SpawnPoint

I wrote this when I was 16 years old. I was going through some rough stuff, some rough events that as a young man I could not control nor understand.  I was in danger of losing these, so I am going to start posting them into my blog.

Painful Love

Painful love,
Forever love,
Forever want,
to be still,
to feel the need. It's oft trying,
It's oft hard,
Sometimes painful,
Beyond endurance.

God looked down,
and saw our need,
He gave us more of what,
all else has. It fills our vacuum,
with such painful desire,
to love,
to want.

Beyond the pain,
Beyond the strife,
One thing I know,
Is that I have my prize,
and I'll endure the pain,
to retain that which I have,
Because I would die,
without the pain.

I never found a proper name for this.. I was just entering into a stage of my life where 'new age' was becoming a religious or spiritual calling for me. 

Untitled
Darkness was made evil,
the light made good,
The Earth the Mother,
The Hunter the Father,
Life the Reason.

Another one of those poems I wrote when I was 16.. a very very long summer for me.  These are a series of poems that I only found in digital format on WAYBACK. Near lost to me.

Living

The Darkness is eternal,
The Waters are deep,
Death arises from the Dark,
Life springs from the Water,
Pain exists throughout eternity,
Love lives for the briefest of moments,
Pain is born to our lives,
Love dying with death,
Even as Love is born to life,
So we are born to Love.

I couldn't even BEGIN to tell you where I was when I wrote this.  Somewhere in conflict with Christian values and my new late teen-age years of WICCA.

Christ

I swing unbalanced from a tree,
Withheld from sight,
Upside down from the tree,
Nothing I can see. To change-to alter,
Much my heart feels,
Even where I kneel. The ground is hard,
Like a bed of nails,
Change-to hearken change,
Make due-alter due. Here I hang from a tree,
The life strangled from my feet,
What is there to see,
Hanging in the wind so free...

Yet another one of those darn 'someone shot my dog' poems.  Same rough summer..

Mi Amor de Morte

Blood-crimson red,
The sweet taste,
Like a lie,
Like candied meats,
So full of life. To taste a soul,
Like orgasm in life,
To feel the slowing heart,
And the collapse of existence.

A more uplifting one, I was 18 when I wrote this and had just enlisted in the Air Force (though I had not left yet).. I was being reflective of life journeys.

I Look for God
I look for God.
Man has looked for God for thousands of years.
Man has searched for God for thousands of years.
Man has opened his mind to God for thousands of years.
And I begin my journey.
I left my home long ago,
I have since grown a beard,
And I have long gone grey.
I have crossed the spine of the world,
Who's mountains so purple climb to the unyielding sky.
I have made paths through the quiet forests,
Who's animals are kind beyond compare.
I have walked the long unending fields,
Who's flowers beauty can make one tear.
I have swam the rivers whose current swept me far,
And the oceans depths hold the treasure of everyman.
Years have I been gone,
And now I near my home.
I cross the last ridge and look down upon my home,
Disapointed.
I have not found God.
Then with one look backward,
Something catches my eye.
The Mountains,
The Forests,
The Fields full of flowers,
The Rivers and Oceans blue.
.
.
.
there they lie,
I turn back toward my home,
I tell my family,
I found God.

An Eternal Journey

The night may come down,
As the darkness may engulf,
The Nightingales sweet voice.
The Larks may fall from the branch,
Their beauty fading into the brambles below,
Even as the distant sun sets.
Into the silent storm,
Through the eye of the hurricane,
Spirits of the many dead,
Souls lost to evil deeds,
Reaching for the warm terror,
Of life belonging to loved ones.
The grass in the field withers,
The long winds sorrowful cry,
The heartbreak of the young,
The tears of the forgotten mother,
The painful memories of the old widow.
Even through the hurt of this,
And the failings of a God,
Man continues to fight,
Not merely continuing to exist,
Nor shuffle his feet in the sand.
Through OUR long darkness,
Surviving terrors of the past,
A few good men have risen,
With a light in hand,
The vision in eyes,
To vanish the Evil of the Land.