Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Christmas Angst

Taken from the stage show Fuck Off and Die: Tales in Teen Angst Poetry.

This is how Sara feels about the Holidays then... and now.


Taken from the show Fuck Off and Die: Tales in Teen Angst Poetry by Sara Bynoe. This story is about a suburban gang told on a feltboard.

Sara messes up the first line of the poem it should be "twas the night before high school" not Christmas. Oh well.

Teenage Boy Angst Poetry

From the stage show "Fuck Off and Die: Tales in Teen Angst Poetry" by Sara Bynoe.

This is a clip of her reading some boy poetry from her book "Teen Angst: A Celebration of REALLY BAD Poetry."

Monday, November 19, 2007

You Make Me Touch Your Hands For Stupid Reasons

If you like Teen Angst Poetry you'll probably like this too. I do!

For better viewing check out:



White picket fence
rose bushes along the side.
It all looks ideal, so very perfect,
no one know what the walls may hide.

Lilac walls, pictures of better times,
wooden floors that shine.
A beautiful kitchen with pale yellow walls
and the family table where they all dine.

Go down the hall.
its the first door on the right,
the door is kept closed and locked
to keep her out of sight.

She just didn't listen,
and tried to stand up, tried to be bold.
None of this would have happened
if she she would've done what she was told.

In her perfect blue bedroom,
her white satin sheets
are covered in dark red blood,
her heart no longer beats.

she knew how to make him angry,
knew he would raise his fist.
But she was done with this life,
he was NOT a real man.

She dared him to do it
she begged him to end her life.
He had hit her every night,
he had loved to make her cry.

Her once rosey cheeks,
pink with the breath of life,
are now pale and grey.
Her breast firmly impaled by a knife.

He hadn't meant to kill her,
didn't mean to take her life.
But his hands are soaked in his own doings,
he has murdered his own wife!

Close the door.
(The first on the right.)
Take care of the body later,
for now, keep her out of sight.

White picket fence
rose bushes along the side.
It all looks so ideal,
perfect some may say
...no one know what the walls may hide.

By: Jessica Belville

Untitled 80s

I started blogging my old teen journals in August of last year, and, in poking around to see if other thirty-somethings were dredging up their awkward adolescences, discovered your site. It's delightful. There's a few of my angsty teen poems at my blog, erstwhileslattern.blogspot.com, but I'll include the creme de la crap here for you:


moistening crystalline shards
that pierce sterilized flesh
that is screaming yes
this crimson nightmare
that's mixed with tears
promises everything
but gives less

cringing and curled in a darkened hall
picturing all you have ever known
questions of whether to rise or fall
come from cracked lips
in a wrenching moan

blades that catch light
and that glimer hope
give but a fleeting euphoria
so tempting the skin's
every curve and slope
and thoughts of all those
who've destroyed you

This was written while I was in the throes of an obsession with - you guessed it - a boy. I was also just discovering the secret joys of "cutting," which is apparently still all the rage with the thirteen-to-sixteen set. I suppose you could file this one under "Life Sucks (and I want to die)."

Tits Mcgee

My Dog Rover

My Dog Rover

Was a brown dog

His tail was brown,

And his nose was long

But then one day

My dog rover

a car it was

that ran him over

The pain was harsh

No one could see,

Just what Rover

meant to me

That dog was brown,

not like another,

But now he's dead,

My dead dog rover

By: Sam McGregor



An overwhelming pathos becomes impetus to this anthem of lament
I am an innocent dove, imploring for regain of my lost dynasty
where I laid eggs and my new ones opened their eyes.
An unknown apprehension of kites and falcons
led to the most irretrievable blunder on my part.
I reared a gluttonous serpent for guard of my best legacy.
It was nourished with the best of my daily findings.
Time passed and the count of my ova went down,
and so was with my offspring, just stains of blood remained.
Blame was laid on the vultures and their assaults,
and hence it placed an excuse for its inevitable stay.
The thought of migration stung me, since I loved my haven
a time came when I was declared an outcast from my heaven.
Why to express regrets for the nest when the tenants are gone!
Would that I had an eye to see through the common heresy and superstition.
On a bare shoot, I just flutter and weep over my folly.

