Old school writing (redux)

as i was going to bed this morning or night, your choice. i noticed a box that i kind of recognized. it was on top of some other stuff cause i had gone through some of my things the other night looking for stuff. out of curiosity, i opened the box.
the first thing i saw was a picture of this kid in high school. i had the skinny ass face, the huge buck teeth, and the acne. so you ask what's changed? no more skinny face. i didn't drink nearly as much in high school. but the most interesting thing i found was a stack of writing, i guess you can declare it poetry, but i learned a long time ago not to call it that after all the beatings Phill and Edgar gave me for 'writing poetry'.
hilarious.
but for those of you who know me well, i thought if i shared a few of them, they might give you a glimpse into the world of carl before you actually knew me. i can't remember the inspiration for some of them, but i can guess from the dates on the bottom. and the paper is super wrinkly and it smells like old balls. God bless the late ninties. but here you go.
and Jesse, since you think you're a big writer now, you can learn from these.
and quit getting in trouble.

-dated 1995, apparently titled "you"

There is a place in my heart,
Where I find you,
When all my life has turned blue.
I love to think
of all the things about you
It makes me feel joyous
and kind of sad too.
It really hurts when you walk away,
you leave me there wondering
about what i should do
i never come to a decision
cause i'm always thinking of you.

---so cheesy. i'll admit it. -----

---i believe this next one was part of some school work, but vivid expressions. i dig it for sure. ----

"Sinton's 2% Milk"

Sinton's real 2% milk
With added vitamin A&D.
The contents could hold one gallon
But now it's empty.

It is an odd shaped container
Very large and hard.
The milk was pasteurized, homogenized,
and yes, even grade A

In the sourness inside
A strawberry sits alone
Being left in the container
It now calls home

It is trash now
Ready to be thrown away,
Going to the dump
Is it's destiny for today.

-----i love that strawberry ---

--this is the last of the 1995 batch. i thought it was kind of deep. --

"Sorrow"

I yawn in despair,
Knowing I am unfair.
For what i did was wrong
And shall haunt me long.
I am sorry i did it
And I bow my head with content.
I live in sorrow
For every tomorrow.
I should have not let the thought enter my mind
But i took it for granted that you were kind.
Please forgive me as what I did was untrue,
For you know I would never mean to hurt you.


-----this next batch seems to have the same 1997 marks. maybe it's the penmanship. ----

past the clouds, behind the stars
to the moon,
yeah, this is ours.
the special place where we tend to go
where we lose reality
and the time goes slow.
a place where you savor the sweet sense of touch
a place where you go where there is never too much.
a place to go to to be yourself
a place you go with someone else.
a perfect place where all it does is give.
a perfect place for everyone to live.

------ this next one is apparently titled "lupus". why? i have no clue. i think i was fascinated with a diseases i knew nothing about. damn, i'm awesome. ---

"Lupus"

The virtue of love
and the virtue of sorrow,
these are the virtues that make tomorrow.
the happiness and joy go away with the sun,
but the violence and hate
will never be forgotten by anyone.
if we were all birds and could fly away,
would bad things follow us,
or would they go away?
in the sadness of virtual sleep,
does all virtual time stop,
or does it continue to chase the clock?
to be a dreamer is to chase a cloud.
trying to catch what never is there
only to be awoken by a breeze of cool air.
No, this is not fair.

--no sweat, confuses me too. -----

---and finally, because you've all made it here, this one was my favorite from junior high, or high school, i can't remember. but it's an added bonus. --

"Ode to morning wood"

Rising early with the sun,
My morning wood, I have but one.
Up and at 'em my wood goes
as i run to the bathroom to blow my nose.
Morning wood is a magical thing
that bounces up and down like a spring.
As i start to play with a rubber band
My morning wood dies softly in my hand.
My morning wood has come to an end
So I will wait until tomorrow for my wood to rise again.

--damn. i love that shit.---

i told everybody i was always the weird kid. now you get a glimpse of it. just be weary of what's in those old boxes you have sitting around your house. it could be awesome treasures like these.

live the dream.
C