A poem I wrote...
 

Give me feedback.

Death as it is.

As I lie awake thinking of what I've done
Hating myself while lying here with my hand on the gun
I put the gun to my head but still no trigger I pull
I cant kill myself people will think of me as a fool
As I soak in the pool of blood from my loves heart
I realize my life is falling apart
I think again if I should or should not
I'm now getting cold but, on the inside I'm boiling hot
He shouldn't have gone to her place
He shouldn't have lied right to my face
I put the gun back to my head after I rose
I turned and looked out the door then at my blood red toes
I pulled the trigger now lying on the floor
I looked at the ceiling then toward the door
Now I know how he felt when I let him go
My breathing is getting heavy my heart is beating more slow
As I lie awake thinking of what I've done
Hating myself while lying here with my hand on the gun.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This was written in October of 1998. I was in seventh grade.

I've got ones that are even better. I was only thirteen(I think) when I wrote that one.

It's amazing the level of clarity you have after shooting yourself in the head.

as I said I was only thirteen when I wrote that one

I'm just razzin' ya. My humor is very abbrasive... ya idiot.

Its cool. I'm not fretting. Just replying to what you said.

yeah i was never into video games, writing has always been my hobby.

Here is another poem I wrote...
 

She hides...

she slides the raizer across her arm
she pushes harder as she asks herself why
she cuts again and again hoping for the end
and she begins to cry
she wears long sleeves to hide the scars
to hide from what they would see
she doesnt want them all to know
she wonders what would be

she takes another shot
not wanting to think
all she knows is that
she wants another drink
shot after shot after shot
she drinks them down so fast
she cries and cries and cries
she knows her pain will last
she sobers up for a while
to hide from what they would see
she doesnt want them all to know
she wonders what would be

she smokes a little more
wanting to be more high
she keeps on smoking
she doesnt want to try
she doesnt want to live
if thats how life will be
so she keeps on smoking
until her heart is free
she puts on an act
fake smile and all
she feels light headed
and then begins to fall
she catches herself real quick
to hide from what they would see
she doesn't want them all to know
she wonders what would be

she holds the gun in her hand
she wants to be dead
she doesn't want to live her life
so she puts it to her head
she sits in the dark
listening to all the sounds
she takes out the clip
and she counts the rounds
she realizes you only have one life
she hides the gun from the rest
she decides to try oone more time
she wants to do her best
she keeps her thoughts to herself
to hide from what they would see
she doesn't want them all to know
she wonders what will be.

written on 9/5/2004 at 10:50pm

Re: Re: Here is another poem I wrote...
 

its supposed tobe that way

...and another.
 

What is wrong with me?

Am I deformed in some way?
Or are you just afraid of the day,
When you realize the person who is me?
When you see everything you want to be.
I am just a soul like the rest.
I have a heart beating in my chest.
I am human just like you.
The mistakes I make aren't few.
But what is it that I've done?
Do I make your life any less fun?
Or do you get off to making mine tough?
Do you think it isn't hard enough?
What can I do to make you see?
To make you see the person who is me.
I cry inside for every last one of my flaws.
But I don't think that I broke any laws.
I tried to make things better for you.
I tried to make the problems few.
I tried to talk our problems out.
Even though my mind was full of doubt.
What can I do to ease your mind?
Do you want a present of some kind?
I will give you anything that I can.
I'll do what it takes if you show me a plan.
What did I do to cause you pain?
If you tell me I wont do it again.
All I can say is I am sorry for all of your unhappiness.
If staying away is what you want then here's your bliss.

Life is like a car ride.
 

Today we take this ride,
We don't know the destination.
Windows down, music up,
Driving along with anticipation.
Hitting potholes and cracks,
While driving down this winding route.
We keep on driving forward,
No matter what happens, without a doubt.
It starts to rain a little,
The road begins to slick.
The windows are up, the music down,
The weather is changing to quick.
The sky is darkening,
The clouds fill all the sky.
This ride has reversed,
With our thoughts it doesn't comply.
I am still sitting here,
In the passenger seat.
While driving down this road,
Water all over the concrete.
The tires start to skid,
The screeching is so loud.
I'm still sitting here,
Just as I had vowed.
The other car crashing,
We wind up in a ditch.
The coldness surrounds us,
I feel my legs twitch.
I see the blood,
Its covering your face.
I can't move my legs,
Still it's you I embrace.
I hold you close to me,
We're covered in blood and rain.
This ride is ending,
We will not ride again.
We cry in each others arms,
Happy to have said goodbye.
We take our last breaths,
Our trip had gone awry.

