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On Writing And Words Depression Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About Depression

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Details | Ballad | |

Unanswered Poems

Don’t send me more 
Of your tragic poems
My dear 
Covered in blood
Of your monthly flood
Of tears

Don’t send me more 
Of your angry poems
My dear
Carved with the knife
Of your molten spite
And fears

I’m just a peddler 
With a cart
Bringing discount words
To hearts
Broken hearts across the land
Woman left without her man
Broken hearts throughout the world
Anguished boy and crying girl

Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to read, for me to bear
Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to get from here to there

Don’t send me more
Of your bitter poems
My sweet
Forged in the fire
Of your endless ire
And grief

Don’t send me more 
Of your hopeless poems
My sweet
Ripped from the womb
Of the lonely room
You keep

I’m just a peddler 
With a cart
Bringing discount words
To hearts
Broken hearts across the land
Woman left without her man
Broken hearts throughout the world
Anguished boy and crying girl

Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to read, for me to bear
Your poetry’s too heavy, dear
For me to get from here to there

(You see that shadow on the road
Trudging ‘neath its heavy load
A heart weighed down by sands of time
And your poems only make him cry
And he won’t add them to the pile
So he can walk another mile)

(And he won’t add them
To the pile
So he can walk 
Another mile)

Too heavy, dear 
Too heavy, dear
For me to read 
For me to bear

(They make him sad
Make him cry
Beat him down
Deep inside)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear

They make me sad
Make me cry
Feel as though 
I want to die

(And he won’t add them
To the pile
So he can walk 
Another mile)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear

(A heart weighed down 
By sands of time
And your poems 
Only make him cry)

Too heavy, dear
Too heavy, dear
For me to read
For me to bear



Details | Free verse | |

Tension Waiting

The swordsman who draws his blade
Heart racing at the keening of steel on scabbard 
Tension coiled, poised for the unleashing
Held back by muscles tight with glee.

I am as the soldier, held in stance,
The lioness crouched beneath the concealing grass
As it sways back and forth, as insects sing along the day
Her every breath is halted, her veins do not pulse,
And just as the swordsman stands
They are statues in this moment,
Statues of derision,
Mocking, with their stillness, the very charged tension within.

And I am as the lioness frozen before her pounce
Coiled with motivation and purpose,
And I am as the tongue held with words clinging off its’ edge
Ready to lash out and strike with direction
But I am as the frozen purpose, held tight
Waiting, for a warrior to stand before me
For a reason to uncoil, to lash out with words and pounce.

But I am now as the pen halting before the purest of paper
White and supple, in askance for the lightest touch
A slash of the tip, drawing lines in ink
Lines like a hunter’s bowstring, taut with intent,

As the pen lies frozen above its prey, the falcon petrified aloft still winds
I am the need coiled tight like a wound jack in the box
But alas, there is no victim to frighten,
No pray to pounce upon, no sword or bared neck to slash against
And I am here, with pen frozen, ink ready to be drawn taut
And I have nothing to draw in the ink, no prey or purpose to evoke
I am coiled tight with energy, but it is release that so eludes me,
I am coiled tight with purpose, but it is direction that so denies me.

And here I am, pouncing at ground before me, 
Slicing away at the air around me
Scratching away with a dry pen, on paper still white in askance
I write about…
I write about the coil within, and the lack without
And alone I wonder,
Is it enough, is it enough to go on, a wound up box
Waiting for the slightest touch, the weakest parry, to live.


Details | Rhyme | |

Inspiration gone

As i stare at this paper
empty
without words
it waits for me to write
so my feelings can be heard
inspiration came often
when we were together
words flowed freely
my pen
light as a feather

Fate has a reputation
of never being wrong
it takes destiny by the hand
and grips it forever strong
now this paper
which once was alive
quietly stares back at me
with dull loose leaf eyes
it mocks me
even dares me
to write words i couldn't speak for years
but, without you
the forecast calls for emptiness
with a good chance of tears

Inspiration comes from within
your smile always gave me my start
but these days my pen lay heavy
and so quietly broken
like a roadmap of your heart
for soulmates are rare
to let one go........even worse
now this pen and paper
who once were my companions
are now the very things i curse

So i put my pen down
and tuck the paper away for the night
and maybe tomorrow
just maybe
words i couldn't speak
i'll be able to write......



