I have decided that I HATE my other web host so I might create another site with my poetry on it with a different web host, but for now I am breaking my own rule.  This is some recent poetry, most of which is not on the other site.

I'm also going to put some of the other character- poetry up here. I guess you can say some of my characters are my muses.

What are Stevie Poems?

Steven Chandler is a 15 year old character of mine, who writes decidedly morbid or sometimes extremely melodramatic poetry. Some of the poems, however, are quite serious and probably aren't Stevie poems. I haven't decided yet. All of them are slightly dark.

(The first four definitely are.)

Expanses

The sea is wide.

Its arms outstretched

Toward Heaven.

Will it bare me up

To Grace

If I plummet to

Its depths?

  

6/26/04

---

 

Steep

I know you want to

Kill me.

I can feel the rage

Roll off you.

I know you want to

Fill me full of holes.

I know that you can’t see why

I want to hold

You under

I know I can’t explain

The things I’ve

Done.

I was strewn upon the stone

By pure desire.

I was cast unto the foundations

By my own

Levity.

It was left to brazen

Nature

Or to my own devices

To take what’s left of you.

Hush &

Relax.

Brace yourself &

Wait.

Pose &

Express raw desire.

 

                                                                                     6/26/04

---

Contemplation

 

How high do I

have to reach?

How long shall my soul

beseech

your aid?

When will I

digest this

mystery?

And what,

then,

have I

achieved?

Up in flames

like the

wicked in

the

wind

Bound in chains

till my

father hears

my

cry

Rearrange

lies that

lead you to

the

truth

about life

and this burning youth.

Why should I

Question this?

When will I come

To grips

With time?

Can ash

Return to

What it was

-and if it can

just what

does that

achieve?

Before the flames

Like a

Temple once

Defiled

I’ll take the blame

And let

Guilty

Foes go

Free

As I try

To unravel

The

Complex truth

About life

And this rotting youth. 

 

7/13-14/04

---

Might Be About Angels

Sometimes I wonder why I have to

Die again

Is that the price that I must pay

To fly?

And then sometimes I wish I’d never

Cry again

‘Cause sinful tears will never melt

the lies.

Won’t you

Wind the music box so

I can hear the nations playing

Won’t you

Turn the dial again so

I can feel the lost wings beating?

Hardened

Thoughts are coursing through my

Fingers- make them strong for flapping

Can you

Feel the silence surging

Up to freeze the blood once leaking

At times I wonder why I have to

Breathe again

Is that the price that I must pay

To live?

And then sometimes I wish that I could

See again

And know to whom my life that I

Should give.

 

  9/20/04

---

Pop Culture

“What happened to yesterday

What happened to Winter’s youth?

What happened to fairy tales

And dreams that used to come true?”

All this stuff

About

Peter Pan and

Boys who

Don’t wanna grow up.

Who do grow up

Too fast,

But never change.

—Really.

Little Boy, Little Boy,

Where are you?

I search the kindergartens

For you but

See

Stunted reflections

Of

Babies’ daddies

And

Bad talkin’ lovers

In

The

Making.

No more little boys.

Little Girl, Little Girl,

Where Are You?

I search the malls

And only see those

“prosti-tots”

with

hooker rouge

on

lips that say

“Too over-protected”.

No little girls in sight.

Didn’t know ‘til today

That the

Stories are

True that the

Pied Piper lives—

The price we must pay

For

“freedom”.

Little do we know

That

He’s taken our kids

With the sound of his

Song

That says

“What ‘grownups’ don’t know,

can’t hurt”.

He lets them play with

Big kid toys

Like chocolate-flavored

Baby stoppers

Cherry bubblegum cigarettes

And

Murder games that

‘won’t hurt you’.

(Really?)

The media/ politicians say

“They know about it anyway

May as well let them play”—

Grown-up?—

But I think you get my point.

Mother Mary’s fountain’s

Arms are vacant

But the pool is filled with

Fallen leaves

Storybooks

Bibles—

Pooh and Tigger, too.

Mother Goose and Mary weep

“Our children are Fall”—

No, the frost tells the tale—

“Take a walk outside

See young children

in the

Winter

of their lives

There’s nothing left

to try

‘Cause they’ve

seen everything

and

can’t tell

truth from lies.”

Little Boy, Little Boy,

Where Are you?

No more little boys?

Little Girl, Little Girl,

Where Are You?

No children left in sight? 

 

11/28/04

---

Simple Logic

How can a

Bird

Fly without strings?

How can a

Human

Fly without wings?

I told

Him

We don’t

Need them

But

He

Scoffed.

I told

Him

I could

Fly

Alone-

He

Laughed.

Flap your arms, little birdman. Play the acrobat-

Again?

Show us your tricks, little flyer. Belie the inevitable-

For the first time?

I defy

What’s normal.

I break

Nature’s rules.

I

want

the

world

on

a

gleaming

platter.

I

want

strings

he said.

I

want

wings

that

say

I’m

not

crazy.

You

can’t

fly

he

replied.

You-

Can’t-

Fly.

You- Can’t- Fly.

Youcantflyyoucantflyyoucantflyyoucantflyyoucantflyyoucantflyyoucant

flyyoucantflyYoucantflyyoucantflyyoucantflyyou

cantflyyoucantfly youcantfly!

But

how can

that

be

I’ll

Say someday,

‘Cause

I

have

flown

before?