Best Peoplelost Poems
To all of us
Who have lost someone
To all of us who have lost something
A void, emptiness
A feeling of the no more
And nevermore
To those of us
Who never got a chance
To say I love you
Or I’m sorry
Or I care
To those of us who thought
There would be a tomorrow
Or a next time
To those of us who wish for yesterday
To relay the feelings of today
I say this to you
Do not wait for tomorrow
For what can be said today
Do let pride steal your chance
Do not dream of what you want
Do not wait for anything
To confess what you want to say
Tick Tock
It’s a race against the clock
Time is nothing but a fuse that burns
Convey your thoughts to those you love
For otherwise an empty heart yearns
Empty and unsaid
Thoughts of love
Fall silent upon the ears of the dead
Think about it !
Eric (and sometimes not)
The madman chalked red X’s
on the sidewalks of the houses
if he suspected
or had evidence
that people there
were unkind to each other,
or their dogs.
When he was a young man,
he studied hobo signs
chalked on railroad cars, mailboxes, fences,
buildings in barn yards,
in towns he probed.
Signs that said “doubtful”, “mean dog”,
“be ready to defend yourself”,
“dirty jail”, or “nothing doing here”
sent him away
or might draw him closer
to investigate.
He was a harvest hobo,
following the crops in the West.
Once beaten senseless, and left to die in a Fresno alley.
They laughed when they punched and kicked him,
stealing his knapsack and his kit.
The beating injured his brain.
He was never the same.
He lost all inhibitions and good judgment.
He couldn’t remember what rows to pick
when he picked grapes in Visalia
and oranges in Porterville.
He lost track of time, and had to write everything down.
He made little sketches so he could find his way
back to his box under the railroad bridge.
At night, he played his harmonica
until he dropped into dreams of his days as a boy
or his job with the city.
He dreamt of the beautiful woman that gave him
a whole pie when he begged for food at her door.
He dreamt of the old, black man that looked into his eyes for a long time before tears
came.
The old man saw himself in his eyes.
He saw a man with even less than himself,
and it was more than he could endure.
The hobo impressed the dirt path
in front of the man’s simple cottage
with a new mark – a mark never seen before.
It was an austere eye,
a large tear in both corners,
made with polished pebbles
and shells he carried in his pack.
Lust and greed drives the hearts of man
We get our fingers into everything we can
We have all we need yet we want more
And we have no idea for what is in store
All this lust and greed has Calloused our soul
In the process we have lost all control
There is no longer humanity
Have we finally lost all sanity?
What no one can see through the gloom
Is the dark impending doom
It is closes all around
It soon will completely surround
We have nothing with which to fight
Even though this is a battle we did incite
We are no longer the light
We have become a blight
3/6/09
Depression comes in many forms
We all have our story to tell
For some it's just the loneliness
That becomes their private hell
For others it's the worthlessness
They think that no one cares
Their lost in a world that no one sees
That's filled with silent stares
Sometimes it's the darkness
That fills them with despair
A bottomless pit of emptyness
That hurts too much to share
Why get up tomorrow
As they lay in their bed of gloom
Sometimes they feel invisible
In a filled but empty room
But for all of us who have been there
The one thing we all know
Depression can best be described
As a lost and tired soul
Six foot one, with eyes of steel
Just one stare would make you keel
When he walks in a room, people feel his presence
All women want him but probably just for the essence
The voice of an angel with the look of a thug
But he’s kind and caring and would give you a hug
All the talent in the world can do what he wants
Sex and drugs mostly because that’s what he flaunts
He’s the voice of a generation, The best singer in the world
But unfortunately for him, he just lost his girl
She’s gone forever and can’t comeback
Believe it or not he’s on the same track.
So much money and so much fame
But that can never seem to hide his pain
He has lost all interest in the music he’s made
Drugs have control and now he begins to fade
We heard nothing from him until 2002
That was when we all found out, that he had died too.
Empty in his apartment alone and rotten
Layne Staley was my hero and will never be forgotten
Mad Monkey
The last summer
The last breath of the world
The last leaf
Has fallen
Bud open
Will not return
From the fell
Chain saw
The arms and roots
Branches filigree
Lungs
Breath no more
Of life
Continuous
Mad monkey
Set a fire in your house
Plagiarise the healing mists
As commonplace
Throw your misunderstanding
Into the briar patch
And hang from the bow
The gaunt edifice
Of fraudulent civilizations empire
The last piece of the puzzle
In the jigsaw of denial
Grabs its placatory moment
And sucks through the straw
Its sweet tasting milk shake
Impoverished soil
The last winter
The final gust
Of clean air
Wilted flower
Suffocated
Mad Monkey
Chokes on gratifications
Plethora of extinction
Tosses inconsequential litter
To the ground
Of its own foot prints
Poisoned
By its own greed
For life
The lost summer
The lost breath of the world
The fatal leaf
Is falling
Open bud
Can not return
From the fell
Chain saw
Of time
He lost his woman long ago
Like cupid with an arrow but no bow
Time moves swift but for him it’s slow
Always staring at his two feet
Constantly going against the flow
He walked alone down the street
His mind racing with a cigarette
Recalling his life but with regret
Wishing to be dry but getting wet
Love once tasted so sweet
Only wanting to forget
He walked alone down the street
His face was wrinkled old
Like stories often told
Holding his jacket in the cold
As if a soldier in retreat
Life’s so quick to unfold
He walked alone down the street
Rain begins to fall down fast
He’s hoping to plunge into the past
A child watched him as he passed
Not looking for a win but defeat
Thinking he wont be able to last
He walked alone down the street
The blue-eyed child chased him down
Splashing the puddles on the ground
As he touched his hand he lost his frown
And his broken view was made complete
The lonely man was finally found
They walked together down the street
Our dying adolescence
looking for answers
To revive our souls into adulthood
When the days transform into years
small ripples change into whirlpools
To resolve our inconsistencies
Yet some can't merge the two reality's
our childhood with our adulthood
and become lost in life
They become lost to spiritual treasures
settling for silence than absolution
That would keep their world turning
Learning from inadequacy
from others instead of from within
Dictated by everyone's cascading decisions