By: Aamir Aziz

Wanted! A Clown Incognito

Wanted! A Clown Incognito

Beware of the feats of a veteran clown incognito
Who is a myopic judge and underfed humped gambler
Convention, foresight, love and reason are whose cosmetic hues.
He is a royal merchant whose ship capsized along the shore
He is a serpent, a thief, an alligator and a sage behind single visage
His gadgets have varied standards
Builds shrines for the dead and spoils the living
Lacks sight and pretends insight
With a storm in his head, his manifesto is the same
Behold his hurried acceptance of crushing defeat
The authorities look at their brainchild aghast
A diseased, incorrigible and humble puppet of sand
A self-mocking savage, a lip-tight icon
A drowning carcass, an exhausted hound.
Vain glorious idolater, blind to the apex threads.
Wages war and signs the armistice in the same breath
A spoiled child, whose morals vary across the frontiers.
A mysterious vase, a beauty without truth
Toppled numerous gods for his personal throne
His infinite prophetic flights bear true witness to his godly genius
But his doglike ambush attacks on the left over, deny this claim.
A Stone, who has set ablaze his credentials of innocence
He is a poor mercenary pawn and a chessman simultaneously.
Such a notorious and familiar stranger he is and still at large.
May he be residing in your heart, arrest him and undress him.

By: Aamir Aziz

Fuck you Shithead


I love the site and I think it's the funniest place I have ever been to when it comes to poetry. A few years ago I wrote a poem for the fun of it when I was really pissed off, and I was writing it to confuse the hell out of someone, which, it worked, so that rocks. But I thought it would make a great addition to the emo poems on your site SO, without further ado, here it is:

Fuck you Shithead

My soul has been taken,
down down down,
into the bloody shores
of your sandy beaches.
You angsty angston!
You horse's birthmother!
You careless shithead!
I hate you!
Burn in the eternal flames from whence you came!
You ogre's mushroom,
you piece of filth.

Yeah...I don't really know what drugs I was on...lol...but I thought this would make so many people laugh their asses off!

Thanks, Avalia

Fan Mail

My name is Melissa Daly. I was just wondering if you were going to be publishing any more books like Teen Angst? I love that book! Im 19, and boy o boy do i have tons of mega angsty poetry! I must have four or five of those journals filled!! I look back at all of them and cannot help but laugh at myself. Its quite amusing, actually, how the world was going to end over every little thing.

Thanks for your time!



I tried to get another copy of the book going but my agent didn't think it was a good idea. Then a couple more American publishers published similar books of Teen Angst writing- although mine has been the only one to focus on the teen angst poetry, because that's where you can really see the angst.

If you think another book should be published- here's your platform to campaign for that. Show me the love!

- Sara

Memoir of an Ex-High-School Poet

Note: This is a teen angst inspired poem

Memoir of an Ex-High-School Poet

I thought I was psychic, for starters, which meant
There were Shadows! and Omens! wherever I went
and I was the Outcast! alone all those years.
In the Silvery Moonlight I shed Crystal Tears.

So I wrote about Silence. And echoes, and blood
I rhymed isolation! and torrents! and floods!
I had Ancient Eyes, at the time, and could see
what no one else saw! and They never saw me.

I kept secret Mysteries, dark and profound;
My Mirrors all Shattered! like dreams on the ground.
I danced with Insanity, danced in the dust
while Memory's Treasures dissolved into rust.

By Now I can recall being burned by those fires
of my own invention, and being inspired
by every cliche in that journal I kept;
But the last time I read it, I laughed 'til I wept.

I guess that in college I made a new start--
when I gave up clairvoyance, in favor of art.