.

There's a great site with a cartoon I like...


http://www.illwillpress.com/vault.html


The cartoon is listed as OPEN-MIC NIGHT II. It's really funny especially if ya like poetry.

.

I didn't try to kill myself. I was thirteen when I wrote it. I was just writing and thats what came out in the end. I'm sorry if I offended you.

your poems are good but ..umm ..kinda black don't you think..
honestly...i wish i had never scanned them cos they have just put a whole downer on my night..
you were only 13..I hear ya'..
Poems reflect ones moods at the time of writing ..I like poetry..i like depth of somebody elses thoughts.
When i write..I write on a spur of the moment..something humurous happens..
i put it to poetry..
something pisses me off ...i put it to poetry.
etc.etc..
I think you should take a good look at taking this up seriously..but try not to always look for the doom and gloom of things...good luck..

I don't think she needs to stray from the doom and gloom factor, but the poems don't all have to rhyme. Talking about dying with your lover in a car wreck loses its oomph when you use the word "awry" to close out the work.

Too bad you weren't here to answer the phone on the day the phone call was made to tell me that one of my best friends had just killed himself. What kind of message would you have jotted down for me at that time ? 'Best friend- dead. No warning signs. Don't try to call back. Too late.' ? Sorry if you seem to take offense at my more-than-serious approach at all the kids who wanna play the drama king or queen for the moment so anyone listening can rush up to babysit them. I quite obviously take it very personal and very serious. I'll repost the tune I pulled from my earlier post:
"In time when all the chips are down
My last hand has been played
You won't see the game conclude
Or plans we once had made
Win, lose, draw it matters not
I only play with friends
But you left no second chance
For us to make amends
My anger won't subside
Was it easy to decide
To take that long walk in the night ?
And now I find
That I can't buy back our time
I forever lost you to the night

Later when the candle's out
My wishes had been made
Except for one they all came true
From the friends that I parade
I couldn't have picked finer ones
If I'd ever tried
And none will haunt the way you do
From demons left behind
But I just can't be real
If I pretend to think and feel
I never heard the calling in the night
And when all my sins
Have left me stranded in the wind
I, and I alone will walk the night

Empty words fall silently
Too late now as they're said
Would you hear them when you laid
That barrell to your head ?
Without the brilliance of you here
No shadows of a doubt
To cloud the days we'd once shared
And things we lived without
But all those dreams
Have been drowned out by the screams
Echoing from somewhere in the night
I was always by your side
So will you return to guide
When it's time for me to walk the night ?"

This time I will leave it up for everyone who thinks they're having a bad day and it's the easy way out. Suicide is still the most selfish act ever. If you don't care for my thoughts or opinions, hellboy/ tripping or whatever name you're going by at the moment when you're not starting trouble, sending out pics of your manhood or trying to get under my skin for reasons unknown,
FUCK YOU, TOO !
CK

THANK YOU

Actually, that poem was a metaphor for how life is. You go through life and shit happens that you don't expect then you die. It was actually kinda written to my friend. The ending is about death, kinda like at least they got to say good-bye.

OK, but my point is when you're writing a poem with a message as powerful as that, you shouldn't have to settle for awkward wording just to fit a rhyme scheme... maybe go for a free form poem.

...
 

I don't like them. I don't have any reasons or constructive criticism either. :( Keep writing, usually this forum would rip you apart so most people must enjoy them. :)

Re: ...
 

it's all good.

can't win 'em all.

Re: Re: ...
 

what about some of your "happy" poems?

...
 

Something involving a pet rabbit named "bun buns" perhaps? :) lol

Re: ...
 

how do you know i have a bunny named commander bun buns?

Re: Re: Re: ...
 

here you go...

