Poems for theUnhappy and theSocial Heretics By: Jessie Briones (Cover Art by Esao Andrews)
DedicationThe poems that I have compiled to form this collectionare all dedicated to the people who wonder, the peoplewho contemplate, the people who want more, and thepeople that go against the social norm and the sociallaw of conformity. These poems are an anthem forthose who need to face their problems and find thestrength to grow and prosper. This world is filled withmysterious puzzles and confusing situations; and thepeople of intellect only strive for one thing- answers.I’ve always wondered if there were more people outthere like me; people only striving to seek out the bestthings in life, to obtain the most happiness and bliss thisshort life has to offer. These poems are the poems thathave truly touched me. They have left an impact on mylife and the way I view things as an individual. My ownpersonal writings that I have included here were thewritings I thought could best express the way I wantedto make you think, and make you see the true art in lifeand in everything it has to offer. This world is a cold andsad place, and I hope to God that one day we can fillthis place with pure bliss and zeal. The world would be abetter place if we wouldn’t get stuck in a place wherewe are content. We can do so much better. Jessie Briones
WonderingBy: Miranda Sometimes people go through life wondering what theyre here for or who we are supposed to spend our lives with or even what we will do when we get older. I know I ask myself those questions all the time but why spend life wondering, or asking questions? Life is too short to live wondering why or what. You need to live your life, love with your whole heart and don’t hold back, and laugh until you cry and it hurts to laugh anymore. Life is here one day and gone the next. So live like it is your last day to live, and love like you’ve never been hurt. People live their day to day lives wondering, but never seeking the answers. Why am I here? Why am I staying here? Why am I not doing something with my life? Why am I not doing better? Miranda wrote this poem very well, in a rugged free-verse fashion. Some people may argue, saying that free-verse style is a cheap excuse for poetry, but at times, a poem needs the freedom. Boundaries can choke off creativity, and I have a feeling that if the writer would have stuck to the confines of a rhyme scheme or a syllable limit, it would have taken so much away from the poem. The writer talks about the people in this world who live their mundane lives, having questions but never seeking the answers. This haunts the “character” of the poem, yet there is always a simple solution. Live your life without worrying, and be content with the bliss that life has to offer. This was somewhat of a poor choice of a poem, because there are very few metaphors and sources of imagery in the text. “Live like it’s your last day to live, and love like you’ve never been hurt”. Too many people need to hear those words. Living in your sadness isn’t any way to live. Be happy and be proud.
False HopeBy: WishingWell And, once again, I hear from him My heart does cartwheels--its a sin Once again, my hopes are high Then silence comes; I want to die. My life revolves around false hope His contact makes me think I cope But when I do not hear from him I go under the covers, where light is dim. All others groan--hope its a phase I walk through daytime in a daze When nighttime comes Im wide awake And think of him--for goodness sake. I know one day this will diminish My thoughts of him will come to a finish But I know hearts have no common sense And, my mind holds on now to that defense. This poem is a perfect example of how sometimes it can work to write within the confines of a rhyme scheme and beat. The poem is written in an AABB rhyme scheme, which is slightly unconventional when it comes to poetry. The writer talks about being hung up on a past relationship, and hoping that maybe things will get better. In reality, she knows they won’t, and she feels stronger and wiser because of the experience, even though she still wishes deep down those things could still work and be resolved. This poem also uses very few noticeable metaphors, but the one that stuck out to me the most was, “I know hearts have no common sense”. Hearts may not have common sense, but if something makes you happy, nothing should stop you from pursuing it. People like to cling onto their hang-ups as a reason not to be happy, but why should they? Just as many people say, life is short, so just live it. There is no reason to dwell on sadness and past hurt when we know that there’s so much more to find out there. Nobody wants to look back on their lives and say “Wow, I could have been so much happier”. Live life, and take it as it comes.
