From Drop Box |
This poem was kind of a rebellious act towards the analysis of poetry. I got sick of ripping apart artwork and trying to understand the meaning when in fact every opinion interpreted could be correct. There's not point to that, so i wrote this poem and read it to the class and everybody clapped loudly for me and agreed. it was nice, but this is by far the most repetitious poem I've ever written.
Over Analyze This!
I write, I write
it comes to me so naturally
I write, I write
it speaks to me so fluently
so why, so why
do we pick apart
so why, so why
that beautiful art
you see, you see
there is no greater meaning
you see, you see
it's only what your feeling
oh how, oh how
can we be so insensitive
oh how, oh how
can humans be so tentative
to take, to take
ways of literature so fine
to take, to take
and destroy by crossing the line
you can't, you can't
see the natural beauty
you can't, you can't
you must read so loosely
to find, to find
the real purpose of a poem
to find, to find
isn't this curriculum
The purpose, the purpose
is what you per sieve at first glance
the purpose, the purpose
not what you guess each and every chance
it is,it is
only what your feeling.
Wrote this in class while questioning the idea of man compared to god.
The Horror of Purpose
Why would god create death? If god had a personality then what is the purpose of us?
To have all power
to create with no desire
inseparable the thought of him
He who cares all
watches as each on of us fall
Define Justice
The one who hears our thoughts
the battles we've lost
what is the purpose?
To believe is to relieve our minds of responsibility
We know too much, for we cloud our minds
The fear will over come us, we will find
"God", we'eve named our secret accomplishments
The wishes that have come true
That is why we fear ourselves like we do
We are gods, to conceited to think it was us
Deep down, we know
For we'eve created it all, and all one day we will show.
Wrote this yesterday cause i got bored and thought about how life is so long but can be easily taken away.
Slick Isle and smug faces
Nail files and bullet cases
you watch as the bullet enters your skull
I watch as it hits me in full
what I've done only half of you can see
so please, try, try to believe me
you had crossed a line nobody could see
If I didn't act fast it would have been me.
Your knees hit the ground, looking at the sky,
arms limp to his side, I didn't want him to die.
Face to the floor, A reflection of me.
Frozen at my core, no only pity
In shock, I holster the realization
Mind locked, stuck with the image
Calling for back up i say, " we've got two dead"
my brain thinking on the walls
my body stiff as it falls
Goodbye.