short simple poems

stuff i wrote long ago that i cared to save.
be prepared for crappiness as i wrote these when i was depressed/lazy/bored in middle and high school.
these are not all one thing and not poems.

the candles low
inside the smallest room
the door slightly open for air
to return the tome
i've never read for years
the room was maroon
like the rest
only in the corner of
my eye a slight movement
stayed this white
line, stared and stared
what is it?
it shown itself
in full white
moon like
i...

form of mind
destruction of desire
complex form to run the body
simple life
be stupid and break the hard ground
to pierce the skin bone.

dirt in nails
seep into heart, mind
eyes blur, mumble deaf
to be alone

the lone earth.

why do women carry large bags?
to carry tiny sweets for their grand children?
to carry feed for pigeons?
to carry raisin cookies for their neighbor?
to hold pictures of their families?
to keep small fish for lunch?
to keep some money for some shoes?
or to hold a second face?
or for the sake of holding something.

etch short meaning on the thin white dry cloud
long blue lines like stairs, black go cross and slash
from the paw, finger twist, erase gray ash
words so small, infinite, could speak so loud

those unspoken gain purity, god sound
turn into pieces when read in a dash
if any the same, deeply, a red gash
make it a person, who needs to be found

unwritten, many, unfinished, the worst
struck with the muse's presence, flows the word
the deepest, where one reaches, most don't find

rhyme, tone, the topic, do the last part first
writing leads to more writing, flew the bird
it will hit the tree, unleashing the mind.

she told me she remembered me.
i copied her answers at school.
we sat next to each other on a bus one time
she helped plan the school dance
she wasn't in much of my classes
we just met again on the subway
i west to a hospital to see my sister
she said she was fine and would be able to go home in a day and didn't need me.
i was going back to my home city
my old classmate said she was going to meet a friend somewhere.

it is far away, where we didn't eat sweet things.
where it wasn't tasteless or bitter.
we wouldn't leave home and my brother would cry.
"shut up."
the water we had to drink was oddly salty.
my older brother would read his books and not talk
my older sister would simply do what my parents said.
everyone felt alone when we were at home.

this was gonna be a story about a village who controlled children
in a weird evil way. but i can't stand how serious i was being.
and i can't handle/create interesting characters. (or i don't know if i can)

and a list of previous things i've written
i'm forbidden from remembering things from long ago as they make me depressed.
the first serious thing i've written is a really crappy poem of darkness and light
and faggy light won. makes me depressed thinking about it.
an unemotional assassin who just killed his brother based on some story i've read

a brother who remembers a time when his uncle brought him and his brother to the beach
when the weather was bad and the water was cold. they would've become really sick from going into the water if one of the brothers didn't break his arm after falling off a tree the brothers first wanted to climb.
now both brothers are adults and the older brother recently died overseas. the younger brother goes to his bed and remembers him eating oreos, eating comics, and listening to his cd player.
the mother is deceased, and the father is still taking care of the younger sister.

these people on an isolated island for some reason think about what they should do.
one despairs and the other builds shelter, builds a fire, and spends the rest of the day trying to catch fish for him and the other
the one who despairs burns down the shelter when the other one wasn't around.
when the other one returns late at night, the shelter is in charred remains
the strong one yells at the weak one and tells the person he wants both of them to live.
and the story ends there.
the story is bittersweet with more bitter.