Any angsty teenager worth their salt has written a few poems. Of course, I'm not a teenager anymore, so I don't know where that leaves me. If it makes you feel better, most of them aren't angsty.
Give Me a Signpost by Freezair, literature
Literature
Give Me a Signpost
There's three and a half years of living
Hidden in recycled walls
I said, "Mister, you must be kidding
If you think you can leave it all"
You looked deep inside the old corning
The place that I kicked it still clear
The homestead was empty by morning
Your carpet still damp from my tears.
I said give me a sign,
Some proof of your time,
Don't let your life here go to waste!
You said sister, I'm splitting
For some place more fitting
And more suitable to my tastes!
At six AM, I woke
To hear you drive the yoke
Of an old taxi cab like a dart,
And all you left was a signpost--
In the hole in my heart.
You bid me adieu in a lett
Are you a rock star, a playboy
A father or a child's toy?
Are you bowdlerized
Or are you obscene?
Are you blue like the ocean
Or red like the setting sun
Or are you simply
Feeling green?
I guess what I mean to say
What mask is it you wear today
And won't you tell me,
What does it mean?
(chorus)
Masquerade
Oh won't you tell me what you mean today?
Are you a metaphor or riddle?
Or somewhere in the middle
And once you get somewhere,
Why don't you stay?
You gave your best performance
And the critics all raved,
But are you tryin' to save the world
Or do you need to be saved? Oh!
Masquerade!
If you impersonate an Emperor
Old Mrs. Hedwig, not so old,
Died on the beach of the common cold
Ate herself a fever, couldnt reach the lever
Lemons in the sky for the Vitamin C
Teenaged makeup, senile hairs
Asking a hand to lead you upstairs
Never thought to reach, never thought to teach
Still feeling ill from the ride on the sea
And young Mr. Heely looks on and laughs
As they come and go on wooden rafts.
Holding a radio, watching them come and go,
Here he has everything he needs to be.
Obsessed with the honey, drunk on cheap wine
They gather in gardens to pluck off the vine
Breaking a vase, staring toward space
The world goes in circles once you rea
I love the snow.
I love the way
The falling white
Sinks into the spaces
Between the stones
And hides them
I love the way
It creeps up to the curb
Eating away at the concrete
Until it's fat and full
And most of all, I love the way
It takes the roads
And conceals them,
All the pathways sound asleep
Beneath the blanket of white;
I love the way
The concrete sidewalk blends
With the asphalt street
And the cobbled walkway
Melts into the grass
I love to find
Those places where none have walked
And go there,
Leaving my footprints
As if to say:
Today, I have walked
Where I so chose.
"Six AM," sings the alarm,
Saturday, nowhere to go.
Hit the button, there's no harm
In sleeping somewhat longer.
The sheets are thin; window's wide
Outside the rain is falling.
Your hand is lying by my side
Let's sleep a little longer.
Don't get up, let's both sleep in
And even if the blanket's thin
Together we're both warm enough for two.
We're already tangled tight
In sheets and covers from the night
Getting up, we're just too comfortable to do.
Yes, passion has its purpose,
But now all I want to do
Is not get up, and sleep in
With you.
"Bad morning" says the lighting,
Who am I to disagree?
Let's not even bother fightin
Who knocked you loose
From your silver roost
Somewhere in the galaxy
There's an empty void
Near an asteroid
Where you oughta be
But
One fateful night
In a blaze of light
You fell into my life--
You know you left a crater there.
I'd fill it in if only I knew where
I should begin--oh
Meteor maid, heaven sent,
All else is irrelevant
Like the color of your eyes
Although the skies themselves have got
Some work to do, oh
Meteor maid, homeward bound,
Too good for this planet to stick around
Yet I only wish you'd come down,
I only wish you'd come down,
Meteor maid!
The stars are hot
But they could learn a lot
From the way you
Coded Message
You mustn't breathe a word of the following exchange
But I know that I can trust you
Though it was hard to arrange.
The others weren't so open about letting you come in,
You must show them they can trust you
So here's how you begin--
Just off 23rd street is the genesis of your odyssey,
I know that dead end looks imposing,
But there's more there than you can see--
(chorus)
I'm sending you a coded message, just FYI--
Yet I cannot provide
A key,
Or they'll see--that's just how it has to be
But I'm sorry.
We'll usurp the floor from the Lord of the Dance
And bring his kingdom out of the night
Tripping the light
Fa
There are two cities in my town:
A land of men, scoring the earth below,
Where yellow streetlights turn puddles
Into pools of golden oil,
And,
Up above,
A metropolis of stars.
There are nights when,
Walking along the stone walkways,
Chilled by evening and lashed
In deepening shadows,
I wish that I could turn out those yellow lamps
And little golden panes
In the apartment windows,
And blinking eyes on the fronts of cars,
And blaring neon bar signs,
And tiny little slivers underneath the door…
And for one night, at least,
I could walk the streets
Of that other city.
(Via Lactea Avenue! All passengers aboard the trolly!)
The Ballad of the Wordkeepers by Freezair, literature
Literature
The Ballad of the Wordkeepers
…And should it ever come to be
That one or all these words break free,
Take you up this here-lain plan
To bind them safely back again.
Because their spirit waxes strong
A word can not be truly gone,
Immortal by the Keepers proved
A word can only be removed.
Firstly, for the Word to take,
Find you one of Diamond-Break,
Second, for the Word to bind,
A mage and Book of sturdy mind,
Thirdly, for the Word to write,
Any mage of magic white,
Bring together, Circle Three,
And what follows, so must be.
Bring to fire through the thought
Of the deeds the Word has wrought,
With the fuel to serve the fervor
Draw the Word, the link th
Ah, the hills are burning! Burning!
Smoke and sky, together churning
The mountains 'solve in flames so red,
Against the clouds, they raise their head
Today, today, the Earth has bled!
Her dying gasps, they foul the air,
Cloy'd to sunlight, clean and rare,
Mingled clouds turn brown and white
And with the dankening of the light
The gloaming burns all through the night!
The roar you hear is falling trees!
The fire's swiftest casualties.
Pinecones crack like heated glass,
And from the ash of its mother's crash,
A green thing weaves from blackened grass.