"The noun of self becomes a verb. This flashpoint of creation in the present moment is where work and play merge." - Stephen Nachmanovitch

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Teen angst revival


We all have them (or at least those of us who have ever been crazy in love with someone in 6th grade) - teen angst moments and even better, poetry to prove it. During my move in May I convienently found two of works of art created when I was 14 that described my pain (at the time) about a certain boy, who is of course my friend on Facebook now.

I went to a poetry reading this weekend at the Modbo (if you don't know what it is, Google it)where a group of us read these teen angst poems. Reading it I felt the true angst of that time. I can't fail to mention these were both submitted to Seventeen magazine - the true magnet for quality poetry and creative expression of the time.

Below are the poems so you can truly appreciate my misery at the time. Beware the gag reflex is a completely natural occurence after reading them:

My Love
My love is the sky,
neverending and relentless in the pursuit of your heart.

The moon tells of my haunted heart because of you,
it is alone in the big, dark sky and feels lost without you.

The pitch black storm clouds are my tears,
that will continue to fall until eternity and we are together again.

When I'm with you the rain becomes a rainbow,
barely visible through the clouds and my heart rejoices at your presence.

My love is the sky,
it will never end and forever be in pursuit of your heart.
An Unforgiving Love
I can feel his warm embrace,
and his soft reassuring glance.
His eyes bore deep into my soul,
many people said, "I told you so."

But I couldn't see past his gorgeous smile,
and thought maybe for a second, "This is the one."

He said he'd never leave me,
he said he'd always love me.

Could this be the same one who brings tears to my eyes
and says cruel things?

Maybe it was the lighting or something in the air,
I'll never know for sure.

But yet I still love him in an unforgiving way,
and hope someday, someday he'll wisk me away.

Today I'm grateful for puberty, my car, and not knowing.

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