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Best Poems Written by Zach Nathan

Below are the all-time best Zach Nathan poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Zach Nathan Poem

Race Against Time

A race. 
Far flung and far fetched. 
Begin's now. 

A race for time. 
Against Time itself. 

The sands are flowing,
shifting like the Saharan dunes.
This is a race...a race against time.

The world, it's collapsing.
Everything.
Disasters, natural and our fault.
Increasing, more often than not.

A race...the race against Time. 

Solutions to be found, 
far out and uncomprehensible.
The world itself is reversing. 
Anti-clockwise. 
Turn around, see the light.

Time's luster is dulling,
fading with age. 
Fading away, rusting. 
Platinum facades, wiping away.

Implosion, destruction. 
Insanity taking over.
Mindless death,
the curse of our race.

This is a race. A race against Time.

This is The Race...

What time is it? 

Why, it's 3 till midnight. 



The Race Against Time.

Details | Zach Nathan Poem

All Day Long

All. Day. Long.

I sit there, in my chair, All. Day. Long. 
Glaring at people I hate. 
The people who are but mere memories.
Mere dust in the wind.

All that I know has blown away, 
taken by my faulty actions.
The dull replay of Meteora fills my room with lyrical insanity, 
tempting me with beat and anger. 
But I’ve realised it’s not the music that’s dull.
It’s myself. I am dull. 
 Dull, empty, detached, dead. 
My actions have caused this, my mental instability.

My arms and wrists, they’re crisscrossed with faint pink patterns,
the product of my attempts at reattachment and relief.
Eternal smiles of violet beneath my eyes, wrinkles surround my lips. 
My skin, yellow from the drugs, reflects weakly the sunlight from outside.
I blame everyone but myself, my personality rotten to the core.
My lungs, as well, shredded by smoke that acted like needles.

I couldn’t help myself, I jest in my mind. 
I’ve been trying to shove the blame onto something but myself, 
only to find there is nothing to blame but myself.

My body has been wracked to this state, 
a state well beyond my mere 29 years. 
My mind, hanging from a cliff. 
Threatening to free fall at any moment. 

As I sit there, in my chair, 
memories of an age long gone from my life flash before my eyes.
 A girl I loved, laughing.
 Her and I lying in the grass, at a lake’s edge.
A cat akin to night, eyes green as mine, purring softly in my lap.
Flashes of guns, from a war forgotten by all but me. 

As I reminisce these memories, a spark of feeling—pain.
Upwelling in my gut.
 Through my chest.
 Stabbing into the side of my head.
The pain triggers a new wave of recollection. 

Again, the girl. My mind so foggy I can’t remember her name. 
Dancing slowly to a song no longer heard of. 
Snow. A blush of the cheeks. Hands in mine, warming and comfortable.
The pain in my head intensifies, blinding me. 
I fall from my chair, the first time I’ve moved all day. In 2 days.

Shaking my head, I pull myself up. Standing, I look around. 
Another flash of pain, followed by a sensation I’d all but forgotten.
Her lips. At dusk. The very first time.
I stumble away from an unseen being, crashing into the wall. 
Blinking my eyes furiously, I right myself. 
Waiting a moment, I sit back down. 
And let the dullness take over, the pain ebb away, 
and the memories to replay.
All. Day. Long.

Details | Zach Nathan Poem

Impossibilities

Impossible

Today you may win, but tonight you shall lose.
 In words of a great man, 
“The over bearings of a sustainable society will eventually collapse by the efforts of the very people it has sworn power over.” 

So beware; the tides are shifting as the night arises, the rains will fall, and the winds howl their lonesome tunes. 
The sun shall shine only once the bonds of your evil embodiment break.
 Until then, 
though, 
however barren the future may seem, 
hope shall break through all. For that is our purpose; hope. 

Hope that we are not ruled by one man or woman. 
Not ruled by petty restrictions or ignorant policies. 
Not governed in every single way in the vain confidence that we can be tamed… 							
- You blind yourselves with the Impossible.

Details | Zach Nathan Poem

The Forest

The Forest

I walk through an ancient, gloomy forest.
Everything is shrouded in a dark fog,
flowing over the contours of the earth.
Uncertainty floods my mind, warping what I see and hear.
In the distance, an owl faintly asks his question.
I spin around, again and again. 
Faint padding. The cracking of a twig.
Wind howling, fear takes my head. 
A flash of grey, gone as if never there. 
I flit about, glancing this way and that…
A faint moon reveals my horrors.
A half dozen wolves, grey and black,
crouching before me, ready to snap. 
I stumble away, my back now against a tree.
They close in, readying themselves. 
I unveil my dagger, but to my dismay and distress,
the wolves are like no other.
Transforming on spot, into those whom I love, 
I think, “Am I strong enough for this?”
Before I conclude, they strike with speed.
And before I conclude, my horrors are gone.
Before I conclude, I’m hearing Death’s psalm.

