You remember back when you fancied yourself the latest Emily Dickinson and went to poetry slams, don't you? I have to look back at a lot of my writings and just laugh my butt off!
Here's a gem I found, dated May 1993... (hmmm... that puts me past the teen years) It's a real side-splitter; I bet at the time I thought it was Very Serious and Important!
RAPUNZEL HAS LOST HER HAIR
She is screaming as she stares down the cold, rocky tower at the man lying in a pool of blood and mounds of matted hair
She is crying as she recalls the past few hours: The man called to her "Let down your tresses that I may scale this tower!"
She is shaking as she moves her delicate hands across her scalp; Where the follicles were torn there is simply nothing there.
She is fainting from the terror: the last sound to touch her ears is the voice of people yelling "Rapunzel has lost her hair!"
Posted by Thriftshop Debutante on :
Didn't.
Posted by He Who Wanders on :
Posted by queer legion on :
I can best that MLLASH.
"We sit, not too far apart for wanting. But, far too far from having. If the world would spin differently, we'd fall into each others arms."
April '87, outside of Chem 201 class.
(Sigh, he was cute though.)
Posted by MLLASH on :
Actually that's very sweet, QL! I love it.
Posted by Fat Cramer on :
I'm waiting for the cheese poem, Lash...
Posted by Suddenly Seymour on :
After I got a bad grade on a poetry analysis paper (did my teacher ever personally ask Mr. Shakespeare exactly what his sonnet meant? I don't think so), I wrote a completely bitter, angsty, nonsense poem during lunch hour in about 10 minutes and gave it to a friend, who did a hilarious line-by-line analysis. What do you think it means?
An Insignificant Speck in the Universe by Eric
i am an old barn, creaking, creaking and my roof is leaking, leaking inside me a mouse is sneaking, sneaking along the hay-strewn floor
a little boy is peeking, peeking for something his is seeking, seeking his tennis shoes are reeking, reeking his friends think he's a bore
outside a dame is eeking, eeking surely she is freaking, freaking the big strong dog is meeking, meeking children? they have four
the wind 'round me is shrieking, shrieking the tumultous sound is peaking, peaking bright lightning now is streaking, streaking the old barn is no more
Posted by rokk steady on :
Wotta great idea! And some great angsty stuff on display here!
Mine is from my teen college years:
His country is taxing him, He pays in carbonated twitches, His sweat a fickle, trickling stream, Snaking its way down his river bed. His legs jerk: an earthquake of limbs.
Divorced from his control, The union of eyes fixated like statues, And heartbeats like thunder and acid, Anxiously awaiting anullment.
And inches from his face, his partner, his crutch, Unravels like failing vision.
*** Wow, I feel so embarrassed.
Posted by rokk steady on :
Strangely, although I didn't name check Rapunzel, I also have angsty teen poetry about someone's hair coming out.
Posted by MLLASH on :
Wow, Seymor, Rokk-- you guys were as full of teen/college angst as I was. Thanks for sharing it, I thoroughly enjoyed your poetry, do MORE!
Cramey, the cheese poem is really, REALLY bad! You don't wanna read it!
Posted by Fat Cramer on :
quote:Originally posted by MLLASH: Wow, Seymor, Rokk-- you guys were as full of teen/college angst as I was. Thanks for sharing it, I thoroughly enjoyed your poetry, do MORE!
Cramey, the cheese poem is really, REALLY bad! You don't wanna read it!
Yes I do. More cheese, please.
Great stuff, everybody! Mine was so bad it got burned long ago. But I'm sure it was over-brimming with soulful angst and suffering.
Posted by MLLASH on :
Fine, but don't laugh TOO hard, you might shatter my gentle poet's psyche! This piece of crap is dated October 1990. Aah, a mere babe in swaddling cloth I was then! I'm sure I had been just traumatized by something I thought I'd never recover from...! Some callous bastard MAN, no doubt! And where in the hell did I get the notion that I knew anything abour cheese in France?
I tried and failed Well at least I tried But the key word here is "failed".
Of all the cheesemongers Cheese-whizzes and cheeseballs I've met I have proved by far to be the cheesiest.
In France, the best cheese is runny with a tiny hint of mold- That's like me, so I've shown. Too cheesy for words or company and now the cheese stands alone.
>edited for spelling<
[ August 24, 2003, 12:43 PM: Message edited by: MLLASH ]
Posted by rokk steady on :
That is absolutely amazing! I love cheese...
Posted by Fat Cramer on :
Author! Author!
You're the Poet Laureate for the Legion of Super-Cheese Villains! It's a Feta Compli!
Posted by MLLASH on :
I think I'll go lie down and die now! *big grin*
Posted by Sonnie Boy on :
Lash your Rapunzel poem has touched me and the lovely Queer Legions verse is inspired... loved Seymores peice too, you can really hear it...