Details | Rhyme | |

Imagine Depression

As I, sit here and I stare up at the night sky,
The cool air rushes past, and it's a moonless night
I listen to leaves bristle in the gusts of wind,
and the howling of the smooth air, and it's my friend

They say there's always a rainbow at the end of a storm,
well I'm still picking up the pieces while another storm is born
And while my last scar is healing, more of my skin is torn,
These last few months, I can't figure out what has been going on

So I, put these words together like it's gonna change anything,
If anything I'm doing nothing but hanging on to my dignity
I already lost my pride, I put it up on the shelf,
So that when you laugh at me, I laugh along, at myself

Cause nothing you can do can phase me, this life is a maze see
You just gotta stop by and take a glance to learn I'm amazing,
Because I made it here, without giving up,
and there's a long road ahead of me before I blow up

As my body deteriates, my soul is still alive
My mind is ahead of me, I'm living before my time
But in my mind, what I'm doing is right,
And I know I'm losing, but at least I'm putting up a fight

I'm scared off the odds, because the results could be drastic,
I'd rather hide my face, so like Halloween I mask it
And the mask fits, so I choose to wear it
Then like my face, the pain hides, and I can finally bare it

I just, roll along like everything is good,
knowing that I'm nothing, but I'm doing what I should
This depression is taking over, who would've known that it could
I need some shade for a while, so I slip inside of my hood

I try to, dream better dreams and live better days,
Knowing that the end of that road is miles away
There's no stop lights, just an on going road,
I've got no compass, my heart is tell me which way to go


Details | Free verse | |

In the Shallows

           I bent over to touch my toes
               and the ground tore open like a backbone.

I tried to feed myself the sky;
to splice my tearducts into the universe 
so that, when the pavement cried, it would mean something to me.
My fingernails punctured that slimy membrane
congealed with stars, 
and I brought a slice of it to my lips,
hot and slippery like a jellyfish.
Peach juice, chalky-sweet, flowed,
fleshy particles snagged in my teeth,
and the colors erupted within my mouth.

Synthesia took over my lungs.
The hollows between my knuckles flooded with synovia
and all the ectoplasm threatened to separate from my cells
with a sound like thunder.
Diphthong tasted rusty like leukoplakia as it tiptoed across my tongue.
Tomorrow rose like the skeletons of trees, 
groping for a feeling similar to catharsis
[catharsis tender as the broken wings of doves,
crunching underfoot like shattered glass.]

The clouds opened their thunderous maws
- teeth snicker-snacking, lamplight-eyes flaming the color of E#'s -
and consumed me.
I felt my skin turn to something other than skin:
thick and rough with scales,
my fingerprints melting into something waxen, smooth and opaque,
like pomegranate kisses on coffee mugs.
A feeling ignited deep in my structure;
cedillas blossoming like lilies from my lips,
fragmented sentences stretching taut as guitar strings
between my thumb and forefingers.  
A flutter gentle and demonic as Calcifer erupted from my system
- splattering hot and frothing into my hand -
and fluid rushed in.

   I dared to taste oblivion,
       and the sky swallowed me. 

My lungs failed to be lungs.
They flooded with caustic matter,
and I coughed up reflections sharp as fiberglass;
fighting with organs phthisical and sore.
I struggled to find a way to describe it:
the feeling of consuming something greater than yourself,
of opening your eyes and tasting the sound of rain.
It was like swimming, 
but inside out.

            I bent over to touch my toes,
              and my spine tore open;
            the loose laces unraveling, veterbrae poking out
          like the tines of forks.
            I tried to contort myself into the beginning,
              but I only found where I end.


Details | Blank verse | |

Love Song

Here’s what I’m thinking now 
at the end of the world: 

There are no atheists in foxholes— 
no theists in politics. 
If knowledge is power, 
and power corrupts, 
then why did I bother reading you, Cicero? 

Does it matter that I didn't’t love you? 
Would it have mattered if I did? 

There’s a poetry reading tonight 
whence I’I'll chide other poets 
who don’t sit alone. 
I won’t bring up death 
but I might have to breathe, 
even into a mike 
and mouth lines to get a snap or a boo 
maybe even a wince or two. 

Just maybe I’I'll talk about love 
and how following your heart is like following a dog— 
it only leads to vittles and (female dogs). 
But how many times have I used that line 
since the story I wrote about you, 
a witty and sexy and fictional you? 
Most likely I’I'll read something tonight about you. 

I won’t recite it from memory 
because I don’t think about you that much anymore, 
not even when I search for my socks in your drawer 
or when I put on the scratchy sweaters you give me, 
horizontally striped to bring out my eyes? 

I don’t remember your eyes 
except they are blue. 
And I don’t remember you, 
not even when I smell cucumber and apple, 
not even when I sleep on my side of the bed 
or when you walk through the door 
happy to see me; 
even then I don’t remember you. 
Does it matter that I don’t love you? 
Would it have mattered if I did? 

How about a few one-liners 
for the end of days?— 

Depression is self-awareness, 
which you’d know if you were; 
I need Ritalin to listen to you, 
Lithium to hug you, 
Viagra to feel you, 
and Valium to sleep. 

All you need 
is me standing there, waiting at home 
with turns of phrase and word plays 
telling you about why I hate Ayn Rand 
but want to buy as much as I can 
and how I love celebrity gossip 
and detest poetry slams 
and find rhyming trite 
except when I am. 

