poetry of jen
i was there when the storm started. i was the first to see the
lightning. i was the first to hear the thunder. i was the only
one who cared. i felt the rain. i listened to the voices
echoing throughout the house. i ignored the arguments. but i
heard my name. i was there when the fight ended. i was the
last to see the nothing. i was the last to hear the silence.
i was one of the many who did not care. i felt the pain.
were am i in relation to those that surround me?
I'M ALONE I'M DEAD THEY LIVE AND BREATHE AROUND ME I AM NOTHING
TO THEM AND THEY MEAN NOTHING TO ME WE EXIST IN THE SAME ROOM IN
DIFFERENT REALMS THEY CARE ABOUT THINGS I'VE NEVER HEARD OF THEY
LIVE IN THE WORLD OF CURRENT EVENTS I EXIST ONLY IN THE PAST OR
IN THE FUTURE I'M DEAD I'M ALONE
it matters not that i feel pain, but that i feel pleasure. it
matter not that i am depressed, but that i am content. it matters
not if i am dead, but if i am alive. so be it.
WIRED * WOUND UP * CUT LOOSE FROM THE NORM * HYPER * ALL THAT *
PLUGGED IN * TUNE IT OR DIE
winter
snow falls to the ground a cold breeze the ground is white the sky is dark moonlight
reflects off the shiny ground and dances with the snowflakes sitting outside i
can't feel my feet numb fingers cold hands bringing a cigarette to my lips and i
inhale sweet smoke blowing out seeing my breath mingling with the wind and being
carried off to somewhere else staring up at the bright stars snow falls on my face
and clings to my eyelashes tears thawing my face my cheeks are wet why must i
remember the pain the night is dark my hands are cold i pitch my cigarette and
close my eyes waiting for the pure winter snow to cleanse my soul
one day i went outside and decided to talk somewhere. where would i go? i began
walking and soon found i was following the route to my old elementary school. how
long had it been? four years since i last walked those hallways. i glanced into
windows as i made my way around to the playground equipment. the school had
upgraded. a giant map of the united states was painted near a hopscotch grid.
televisions were placed in the corners of the rooms. yellow highlighters sat in the
children's desks. and the old orange rugs we sat on to listen to stories were now
bluw. i sat on one of the steps leading to the sliding board and looked to the
jungle gym we played tag on (or they played tag on). i looked to the
corner where i would watch the other kids laughing. playing. having fun without me.
i would pretend to read as i watched them playing basketball. tag. soccer. kickball.
chinese jumprope. dodge ball. having races. running around. doing cartwheels.
breakdancing. as i wished i could be like them. instead of being me and having
straight hair. glasses. reading all the time. i hated those days. i got up and started
on my way home, not wanting to remember what it had been like then. i walked and
pushed the memories out of my head. my glasses are now contact lenses. and the
orange rugs are now blue.
just as i think i'm getting somewhere in my life something else happens to destroy
my hope once again.
one day on my way to english class, i heard someone yell the work "freak" down the
hallway at me. i caught up with my friend kelly and said, "someone just called me
a freak." "well, aren't you used to it?" she asked. "yeah," i replied. "but
why aren't they used to me?"
delinquent
one day
past present future
needing nothing
wanting something
and trying to find myself
experimentation
sex drugs rock n' roll
elements of teenage life
so what's the point
i don't want to listen
to reason or otherwise
others
trying to explain
there is no explanation
for what i do
one day
my life
going nowhere
is it because i rebel
or because
i do what i want