This is the only one of my teenage angsty poems I have left - written when I was about 26 or so-
Running with Scissors
I'm running with scissors up the stairs, down the hall words of advice float behind me unheard
I hold onto you, clutching you sharp and sleak, smooth in my hand reflecting my gaze so coolly
You laughed and laughed "you silly old tart, did you paint your toenails just for me?" No. Not originally, but a few times after Silver blue just for you Purple 'cause you like that colour darling and once on the phone "what colour do you want me tonight?" "Red like a whore" was a worrying reply
I'm running with scissors Point held high and through the door not looking for whats clear up ahead
I'm touching you, tasting you electric on my tongue, strong and cool cutting my flesh with such skill
I learned quite quickly I cut quite easy not always a bad thing, but it's always the simple things - like an overheard phrase or a question that hangs in the air for too long A glance bacomes a gun A stance that says "nothing" "fuck off" "who cares?"
I'm running with scissors all the way down the street My tears falling as fast as my feet
You're still in my hand, in command You're still so silent but no longer cool your polished edge is so easily lost
Too easy Two words "Who's Max?"
Oh well, that relationship wasn't worth this much of an outpouring but there you are.
I saw some slam poets in San Francisco and loved it, pity the UK poetry scene is so polite , doesn't work for me. My fave contemporary Poet must be Shailja Ptel, there should be a few of her verses at www.thesala.com, great angry beautiful thoughtful stuff, almost as kewl as The Cheese Poem... Posted by MLLASH on :
WOW Sonnie, I loved it! I wish you saved the rest.
Posted by Sonnie Boy on :
High praise from the Lashmeister! I'm all aglow now.....
I found another, and just for your delectations here it is.... though I can't remember writing it so I'm not sure if it's finished ...
The trouble with my Bob
I've looked over sang to, worried about carressed and washed loved tended fed and still I've lost count of the amount of times I've said "he's been unfaithful to me again"
Friends shake their heads roll their eyes mock admonishment and ironic glints now knowing full well what the surprise promised them will be...
as several disloyal generations of my scrappy scrawny spider plant already adorn their sills "look after my baby will ya?" "sure we will" "don't water him too much" "yeah, we know"
Well, that was a bit cheerier than the last one... I loved that plant, really loved it! I got Bob One from an art teacher when I was about 14 or so... had him for about 15 years. Even took it to Oz with me in my hand luggage (as a joke, but still he survived!!) then my ex's ex, being the most spiteful creature, decided to water him with some bleach....
[ August 25, 2003, 02:47 AM: Message edited by: Sonnie Boy ]
Posted by MLLASH on :
That bastard! As a plant-lover, I find that appalling!
I'm sure Bob One was beautiful!
Posted by Sonnie Boy on :
I had to be physically removed from that #+*@£$*s presence ..... Bob One, gone but not forgotten.
And I always think you can judge a man by the way he treats his plants or pets so it's good to hear that the local stud muffin likes plants too...
Posted by MLLASH on :
I'm not home enough to properly take care of a pet, but I love my plants. I have a live TREE in here (none of that fake plastic stuff for ME!) When I'm feeling extra-gay, I drape it in white Christmas lights.
I wish you had kicked his ass! Damned busybodies butting in, pulling you out of the room and all!!!
Posted by MLLASH on :
But it's been my weeks-long dream to settle down with a hottie and have 2 chihuauas named Belle and Taco and a cat named Titters.
Posted by Sonnie Boy on :
I think they were worried as I was away to pick up a chair, not that I hate the evil bitch or anything but for a few seconds all I saw was red.... and it was nasty! Now that was a passion filled encounter that could spawn a poetic barb, maybe something like -
Your ex preferred me to you He ditched you for me too so you killed all my plants at his place now I'm gonna kick your ugly face
well, wotcha know, I'm a poet and didn't realise it! Something like that anyway...
Posted by Sonnie Boy on :
quote:Originally posted by MLLASH: But it's been my weeks-long dream to settle down with a hottie and have 2 chihuauas named Belle and Taco and a cat named Titters.
funny you should mention that as I've never told you about my pets have I... or have I?
Posted by Suddenly Seymour on :
Wow! There's some real poetry here! I'm impressed.
I've never really been one for poetry, but I really liked that sonnet (darned if I can remember which one any more, though) and was really ticked off when I got my paper back, and it was all marked up with, "No, this represents blah blah blah." Our teacher would let us rewrite papers for a better grade, so I just substituted his interpretation for mine and got an A. That really turned me off to literary criticism, but even before then, poetry wasn't my thing. I was more a short-story guy and had a cool science-fiction lit crit class in college.
Long story short, I don't have any more teen angst poetry to share, but I'll keep checking in on this thread. It's pretty cool, though it's too bad a great plant had to die for it. One of my college roommates had a cutting off a 25-year-old philadendron. By the end of the second year in our apartment, one of the vines streched all the way around the ceiling of our bedroom, down a short hallway and into the living room. It rocked! Last I checked, he still has it, I think.