Hypocrites can still be right, 
which you do understand 
because you nod at my nonsense 
about fighting the man. 

But now, at the end of all things— 
I’m speechless and witless and pointlessly well-read, 
and you’re just sitting there, smiling 
asking me to pass the bread.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Clown The Fool And Me

Many nights I've sat typing things for which none will ever read.
Burning midnight oil only to add to this mornings trash.
Then going about the act of pretending it's all good.

Wearing a mask of my own creation.
These long nights of endless confession to empty wall's.
Hollow thoughts from a bitter heart to scared to exist as himself.

The page lay beaten only to be erased.

the circus of life is a deception for after the show when the dust settles 
the magic gives way to truth.
Tempers flare  and thoose happy clowns appear to be just angry ordinary
people who hate and loath there so called friends.

Dream that it would have all been diffrent if not for this or that.
never taking blame just putting it on others like normal so called adults.

These long nights breed anger and that page takes  the punishment
and like a coward I look apon this act of pure thoughtless work.
And second guess myself wishing only for the approval of people who yearn only 
for the approval  of some one else.
Like hamster in a wheel never getting anywhere.

For who wants to be themself when you can be a watered down version of someone who 
wasnt good to start with.

I cant say the comforts of being a clone wouldnt be nice .
But I never did like things that were nice.
Never cared about being on a list  or kissing someone's rearend just 
to have them talk about me as soon as my back was turned.

Be yourself and cherish thoose who hate  for  the bitter and cruel amount to
nothing  and there only hope is to lure you down there same dead end life.

The clown tries in vain to make you laugh.
The fool doenst know or care if you laugh.
And me Im just the jerk adding to the mornings trash empty 
as the page that sit's befor him.


Details | Concrete | |

I know I can Be a Bad Man

Yeah I know I can be a bad man
But I just want people to understand
I do what I must, I do only what one can

I think about life, I think about my everyday strifes
I know I love you girl you the mama of my children
You already like my wife
I know I have cheated from time to time 
but you the only one who I sleep with at the end of another long night

Yeah I know I can be a bad man
But I just want people to understand
I do what I must, I do only what one can

I know I like to drink yet it feels like I love that alcohol
This liqour and beer is my number one downfall
If it werent so then the crazy *****in my life now I would have never saw
I would have never ended up sitting in prison for breaking the law

Yeah I know I can be a bad man
But I just want people to understand
I do what I must, I do only what one can

It's alright now though because Im back in school
I know I struggle at times but Im reframing from being another lost fool
I know it bull-*****even though many youngsters think that *****is cool
But they don't know if they been where I been and still want to do what I do


Details | Concrete | |

Silent Cries

Im look happy on the outs but Im sad deep inside. 
I know none of ya'll mother ****ers gonna see my silent hidden cries. 
Death's right around the corner so if I die I die with honor not pride. 
In this life of mine everyday is a do or ****ing die. 
Here in the land of OZ you face the truth even if it's a ****ing lie. 
Here you either do or you don't, ain't no such thing as giving it a try. 
Here fantasy ain't *****once the truth hits you finally realize. 
I was once a young lost soul trying to fit in and be just another one of the "guys".
 Smoking weed getting drunk feeling so dam low while getting so dam high. 
Flying so dam low at the same time walking so dam high Im fly. 
I know not one person here can understand or know my hidden cries. 
The only one who can truly understand me is the one who I pray to in the sky. 
I know I look happy but I feel like *****from side to side, 
I need to better understand my own silent cries......


Details | Ballad | |

The Forgotten Ones

Forgotten somewhere in the midst of steel and concrete. 
Bound by shackles and chains even in our sleep. 
Living like wolves preying amongst lost sheep. 
Concrete tears and pains so mindfully deep. 

Forgotten by those on the outside. 
We cant even run no where, we cant even hide. 
No choice left but to sit and fight. 
In here only the strong minded survive. 
Truth be told in here what is wrong is right. 

All most os us got is wasted M&^*&F*^&&ng time. 
We sit back and work out and write heartfelt rhymes. 
Not to be a victim of prey we all trying. 
Many stories are told, songs are written of truth over lying. 

We are gone for the moment but not truly forgotten so the hurt we must not show it.
 We are to old while we young to be crying in front of full grown men for this is a time we must out grow it.
 There aint no way out this hell hole and we all know it. 
Feelings of hopelessness surrounds te heart to the point where we can no longer control it.
 
In here there is only time no fun. 
Darkness fills night no light shone in here from the sun. 
Only by our own selves we may be out done. 
BECAUSE IN HERE IT FEELS LIKE WE ARE TRULY THE FORGOTTEN ONES....