By: Tracie Thompson

Stone Blue

I wrote this at the age of 18. June of 1990, according to the date
in my old Malachite Green Journal. Shoulda been way over it by then,
but apparently I wasn't.

Its meaning is, um...I'll have to get back to you on that. I find
myself reading it and going, "Wha..?" I suppose it could sort of
count as "Life Sucks" but probably falls more into the category of
"Look How Sensitive/Special/Stressed Out I Am." Or something.

I think this was my personal best in terms of Overwrought Images/
Stanza. I may have jammed more awfulness per iambic foot into this,
than into anything else I ever produced.

So here it is:

Stone Blue

Someone's throwing pebbles at my window
The shadow men are climbing on my walls
Silently I watch them dance and dwindle;
Someone with a voice makes voiceless calls.

There's echoes of the stones that crack the glassworks
Where I have hid away the things I know
And ripples where they've fallen in the water
And puddles where my soul was made of snow.

Catching every rock for my collection:
Little bits of sanity and fright
(Watching while the pane is scratched in anguish)
Needing just one more for every night.

Help me I can't catch them, falling faster
Spinning like infinity and rage
No one's here but absolutes have left me;
Hurricanes of mind, my only cage--

Someone's throwing pebbles
at my window.

By: Tracie Thompson

Fuck You (the breakup poem)

Fuck You (the breakup poem)

Just Fuck off and leave me alone i scream at you
You piss me off with the things you say and do
please take me back, you ask so sincere
I dont want you back not in any day, month or year.

You annoyed me with everything that you did
For fuck sake you acted like a kid
You were twenty i was seventeen
You always had tantrums and made a scene

Fuck you bitch you used to yell
who's the bitch now, go fucking rot in hell
I'm glad I'm not with you, u selfish prick
Because I've realised you make me sick!

By: Hayley Preston


I have found another angst poem from my teenage years (age 17, to be exact) that I would like to send to your site. It was about an old teacher; my classmates and I really disliked her because she kept screaming at us and giving us loads of difficult homework. The poem was a spoof of "Helen" by H.D.

"Ms. ______"
A parody of the poem "Helen" by H.D.

All English hates
The mean eyes in the shit face
The dullness as of olives
Where she stands
And the clawed hands.

All English reviles
The way she never smiles,
Hating her deeper still
When she roars cruel remarks,
Remembering hard assignments
And past ills.

English sees, unmoved,
Satan's daughter, born of hate,
The ugliness of fat feet
And bulgy knees,
Could love indeed the hag
Only if she were stuffed in a bag
And buried six feet beneath funeral cypresses.

By: Heather Radsnake


I'd just like to start this by saying that these were
lyrics I wrote for my LONG defunct punk band Suburban
Excursion (we thought it was so funny to name our band
after two SUVs and then be Anti-Bush) in 2002, or --
sad as this is for me to admit -- my senior year of
high school in a small Montana town known as Anaconda.

The first one I think is just the scariest lyrics
ever, and I am oddly proud to say that they were
written about our guitarist's obsession with a girl
and not my own. Though, still...

Four years later (though I wrote the second song five
years ago after learning "power chords") I am amazed
that people came to our shows, and that I ever even
touched a girl.

Anyway, thanks for the site (and the book).

Pat Duganz

Untitled Valentine
By: the now defunct punk band Suburban Excursion
(This was our longest song)

I sit back and look out my bedroom window as I fade
into my own regret
Cause I'm not yours, not good enough for you

I don't wanna talk about it
I don't wanna think about it
I don't wanna look in the mirror today
Not today
(Repeat that twice)

Happy Valentine's Day my dear I hope you're happy
though I'm transparent to you
I can't see past these tears
I should go get lost, gone forever
Not ever here again, not ever again

I don't wanna talk about it
I don't wanna think about it
I don't wanna look in the mirror today
Not today
(Repeat that twice)

Now with your blue eyes and me without a care I can
see why we can't ever be together,
So happy valentine's day my love, I'll always be with
you, even when I'm gone, I'll still be with you

I don't wanna talk about it
I don't wanna think about it
I don't wanna look in the mirror today
Not today
(Repeat that twice)

What's he got that I don't have?
What's he got that makes you smile at him and turn
away from me?
I walk by and wonder why I can't be more like him
I walk by and wonder why I can't be more like him

(We had a bridge!)
Why I care about you, when you're so perfect, I'm
crumbling away and falling away without you.
Why I care about you, when you're so perfect, I'm
crumbling away and falling away without you.

