Somber Poems
by Mark L. Stinson
These poems are an excellent example of that teen angst that seems to infect everything that young creative people write or draw. Most interesting are the references to nuclear war, which was a very big worry for all of us in the early and mid eighties. Reading them now, they are a bit embarassing...too dark...to serious. But, read them for yourself...
A CHILD LAUGHS...
Sometime, somewhere,
A young child is playing in a field.
His friends - the golden leaves and the waving grass.
Dancing, singing, calling aloud to the wind -
Laughter is his one rule and concern.
When the darkness comes to devour him
he giggles at it and makes a joke...
The darkness is burst. The child laughs.
This simple dream -
a vision of innocence and beauty,
is the light that casts my shadows -
The splendor that makes our darkness
ever more deep.
I wish I could laugh and play
like the child on that bright day.
DEATH IN THE FAST LANE
The country fought for Freedom Pure.
Its brave young men on foreign shores.
The politicians never care
how many problems they ignore.
Starvation kills some boys and girls,
psychotics laughing, sane men cry.
Big guns and death, grenades go off.
So many ways for me to die.
The sniper seeks to end my life,
His bullets ricochet around.
They rip into my body now,
I speak my peace from underground.
Responsibility tugs on my clothes
cries for fulfillment - screams to be fed.
It eats time - its one fulfillment your pain.
I spend my life giving it commitment,
And my duty turns against me - rebels.
You lay there broken and sad and your one
redeeming moment is when you watch your
lost function, glowing and healthy from its
exchange of masters, held by one younger.
God,
How many of these pious men
must I so greet with smile aglow.
For enven your infinite power
could not create another so droll.
The world worked fine, until one day,
Hypocritic man took control.
I fight the urge to join these men
to keep true my immortal soul.
The somber darkness stretches before me
threatening my soul with its cold call.
The ability to animate my living body is long lost
so I have retreated to this last place of safety.
I know I should let the oblivion envelop me
for my body rots - my mourners forget me.
If I had but one more day of life
I would spend it well, attempting to experience
the entire scope of earthly pleasures.
But Destiny gives no reprieves and now I lose my will
as an individual to exist in any state.
The ebon Darkness demands my surrender,
I accept his terms and with a
final decision as to my fate
I embrace the raw void.
A numbness invades my consciousness
and I know what is to be my end.
Death devours me.
OVERKILL
There's this planet, see.
It's nothing special
but I call it home.
It wasn't my choice
God knows.
I figure I got born here on account of one thing:
Bad luck.
Its not the planet itself mind you.
It's the inhabitants.
They have a problem.
They're suicidally immature in their thinking.
They're the wildest things
these nuclear warheads.
Big children
sitting on either side of the street
with toy guns pointed at each other.
The irony is...the guns are real.
Someday, I'll make all my dreams come true.
I'll be sitting in Suburbia by my pool,
kids playing,
wife cooking,
Middle-Class living,
then all of a sudden
our "friends across the sea" drop a package on my city.
Their bombers over our cities,
Our's over theirs.
The light destroys my retinas.
A shockwave destroys my shrubbery.
My live, my family, and my Faith in God end in a burst of fiery reality.
Maybe my luck will be better next life.
| A strike of lightning, bright and brilliant, speeds along its white fiery path. |
Bright Morning Sun... a red flaming ball conquering the darkness... ...birds chirp. |
| These be three deadly things: A scorpion's sting... ...a war... ...the cold stare of an angry woman. |
The wolf wins out... ...the rabbit let's the world know its pain... ...a final scream |
| a pink fluffy cloud alone with the birds slowly losing its wholeness. |
The orange glowing spark springs from the roaring fire, cold air embracing it. |