Old Year Owen


Think of all the reasons
People congregate on New Years Eve

To be where the crowds are
Where the action is
To cut completely loose

To drink to excess
To dance with abandon
To celebrate in full voice
With all those people

To be immersed in your fellow-humanity
To be anonymous
To rejoice in the passing of another year

If you can relate to wanting these things

You are my polar opposite

Approval Seeking

Do You Like Me

Everyone wants someone’s approval
There’s nothing wrong with that
In and of itself

But you have to be very, very careful
Who you seek approval from

Because you may be giving them a right
You do not extend to the people
Who’ve proven they care about you

Life Is Pitiful


No matter how I stuff my face
I cannot sate my hunger;
And I get older every day
And can’t seem to get younger

I’m tired of my excuses
Being used by other folks;
And mad because my humor’s seen
As something more than jokes

I want to be with scientists
A modern-day town criers;
For all who don’t believe in us
Are just Piltdown deniers

Things, To Ease Homesickness


When I was thirteen years old,
I spent ten weeks away from home at camp

I only started to get homesick
About the seventh or eighth week

I wrote letters home, I received letters back
But I missed my friends, my family, my things

That last one may sound strange
But the things we surround ourselves with
Are an important part of a home

I missed my bed
I missed my books
I missed my comic books

I mean, I was fourteen

One day, we had a field trip from camp
And we stopped at a store
I bought the comics pictured above and below
And I read them
Over and over

They reminded me of being home
They reminded me that I was still a boy

And like so many things that mean the world to us
I seriously doubt they ever meant much to anyone else


The Poetic Striving

Brand New

Like life
Grows and morphs
From generation to generation

We need
More than what
Our language can give

We stretch
The very limits
Of our word sense

Shaping and
Flaking our words
In Byzantine mind creations

Like night-moths
Seek the light
They will perish in