Poetry

A few folks where interested in reading some of my poetry, so I thought I’d post some. However, before I share any of my writings I’m going to share a couple of other pieces as to take the focus off of me. These aren’t poems in the traditional sense but they are poetic none-the-less.

The first is from the book “The Diary of a Young Girl.” In fact it is the last sentence from the book. It was referenced in a podcast I listened to today and I found it to be rather striking and something we can probably all relate to in some way. I don’t have the book so I had to transcribe it from the podcast and just guessed on the punctuation. Here it is:

When everybody starts hovering over me I get cross, then sad, then finally end up turning my heart inside out, the bad part on the outside and the good part on the inside and keep trying to find a way to become what I’d like to be and what I could be, if only there were no other people in the world. -Anne Frank

I’ve been reading the book “That Hideous Strength” by C.S. Lewis and today I was thinking of a song that shares the same name by one of my favorite bands, Thrice. I assume the song was inspired by the book. The lyrics are as follows:

Oh, that I could scream
And the world would stop and listen
And these scars could speak in volumes
But who has ears to hear
Or eyes to see
Again I scream
But my voice is buried in an unearthly silence
Like in nightmares when ghosts steal your breath
I pray that power be not in my words
But in truth that supersedes the mind of man
And our dead hope, and our blind faith in means that look to justify the ends
I feel a presence in the room
I feel cold fingers close around my neck
With out you I am lost
Let mine eyes not fail with looking upward

Lyrics by Dustin Kensrue

And finally here is my poem. I wrote it about five years ago. It’s one of the few poems I’ve written I actually still like.

Surrounded by bottles and the smell of an open wound.
Shaking my head hoping this will end soon.
Motives based on nothing, more than anything my conscience could conceive.
I’ve seen too much.
Nothing could ever take away what I already know.
Asking this question because the point isn’t very clear in these smoky rooms.
It’s okay…
Just keep saying that and wonder how many times I could believe it.
It’s not as if I would say “no” just to be cool…
Because I never thought I was very cool and wasn’t that what I was thinking anyway?
Somehow this feeling can’t be shaken, though it always ends up being wrong.
Can’t it?
What is it that is so important and really so irrelevant to the point of nausea.
Please close the door.
I’ll shut up with eyes open, smiling.
I won’t let myself into this position because I can only learn from this.
I hope I can learn from this, I hope the smile wasn’t fake.
Please restate the question.
What was meant by it if one side got it and the others walked home?

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One thought on “Poetry

  1. You’ve really got to hang onto those gems you still like after a few years have gone by. Darren – that’s good stuff – good rhythm, good introspection. Post more. ps – you’re a blog-commenting superhero. -liz

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