Posted by David A. Roehm Poets are a strange breed When I was a child, I thought language was free In defiance of the Academics Can't explain this urge to create People need an outlet to vent, to scream, to cry (C) 2002 by David A. Roehm
on 8/18/2002, 9:48 pm
Under-developed thoughts I scribble
Ghastly but genuine, I strive for communication
Like putting my lips close to where you can hear
In the quietness of eternal solitude
So that others can take the ride
Oblivious to the task of creation, they
Envy rules too much in certain close quarters and
They try to break the young ones down
Resorting to devastating attacks
You can see the insecurities in their words
All of the writing had no set rules or patterns
Like an empty canvas that was yours to design
Like a blank piece of paper waiting for thought
Such thoughts fly in the face of
Adversity that sits in the corner with scorn
Oblivious to the negativity and the pointless
Ostracizing that comes through
Life lived from a suitable distance
Like children, we question everything
Always questioning our safe havens
Cigarettes and coffee -- the two essentials
Establishing our place in the world.
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