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Best Poems Written by The Stranger

Below are the all-time best The Stranger poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | The Stranger Poem

Post Physics Test Dissilusionment

As I sit during the aftermath of my physics test, another failure, no doubt
I begin to reconsider my existence, my place on this earth
Was I meant to be an obedient slave? Indentured to the restrains of this desk
And the piercing, judging eyes of my teacher
Looking on in disgust
At the pupil who could, with just a little bit of effort
Be just like her, another tortured soul enslaved to the classroom

Maybe if I spent more of my free time memorizing
The formulaic approaches and numerical values
(She just shook her head at me, as if I'm supposed to feel bad)
I could be commended for my efforts with a Letter
An A for my time
So I could take it and paste it to my college resume
Mail it off to the judges of my future
Weighing my faults and blessings on their Leber scales and calculators
To decide whether or not I'm worthy enough of their glorious institute
Will I wear the golden shackles, or the silver?
Tied down to the textbooks and degrees of my owners
They own me, I have no choice
I cannot be "successful" in life without them
Without the awe inspiring degree pinned to my cubicle wall
As I spend my future in some worthless job making greed efficient
Amassing credit and funds in a lifetime of repetitive motions
Type this paperwork, stamp this letter, fax this document
Locked in an artificial setting, mind restrained to the irrelevant 

If only I were look outside, and see the wondrous collection of the universe
The birds, the trees, the sky as they all go unnoticed
Limitless in its expanse, divine in its inspirations
Because the ants underneath do not look up
They do not stare into the infinite celestial beauty that's above
The mystifying energy of the Galaxy, enshrined in its cosmic purple light
Instead, the ants look down, heads bent at their mindless tasks
They are doing physics problems that they won't remember when the bell rings
They are wasting away the time until their next meal
Their next drink
Their next nap
Their next animalistic instinct 
Their next death
They do not think
They obey
They do not want
They exist
There is no cognition
Merely obedience
To a system that is rigged by the puppet masters of society
The ones we do not see
And never will
Because we do not look up

Grow old and die
Spawn of the earth
In your cesspool of ignorance and filth
Die spawn
Die
Die
I think my teacher just growled at me
Let her growl
It only proves my point

Details | The Stranger Poem

Journey Through the Nightmare

I took a walk on a midnight road, to search for that which was yet untold
My quest was one of question, to find meaning to my mind's night action
To the dream world state, where I left through reality's gate
And set out along my mind's path, blindly into the void's wrath
At first, total darkness, then swirling figures appeared as serpents 
They contorted and writhed, first slow and then swift
Right before they wrapped themselves around me, I detected a shift in the scenery
I was transported, to a field that was distorted
It quickly became cold, and the whispering darkness told me my soul had been sold
I cursed my rotten luck, I was not made for this, I suck
I should have stayed inside, it's a shame that I even tried
Why couldn't I be like regular people, who don't interfere with evil
Why couldn't I be caught up in distractions, instead of plagued by all these questions
But I could not turn back now, so I continued somehow
Proceeding through the storm, that was beginning to take form
Before my eyes I saw its mass, a seemingly impenetrable impasse
Ominously dark, I decided to watch it from a lonely park
I sat down on the nearest bench, when I was struck by an awful stench
On the floor next to me, was a decomposing body
It's face was being eaten by maggots, a feast on its putrid guts
But upon further inspection, the body was my own reflection
This was a shocking realization, and I decided to abandon
My post, for I was afraid that I would become the next host
For the maggots to lay, therefore I would not stay
I ran from the park, into the night's pitch black dark
I encountered many figures along the way, who whispered to me to say
Come play with us, but they were too suspicious
I ran and ran, and came to a madman
He chased me with an axe, trying to add me to his body stacks
But catch me he did not, for I was not 
In the mood to die that night, instead I would chase the light
That appeared at the end of the street, which is how I would beat
All the monsters that were chasing me, on their unholy killing spree
I reached the end, but was stopped by a bend
In the space-time of my mind, that I could not unwind
And I realized I was in a nightmare, which was the reason for my scare
I hastily woke up, and began to develop
Writing down what I had seen, but I could not reconvene
All of the characters in the play, that my mind had that day
They were too insidious, destined for the trans-dimensional vortex
Of the subconscious mind, which would be unlocked in due time

Details | The Stranger Poem

Maybe It's For the Best

The night is my time for thoughtful contemplation
Seated at the window, pen and pad in hand
I watch the night sky, the lovely moon
The stars staring back at me
I wonder if anyone else is out there
In that starry expanse, on a planet far, far away
Looking at their own night sky
Wondering if anyone is out there as well
I guess its likely that we'll never know
But maybe that's for the best
 
I hear the sounds of the night
The crickets chirping their nightly song
So loud for such small bodies
My footsteps resounding solemnly on the pavement
The only humanoid figure for miles around
And the tapping of the nearby swirling lake
Its ripples forming in the moonlight
I wonder how it is down there in that aquatic world
Swept up in the current of a greater force
Preyed on by the never ending chain of bigger fish
I guess I'll never know 
Maybe that's for the best

My only companions are the trees
Those silent witnesses of the streets
Who seem oddly more watchful at night
Whispering their leaves in the wind
Is their nighttime hymn one of beckoning
Or warning?
I wonder about the secrets they might hold
Standing for centuries, you'd see a lot of things
I guess I'll never know
Maybe that's for the best