(Now the chorus, but slow)

I don't wanna talk about it
I don't wanna think about it
I don't wanna look in the mirror today
Not today

Turbo Pop
By: the now defunct punk band Suburban Excursion

Too many questions always asked
Somedays I wish I could go away
Yeah no one ever understands the fight
I call my average day
Get out of bed to wash my head and face it anyway
Yeah but you're so cold I wanna find...
A warmer place to stay, to stay, to stay
A warmer place to stay, to stay, to stay

Step back, fade to black!
Step back, fade to black!

Too many memories long replaced
When I thought you were here to stay
All of my friends tell me that
You were a dumb slut anyway
I find it funny, think it's sad that you still ask to
be friends
But you're so cold I wanna find...
A warmer place to stay, to stay, to stay
A warmer place to stay, to stay, to stay
(Now with more feeling)
A warmer place to stay...



there is no love,
there is no joy,
there is no laughter.
there is only hatred,
there is only sadness,
there are only screams.

By: Lina

Note: "I wrote this when i was 14. I was alone and melancholy."


At the ripe old age of 22, i was sorting through my old desk at home and happened upon a few jewels. i value my sense of humor about myself, so i think that i have no choice but to forward these to your fair website. which i enjoy greatly. perhaps these poems can join the ranks of the others.


obscure and lost
the fruitless search

and misdirected
an end
a close
all myth

peace of mind
belongs to no one


its missing
a vacancy unaccounted for

and empty

when does it end
where does it begin


By: Karl

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Lonely In Love

Lonely In Love

the first one had beauty,
the second had smarts,
the third was awesome,
the forth is strong,

the fifth had everything
A man could want.
The first, shot me down
like a bird in the sky

the second and third
doubled teamed me,
with their late night stories,
and weekend fisaco's

The forth i gave away
to a friend of mine,
she was a good dime
but not mines

the fifth got a "friend",
with her around i got no chance,
try an make a date, to the movies, out to dance,
She say's yes, "friend" says No
Thats how the tragedy ends

By: Chris Boutte
Wrote at age: 14


He was my brothers best friend when i was seven
and my brother left a year later and four years later he hurt me when i was eleven.
and i forgave him five months later and became friends and and even more
and i thought that we would be together for sure.
and the next thing i know hes with my best friend
and after that friend ship and relationship has gone and it the end
and i guess we just weren't ment to be
and after all i regret everything because he hurt me.

By: Tiffany Bolton

The Dark, creeping up right behind you....

The Dark, creeping up right behind you....

or is it? is it beside you, touching your shoulder, stroking your shoulder. Or is it the one afraid of you, cowering in a corner, avoiding you. Or could it be everywhere, always there, never leaving...only disappearing in the day. Is he stalking you, or are you stalking it. When you wake up is it going to sleep? or is it just hiding? Could it swallow you hole at any time...and if it did would you become the darkness..would that be you stalking people....or would you just cease to exist...would people notice you were gone....would people look for you...or would they just shrug there shoulders and keep on living...What is the Darkness.......

By: Josh

My Comet

Backstory: First heartbreak, age 17. I really did believe we would get married. no really, i mean it...i seriously thought it would end that way!! Ha! Anyhow...brace yourself...it pretty bad.

My Comet

when i met you i thought you were a comet

that we could sail through the universe together, riding the flames

now i walk through the imprinted earth that your

burned out comet has left

i wallow

i wade through the ashes and sulpher

and i seek you out in this mess.

all i can find of you has turned into powder.

when i met you i thought we could burn on forever.