Details | Alliteration | |

Our Very Own Lies

I can see the truth clearly now, and the truth is we live in a world where almost everything is shaded to a lie. (We act as if we are someone else and just can’t be what we want to be.)
 Truth remains strong that our very own fables cover our very own two eyes. (We only choose to see what we want to see.)
 Only fibs and tall tales are left on the local store corner….for they the only things left on the shelf that we can buy. (Many Profound Truths remain imprisoned while too many lies are out there living free.)
 I look at the ground because I can’t look at the sky; I laugh more with death rather than crying with life. (Shakespeare once said “To be or not to be” but I say F%$k trying “To be” because I’d rather “Just BE”.)
 Living amongst a world of shaded illusions upon the mind eye, upon which we have many wrongs more than our rights, yeah I know we all want peace but yet we still choose to fight. (We long for death but fear it; we want to go away but don’t know what will happen when we leave our loved ones with certain grief stolen away in the night by death like a thief.)
 So why is it so many of us continue to stare at our everyday truths as if we are blind, as if we cannot see our own struggle through our very own lies……..


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Controlling Men: Physically, Mentally, and Verbally Abusive Men

All men (the loser boyfriends/husbands) think that it's their right to be physically, mentally, and verbally abusive toward their female companions (girlfriends/wives), well they're wrong. Most guys are always beating their girlfriends/wives up every single day just because they didn't make their men dinner, do chores around the house, or whatever. It seems that these womanizing losers are way better than their women. Actually, they're not; they're idiots. Controlling these women and being physically, mentally, and verbally abusive toward them don't make these Neanderthals men; they're like childish cowards. All guys think that they're the only breadwinners in their families and the women aren't. But guess what--they're not; some of them don't have jobs. And does anyone knows what gets on my nerves? Men always cheating on their girlfriends/wives with other women, getting them pregnant, and not taking care of the children they already have. And those controlling, abusive men, they're always telling their female spouses/lovers what to do, what to eat, where to look, and who to talk to. I mean, who are these womanizing losers to judge other men and to boss these women around? I mean, who does that? Everybody doesn't even know why they'd bother spending the rest of their lives with those abusive idiots. This whole saying by these controlling abusive men have been getting on everybody's nerves and my nerves, as well: "You're-not-to-speak-unless-spoken-to," this "You're-not-to-talk-to-your-family" ordeal, this whole "You're-not-to-have-guy-friends," and this whole "You need me! You're nothing without me! You have no money! You have no friends! Everything's in my name: the house, the cars, clothes, everything I own! You're useless! You're worthless! I own you for life! And you will respect me!" Where I come from, the rest of us nicer guys, we treat our women with the respect they rightfully deserve. The last time I checked, the mothers have raised their sons to treat women and other people with respect, but they now know where they've gone wrong with those womanizing clowns. My suggestion for the women is for them to leave their abusive husbands/boyfriends before it's too late because if they don't, they'll end up in the hospital or the morgue. To be honest, these women, they never should've met, let alone dated or married those abusive men to begin with. And if these abusive men think that they can control those women forever, they've got another coming.


Details | Rhyme | |

Blank Page

Too long have I been staring at this cruel blank page before me, My crazed, hysteric mind screaming and imploring I know there is a message that's dying to come out— I need to fill this confounded page without the slightest doubt! It's a simple predicament to manipulate, Into a mass of thought A futile attempt to insinuate, Weak hints are left with naught I sit here in silent desperation, What can fill this page? I slap myself in indignation, My eagerness becoming rage! Like roaches sporadically running from light My thoughts are but a haze The words I write just don't seem right, On this cruel blank page!


Details | Verse | |

Haunting Verses

In the pocket of an old coat about to be donated, I stumble upon words scribbled on a pad as I watched my husband die. “Your love is the most precious thing in my life. Do you know I see you as a shining star -- my mentor, my lover, my best friend” Preparing to move, I find a letter. a note from the first boy I ever loved. “I want to date other girls; but I want to stay friends.” Why had I saved this? To renew the pain again in days to come? We never did stay friends. In my desk I discover a verse I wrote while flying to Dad’s funeral. I’d wanted to read it at the service; my sister said it was too amateurish. “For every step my father took, My child’s legs took three, ‘Daddy, please,’ I called to him, ‘You walk too fast for me.’ “As Dad lay dying carrying years That numbered ninety-three, I could not help but say aloud, ‘They went too fast for me.’” And now as days are numbered, my muse stepped out the door, leaving me in God’s hands. Don’t know if I’ll be writing anymore.
*Entry for Carol’s contest “Pieces of Paper...a Poet’s Heart” By Carolyn Devonshire


