…
I’ve got a computer full of unfinished poems.
Poems that describe hate, love, contempt, and confusion.
I’ve spanned my mind coast to coast.
And as I wade through the empty thoughts that fill my brain.
I’m left with the thought “how glorious it would be if i was insane”
If someone verified that these terrible thoughts couldn’t be helped.
That there is a name and condition for people like me.
“Dont worry there are pills”
Filled with chemicals until I don’t know my own name.
Ya that’s it. I don’t need to feel or question.
My reality is obviously a deception created by a perverse mind.
“Look at the results. He is obviously mad.”
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(8 votes, average poem rating: 3.5 out of 5)
The state of things
The coffee tastes like motor oil
Nobody means anything by their smiles
Everything always looks stale
The highlited white pages blend into
the charcoal laminate deks tops
The file folders hang limp in their cages
My body sags amongst an old herman miller chair
My futile attempts at change go unoticed
I used to dream in color as a student
now I dream in black and white
I used to dream of climbing mountains
now I dream of staple removers attacking me
and file folders going up in flames.
I now put the flames out slowly…why rush
I poor the oily coffee over my head
while my coworkers keep answering phones
keep typing..
I wake up and I never let go.
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(7 votes, average poem rating: 4.29 out of 5)
where sirens call home
I put one foot in front of the other
on the search for my lover
she’s a temptress
she leads with glances
and enchants with swaying hips
beware of her siren syndrome
her quite whispers will remind you of home
and every sweet dream you have ever had
but its not for your benefit
take note of rocky shores
too late! you crashed.
Dont look around, she’s not there.
She’s not the type to hold you.
She rather cry alone, because where does a siren call home?
She hurts because she hurts.
No sense of selfworth. Your pain accompanies hers.
And that small connection
Is the closest thing she knows to home.
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(7 votes, average poem rating: 3.43 out of 5)
American Beauty Rose
When cold slag runs in tears down from thine eyes
As bullets and rivets from the industrial skies
Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses
As the sleeper awakens from the hazes and gases
“Cut off the stragglers and the rose is sure to grow,”
Gargled in throaty tones by Old Mother Crow
As J. Alfred Prufrock sleeps quietly in grave
“Here’s a hit of X, you down to rave?”
Take this journey out of time and space
But not before a fat solute to the American race
“Strangelove your bomb is out of control!”
Just sit back, learn to love it, and enjoy the show
“O Grampa, read me the story of how I came to be”
“The story,” he replied, “about the ancient seas,
And the ancient winds and the ancient lights
And of massive primordial beauty bright?”
“Yes that one for sure, I love above all”
My eyes scanning furiously the bookshelves and walls
“I’m sorry sonny,” he chimed, “Can’t do that you see”
“A man burned all our books, by the name of Bradbury”
And thus the American fairy tale grows
As the rising black inches of dark grimy snows
Questions not answers, advice but not truths
And as factiously funky as Washington’s wood tooth
One if by land and two if by sea
And the last on Donne’s bubonic plague carrying flea
Because it’s a short ride and it sure as hell ain’t free
Just make sure to pay Kharon, John D. Rockefeller, then me
-Christopher Nagle
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(4 votes, average poem rating: 4.25 out of 5)
The Final Poem
I couldn’t bear to watch you walk away, it hurt that much.
I didn’t want to hear you say goodbye, because it would mean goodbye forever.
I didn’t expect you to say yes, but I’d hoped you’d at least talk to me.
Now I feel so empty inside, I don’t how I should feel.
But I miss you, I know that, and now that you’re gone I feel broken.
Broken dreams, broken heart, her words still shattering my alternate reality;
My reality, where I had a chance; my reality, where someone might actually care about me.
For a month I’d held on to this illusion, hoping it would last forever.
Now you’ve broken it, and along with it, you’ve broken me.
I convinced myself this was my last chance, and it was.
Living with rejection is hard, and why should I go to the trouble of trying to show someone I care about them, if they’re only going to walk away.
Don’t feel guilty, you’re not the first
But I wish everyday that you and all of them had given me a chance.
At least you tried to be nice about it, that’s more than I can say for anyone else.
Not knowing any of you was tough, for the first few months I didn’t have any real friends.
I was socially awkward, I still am, but do you think I want to be a loner?
Making friends was hard, but compared to what I went through with people I liked, it was nothing.
I’ve made mistakes and done things I regret, but as I got rejected I learned a little each time, about what to do, what to say.
One of them thought it was a joke. She laughed in my face, and when I made it clear that I was serious, she was disgusted with me.
Another I sent a poem to, and she avoided me for months afterwards.
You were the only one who would talk to me after you found out.
This time I didn’t tell you, but you figured it out.
I started with a hi. A couple weeks later I had my first real conversation with you.
Pathetic, but true.