By: Leanna.



life is like a riddle
none gets it at first
it takes time and determination
to eventually get it right

some try but the words
the words fool them
and they get set back
of fail
but they try again

they give up thinking its useless
and impossible

but the rest
they get the satisfaction
of what they had accomplished
with their had work and efforts

By: Amanda



nothing can describe
the backbreaking pain
of betrail
it hurts like
being shot throught the
heart witha silver bullet
only way of relief
is the crimson dripping
from your wrist to
the floor
then giving all you can
to keep yourself from tearing
you trusted them
told them everything
your unspoken fear
they use it against you
find everyway to make sure
the forever feared nightmare
becomes reality
you have only one escape
one choice
deal or...

By: Amanda



feeling of stares
up and down your body
while walking in the halls
silenced whispers as you walk past
act as if you dont care
inside - it kills
a moment alone
you lose control
breakdown and cry-
pull yourself together
fearful that they'll see
you brush it off as
if it never happened
keep going on like that
until the one day
when you cant take it anymore

By: Amanda



heart pounds
hands sweat
hard to breathe
is life jove or lust?
memories of goo times
and heartbreak
you think you love him
you think he loves you
restless thoughts
minds at run
can only think the worse
sleepless nights
tossing and turning
wondering where he is
what he's doing
what he's thihking about
he breakes your heart
into a thousand peices
and all he can say is
that you deserve better
in the end all of
your devotions your desires
are useless and
your heart bleeds out unwelcomed pain
forever fear feelings
for nothing hurts worse
than the pain of love

By: Amanda



the fact of knowing
that your never going
to be pretty enough
smart enough
skinny enough
popular enough
that kills

walking down the halls
knowing what you are
that kills

seeing all the cheerleaders
and their hot jock boyfriends
and knowing that you'll go
through school alone
that kills

the one solution most
nobody's find is one-
that kills.

By: Amanda

Virginity Poem!

I have the original poem in a journal which, if you
like I can scan and send you a copy. I wrote it when I
was 18 in France, just after losing my virginity.

Mary B.

I saw you and my heart said yes
My mind said no
We are two strangers in each other's arms, walking
along cobbstone medieval streets
"How beautiful,"I remarked staring at my feet
"I prefer the ocean," you said looking in my eyes

And then we were intense and alive in a flash of
lightening as one
I was safe in the darkness
As I cannot see myself -
my sins
And before I could flee you said you loved me
Once inside you said that you would love me - but only
Penetrating for love that was never there and never
will be there

Let's be honest with each other
And admit who and what we have done
our insecurities
But let us lie about the fact that this act has
nothing to do with love

It is a search in emptiness
A long search to satisfy our burning hunger for
To pretend we are not alone, this is what we do
And the next day nothing more is said about the night,
because in reality it was

Inside me there are aching cramps for the return of
what you took from me
My innocense and trust
I want to go back, I do not want to go forward into
Not knowing how to really show love

Because I have never made love!

By: Mary B.

Back Story:

I slept with Gautier Rowe because I didn’t want to go
to university a virgin. My mother sent me on a five
month ‘cultural immersion’ trip to her native France
where my aunt - the funky carmelite nun - was
homebase. It was February1992 and university started
that September so I needed to make significant
headway. I had already tried, unsuccessully, to have
sex with a boyfriend a few months earlier. Lack of
attraction to the acid-wash wearin’ guy made
penetration too dry and too painful so we gave up,
broke up and moved on.

After two weeks writing melancoly poetry at the
nunnery, a family friend invited me for the weekend to
medieval Dinan in Brittany. Their 18 year old
daughter, Maiwenn, wore fitted cashmere cardigans and
styled her hair in a loose bun looking impeccably
elegant. On Friday night Maiwenn took me to her
boyfriend Pierre’s party.

