PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

(I) Am I

Am I the idiot?
Am I the asshole?
Am I the loser?
Am I the dream?

What is a person to everyone else?
Do they see you,
The way you see yourself?
How would you know?
Do you ask?

Am I smart?
Am I stupid?
Am I fun?
Am I boring as hell?

Life’s a bitch!
So they say
Not for me!
Life isn’t all that bad...
It would be nice to share it with someone else,
But you can't always get what you want,
Especially when no one else knows who you are.

Am I the envy?
Am I the hate?
Am I the Anger?
Am I the Happiness?

Which one am I?
Do I pick just one?
Or do you pick for me?
What is it

Am I,
Am I your friend?

(II) City In The Mist

Lost in the sea,
It’s all the same.
Nothing to do,
Except get high.
Smoking Mary Jane,
And wasting the night away.

We run a different path,
Try to stand out in the sea.
The sea of boxy houses.
When it’s all the same,
What must we do to survive?
What must we do to be different?

Desperate heart,
Beating down below.
Scratching at the gates,
But can't seem to escape.
Suburbia is the new hell,
And the mad young man can't be happy.

The mad young man,
The quiet young man,
The old young man,
The childish young man.

(III) The Mad Young Mans Final Stand

The mad young man,
Stands on the hill.
The cold wind bites into his face.
Yet he stands tall,
In face of wind and snow.
Never falters,
Never fails.
Always there,
Support to the family in need,
But whose there to support him?

The snow melts at the ground around his feet.
The cold rain whips into his face,
The ground erodes around his feet,
As he sinks into the darkness.
With no one there to help,
He fades into the abyss.

(IV) The Life More Ordinary

At work at nine,
Home at five.
The dinner in the oven,
The TV in the living room.
Never changes, never fails.
The American Dream?

Our country hopes to be great, the best.
Yet we all settle to be the same.
Everyday we become more the same,
More ordinary, more like you.

(V) The End

We will never be happy,
Till we're six feet under,
Or till we're in a bunker,
As the bombs blast overhead.
War at home, war abroad.
We fight with ourselves,
And everyone else.
Yet no one stands up,
Takes the lead,
Tries to change the system.
We fight to fight, not to change shit.
The corrupt survive,
And the weak die,
All the while,
Were driven to our homes.
Hide in the shelters,
Fear the nuclear holocaust.
Will they not be happy till were underground?
The mad young man,
Grows up with the latter,
Is it any wonder then?
That he is as mad as he is?
Frustrated and hurt,
How can anyone be happy?
Knowing all we have to live for,
Will be wasted away in our petty ways.