Wilderness Children Poems

Wilderness Children

Untitled

We're desperately looking for a place to hide.
Other people hide what they really feel,
But when it comes down to the bottom line,
   we pull together.
We try to resolve our own problems,
Others try to resolve our problems too.
But we must be the final factor in it all.
The bruised war hero is looking at me.
   In the middle of the night, I lie here
   restlessly thinking, thinking on what is
   going on (or what should be going on.)
Could life be any worse? or any better?
We feel that we can solve all the problems.
We laugh at people and make them feel bad.
But other times we can be so supportive
   (is it a double face?)
We're desperately searching for the answers....
   ...I've been down so very damn long, that
   it looks like up to me...

Can you help me here?

Sorting here and there, what is the meaning of life?
We approach on bended knee (can you help me here?)
Commotion swirls around like cotton candy on a stick.
Sticky paper kills the fly who is stupid enough.
Two cats fight over a large bed.
A dog comes dancing in like a bumbling idiot,
   to scare the fattened cats.
The clock ticks slowly, moving round like a merry-go-round.
Friends talk but its like incense on the flame, slowly,
   slowly fading.
Girls flock to him, the bruised war hero, hurting like a child.
It is all part of the past.
It is always icky to preserve what we have,
   when we are not content with it.
The window refracts the light slowly filtering like a cigarette,
   chewing to the bone.
It is quiet, why so quiet?
Footsteps pound like a headache, who is it?
Somebody is here, trying to sort out their own problems
   while figuring our yours.
It is good to talk but sometimes the light seems dimmer and
   everything slows down.
You worry, why does this have to happen?
Life can't be explained even by the best scientists.
Words mingle sounding like mumbo-jumbo.

[ back ]