Power of FearBy: Star711 I sat alone another day. The world was moving all around me, but it seemed as if my life was in a standstill. The doctors say its anxiety. Everyone thinks anxiety means nervousness or fear, but it is deeper than that. Anxiety holds you prisoner. You cant leave your house. Ding, Dong, Ding, Dong. The doorbell rings but I cant answer. There is too much fear inside. You cant answer the phone. Ring, Ring, Ring. "Telephone for you!" my family yells. I tell them to say that I will call back, but I wont. You cant eat. Chomp, Bite, Chew. No, not me. The anxiety even controls that. All the pain rushes back up with every little thing I eat. You cant go out. Step, Step, Step. Everyone walking around me, but I cant move, the apprehension paralyzes me. Everyone says, "Be brave. You can do it. Youll make it out of this." But sometimes I wonder if I will. I try to combat it all, but if I attempt to do anything, it all starts over again. Thump, Thump, Thump. My heart beats faster and faster. I can feel it in my chest. Beads of sweat Racing, Falling. Running down my forehead. All the thoughts swarm in my brain. The fear picks up. It is unbearable. Im so frightened, but I dont know what of. The paranoia sweeps over my body like a giant wave. Every day I have to fight what seems to be a losing battle. But then . . . I look outside. I see the colors. I see the life. I see spirit. I know I can do this. Hope, Pray, Win.
This poem is probably one of the saddest things I’ve ever read. Not because it’swritten to be sad, but because I know that it’s a hardship that so many peoplehave to deal with every day, and I’ll never be able to know how that feels.Sometimes, I know people like to be alone, but I could never put myself into aposition like the writer of the poem is. Being afraid of contact with other peoplein any way is a situation I could never be able to put myself into.The writer uses some of the things I hate about poetry the most. I’ve always beenextremely irritated by poetry that uses onomatopoeia and cacophony. Yet, heseemed to make it work, and I know without a doubt that without it, the poemwouldn’t have carried its message the way he wanted it to. This poem is alsowritten in free verse style, and there are very few noticeable metaphors in it. Thepoetry I enjoy either has a lot of metaphors or none at all.The writer tells about his daily life and his own personal struggles. He wasdiagnosed with social anxiety disorder, and he tells of his experiences with all ofthe normal, every-day things we do. He is constantly haunted with this fear, and Ican only imagine how terrible it has to feel. The overall tone of the poem seemstense and anxious, just as the writer probably felt as he was writing it.The tone is probably the most powerful part of this poem, simply because it putsthe reader into the writer’s position as he suffers from his anxiety disorder.Overall, the poem explains how challenges are just another thing in your way ofhappiness. Work as hard as you can and you’ll be able to get over what’s holdingyou back. Happiness is just around the bend.
Let It FallBy: Michael G. One more anti-hero worship from the depths of some enigmatic fool that left the suburbs for the open fields of post modern flight from hell. No, not from the quakes or the rumblings of racism, that stench we all tend to want to get rid of, but the fact that there were just too many things wrong. So off I went to the last journey of my youth, through the pubs and alleys of Los Angeles that served many nights of reckless talk and the establishment be damned. There goes Happy House, Scream and all those open up at 10 pm party houses, where you paid 5 bucks to drink yourself to life, and walk out Saturday morning at 6 am like the kind demons we were. And dance the pain that we had kept for the week and wonder what 30 would be like and if the Virgin Prunes were right about "If I die I die". But then, that love in your soul the one that makes you write and pour out those false indignities that caress your heart and mind for after all weve been through stars have their moments and then they die.
To me, this writing ultimately tells the story of the life of an anti-establishment kind ofperson. The writer was a punk kid, a so-called Suburban Anti-Christ, who left thesuburbs to rid himself of the horrid morals, indignity, and attitudes of the people thatwere surrounding him. This punk kid, so to speak, talks about the way people live theirpointless lives in his world, denouncing the establishment and partying. Yet, what theydon’t realize is that everybody, whether they like it or not, needs the establishment. Heexplains later in the poem that “the love in your soul, the one that makes you write andpour out those false indignities, that caress your heart and mind, for all we’ve beenthrough, stars have their moments and then they die”. To me, this represents that thesepeople are still slaves to the establishment that they denounce. As much as these peoplewant to hate what they don’t want to represent, they need the establishment, or elsetheir art would not exist. They need the establishment to give them something to hate.They need the establishment to give them something to write about. They need theestablishment to be in their own personal state of contentment. This poem is an example of the poems that I like that are full of different metaphors.These punk kids escape what they hate to drown themselves in alcohol, drugs, andpartying, just to find out that it’s all for nothing. What they do to destroy the thing theyhate, in the end, empowers it. The “moral”, so to speak, of this poem, is that runningfrom the thing you hate the most and selling yourself short to bring down what you’reso passionately against can and will hurt you in the end. It’s all a worthless cycle that hasno real purpose other than to give you a reason to hate and a reason to express yourself,when you can do it outside of the cycle. Don’t drag yourself down, and just be happy.