Pierre buzzed us into the 16th century wooden pillar
facade apartment. I adjusted my blue silk scarf,
having tossed aside a bulky Gap sweatshirt. Grunge
America had not reached these parts. At Pierre’s,
candles flickered a top tables garnished with
baguettes and blue cheeses. Olives marinated in
ceramic dishes alongside half filled bottles of
Bordeaux and Burgundy red. The harmonizing voices of
Simon and Garfunkel provided the musical underscore. A
brown haired, blue eyed and mature 21 year old Gautier
approached and offered me a glass of merlot. I never
looked back.

Several Poems From V. Robertson

Hello, I heard you on the cbc. Fantastic. I new that my suffering and
torment would amount to something someday. I would like to donate two
little jems I wrote around the age of 17/18. I am now 25, working at a bank
(never ever thought that would happen) and fairly successful in life (or
that), though still fairly tormented (saw that coming). It's interesting
and funny for me to reminice about how I felt and thought in the dark days
of my youth, I hope your readers feel the same. Laugh, roll your eyes,
sympithize, it's all the same to me (hey that rhymed). So, here are my
insightful and over-dramatic masterpeices. Thanks for the platform! V
Robertson, London ON.

If only I could be respected by
Mormality without assimilated my
self into their collective
To make them more receptive
If they can love a chimpanzee
Why can't they love me
Is a chimpanzee more
Noble, reliable, responsible
Than good old useless fat ugly me?
Am I less like them than a chimpanzee?

Simple Spirit Splints
Nobody wants to hear about my lonliness
Because my pain is surely just selfishness
Nobody gets my developed world geiving
Meleiveme if I had a ride I'd be leaving

I'd pick up my little life and go
Where problems are simple
And you don't live long enough
to get attached to people

Depression is an enlightened state of mind
And getting over is dumbing down I find

To live long among those who have a happy life
those killing themself with concealed strife

I'd pack up my little life and go
Where livestock out number addicts
And you don't get so lazy that
You love TV the sameway
you love family


I'll find a home or a medication
for this hopeless feeling
There has to be some sort of solution
for a soul that needs feeding.

I am Dead

Satan Story

By: Kim Shaughnessy


we once chased a rainbow
to see if we could catch it
to get the gold
before those fucking leprechauns could fetch it
we saw no purple mountains and no majesties
but we saw a lot of cactus
and some real big trees
it was a stupid trip
and we're cool with that
except in Huston, Texas
when wicked ate a cat
we're here in Arizona
and that is where we're stuck
you may think the trip sounds fun
but we're sure it sucked

By: `Wicked and Vicious
(Sara Bettale and Melody Albright)

Prelude to a Good Day

Prelude to a Good Day

There is nothing left for me here.
A note smelling of CK 1 and my broken dreams.
Give it up, world. I see you for what you are.
A sham. A poser. A loser. A user.
Like me on one of my better days.

I cry crystal tears that shatter upon the surface of my sorrow
Nothing reaches the depths of my emotions
The torrid waves of lightning torment

That shocks my soul like crack'd electricity
A million watts of sadness upon my
prematurely wrinkled brow
My dry deserted heart.

No one understands. No. One. Understands.
Why??? why?! why!!? why!?!!.;,...
Endless slander of my needs.
What I want. What I can never have.

Slowly you have chipped away at the last
Stronghold of my strength
Turn it off. Turn off the lights.
I can only stand darkness.
Where I may weep alone.

By: Ana Portsusky



Deafening Silence
Discordant Harmony
A million moments of
sorrow bundled into one.

Why me? I ask
myself. Why did she
have to chose me for her

Silent Symphony
Orgasmic Pain.
A thousand lies made
into Truth.

Your eyes, she said, are
beautiful. Pretty eyes,
she said. If only I
knew, if only I

Knew. Enveloping
Nothingness. Sweet
Bitterness. Hundreds of
years rolled up in a

I breath in the
pain and drink
from the cup
of loneliness.