Details | Zach Nathan Poem

Friends For Life

A cat, snoozing on my bed, black as night.
Curled around, his tale in his face. 
Eyes flicker open, revealing eyes like brilliant beryl.
A soft meow issues from him, implying that he want's a scratch.

He is a beautiful cat, 
my best friend...the friend who has always been there for me. 
No matter what. The friend I've had the longest.

For all of my life, I've had to move every 3 years.
The burden of an army brat.
15 years I've had to take that, 
my friends being ripped away, 
just as I'm really getting to know them.

Can you imagine that? 
Not having a friendship that lasted for more than 3 years?

Then, when I was 7, Sammy was brought into my life. 
A miracle. A street cat, disowned by the family of his owner, 
left to fend for himself,
in the busy town of Barstow, California. 
Nobody wanted this cat, the obsidian feline, 
the bringer of misfortune. 

I was going to adopt one cat, a calico. Then I saw him.
All alone, being hissed at by the very cat I was to adopt.
Right there I decided.
As so many children say for other pets. "That one."

From then on we had a friendship, 
no matter the times. 
My best friend, to the day. 

A friend like no other,
a cat unlike any other,
why should anyone ever bother?

Because they make the best friends,

Details | Zach Nathan Poem

Stage Fright

Silence...


...Just wait...


Wait a couple seconds...no, really.

Just WAIT...


In the distance, 
a tremble of the air itself.
A subtle quiver of it's molecular structure.
A charge, causing your hair to come alive.

*CRACK* A singularity so vivid, so dazzling,
it blinds you,
forming indistinct bubbles in your vision.

Then another, farther away, not as luminous.
Another, and another. Dozens of fractures in the sky,
shining with voltages so high, so powerful;
temperatures blistering hot,
Searing and broiling anything they touch. 
Fiercier than the sun's corona.
Vapourisation. 

Retorts of thunderous applause,
following seconds behind, build up.
Unsure at first, escalating. Deafening.
Frightening all into submission.
Applause for such grandeur. 

Overlooking the dark and forested valley,
we observe nature's perfect opera.
Above us, 
angry violet mamma roil,
bubbling over the base of the storm.
Faded flashes,
illuminating the clouds, 
casting mauve highlights and indigo shadows.
Far off applause, 
the audience of another, higher up show.

The tempest isn't quite done yet,
the show must go on. 
Not 10 metres behind us, 
a tree explodes, its trunk boiled and charred.
Simultaneously, a roaring, reverberating crackle-snap ignites the air, 
blasting our eardrums past their record limits.
A roasting heat wave blows over our heads, 
shoving us forward, searing the tips of our hair.

Screaming and shouting, we stumble away, 
no longer amazed at this horrifying opera.
Tripping down the slope,
we roll into the thick forest below us,
colliding with trees and shrubbery.

More flashes, tailed by the sky guffawing at us,
as we've become the joke of the show.
Horror surfacing on our faces, 
we blunder towards the jeep.

Only thing is...
all that's left of the jeep is a smoldering carcass...

Real fear sets in, 
as we discover ourselves 
Trapped.
Isolated.
Entirely alone.
And up on the stage of nature's prime opera.

And we're the laughing stock.
The dispensibles.

No way out.

Details | Zach Nathan Poem

My Grandmother

My grandmother. 
I love her so. 
She is my favourite, 
person in my family.

She loves to bake, paint, and sew.
She loves me, I feel, the most. 
We both are artist,
of nature and of love.

We love to bake,
though we can hardly ever see eachother.

She lives in Michigan, and I in Germany. 
But whenever I can, I love to see her. 
She is that sort, the sweet and round kind. 

She is the grandmother version of me.
She loves to read, loves to write. 
We are almost exactly alike.

So here's to my grandmother,
the best in the world.
Here's to my grandmother,
MY Grandma. 
Grandma Challenger.

Love,
Zach

Details | Zach Nathan Poem

Love Hurts a Lot

Love. Hurts…A LOT.

I love you. You love me. 
But you don’t seem to get it. 
Or maybe I don’t get myself. 
I feel with you like I have no other,
it cannot be described in any sane terms. 
But is that love? 

Over the years, I’ve been hurt.
Broken hearts, broken smiles.
I guess love hurts. 
A LOT. 

