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.









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