookmonkey**

JohnnyPsycho · **JohnnyPsycho**

Ooh! A poetry session!! My turn, my turn!

just to give you guys some background, this poem was written by my grandmother, who writes poetry all the time, mostly stuff about trees and mountain scenery and stuff. It was written about her son-in-law (my dad) and his experiences growing up on the Reservation, as told to her by him. Tack this up to "at least you didn't have a childhood this bad..."

Young Recollections
(That haunt a Native Indian who considers himself old at 47)

Thirty four hundred acres
Reservation home to our Band
of Potawatomies, belonging
Before the "Invasion"
To the whole Continent
Of North America

The Bureau of Indian Affairs,
Appointed by the USA,
Controlled out lives totally,
Subdued our Power Base,
Reduced us to a dependence
We called, "Bossing Indians Around."

They issued us
Thow-away meat scraps, canned
For Native Indian consumption;
"Monkey Meat" we called it;
"Not to be sold" they labeled it.

"Surplus Food" we wondered at
As we ate our daily bread
Concocted by our Mother's hands
From white flour, water, and lard;
Bannock some called it then,
Fry bread we call it now
At Pow Wows, in memoriam...

Potatoes we ate at every meal,
Fried in the morning with
Boiled oatmeal and bacon fat;
Boiled at night with whatever was at
The "Begging Store," US Government store;
They had promised us more.

At school, Saint Thomas shoulder badges
Designated membership of
Native Indian students in
A religion of our people's conquerors.

Our "prison" clothes, uniformly blue
And black, were
Assigned by unctuous priests and nuns bent
On saving our souls for a distant heaven...

Better had they emphasized Christ's message
To love one another to
Taunting white classmates who
Daily labeled us redskins and niggers,
Compelling brother, sister, and me
To unify, to save face.

It was us against them as we
Punched and shoved our way, victoriously,
To yet another label, "Sinners,"
For which we drew penance
At home, and "abroad."

"Abroad" was one thing;
To be considered "Sinner" by Dad
Was far beyond
My youthful comprehension;
Choosing obedience to unjust laws
Was his way, not mine,
And divided us, utterly.
But that was the white man's plan
-- to divide and conquer us.

Since white kids had the upper hand,
My daily prayer to God was
Question more than statement;
If we have equal chance at Heaven
Because we are the same as they,
All children under one Father,
Why are we dumped on all the time?

This from a child who wondered,
And is still waiting
For answers.
_________________
"The principles you live by create the world you live in; if you change the principles you live by, you will change your world." -Blaine Lee

"I plan to live forever. So far so good." -Steven Wright

Green-Bird · **Green-Bird**

John_Bono_Smithy_Satchmo · **John_Bono_Smithy_Satchmo**

Ooh, pretty poetry. I have three I really want to share, but I don't have access to the third right now. Here's a bunch I wrote back in creative writing last year...

Procastination
Here I sit, eyes fixated on a screen
to which I find myself a slave.
Not for work, and not of school,
no, I am merely a slave for boredom,
for lack of something better to do.

I could be writing scholarship essays,
I could be doing valuable homework,
which would inexorably lead me on a path to a better future.

But nay, I sit, at this screen, looking for any distraction from possible success.
I meander, wander, at such a frantic pace it doesn�t seem as such.
I am running, and from what I am not certain.
Pain? Failure? Success?
I do not know.

All I know is that I cannot focus
and not for lack of the ability.
And I cannot figure out why
and not for lack of intelligence.

But I cannot work.
I cannot be swayed from my distractions.
My affliction is of my own cause
but an affliction just the same.
I do not understand and feel as though I should.

I know it is not caused by a lovesick heart,
not the lack of goal,
not even likely the lack of ambition.
What vexes me is by all I can tell,
a simple inability to do work.

And that is all I know,
except that now I feel a little better
and may just try to get some work done.

John Bono Smithy Satchmo
Walking a well traveled path,
he trips and falls,
cursing the many times traversed tree root.

He climbs to his feet and brushes off,
continuing his journey at an awkward gait,
arms swaying at the side.

�Who is this Bono?� you may ask.
Man or beast? Genius or fool?
�What creature could be so strange?�

He looks about for any who saw his embarrassing fall,
grunting a mumble about road hazards,
his foot falls still making a path for yet more travelers.

He looks back, the way which he came,
noticing the disturbance in the dirt, evidence of his clumsiness,
and laughs at his own useless pride.

Clever, Cunning, Curious and Clumsy,
A noble ravaging beast
tripping elegantly through a pristine yet decayed woodland,
Like a Philharmonic playing �Turkey in the Straw,�
I am the Satchmo.

Flattery to Rebecca
My day is nothing until your radiant smile brightens it,
like a late dawn, always welcome.
Your entrancing stare casts brilliant auras of beauty and passion,
like the moon�s downcast rays.
I hear your enticing, heavenly voice,
like the wind it calls forth to me.
The very stars bow to your loveliness,
in unison, they cry out to see your face.
Now, can I have my bag of Salsa Fries back?

Why Elves gots to be like that?

Dear Hero of Time,
I have learned from a reliable source
that it is you who has been pilfering my goods.
Around my home, in the bushes, rocks, and grass,
you take a few arrows or rupees of glass.

You then come into my house,
the doors unlocked,
and smash a few pots,
with no heed for their cost.

I find it not fitting for a man of your station,
destiny or race, from such a noble nation.

So I ask you to stop�please don�t make this hard.
I will not hesitate to call the Hyrule Guard.

Machine
Invigorated, Exhilarated
Moving, Stepping, Sweating
Four arrows on a pad
Dance Dance Revolution

Thought
Quick, Sharp
Pondering, Contemplating, Tinkering
Making new ideas
Mental Processes

Thief
Silent, Cunning
Pilfering, Taking, Stealing
Being dishonest
Kleptomaniac by Trade
_________________
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FinalDivineDragoon · **FinalDivineDragoon**

Ahh poetry is good for expressing emotion, but i'm more of a haiku-renga person myself. I'll put some up supposing I can find them.
_________________
There is limited intelligence in the galaxy, but the stupidity of the universe is infinite.

counterparadox · **counterparadox**

I'm more of a rant-writer myself. I write in paragraphs. Never been good at poetry. But every now and then I write something that is verbal GOLD. I should find some classic Paradox quotes and post them here. I know you'd all enjoy.
_________________
anime is teh s uck

Play City of Heroes/Villians? Look me up, Pinnacle server, @C Paradox

Force-Attuned_Krogoth · **Force-Attuned_Krogoth**

Ludwika · **Ludwika**

Totally sad... really sad! This takes me back to that anonymous "hate letter" I once wrote directed to my brother for drinking my bottle of Gatorade...he never did pay me back! That Godzilla size Jerk!
Evil or Very Mad

_________________
Tan simple y tan sencillo como eso, el mundo apesta! -inguesu

John_Bono_Smithy_Satchmo · **John_Bono_Smithy_Satchmo**

Reach into my bag,
past calculator and slag.
From said bag I grab
a sixty card slab.

Onto flat surface, rubber band off,
I draw attention with a nervous cough.
Make six piles of ten each,
in hopes of others' sight I'll reach.

From those stacks I shuffle each one,
Heart in anticipation of glorious fun.
Back to one deck I collect them all.
From here I sound my siren's call.
_________________
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Green-Bird · **Green-Bird**

Death
Life
It's
Hard
To
Tell
The
Diffrence
Why?

Another thread, another time.
_________________
I shake like a toothache,
When I hear myself sing.
Oh, my lies are only wishes,
I know I will die if I could come back new

Wilco- Ashes of American Flags


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