You think that I don’t love you,
in the way that you love me. 
I know this is true.
I don’t want it’s terms. 
I used to think that you were my friend. 
But no. 
I want to be with you.
Forever. 

Look at me.
 I’ve been depressed longer than I can ever remember.
More often as well. 
Ever since I left you.
Being with you, it makes me happy,
When nothing else does.
I can barely live without you. 

I draw on the pain its caused me,
my love, incinerated to smoke
I watch it drift away. 
Every day, more smoke.
Less me. 

Dull echoes throughout my heart, 
whispering of long gone love.
Emptiness. 
Love. 
Pain. 
You.
Me. 

Us.

Love. It hurts. 
A LOT.

Details | Zach Nathan Poem

Look At Me Now

Time crawls by, as if determined to torture me in this state. Why won’t it go by faster? I want to get away from here. Away from this world. 
	Have you ever had the strong desire to just…go outside at midnight, and walk around? Happens to me all the time. Night is my favourite time. I can actually think when it’s dark. My thoughts aren’t jumbled up, they're actually faster. 
	Life…can be annoying. So many people to make fun of you. Even if they don’t say it out loud. Just the way they act or look at you. It hurts. I’ve been bullied since I was in 5th grade. Picked on, shoved, and made fun of. You know what? LOOK AT ME NOW. All that bullying, the constant attacks on my already fragile esteem, look at who it’s made me. Emotional, likeable, versatile and dynamic. Without all of that, I wouldn’t be who I am. So thank you. You’ve effectively made a guy who HAS A HEART AND SOUL. 
	But who knows what’s going on with me? Over the years it’s added up. Now for unapparent reasons at random times I get SO depressed that I don’t want to be ‘here’ anymore. I just want to move on, get out of this life. Start a new one…you thought I was talking about killing myself? No. I’m not like that. Anymore. At least I think I’m not… 
	What I REALLY hate is being called ‘emo.’ My sister calls me Goth. She doesn’t even know what that means! Anyway, emo. WHY?! Do I look emo to you?! Maybe I do. And you know how many people look at me as if they're thinking “oh, he’s emo. He cuts himself and cries because he’s a wimp.” Well guess what? THAT’S NOT WHAT EMO IS. Emo=Emotional.  Yes, if you were wondering, I am emotional. And yes, I do get depressed a lot. And I like emo music (its good music, wtf?) But I don’t like to be called emo, or scene, or Goth, or whatever. I may not show it, and I may agree with you on it when you call me it, but it pisses me off. Big time. 
	I once took a personality test. Out of 100, I got an 70 in the emotional category. The average for a 15 year old guy like me is 50. Give or take 5. I also got an 82 in the creativity/intuitive category, and I'm 82% introverted.  And 77% Perceiving instead of judging.
	So please don’t call me emo. Because I really am “emo.” But I don’t like to be called it. People always think I'm weird when they hear that pertaining to me. And it hurts. So Don’t. Do. It.

Details | Zach Nathan Poem

The Hero's Tune

Smoke drifts across the field,
explosions, distant and blurred.
Machine guns discharging rounds,
Scorpions launching slugs.
Flashes of fire, 
plasma blue, violet and emerald. 
Constant noise, deafeningly loud.

Longswords rocket above, 
Banshees screeching past,
Seraphs wheeling about. 
Carriers, 
their strange curves and mauve plasma,
float ominously above, charging.
Beams strike down, waves of heat,
splitting of the ground beneath my feet.

Before me, as I run, 
my comrades are impaled,
by phantoms.
Cyan double swords,
carving the air.

Glowing jade trails knock back my lines,
followed by lilac needles,
exploding on contact.

A whisper of the air,
as if it were shivering itself.
A mirage.
Moving fast, growling at the sight of me.

Searing pain,
the worst I’ve ever felt, 
skewers my stomach. 
I look down,
into the eyes of a monster. 
Onyx eyes, large and livid,
Four jaws, razor teeth. 
Gilded armour, highlights of burgundy.

Suddenly it screams, and I feel more pain. 
Looking past this monster in gold.
I see another. 
Black and platinum, 
Faceless and unrestrained.
Blood red blades of light,
lancing the beast’s golden chest.
Indigo flows from the charred wounds
 as the other draws its weapons out.
The monster slumps to its knees,
Gurgling and choking.

I fall to the ground as well,
 sliding off the cyan sword.
Night is creeping on my vision,
whispering of relief from the hurt.

There, standing above me,
the black and platinum being.
Robotic in appearance,
human in movement.
Staring down at me. 

The last I hear,
from this monstrous savior,
is a strange tune. 
Issuing from its helmet.

“Olly, Olly Oxen Free”
“I am Spartan 0D- One Three”