You slipped away from me, like the robins and cherry blossoms when spring ends, and the fractured nights of winter come. I will search the midnight alleys, and the mountains of Chile. I will listen for your sweet laughter. I long to taste your honeysuckle lips, and hear your heartbeat. If I never find you, I will be a lost leaf on the lonesome vagabond wind.
This is a repost. Here is a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XN9CrqlcvIY
Killer who cares Suicide of dreams Offer blank stares "Know what it means!"
I have to shout! When you won't hear I must walk out You slay what's dear
You built this place You burnt it down Confused, your face Why I'm not around
You are growing That is very swell I am here showing Your empty well
Slashed and burned Salted the earth Joy you have earned But us? A dearth
Our world's casualty? I feel this remorse... If this you too can't see Words have no course
Synopsis with Artist's intent as requested:
Remorse reflects the painful awareness and acceptance of a fractured relationship's reality, capturing the speaker's disappointment, frustration, and ultimate resolution.
In this piece, the speaker confronts a partner who repeatedly invalidated and failed them, despite opportunities for growth and change. There’s a sense of betrayal woven through lines like, "Killer who cares / Suicide of dreams," illustrating a partner who seems apathetic to the harm they’ve caused. The choice to portray remorse as a double-edged feeling—both directed toward the partner and reflective of the speaker’s own regret—suggests an internal struggle to move past something significant but irreparably damaged.
The line "I have to shout! / When you won't hear" highlights the speaker’s sense of isolation in this dynamic, emphasizing the frustration of unreciprocated effort. Despite witnessing moments of the partner's progress, expressed in, "You are growing / That is very swell," there is an underlying sadness. This growth, while positive, feels superficial or irrelevant to the speaker's own sense of hurt, captured in the line, "Your empty well," indicating emotional exhaustion and a lack of genuine reciprocity.
The closing stanzas convey a resigned understanding that while both individuals may grow and change, they cannot find resolution together. In the phrase "Words have no course," the speaker acknowledges the finality of the separation, where even conversation cannot mend what’s broken.
In summary, Remorse is a piece of acceptance and sorrow, underscoring that while personal growth is possible, the bond between the speaker and the partner is too damaged to continue. It’s a final gesture of understanding and letting go, even as both continue on separate paths of transformation.
The world’s fattest people, packin’ on the pounds Driving to McDonald’s whenever the mood And then to the beer joint, drinking those rounds While complaining about the price of food
Ok, I'm not paid to think (like the TV shouting heads), I have no real voice (vote), and certainly no credentials - but I'm as invested in America as any high-school citizen can be. I've pledged allegiance 3000 times (hhmm.. do they doubt our loyalty?) and when it comes to loving America, I'd have to say my classmates and I are at the center of the spell.
I'm afraid we're growing up in the age of hate.. the age of phony outrage where each position large or small is high noon and violence is underfoot even when policing ordinary citizens.
We won't address the multitude of old problems in this new age.. we'll just unleash a marquetry of half truths to dispute the proven until unreasoned arguments reach their paranoid fullness.
The real world is alarming enough - lets just push that away and ignore it - while we're at it lets **** shame the poor, the old, the sick, the unemployed, the hungry and the hand of mercy.
I realize America was never one moral atom bonded for better.. but those anvils that forged us appear neglected or forsaken. I'm afraid what's happening now, what we're seeing and hearing now, is a symphony of erosion - that by the time I have any say at all, the middle class will be gone - america turned slum - where even the voice of despair will be turned traitor.
We'll only be able to see our greatness in museum souvenir shops where nothing is affordable and everything is made elsewhere.
This was one of the short essays for my Yale application. I post it now as an election classic 🙃
When I am gone, oh, let me take my rest On a plot of land where trees are blessed To spread their branches, push out their leaves Above the silent dead to comfort those who grieve
Beneath outstretching limbs let me lie in shade, Perhaps along some hidden mountain glade Where deer can browse on meadow grass That shimmers or shivers as seasons pass.
Let old roots penetrate my loam and grow Tall and straight as pines or crooked as old oaks, Store house for squirrels, nest home for wrens, Protection from the cold and owl along the glen.
Beneath a forest of varied green and steady brown Let me lie in peace outside some town Visited only by gentle rain and silent snow At home with God, and unaware of winds that blow.
Tough never quits Love never dies All wounds heal Realize You just gotta have hope Just keep it real Don’t lie to yourself Think and feel Always stay strong Life is for living C’mon, C’mon
Live for love Be kind to all Keep your head up Reach for the sky Be a good friend You know why Be at your best Believe in yourself In a quest for excellence Take time to rest
Smell the roses Find a mate Be an optimist You are great Live for love To all relate