Sunday, October 16, 2011

Week 1- Part 2: "New Poems"

Glad to be Sad

You wonder why my poems are sad.
It is not because I am feeling bad.

When I write my poetry,
I am not in misery.

It is because my poems come from deep inside
and happiness I wear with pride.

Is it wrong to write of death so much,
on the corpses of trees that we now clutch?

The Roommate

There is a roommate inside my thoughts,
it does not share, it bullies lots.

Inside my skull a parasite,
It feeds on stress, it is not right.

I can't get it to obey,
It will always get away.

It will not let me sleep,
it plays loud music of woes to keep.

I try to get it medicated,
I get myself interrogated.

But it will always live with me
a roommate of catastrophe.

My Roommate

The fool tries to control me,
this will only bring him agony.

I have no interest in his wants,
I shred his brain with my taunts.

He feeds me everyday,
I thrive on mind decay.

I corrupt his every thought,
I love it when he is distraught.

I live inside his head
I will not rest until he's dead.

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