Unhappiness By: Sri Chinmoy A life of unhappiness Is a contagious disease. The world is already full of misery. Allow not your unhappiness To increase the worlds misery. You want to end your unhappiness. I tell you, there is one way To end your unhappiness, And that is to end your constant feeling Of unpleasant unworthiness. Do not allow unhappiness To capture your heart. Do you not know that unhappiness Is the heart-cancer? Todays unhappiness Must not be kept for removal Until tomorrow. Tomorrow will be another day For me to either suffer new unhappiness Or enjoy a flood of delight. Todays game I must play today Wisely and perfectly.The author feels compelled to tell people that unhappiness is a pointless thing, in this poem.The poem is one again, written in free verse. It seems that some of the most expressive anddeep poems are written without any creative boundaries. The author is writing with a datedstyle of language, which suggests that this poem is slightly older. Yet at the same time, thedated style helps the poem get the message across a lot better. If the writer were to have useda modern tongue, the poem would seem fairly bland and repetitive.The poet uses very few metaphors in this poem, but the one he does use is very deep. “Doyou not know that unhappiness is the heart-cancer?” A constant state of unhappiness willultimately be the death of you. It eats away at your soul until you can’t feel anything butsadness. The author compels you to defeat yourself and let go of the constant feeling ofunworthiness and unhappiness, and to find the pleasure in each day.
Personal Contributions The next five poems are poems by myself.
InkMy body is a cage,My house is a void,Keeping me in my nightmares.My love is all but dead,My life is rotting away,My soul is broken and tired.I lay here, taking the hurtDoes it feel better? Does it feel good?Yes...maybe it does.I should want better...I should want more, for myselfFor my family, for my heart.When I wrote this poem, I knew it would be perfect for thisproject. This poem is just a way for me to let anybody that’sreading this know that I’ve been exactly where you are. Iknow exactly how it feels to be at an ultimate low, whereyou couldn’t give a care in the world about whateverhappens to you. The only thing that kept me going throughall of the tough times was knowing that through all thestruggles and all of the bad times, there’s always somethinggood that comes out of it. I hold very few grudges, andeverything I’ve been through has made me a stronger,smarter, and wiser person. No matter what happens, you’llalways learn new ways to improve yourself.
An Ultimatum From the God of JealousyMy cityscape of stone,My creation, my abode,Defiled by my children.The supreme disgrace.What did I do to deserve this?I saved you from the snakes.I saved you from my son.Yet, you spit on me.Come, kick the dust in myface.Maybe Ill enjoy it.Maybe youll regret it.Drive me into darkness.Drag me down with you.Come, amplify the pain.Make it resonate, make itbleed.You know I deserve it,I gave you everything.Your structures grow taller,I disappear into nothing.Yet, I gave you everything.I guess Im meaningless.Go, leave me here.Youll see me again soon.When youve run out of hate,Ill remain here, waiting.
The concept of the social heretic hasbeen deeply rooted into our culturesince time began. In hunter-gatherersocieties, the ones that were strangeor not of a familiar tribe tribe wereslaughtered, the resources wereraped from the land, and they movedalong. People have been slaughteredand labeled heretics for coming upwith logical, fact-based developmentsfor the good of man. It’s beensomewhat brushed off by humanity,but the fact are there and it makesthe world look like a disgusting, evilplace. This poem looks at the conceptof the social heretic from theopposing side, from the creator of thepeople. He is being torn apart by thefact that there are people that arestaying away from what he wants, butwhat exactly is wrong with it? Wewere given this wonderful gift ofchoice, and we have the right to dowhatever we please if we’re nothurting anybody and we’re the onesthat are happy. Society will alwaysview these people as threatening, butthey are the people that willultimately bring the rest of the slavesto society to a true salvation.
