Some stuff everyone will loathe. (Poetry for the Masses)

By Trent

This is not really an article, rather a vision of my rather un-organized brain, and thought processes, both of which are reflected in the crappiness of the poems. Remember while reading them, that this is poetry (maybe) and it represents an uncoloured and rather shabbily drawn colouring book, and should be treated as such.

Let the words caress your thoughts, and let your imagination draw and colour the pictures, don't expect me to do it, or you'll be waiting for a rather long period of time.

Try not to enjoy.


I sit and ponder
My mind racing in circles,
What force possesses me?
Confusion comforts my cold body
What am I so lost?
Caught in a cycle running out of control
Running into oblivion
My thoughts can't run free
I want to break
I want to scream
I only scream to silence
Alone in the dark
A scared child wondering without aim
An empty sky
Silent voices
Invisible to myself
I am nothing
A small non-essential novelty
An aimless existence
Who am I?
I see my own scared eyes
They want to know
Too afraid to ask,
They stare
Paralyzed by the dark
I mustn't think or speak
This is my private hell
My unanswered questions unanswerable
I wake
Living on an aimless street

And God Exists?


These are my walls,
I put them up,
And here they'll stay
"You're loved..."
Yeah, right
And I suppose God exists too.
This life is a facade
Carefree on the outer
Collapsing on the inner
My life. What a life



How many pieces of hell can you handle?
What is hell anyway?
Hell isn't hot, it's cold
I've never felt warmth
It's an empty cold
In hell you hear no heart beat
You hear nothing at all
For hell is a place in yourself
Your silence is your hell
Your secrets are your hell
You are hell.
"The words our father taught us:"
Stones of my soul
Weigh me down
My feet don't move
My thoughts...cease
In this cold silence
I should find peace
Yet all I find is pain
Fucking pain.
God? Bullshit
If he (she) existed I wouldn't feel like this
I wouldn't feel the way I do
I thought that God was meant to be merciful
The only mercy I see from him is death
But is this mercy?
God, is a bastard
And I don't regret saying that
Listen you fuck
Take my pain...your pain yourself
I don't need it
I don't want it
I have carried these stones for far too long
Do your own work
I don't need you
Screw you


At peace
At war
In truce
In silence
Yet deaf
What is silence when your deaf?
It's mine
It's yours
It's no one's
Look inside me
Look inside you
Look, you are invisible


Bring forth salvation
Don't let me be who I am
Tell me that I'm wrong
Tell me that I can be free
Hear this
"Fuck off."


Force you down my throat
Tell me who I should be
I'm wrong
I'm alone
Kick me as the dog I am
Out of sight
Not out of mind
My prison
My life

Alone (2)

Yet not entirely
A presence felt
A life once lost
Speaking of comfort
An end

A thought on confusion:

"Confusion preys like a tiger; it sits, it waits, planning for its strike. Confusion is no sudden phenomena."

A thought on language:

"Language is limited by the pictures its words evoke in the mind of its reader. But language and the logic of language allows us to give though a form. ie: I think in term of English."

Firstly, I'd love comment on the above poetry (if you can call it that). Email me at brentos.w@usa.net

Secondly, don't read unless you are plastered, or have nothing else better to do. I wrote on my desk: "Love is life and life sucks." This was admittedly a product of being in one of those self destructive "screw the world" moods. In any case, I agree with the statement as it stands (at this moment only, mind you.) Don't get me wrong, I love life and I'm pretty sure I'll love love (when I find it).

I'm getting increasingly frustrated with everything (well, you know that by now surely). There's this guy in a couple of my classes. He's not really anything special, but I like him. He's incredibly reserved, and despite my best efforts of trying to extract the information that I need, he's locked up. I think he's queer, but then I don't. This whole teenage-spontaneous-crush thing has got me in a real mess.

One of my friends acts a little queer sometimes. I thought he might have been bisexual (wishful thinking), things didn't quite turn out like that. We got a Canadian girl in our school for fourth term. She's in my German class and in with my class. She was telling me about a party where her and this friend got together, and how she really likes him, and he likes her. Apart from the obvious need to kill her I was quite calm, surprisingly. How ironic anyway. I didn't ever think that I'd ever end up in one of those bizarre love triangles they talk about on TV. So now, I still like this friend, the other guy I mentioned earlier, another two guys in the grade above me and I'm still closeted. What a life, eh?

I'm trying to get into a Computer Science Summer School in January. They take about fifty people...Working on the ten percent minus 1 factor, there is a theoretical chance of one other gay guy being there. (More wishful thinking). I need prozac.

Ringing through my head at the moment is a train of uncontrollable emotion. Boring, eh? I might even have something worth while to write about next month. (wishful thinking)

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