| More Poems |
| The Vision I had a vision today, Would you like to know what it was? I had a vision of my life, How I have lived it, what I have done. The wrongs I did to others, And also the good. I had a vision of my family, A vision of my friends. But what is wrong with them? Why are they upset? Has something happened? Oh my God, what is that? Its a car, smashed by another, With people I don't know, Wearing blue and red and white, Then I see the flashing lights, And they pull something out of the wreckage. It looks like a body, I hope it is nobody I know... But...wait a minute... It looks a little like...me! What has happened?!? And then I hear it, voices from above, And a big bright light. But Im not ready to go, Not here, not now. So I move away from the lights, from the voices, Go back towards the wreckage. Back towards my friends and family. I hear the voices, as the sream he is breathing, And I'm loaded into the ambulance. But I only have one question... Was it, or was it not, Just a vision? |
| The Night Is it just me, or are things better at night? You never know whats going to happen, Whenever you walk around at night. Things seem much more mysterious, Whenever you look out into the night. Are those eyes looking at you, or just streetlights, That are beaming through the night? That sound you heard, is it an owl, or something else? As it trails off into the night. You see a shooting star, glowing across the sky, The sky of the night. You hear the voice of a loved one, As they talk to you through the night. They ask if you want to come into the house, To get away fom the night. But you say no, because things are so much more peaceful, Peaceful at night. |
| The Drink You are passed out on the sidewalk again, Holding your drink in your hand. If you were a man, you would be looked down upon, You alcoholic, you drunk, you failure of life. You are just laying there, Under the hot sun, on the burning cement, Just like a bum who has spent the last of his money, And you do nothing to help yourself. You hear the sounds of flies, as they swarm around your body, Clicking and stomping of footsteps, surrounding your head. The sounds make your headache even worse, As they keep pounding through your head. Yet you still lay there, Exhausted. Too tired to move, too tired to do anything, Yet you know you could get up. But you would rather be where you are now, In the gutters of the street. Laying on the sidewalk with the rest of the bums, Just holding on to your drink. |
| "Scarred" What do you picture when you hear the word scarred? Do you see it as a bad thing? Or could it also be good? Can you be emotionally scarred, yet have it be a good thing? Or will it always be bad? What happens when a friendship ends? Are those scars? Unless they heal they are. Now what if a relationship ends? You get scars from that, am I right? But what if it ends on a good note? Would you still consider it a scar? Am I scarred right now? Or will my feelings eventually heal? Or will my heart always have one permanent scar on it, from a girl I let get away? I guess time will only tell... |