Details | Alliteration | |

We Beat Until We Battered

We sometimes drink and smoke so much We get beat until we are battered 
Our dreams were like one giant wall of glass where upon they were destined to be shattered
 Broken in a heap of glass we now stay occupied where lost souls continue to gather
 Dark yet so desolate living amongst those were nothing in life but a quick death seems to matter
 It seems as if the harder we try the more below we get needing somekind of ladder
 All I hear are silent screams among gossiping chit chatter 
Our truth is getting skinnier while our lies are well fed by the way the are getting fatter
 Crying souls overcome those that are filled with laughter 
The clock for many of us gets slow but our life train to death only gets faster 
Many of us which remain lost in addiction looking for a positive leader, a mentor, some kind of master
 
But when shyt hits the fan we must remain strong even if we just lost someone close and are feeling sadder
 If life is to throw us those curveballs in a the ring then its time stop mr nice guy and get badder
 You must endure the shyt that you got to endure even if it gets your hands and feet a little tathered
 Life can and will get you drunk so handle your drink or let it bring you down until you can no longer stagger
 You must tell yourself **** them and everybody else because you still got skill even if you aint got swagger
 Just tell yourself "**** they judgements" because you know in your own eyes you still look sharper than a dagger
 SO QUIT ACTING LIKE YOU AINT NEVER BEEN MENTALLY BEAT UNTIL YOUR PERSONALITY WAS BATTERED.....BECUASE IT WHAT YOU MAKE IT IN THE END THAT TRULY MATTERS!!!!!


Details | Lyric | |

I Can't Say It Without You

I was your never ending composer
We spent many a nights, and many an hour together
But now you’re lost inside
And I can’t find my way, again.

( chorus )
Cause I can’t say it without you		
It hurts to be without the feeling		
Never knowing when it will return		
But I know that you would stay with me	
If you came back, again some day		
But till then I’ll wait till you appear.	

I really miss the way you make me feel
People said we were meant to be together
Why’d you leave me so unexpectedly
I hope you come back soon.

( Chorus )

It’s been two months since I’ve written you
All I’ve got to show is crumpled bits of paper
The passion and creativity is now gone
So come back home so I can work it out.	


Details | Alliteration | |

Writer Crazy

Life is so crazy/ 
Death so busy it never get's lazy/ 
Thoughts blurred and blinded by true lies that they always get hazy/ 
The mother ****ing devil is always trying to chase me/ 
But I'm stronger than that I won't ever let *****like that ever ****ing faze me/
 I no longer care if any muther ****ers want to over or under rate me/ 
I've already been ****ing up on my own lately/ 
I take your ****ing criticism greatly/ 
*****es I'm too real for any of you fake mother ****ers to fake me/ 
I'm too ****ing still in God's foundation to let the devil shake me/ 
I'm the general, the king of my own *****nobody can't ever break me/ 
**** what people say for I am the maker of my own *****people can't ever make me/
 I'm the leader and deliverer of my own *****you can never take me/ 
Who want to question *****about *****mother ****ers thats why I'm Writer Crazy.....


Details | Verse | |

The Poetic Blues

I think I self-sabotage unknowingly 
because of fear
So my message goes unheard because I’m afraid to let the people hear
And end up drowning in the poetic blues
doubting my ability to write about the truth;

I dug deeper and deeper into myself trying to write a poem good enough to be free of judgment
Then I stepped out on faith and suddenly I was triumphant 
and my writing grew 
and I was loving it
I had finally passed the fear of speaking and caring about who the fu*c! was judging it

As I wait to be inspired for the next poem, 
I sit and think alone and drown in my sorrows
Listening to jazz, blues and a.m. radio
trying to find an excuse not to perform at the SLAM 
because again I can’t think of a damn thing to write…..
Drowning in poetic blues
Will this be the one that will be thrown away and never be used 

Or will this be the one that transcends the others  
and finally prove that poetry is blues and blues is poetry and hip hop and jazz and r&b, 
Poetry is music and the words dance around in my soul 
and I am free once they become spoken 
In the meantime the paper is where the words will rest 
until the silence is broken

Drowning in the sea of proper delivery 
My voice, my stance, my intensity
How will others interpret the words that I’ve chosen so diligently?
I wrap my soul around the possibility that none of the words I choose – 
will keep me from becoming deluged and trapped by the poetic blues

Somehow my heart refuses to accept that I don’t deserve to have my words heard 
and it takes over this whole process
No more time for shrinking and feeling less
I was born to  make my words manifest light
I am a gorgeous medium to the truth yeah that's right
I was sent here to give you a piece of good news
Remember that God is with you when you get
The poetic blues


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Death Of A Believer

        DEATH OF A BELIEVER
The death of soul steals slowly through the years
the fog of mind that's never known to be;
brought on by laughter, love, and hate and tears
the fate of all that few can ever see.

It brings the withering of life, and all its leaves,
once green and shining in the morning sun,
now setting on it all, in evening grieves
for lack of interest in what life has done.

