![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
Melancholy Depression |
||||
Note: These poems are my original compositions. Distribution: Please ask. RAMBLINGS (1998) (A lot of sleepless nights) Images from past dreams haunt me The scourge of sadness falls Melancholy becomes a friend. Trust is deception’s sworn enemy and its closest ally For without trust, deception’s roots cannot take hold Why does sadness linger? Even deception, that most keenest of tricksters, cannot stop it. FOND MEMORIES OF A TIME GONE BY (1987) (A trip back home) It doesn’t seem so long ago When we were all together Basking in each other’s company We had it all then It seems unfair That all we have now Are fond memories of a time gone by I know that time can never be repeated But I’m content with the knowledge That one day, we will all be together again To create a new set of memories. LITTLE BUGLE BOY (1988) (Dreadful thoughts of war) Little Bugle boy, do not blare your trumpet Play some other sweet song Do not declare the upcoming battle But regale us instead with a bawdy tune Little bugle boy, have mercy on those Whose feet have never marched on enemy graves Lead us to a ball or banquet Make us forget the bloodshed that is to be Little bugle boy, turn back and bring us with you Restore some sanity in this war mad world Offer some dignity to humanity Do not let them make us into murderers Little bugle boy, the whole world implores you. Do not blare your trumpet. JUDAS KISS (1987) (Catholic school teachings) In the distance I hear the sound of footsteps Guards' footsteps, no doubt They have come to take me away I do not protest I am doing what I was born to do To serve my Father in Heaven To suffer so that men can be free Yet I never thought this That I would be betrayed by you, my friend With a kiss. ALONE (1987) (Extreme loneliness) Whispered screams echo in the darkness Could hands touch my core Violent winds tear through me Shadows stand motionless War wages on Death is coming I fear I am alone. ATMOSPHERE (1988) (Nothing but boredom) Nothing but static On that quirk radio station left of the dial Small wonder you're strung out Just staring down that cup of coffee in your hands Three sixteen in the morning Things are as messed up as they were at two past midnight Somehow the entrance of a terribly cliched saxophone wail feels like a joke The invited introspection never comes ... way too hackneyed Like finding the meaning of life in a flashing "Vacancy" sign Forty more minutes pass The same cup stays in your hands Its contents long spilled on the cream rug No matter Coffee stains on the rug are the least of your worries Leave the pool of brown until some harpy comes and nags you about clean up Things are as messed up as they were since Since ... hell, who cares? ORDEAL (1994) (Dedicated to G who survived a tragedy) Falling Down, down Jarring impact Then pitch black Horrifying darkness Chasing unseen images Mind-numbing cold Trying to fend off hysteria Shadowy glimpses of death Terror strikes Heaving in what could possiby be Last gasps of air Tendrils of pain seep through Panic Need to find a way out No one is listening Hopes of rescue dwindling Don't give in Keep on going To stop means oblivion Worse, maybe death Fire of life brings strength Clawing out of the gloom Find the light and find hope Slowly but surely A climb to safe haven Finally Shock and relief mingle The worst is over. HOME MUSINGS ETCETERA |