After that, I didn’t know what to say to you, but I tried talking to you whenever I could.
But it wasn’t enough. Too little too late, and my clock was running out.
I spent hours figuring out what I would say to you, but that day when I walked up to you, my mind went blank.
I was a nervous wreck, I was so afraid of what you would say.
But I had the courage to ask you out, and that alone should have made my day.
I was bursting with pride, I’d actually done it. I was so proud of myself.
That feeling of elation didn’t last long though.
The realization of what had just happened came crashing down on me, and I knew it was over.
You said you’d still like to be friends, and like the fool I am, I believed you.
Two days later, I waited at the end of the day to talk to you.
Which meant waiting for you and your friends to come past.
I pulled you aside and mumbled something about hanging out this summer.
You didn’t hear, I had to repeat myself. That alone was embarrassing.
Then you said “oh, no, Erik, I didn’t mean…” she trailed off.
And I just shook my head and ran off, crying.
The next day I had only one mission, to find you.
I desperately needed to talk to you, to fix things.
You weren’t there.
No, on the last day of school, my last chance to talk to the girl I liked, you were thousands of miles away, in Spain.
And I cried.
I almost ended it that day.
I cared about you more than any words could explain.
You were everything to me.
Everything I wanted to be someday, my role model.
Everything I looked for in a friend or someone I liked.
You were everything to me, and now you’re gone, and I’m lost in this cruel world.
As I write this, tears are flooding my eyes, and the pain and feeling of loss is everywhere.
I look at your photos, imagining that I was in them with you.
Imagining that you had said yes.
Dreams of introducing you to my parents, to my friends; holding hands with you in the hallways at school; feeling your head rest on my shoulder; spending hours just looking at each other; spending time and being happy. With you.
I know it will be another sleepless night full of wishes and sad memories.
All the possibilities, things I should have said or done differently.
Fantasies of how it could have been.
But I can’t go on like this.
Living in a dream world and regretting the past.
I have to move on.
But I can’t. Can’t stop thinking about you. About everything you represent. Can’t picture my life without you.
Maybe I should have hugged you and said goodbye.
Maybe I should have told you I love you, and always will.
I should have done a lot of things, but it’s too late now.
Nothing will be the same.
My heart says it is still beating, I feel it pumping in my chest,
But you took part of my heart with you. You will always have it.
An I’ll always have this hole in my heart, tearing me apart.
When all I ever wanted was you, and now I don’t know what to do.
I’m at a loss for words but these feelings keep coming.
Digging up buried memories of the last time this happened.
And wondering when I’ll ever find someone who cares about me the way I care about them.
Until then I’ll move on like I always have.
But I’ll always have to live with these memories,
Of missed opportunities and rejections,
Of girls who avoid me because they think I’m creepy,
Of weird looks from all your friends whenever I talked to you, half a dozen stares burying themselves in my back.
Of the embarrassment as the rumors and gossip circulated the school.
But most of all of your best friend, who came up to me that last day of school and told me I should apologize.
She said the best thing I could do would be to apologize and never think about her again.
Why the hell should I apologize for liking someone?
Why the hell should I apologize for thinking they are mature, responsible, and intelligent.
For noticing how they talk to everyone, and how they never say anything mean and are always kind.
For noticing how sweet and caring this person is, how everyone loves to be around her because of it.
For noticing how they are always smiling and laughing, and for falling in love with that same smile.
For thinking they are pretty, especially their hair and smile,
And for having the courage at least once in my lifetime to actually do something about it,
For having the courage to walk up to you and compliment your hair.
Or to walk up to you and ask you out.
Or to say hi in the hallways.
Or even just to smile or wave.
Why the hell should I apologize?
I’ll always have these memories. Memories of the worst four years of my life.
I’m one of the only boys at my school to have never had a girlfriend.
Senior year of high school, and I’ve never gone out before.
I’ve never been in a relationship, or had anyone like me that I know of.
I can count on my left hand the number of times I’ve hung out with a girl.
I can count on my right the number of times a girl has complimented me on my appearance.
I’m not different in any way from everyone else.
I went to private school for a few years, that’s the only difference.
I’m an average build, very athletic, B student teenager.
I’m not horribly ugly or disfigured, I’m not antisocial.
But to most people it’s like I don’t exist.
I feel invisible.
And alone.
And I thought you would be different, that you would talk to me and be there for me when no one else was.
And I’d hoped you would begin to like me the way I liked you.
And I’d hoped you would change things, and bring some joy into my last month in high-school.
But it wasn’t meant to be.
In these final moments, I’m reflecting on my life.
You and many others were a big part of it.
But most didn’t want to be part of my life, they were busy enough with their own lives.
And now I’m alone. Truly alone. Feeling empty and unloved. And I write this out to you.
Goodbye.
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(6 votes, average poem rating: 3 out of 5)