Compassion leaves the mind, once fired and prime
and old and tired now beats the heart we knew
life now mundaned by passing of all time,
there's nothing left the heart would like to do.

     Old man, you're numbered to your final breath
      and no one cares for all your sweat and tears,
    your rest is not until it's done in death,
      but keep the faith in what you've done for years.
            © ron wilson


Details | Couplet | |

Locked Inside

I needed a way to release from inside,
All of the tears that I never cried,

My head was exploding from all I kept in,
While onto my face I glued a fake grin;

I hid inside my suspicion and fears,
And locked them away for many years;

They built up a wall and trapped me within,
Until I didn’t even know where to begin;

I had every emotion locked in my heart,
So I started to write, I made it my art.


Details | Alliteration | |

One Among Many part 1

Chapter 1 
As but only one young lost man in a great land I sometimes don’t want to see what I see in life but death causes me to look. I don’t want to hear the things I hear but have to admit the things here that I’ve heard. I don’t want to be guilty today it’s why I continue to strive past my past for innocence in the near future. I don’t want to feel what I feel but after another day in this dark place has gone by I can’t hide what I have painfully felt. As but one young man I wonder why I question others motives and still can’t see the answers to my own as if I know all the answers to life when I don’t even know the true cause of my own. I wonder why I am happier at times but more often than not why I continue to be sad. I look for ones in groups of twos and get lost in groups of threes, but don’t get even me started on the groups of fours. On the outside world I am lost yet inside myself I know I am found, I holler silently at night while I quietly pray during the day. As but only one young man I can only do what is best for self-first if I want to start making a difference for two. 
Sometimes life for one can be fun, but on the reservation more often than not it is boring and dull. On the reservation I found serenity and solitude in the hills but I also found old savages and young Satan’s in the towns. I see beauty and peace in Mother Nature but I also found violence and ugliness among my very own in the neighborhood. I see not what I see and I think not what I think for I feel what I see which leads me to think. I choose rather to just be rather than not be what other people want me to be. I see what I see because I haven’t really got a choice in what I will see, I’d rather choose to just say that I saw. Outside people can’t make one see what I already choose not to see for I see what I see rather if they want me to see things their way or not. I can’t feel what they feel unless they feel what I feel and live where I live and be where I am to know where I truly am from to understand the thoughts and feelings of not only a young native of struggle, but as a person worldwide no matter the skin color.


Details | Sonnet | |

Another Sonnet Written at a Coffee House

You sink into the bosom of the chair 
And wonder if I too once sat amidst 
The chattering, white coffee sipping fare— 
The lonely writers ‘pining for a kiss. 

Did I peer out over the porce’lain mug 
And purse my vulgar mouth over the lip 
My eyes a’roll behind my glasses’ fog 
My writer turning phrase and spinning quips? 

Did I curl my toes under my feet 
Threading my fingers ‘round the scolding cup 
My yellow molars grinding to the beat 
Of meds-a-glee and glutt’nous caffeine ups? 

No— 
I didn't’t sit cross-legged and introverted— 
I flipped through glossy pages and consorted.


Details | Alliteration | |

One Among Many part 2

I live in a place striving for sobriety surrounded in alcohol looking for happiness trapped among our very own sadness. I hear my people’s laughs and I hear my people’s cries, but most of all I see their dreams because their dreams are my dreams because we remain not against each other today as enemies but hidden friends united through culture, language and blood. I laugh with my people and of course I cry with my people and I fight with my people but most of all I continue to dream with my people. I know who I am and where I am from to know where I been to still hope to where I am going to go. I feel darkness engulf not only myself but also almost my entire reservation’s race, no matter mixed or not because soon our culture and language will have no face without any more light to shine upon it. I know where I lived and still live to know if I will truly go where I truly want to go in life before I have my one walk with death. I know by a long shot that I am not the best but by a close hit on the reservation’s target I could be better. 
I take a stand against self to stand against others to better a worsening crowd of many young lost indigenous souls waiting to be unknowingly found and waiting for something similar to what I’m about to write. I take a stand for self so that others know that we aren’t all lost and we can and will be found with the true hope of no one’s but your own. I take a stand because my brothers and sisters wont, I take a stand because now days most the people around me or within me can’t or don’t know how, I take a stand for the children who don’t have a father and mother as I once had, I take a stand for my unborn child almost here, I take a stand for courage because within me is filled with fear, I take a stand against because the alcohol and drugs within me now I just can’t stand, I take a stand for those around me who cannot stand, I take a stand for a culture dying on its knee’s trying to get back up, I take a stand for the forsaken yet to be forgiven self-stand.
 I patiently wait, lying away in the darkness searching for light even though I can see the light I just don’t know how to get on thy path to the light. I am not alone, I know for a fact that I am not alone in my thoughts and feelings about life on earth here. I can see our pain, I can hear the hollers and screams, I can feel your anguish and I can smell our destruction. I walk through the reservation valley of darkness as if I am but a blind witness to our own destruction upon where many of us go unknown truly forever in depths of time, in the depths of death.
 I know that I cannot give in or give up on a dream of a people’s dream where the buffalo in our young hearts and minds may roam around free and where the wolf warrior chief may rise above all odds and become thy greatest modern day warrior, the people seek him, the people crave him, the people need him, the people need someone to rise if not geographically the worldwide mentally.


