Old Poem, Written Age 26

When I was just a little boy
A certain prayer I said;
To shield me from the scary things
Before I went to bed

I hear the words, but cannot find
What I felt with that prayer:
If I should die before I wake
I really
Just don’t
Care
 


 

(“Old Poem, Written Age 26” – 10-20-1988)

Old Poem, Age 24 (Edited)

[I had completely forgotten this poem and the event it refers to. At the time, I would not have thought that possible, so hard did it hit me. – Owen]


One night, you gave yourself to me
  the next night you had gone away
I do not understand
I do not understand at all

I still remember how it felt
  to be right next inside of you
I do not understand
I do not understand at all

The wine the bath the touch the kiss
  the hours spent in all of this –
The feel of you the sound of you
  the taste of your intention

One night I do not understand
I still I do not understand
The wine I do not understand
I do not understand

Old Poem, Written Age 22

[I edited this pretty heavily, but tried to leave the original emotions intact. – Owen]


It’s lonely on the beach tonight,
Just me and one lone bird;
The love I thought would never leave
Has left without a word

The waves still sing their lullaby,
But I just cannot rest;
It’s hard to think you’re good
When someone else is always best

I see the lights far down the shore
The party’s over there;
I don’t belong, I never did,
But I don’t really care

I left my shoes back in the car
So I could feel the waves;
I wish, like some adventure book,
I could explore some caves

Or go back in my mind to when
I still could be a hero,
But life is no adventure book
And I am just a zero

A nobody, in no one’s tale;
That all is past my reach —
I’m just a lonely traveler
Who’s meant to prowl the beach

I wish that I could build a world
Out of my fantasy;
It’s strange I wish she was still here,
Though she does not want me

I guess I’d better get on back,
I’ve walked for mile on mile;
And I have got to be at work
In just a little while

I need some caffeine pretty quick
So I seem on the ball;
And go through all the motions
That I’m anyone
At all

Another Old Poem, Written Age 16

Please don’t tell me it’s not me.

I know that in relationships
I am no sort of whiz:
But please don’t tell me it’s not me
Because I know it is

It’s me that you don’t want to see
Or talk to anymore:
It’s me that makes you cringe
When I come walking through the door

Listen, I will not make scenes
I will just go away:
Although I’m me, I still have pride –
Just much less
Every
Day