Most of this poetry was written before the age of eighteen and bears the unmistakable stench of adolescence. I thought it might be fun to post anyway. Some of these poems are just unfinished fragments.
Poets I admire include Walt Whitman, Stephen Crane, Ezra Pound, Jim Morrison, Emily Dickinson Carl Sandburg, W.H. Auden, E.A. Robinson and e. e. cummings
100 toy soldier,
their cast from one mold
They all say "Yes Sir",
and do what they are told.
They won the wars, but ...
Where went their soul.
he killed in passion
she talks to walls
It has two psyche, two id
LOCK THEM UP
PUT THEM AWAY
Insanity
a knight of dreams;
beckons me to sleep,
whinnies first; and then
it screams! -
an equine scream
I wandered in the dark
Like a corpse in an ancient stream
I asked;
and again,
I asked;
the Poetry of the deep
is but the murky realization of thought;
lost, forever in sleep.
does the wind know
which way to blow
and
how does a storm cloud relate
to its o'er zealous mate
I live in a land of fallen falling stars
shining brightly then
dimly glimmering
now forgotten
There are no rising stars
no golden ages
no platonic planes
no dominant races
The sun has set and
darkness descends like
ebony lightning
fallen falling
The well spring of all life
is near to the gate
and close to the river
mystic - misfit
moccasin people
chanting - chanting
saffron prayers
gods of dust and
dirt, then
dusk closes in and
twilight fades