Details | Concrete | |

Contradicted Convict Finds Concept

I used 2 think I know what I wanted out of my confused soul/
I want not what I have ,I want what I never had/
I want my time 2 stop, yet it still continues 2 go/
I strive 2 be good but almost always end up in the bad/
Livin in this American Struggle I was once happy, now seems like Im forever sad/
Im a man of values and peace but find myself in corruptness and fights/
In prison I had many dark days and very few bright nights/
No matter how wrong I was I am still 100% right/
Im searchin for inner peace but find myself so self-conflicted/
I want this but rather have that, Im so self-contradicted/
I find my heart fightin lovely thingz my soul so badly hated/
I want 2 be normal but find my talents by so many overrated/
I find it so easy 2 forsake that I rarely myself ever forgive/
My mind wants 2 die while my heart still wants to live/ 
I want to be recognized that I go unnoticed and lose track of the real me/
So I came 2 a concept of appreciating the fact that Im now free/ 
Now I just want to kick back an be me....


Details | Free verse | |

Inspiration: our Daily Bread of Life

Inspiration is all around me.  It swirles in the midst of darkness and deceit.  
Blinded by dry tears...the deliverers of this blessed word find me when I know not what to look for or where...
I and my kind walk in circles looking for and end to pain, deceit, betrayal, unlove, uncareing.  We are looking...but not invane.  

When the circles we walk in seem endless take heart and know that it is not a downward spiral...  Keep looking and you will see...  
     (C)....Catherine Buchner    2012
















Details | I do not know? | |

REST IN PEACE MUM ANN BROWN 18 AUG 2011

MUM ...

WHERE DO I START? I DON'T THINK THERE IS WORDS , TO EXPLAIN HOW I AM 


FEELING ABOUT THE LOSS OF YOU... BUT I WILL USE ALL THE STRENGTH YOU HAVE 


GIVEN TO ME , SO I CAN GET THESE FINAL WORDS OUT THE GUILT , SADNESS AND 

REGRET  FROM NOT SEEING YOU LIKE I WANTED TO  SO ****ING MUCH ,

 THEN THE PAIN OF NOT HAVING  A CHANCE TO SAY "GOODBYE" TO THE MOST 

BEAUTIFUL MOTHER COULD WANT, AND YES MUM I'M TALKING ABOUT YOUTO HOLD 

YOUR HAND, TO SEE YOU SMILE , TO HEAR YOUR VOICE, WOULD MAKE MY LIFE MORE 

WORTHWHILE. YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO LIVE, BUT YOU NEVER TAUGHT ME HOW TO 

LIVE WITHOUT YOU I MISS YOU SO SO MUCH MUM, BUT THE LOVE IN MY HEART FOR YOU , WILL MAKE SURE 

YOUR LIFE , LOVE , WARMTH AND TOUCH , WILL LIVE ON FOREVER , 

IN ME I KNOW THAT YOU CHANGED ME , JUST FROM YOUR 

PRESENCE...THATS'S HOW STRONG YOU WERE MUM I KNOW YOU HAVEN'T LEFT ME , 

FOR THE LOVE IN MY HEART REMAINS , YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO SUFFER AND YOUR 

BODY WILL FEEL NO PAIN...... GOD TOOK YOUR HAND , AND MADE US PART , HE CLOSED 

YOUR EYES , AND BROKE MY HEART ....FOR ALL THE TIMES WE HAVE BEEN TOGETHER,

I WILL NEVER FORGET YOUR FACE.

THERE IS NO MOTHER ANYWHERE LIKE YOU,

NO ONE COULD TAKE YOUR PLACE.

IF ONLY I HAD KNOWN YOU WERE LEAVING,

I GUESS I EXPECTED YOU TO FOREVER LAST,

ALL OF THE DREAMS OF US IN THE FUTURE,

ARE NOW BUT MEMORIES OF THE PAST.

GOD TAPPED YOU ON THE SHOULDER,

HE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO KNEW,

THAT YOU WERE GOING WITH HIM,

TO THE SKY SO BEAUTIFUL BLUE.

ALTHOUGH I MAY NEVER SEE YOU MUM,

ARJAY WILL BE BY YOUR SIDE,

HE'S GONNA HOLD YOUR HAND,

AND LEAD THE WAY,

FOR HE WILL BE YOUR GUIDE.....