Dreamscape: My DemonsThis house, its cancerThe memories its holdingTear away at meNot a single man-or woman knows of my thoughtsAlone, I dwell in themThis house smells of deathThis reminder haunts my dreamsNever acceptedI see you outside"What do you want?", I ask you"Bring me everything"I couldnt say noSo, I gathered everythingYou still werent pleasedMy face hits concreteI hear the chaos ensueSilenced by a shotShe was on the bedYou got in your truck and leftLeft me an orphanApprehended? No,You lurk my home, you stole itIm here to take whats mine.
This poem came to me in a dream. The dream was more or less astory about this group of children running from a cannibalmurderer who had killed their mother. They had abandoned theirfather, and left on this epic journey to escape this evil man whowas possessed by the need to slaughter these children. The storymay be morbid, but the moral is hidden deep in the story. Thesechildren spent the majority of their existence escaping this evil,and it took them so long to be successful. But when they finallywere victorious, it was made so much sweeter knowing that theyhad finally accomplished what they had dedicated their wholelives to. Problems come and go, but the ones that stick aroundare the ones you have to fight ten times harder. It feels so muchbetter to defeat a problem you’ve had for a long time than to getover one in an instant.
I Am Heretic, I Am EvilYou’re under a veilPerceptions of love are skewedI am your prophet You ask of evil?Here I am for you to seeDon’t take this lightly Bring you to the pitMy existence is worthlessLearn from me, dear childI will be your meager blanketI will protect you from harmThough my edges are becoming torn,I’ll wear my battle scars with charmNail me up and tear me downHold me, throw me on the groundMake sure I choke on the soilMy coughing barely makes a soundI’ll be okay, not that you careMy edges are barely even thereI’ll be content if something finally comesAnd grants my wish: One final tear.We’re a lost cause, living in ignoranceWe’re a dying race, masked with liesWe’re unimportant, preserve nothingWe’re choking off the “heresy”.Scared to accept the truthForming societies around kingsWatching them burn to the groundYet, still trusting our dreams.What a sad world we’ve becomeDecaying in upon ourselvesWe’re a person in the mirrorWatching ourselves rot.
The social heretic is the person that willultimately show the world that there issomething more than just the standardsocial norm. Although people are madeout to be terrible just because of theirbeliefs and mindsets, I am incrediblyproud of these people. We need somemore freaks in the world. We need togive something to feed the masses’addiction to hatred, and we needsomething to make us strive to bebetter. The people that make us out tobe terrible are our example. They are attheir ultimate low, making people feellike trash to keep themselves happy.People need something to make themfeel superior, and people needsomething to make them feel like theyhave some sort of power. In reality, it’sall worthless, and in the same way thatthey were put on this earth to teach uswhat not to be, we were put on thisearth to show them exactly whatthey’re missing out on; happiness. Theconformists are the people that willnever be truly happy until they realizethat we’ve found the key toenlightenment; do what you want if itmakes you happy, have respect, and letother people live their lives.
The Tomb of My Psyche Understandable sorrow I know you think it’s me So keep your intentions ... And throw them to sea I know what you’re thinking But it can’t be me So keep me locked away For no one to see I know what you want But you can’t get it from me And drown me with everyone’s tears I know the pain that I’ve caused I can still feel your fearPeople in this world are kept as slaves of one thing- fear. Thefear of being unworthy, the fear of being weak, or angry, orsad. The fear of feeling at all. And in order to keepthemselves in their pitiful state of contentment, they have tobring other people down. The opiate of the masses is aworldwide inferiority complex that’s engrained into ourgenetics. The only real way to escape it is to let it go, which iseasier said than done. Instead of hiding behind it and relyingon it for yourself, be a bigger person. Become the Overmanand better yourself, so that maybe you can leave an impacton the rest of our blinded world. The more people that candefeat themselves, the more people will convert themselvesinto the Overman, and a happier place our Earth will be.
Sources:www.srichinmoypoetry.comwww.poemhunter.com/poems/lifeAll of the artwork was obtainedthrough Google Image Search, butall of the paintings are by EsaoAndrews.http://www.esao.net/index.php