My Tears

I woke up in the morning and I felt you by my side,
So I wrapped my arm around you and then I cried.
Not for unhappy things or for being sad,
The tears I cried were not for anything bad.
My tears flowed down my cheeks for you and only you,
The tears I cried did not fall for anything you did or will do.
Each tear that soaked my face fell for a reason I knew not why,
It is then that I knew I had no reason to cry.
The tears fell from my eyes and yet I was not depressed.
They flowed so freely then and yet I was not repressed.
I did not know why they fell from my eyes.
I didn't understand why and I began to rise.
You rolled over and said "I love you", down fell another tear,
I guess that is all I needed, all I needed to hear.
I laid by you and held you close, so close next to me.
I realized then that the tears that fell were because I was happy.


2/18/2005 2:30a.m.

By Trishia Birkenmeier
Written for Adam C. Johnson

Re: Re: ...
 

Because commander bun buns and my bunny were separated at birth. :eek:

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v2...KS/bunbuns.jpg

Re: Re: Re: ...
 

way too freakin cute cbb has black spots. some big ones and then all kinds of tiny ones.

Here's a happy poem


I woke up this morning
with a tee pee in my pants
The sun was shining brightly
it made me wanna dance

The little puppys were jumping
the flowers were blooming as well
Its New Years eve and beer will flow
I'm betting i'll be feeling pretty swell

One of ya write one for me:)

HERES A HAPPY SONG

B DOUBLE E DOUBLE R U N
BEER RUN!!!

I have that on CD:o

OK HERE GOES AUNTY MARROE...

sleep
beautiful
restful
needed
missed
loved
wanted
loved
missed
needed
restful
beautiful
sleep

how was that one?

I liked it. how bout you you damned insomniac. love ya.

Tear to my eye

its that bad?

Here's one...

James Whitmore’s Continuous Attempts at Committing Suicide

Mr. Whitmore was unable to sleep at hotels anymore.
The numerous efforts to try and hang himself
from the wooden beam above his bed, not to mention
the damages from carving his name into it.
Mr. Whitmore would try and sneak off at three am
to a truck-stop motel, with lumpy beds
where teenage hookers fought for their lives
while drugged-up truckers strangled them.

Mr. Whitmore’s friends watched him at all times,
making sure he didn’t use pencils or butter knives
or letter openers or sporks. Mr. Whitmore got
a hold of a manual shaver and tried to carve
upside down crosses on his wrists before realizing
he was a devout Christian and he gave up,
carving a smiley face on his calf instead.
Mr. Whitmore was unable to use his friends’ bathrooms.

Mr. Whitmore snuck out one night to a suicide cult
that listened to “Human Behavior” by Bjork
and slapped teddy bears while drinking poisoned
punch. The cult leader who resembled a fat Joey Bishop
offered him a glass but it was made with Kool Aid
and Mr. Whitmore was a closet racist who connected
the drink with African Americans and left.
Mr. Whitmore was unable to attend cult meetings.

Mr. Whitmore locked himself in Morgan Freeman’s bathroom
And ran a hot bath while his friends banged on the door
Begging him to stop. Mr. Whitmore tried drowning
Himself but the Greek god Poseidon rose from the
Water and told Mr. Whitmore the error of his ways,
and he climbed in the bath to become one with the deity.
Mr. Whitmore was unable to make love to divinities.

why morgan freeman ?
he rocks he does :D

ok here's one... (for my daughter)

Every time you look at me my heart melts,
Every time you smile at me I get excited,
Every time you cry I hurt,
Every time you sleep I relax,
Every time you dream I hope,
Every time you laugh my soul shivers,
Every time you fall I'll catch you,
Every time you speak I'll listen,
Every time you breathe I smile,
Every time you need me I'm there.

Any time I think of you I'm happy,
Any time I look at you I smile,
Any time I hug you you hug me,
Any time I'm loved its by you,
Any time I sing you listen,
Any time I hold you you fall asleep,
Any time I act stupid you don't get embarrissed,
Any time I'm sad you make me feel better,
Any time I'm bored we'll play cards,
Any time I need you you'll be there.

There once was a man from Nantucket