I LOVE YOU MY MOTHER.....
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU UNDERSTAND, 
DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU KNOW,
DON'T TELL ME THAT I WILL SURVIVE,
HOW I WILL SURELY GROW.
DON'T TELL ME THIS IS JUST A TEST,
THAT I AM TRULY BLESSED,
THAT I AM CHOSEN FOR THIS TASK,
APART FROM ALL THE REST.
DON'T COME AT ME WITH  ANSWERS THAT CAN ONLY COME FROM ME,
DON'T TELL ME HOW MY GRIEF WILL PASS,
THAT I WILL SOON BE FREE.
DON'T STAND IN PIOUS JUDGMENT OF THE BONDS I MUST UNTIE,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO SUFFER,
DON'T TELL ME HOW TO CRY.
MY LIFE IS FILLED WITH SELFISHNESS,
MY PAIN IS ALL I SEE,
BUT I  NEED YOU,
I NEED YOU YOUR LOVE UNCONDITONALLY.
ACCEPCT ME IN MY UPS AND DOWNS,
I NEED SOMEONE TO SHARE,
JUST TO HOLD MY HAND AND LET ME CRY,
AND SAY, MY FRIEND I REALLY DO CARE
Mom you mean the world to me
It’s hard to live without you ,You were always by my side
Through thick and thin you helped me


Details | Free verse | |

The Drought of Word

I am empty; nothing have I now to say. 
The stream of my soul from where sentiment once flowed; now runs dry.
An unexplained drought of words I know not why.
I am in desperate need of showers of inspiration and illumination.
A thousand words I would pray; for this drought to end and once 
again take up my pen.
 Alas, my pen no longer speaks, but in silence now offends. 
 Writer's ink disappears upon a white bleached page;
the quill has nothing to lend.
 It is as though a fire shut up in my bones; a burning heat within.
My heart aches for a single drop of brilliance
as I seek for something to say, and earnestly pray for inspirational rain.
For streams of refreshing I long, OH, that the heavens would open and return 
my poetic song.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Being Treated Like Trash

Every day, some people have always been treated like trash, especially by their tormentors. It's always been like that since the day they met or whatever. And come to think that he or she is way better that the other makes every individual sick to their stomachs. The fact that day in and day out, he and/or she is still treating each other like garbage, especially because of either a disability, a religious background, or any of that stuff. The only reason why the victims will have put up with those bullies is because of their parents and/or his or her so-called "friends." One person being verbally abusive to another is one bad thing, but treating him or her like a piece of trash is as troubling and hurtful as being abusive to one another physically, mentally, or verbally. It makes these people sick just thinking about it, even their parents. And no matter what those hard-working people do, no matter how hard they try, they're still being treated like trash by these so-called "big shots" who are way better than them. It seems to the ones who are way better than the others are so ungrateful, especially when these people have known them for years to come. On top of all that, people like his so-called "girlfriend," people like her so-called "boyfriend," and people like his or her so-called "friends" will have the audacity to disrespect each other. And no matter that day in and day out, these people don't even have the guts to stand up to their tormentors, including the ones who are way bigger and better than other. No one should be treated like trash and quite frankly, these people are sick and tired of it. Why can't some people start treating the others right instead of treating them like dirt and who are those bullies to pass judgment on them? Right now, I wish that these bad people were to stop being self-centered, stop treating these people like trash and to stop being arrogant. And if those tormentors continue to treat them like pieces of useless garbage, that's going to be a problem. Something must be done right now.


Details | I do not know? | |

Light child

A child is born
all loving, forgiving, honest,
a special child of the light,
eyes wide open, awake,
the wolves are happy,
to feast at the table of its suffering.
Feed it just enough love to survive,
milk it of its light, little by little
suckling its love, its forgiveness,
a sweet delicacy for a vampiric world.

The child becomes a young adult...
control, conformity, submission,
overwhelming expectations,
no freedom, no love, no peace,
a barrage of others suffering,
cant get it off me, out of my head!
out of my heart, it hurts!
Its all too much! 
Why do they all hurt me?
Why are they not honest like me?
How can they be so mean to me?
What is wrong with me?
I just want a taste of love, 
to remind me why I am alive!!





Details | Prose Poetry | |

Diamond Toes

When life seems empty
And there’s no place to go
Unlike most artists I became Salvador Dali
 My Life daily tasks as a poet
It’s allow my spirit to go from high to low


 With my blessed hands and my tired feet 
  a hard working peasant woman with diamond toes
  I set the countdown each passing day while I slave away.

Those Infectious bole place in high positions,
 Governor of all the Nurses
Using their authorities to weaken the spirits of the peasant
And the down trodden souls who line your corridors both day and night

 however, this  burden that seem too heavy to bear now....(bibilical
God will lifts away on the wing of prayers.