Eric
Posted by MLLASH on :
Sonnie-- to my knowledge you haven't shared your pet facts with me. However, if your pets consist of 2 chihauhaus and a cat, I'm afraid I'll have to poison your current boyfriend and move in! (I'm *MUCH* nicer to pets than to ex-boyfriends!)
Seymour-- Most of what I considered my better poetry was converted into song form long ago (mostly country songs, *tee hee!*). I am pretty much tapped out here too, but I hope everyone digs deep into their angsty past and finds more writings!
Posted by queer legion on :
LASH, darn you for making me do this. But, if want angst, you'll get angst.
[poetry deleted due to total embarrassment. All of my teen angst was love angst.]
[ August 26, 2003, 10:23 PM: Message edited by: queer legion ]
Posted by MLLASH on :
So here's one that I think is pretty darn amusing, but you all will need a tiny smidgen of backstory to properly appreciate it...
In the late 80s, I was a hard-working grocery checkout boy. Back then, when you scanned the item, the machine actually said the price aloud. This poem was inspired by a certain popular sale price.
From April, 1989 I bring you...
ON BEING A MEGA-CHECKER
69 69 69 69 69 69 69 69 69
The numbers bellow My heart races This sexual tension I build up through arm extension And retraction Has got to cease!
69 69 69 69 69 69 69 69 69
But how can it When everything In this stupid store Is priced (right) With such a combination Of libido-stimulating numbers?
Posted by Cobalt Kid on :
I love it!
I can't believe I haven't seen this thread! I know I have a ton of angsty teen poetry around my room somewhere--the majority of it utter crap! Hell, I still end up writing utter angsty crap sometimes...especially when I'm feeling extra sappy like I was about a month ago over a girl
I'll post when I find some!
I love the poetry so far! Angsty, sappy stuff is fun to read. Nothing is more fun than remembering when you thought you were *thee* next big poet!
Posted by mechana on :
Love this thread! I've got tons somewhere, if I still have the notebooks. Started when I was 13, gave it up when I was 23 and actually experienced love instead of just wrtiting about it!
And if there is ever an angsty paintings thread, I'm so there!
Posted by MLLASH on :
Cobie, mechana, cant wait to read your angsty teen verse! Or view your angsty paintings!
Any other souls out there who were tortured teens and took pen in hand?
Posted by Cobalt Kid on :
I know I have a really good one somewhere about my high-school crush who I never told until after High-school (she's one of my best friends now). It's as angsty as any teen can get!
Posted by MLLASH on :
The loons, the loons!
Posted by Leap Year Lass on :
Hark!
Posted by PolarBoy on :
My Mikshake death, Brings the boys to the yard dam right it's better than angst I could teach you but I would necrophylia have to Charge!!!
Moden poetry is fun.
Posted by MLLASH on :
This thread is BACK-- with a vengeance!
I need to read embarassing teen/college angsty poetry SOON!
Posted by mechana on :
I've looked for my youthful journals, but I can't find them! They must be buried in the basement somewhere. When my ex finally moves out all his stuff I might be able to unearth them.
Posted by Set on :
Oh, the horror. The teen poetry phase...
Only in a cold, dead world do men speak in words of concrete. A world so old that Death is dead, and feeling proscribed.
This world is the perfect Utopia some seek, with no crime or vice, no sorrow or villiany no freedom or virtue, no joy or heroes. God and Satan sleep together, in matching boxes.
Here poetry is another word for nothing. This world is coming too swiftly for me, who do they think they are? They've mechanized the magic out of my dreams, and all my dragons are slain.
Posted by mechana on :
Last night my friend sent me a copy of a poem I wrote right after college. Not exactly teen angst, but still pretty self-absorbed.
fixed point
being in the middle all things would be equidistant from me Reach and touch any place
summer eyes and willow limbs lush, green and confident
fall but not fallen ironically alive radiant with the colors of experience
bask in the glory and weather baby ultramarine cobalt navy midnight blue skies
be alive in golden love and red blood fragrant and warm ready to burn or to fall underfoot
chances are
bound by the curve but not in the center
Posted by MLLASH on :
Great stuff guys! I'd missed it earlier!
I was FINALLY getting my second bedroom in order today and opened a box of old writings. Found one I felt the urge to share. It's not dated, but after contemplation I knew it was written upon the knowledge that my first long-term and I were never getting back together. This would put it in my late/mid-20s, during the late/mid 90s.
It's untitled but iirc, I was going to title it "Way Deep".
The joyous puppet for you to bring Happiness or reprieve Please note I know of my faults Some heve been extreme And if a start from year 1 Should be all ours I would proceed full-steam.
See I can write for you For the feelings run way deep I understand if you feel not the same of me. I don't ask it of you But I do ask that you feel a fondness for me when you remember how it felt to fall
For I felt your tears drop on my hand this night and can't help but love you, faults and all.
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