Water, Tree, and Fire (a haiku):
This poem was written probably sometime in 1993, for a class assignment.
It is interesting, and I have re-used it at least two other times for
class assignments. I really don't know what it means. If you have any
clue, please tell me. The words just poured out of my mind, through my
hands, and onto paper. They just sounded cool. (And yes, I know that the
last line is 6 syllables but should be 5. I just couldn't come up with a
way to express the same thought in 5 syllables and still have it sound
that poetic).
What Time is It?:
Ok. So this isn't exactly a poem. It is a creative endeavour, however. It
was written after about the 10th person in about 30 minutes had asked me
"What time is it?" Why can't they buy their own damn watch?!? It is
constantly under modification, as I find more moron-mind-blowing big
words to put into it.
The Candle:
This poem was written after a two-year poetic slump, in 1995. It was
written directly after a woman who, at the time, I was romantically
enamored with suggested I use a candle as inspiration for poetry. I did,
and this was the result. The part about the souls on the fingers of Satan
is a reference to a piece of vivid imagery in a role-playing game, in an
adventure written by a friend of mine. Beyond that, I'm not totally sure
what it means.
Creation:
This piece was written about 5 minutes after "The Candle". I was
suddenly randomly inspired to write something like this. I have been told
(and agree with the observation) that it sounds like a scientist
attempting to write poetry. I don't think there is much room for
interpretation, and it was meant quite literally when I wrote it.
The Scream:
After I wrote "Creation", I turned off my computer and went to bed. About
20 minutes later, before I had fallen asleep, I was suddenly inspired to
write this, and jumped out of bed to do so. I was feeling a little
depressed, and this poem amplified the depression. The imagery is
powerful, but, again, there is not much room for non-literal
interpretation.
The Shame:
Something said in a conversation on IRC inspired this poem. Someone had
said that they hid their face in shame (it was over something like
spelling a name wrong - nothing serious). The response, by someone else,
was that they "find [person #1's] face, and pull it out". I was
immediately inspired, and wrote this poem in the course of about 5-10
minutes. I was not depressed at all when I wrote it, or afterwards. Only
after I read the poem out to the people I was talking to on IRC did I
realize that it was rather depressing. The line about "they were
right / you never hear the sound" is in reference to the fact that
because bullets move faster than sound, "you never hear the one that gets
you". There are some vague references to my life, and the fact that my 3
best friends had recently all just moved away to college was involved.
I am a Nerd:
This one was written over the course of several hours. Not all of this
happened to me, although some did. I took all of the stereotypical images
of what happens to a nerd, and threw them on paper (screen). It is an
angry poem, reminding me a bit of Alanis Morissette songs. The anger is
justified, however, as anyone that has ever been a nerd knows. It is
pretty literal.
The Road:
This and "Breathe the Night" were inspired at the same moment. I was
talking a walk down a country road in the dark with my good friend. These
two poems are two halves of the same inspiration. I cannibalized part of
"The Road" for use in "Breathe the Night", so it is not as it originally was.
"The Road" is one of those poems that I have no clue what it really
means. The words just flowed. I welcome any and all interpretations.
There are a couple areas where it can be seemingly self-contradictory,
but that is part of the point.
Breathe the Night:
This is more of a reflection of personal philosophy. I pretty much know
what it means, at least on the surface. Deep interpretation is welcomed.
I really like the deep imagery it evokes in my mind. It is a very
emotional, powerful poem (to me, at least).
My Life is a Quentin Tarantino Movie:
This poem was actually inspired before "The Road" and "Breathe the
Night", but it wasn't actually written until after they were. It is a
response to the chaotic, weird, and intertwined existence that I lead. Im
not really sure what the last two lines mean. It is probably an ironic
reference to the weirdness of my mind. It's not nearly as good a poem as
I wanted it to be.
Sadness:
This poem was lost for a long time, and recently found. I had originally
considered it unfinished, but have decided to put it up for completeness'
sake. It's not terribly good, but it's probably the only poem I've written
where I made a concerted effort to rhyme.
I Miss The Moon Sometimes:
This is my first creative effort in over a year, and I'm quite proud of
it. It's about a girl I knew, and, unfortunately, loved. Those of you who
know tarot cards, and know a bit about her or her type, should get the
reference of calling her the moon. I think the other references and images
are self-explanatory. This poem actually helped a lot with the healing
process of finally getting over her, even though its been months since
that fateful time.
Burning Wings:
This is another poem, written much later, about the girl from I Miss the
Moon Sometimes. It was thrown together on one of those magnetic poetry
kits on a friend's refrigerator. For a magnetic poetry kit poem, I think
it's pretty good. The title came months after when I finally decided to
put it online.
Cassander's Lament:
For those of you not familiar with Greek mythology, I should explain the
title of this poem first. There was this story about a woman named
Cassandra, who was blessed with the power of precognitive foresight, but
cursed with the inability to affect the future even with this knowledge.
In my own life, I often predict bad things are going to happen, but noone
heeds my warnings, sometimes least of all myself. I have taken to using
the name Cassander to describe myself, which is, to my ears, the best
modifiction of Cassandra to a male name. The poem was written after a
rather painful event in my life, and sort of speaks for itself. Any part
of it that doesn't speak for itself, I'd rather not discuss in a public
forum.
Wicked Catch-22:
This poem was written under the working title "Stress", and I contemplated
the title "These Friends I Keep" before finally settling on it's current
title. Everything in it is true, and currently happening at the time of
it's writing. The stressors aren't written in any particular order,
just the order they came to me (so don't try to judge their
magnitued/importance to me by which one is first). Also, there are a
couple lucky people that have more than one stanza about them. Most of
these are people that I care about a great deal, for one reason or
another.