Or the street lights, the guardians of the night
Forever piercing the darkness with their beacons
Or solemnly losing the battle when they flicker off
After a final stand against impending doom
One of the saddest sights to see is a dead street lamp
Overrun with its greatest rival, darkness
I'd wonder what it's like to fight the demons of the night
Every night, for years on end until you flicker and die
But I know what's its like
Because I do the same thing every night
Day in, and day out
Maybe that's for the best

Details | The Stranger Poem

The Realization

The world once had so much mystery
So much allure for the unknown
As children we looked up at the stars in wonder
What could be out there? who was watching down on us?
We would explore every street looking for the mad man
Or the Boo Radley of our block
We searched every park for buried treasure and new creatures
The lakes for sea monsters and mermaids
And each other for new ideas and fun times
But eventually the realization set in
That there were no madmen, no magic, 
No buried treasure at the end of the secret cave
People hurt more than helped
And not many ideas were shared that went beyond the basics
Mostly just gossip, food, and sex
The realization set in that there is no bigger plan
No one is watching down on us 
Or looking up
We are just mildly intelligent primates inhabiting
A nondescript rock
That orbits a giant ball of gas and fire
Amidst billions of similar celestial bodies
In an infinitely large, silent universe that 
Doesn't seem to care one way or another 
What we do or say
No, there will be no storybook endings
No divine inspiration or love at first sight
Just the deadly, or should I say lively
Monotony of life
Day in
And day out
Until we die
There is just Life
And Death
Nothing else

Details | The Stranger Poem

Abbreviated Rant

Slander my work
Disregard my views
Disgrace my ideas
It only proves my point
Our society is set up to destroy
Not people, that would be too obvious
But people, their minds and souls
In ignorance and doubt
You can't do this
You can be this
You aren't smart enough
You aren't rich enough
Embrace the material 
Do your job
Pay your taxes
Play nice with others
Shut up and sit down
Like good sheep
Like good ants
Like good slaves
Good

Details | The Stranger Poem

Laughter of the Clowns

My mind grows bright while the lights dim
A wondrous vision of love and whim

A single star dots the night sky
Cherubs weep and the angels cry

Summer's embrace leaves a winter's regret
Of the moments you'd shared with whom you met

Cloaked under a blanket of dreams and sorrow
You rest your head until the weary morrow

Cover your mind with an earthen shell
Or risk the reward of a tortured hell

The fires will burn your eager skin
You love the flames and the pain and the angel's sin

Curse me God and color me black
Carry on with your demonic attack

As lightning cuts the mortal sky
The air takes away your earthly high

Scenes of wild red and somber blue
The Clowns will laugh when they get their cue

Blood runs deep into the ground
Screams are the only sound

That, and the laughter of the clowns
Burned and broke and bloodied towns

Details | The Stranger Poem

Love Without Hope

Love did not begin without Hope, in the beginning, there was plenty of that
Our souls used to duel above with Cupid and his cherubs in archangelic combat
You see, Hope did not flee until I realized I could not have her, not now, not ever
For I was invisible now, and she was blind, with eyes solely reserved for Another.

Details | The Stranger Poem

Balcony Breeze

Nighttime breeze on a hotel balcony,
Cocaine remnants at the nostrils
Sift slowly from my face
It's fine, I'll be back for more soon enough

The night lights are healing,
So are the soothing sounds of the city.
Why is the city awake?
They should be sleeping,
But no one is, not me, not the naked girl in the room
Not the people next door, or across the hall
Or in the next building, or anywhere else in the city
Not the stars, or the moon
Not even the sun, it's just hiding for the night.
Like my guilt and insecurity, oh, and regret
Which is locked away for now,
Hidden by the high and the girl,
But when the sun comes back,
So will the feelings that I struggle to hold back
Because, just like the sun,
No matter how long the night seems
To be a sweet release from the heat,
It always comes back.
Always.

Details | The Stranger Poem

Outside the City Where the Pomegranates Grow

Outside the city where the pomegranates grow
Just beyond the trees, topped with snow.
A boy wanders; where will he go?
The answer to that, nobody can know.

The Stars shine down, bright and well.
But his mind drifts to thoughts of eternal torture, in Hell
The fire that burns forever is where he will dwell.
Or is that already on Earth? His thoughts would not quell.

Upon his death, the end of time
He would be locked in stasis, an eternal mime.
So he formulated his thoughts in lines of rhyme
The words would remain when he took to the slime.

You see, the world fought him hard, they didn't want his gifts.
Through the darkness, he had to sift.
And enter his subconscious' unholy rift.
Floating in the void, he would drift.

The crowds mobbed him as if he was a Monster.
Angry faces stared back, cruel and sour.
The firelight illuminated the men who sought to devourer 
And burn and destroy his words forever.

So that no one would see the light inside.
The glorious ebb and flow of a beautiful tide.
That took his mind on a transcending ride.
Through the journey of space and time, an atheist's divine guide.

So the boy walked on, past the trees topped with snow.
Past the river that continued to flow.
And hurt himself until his heart ran slow.
Until it was the end of the boy that nobody would ever know.
No tomb or marking, just a body that rotted in the soil below.

Finally there was nothing left, except dust that the wind would blow.
And the unnerving silence sweeping over the field,
Just outside the city, where the pomegranates grow.