By: Chris Wilson


This is a poem written in the years between 13-16 when I was
struggling with unrequited love, isolation, an eating disorder and the
inability to write proper poetry.


what are you wheeling and stealing for?
why the clothes you’ll wear, the heap on the floor
the mass on the, polyester swamp grows on hardwood
scarred by fire, burnt it in frustration and loneliness such hope
I know, I know I know you tried once and the hospital stitched
your finger up as you strived to score on your own team
as you missed your cue, as you tried to reach through the glass
as you squirmed under reason, I am wrong and I know it, leave me be
trying so hard to read the lines
that aren’t yours, and you were
too afraid to ask, how foolish
you’d look, as you smeared all that makeup on the cheap what point
makeup that cost millions, the bottles and canisters and greasy little tubs
clown for him, look at me, my god just look
in bursting full pathetic glory, I am whirling, confused and drugged love
a hothouse flower of depravity and error, oh please
I am spinning for you, I am dancing without rest
beating my wings-will driven, I know, I know
out late, out late alone just a little while
wait, for the book/walk/skirt that changes it all 5 min. years
I’m a new man, I am new born my perfume, my smoke
baptism, things fall apart and meld and mend, see all these signs in the sky
full circle, fetal position I can’t breathe, I can’t, I..
I know, I know-try getting that putrid food out of your throat
it’s not tears, it’s the food your father is killing his soul to provide it
is not
tears, you are overfed, it is the food your father is killing himself to
provide is it not
Rape the mouth, a hot flood, thick as virgin blood and forgiveness, it burns
all cleans it hurts
I know.

By: Sarah Rose

Ode to Johnny

At the age of 13, in the basement of my best friend, Sandra McDonald, I wrote these classic words.

I hoped that John Travolta would make his way to my middle class, Canadian, suburban neighbourhood. With youthful optimism on full throttle, I honesty thought John Travolta, just might read my pledge and take me back to this native Brooklyn, where Sunday family dinners awaited me: plates of saucy pasta, mingling amongst his Mafiosi relatives, and the embrace of a round, warm, Italian woman who wouldn’t call me a slut if I wore my sky blue spandex pants and roller boogie t-shirts to dinner.

I left “Ode to Johnny” in the rose decaled drawer of my white Captain’s bed, hoping to intimidate my own mother with a silent threat to leave her for John Travolta. Her only response was “Are you on the drugs?”.

Oh Johnny I love you come and take me away

Oh Johnny I love you come and take me away

I see you as a sunset shining over me

I see you as a river, strong and shimmer’y

I see as my hero, your strength you own to me

Oh Johnny I love you come and take me away

Oh Johnny I love you Come And Take me…


By: Shelley Franchini

Note: This poem was the big winner in The Tyee’s Teen Angst Poetry Contest.


The audacity of it all. How dare you! Fan Mail

Laughing at other people's past misery? Poking fun at
profound pain? Belittling intense emotions?

I laughed so hard I cried! I must have more. More, I
tell you! And one day I'll probably share my own
samples of strife/life/knife. 'Cause this is far too
good to miss out on.

Thanks for the laughter. Please add me to your reading
series email list.

Susan Cormier


Forever broken, forgotten and lost
Her goal was to end her life, at any cost
Disguised as perfect, no worries at all
But once she got home her whole world would fall
Up to her room she hurried at last
Engage in all acts that could do the trick fast
A knife to her wrist or some popping of pills
She would do anything for the comforting chills
But one day she took it a little too far
Her wrist was cut deep, it was no longer a scar
She fell to the ground and felt peace at last
Now she is happy, away from her past.

By: Shiva


Forever broken, forgotten and lost
Her goal was to end her life, at any cost
Disguised as perfect, no worries at all
But once she got home her whole world would fall
Up to her room she hurried at last
Engage in all acts that could do the trick fast
A knife to her wrist or some popping of pills
She would do anything for the comforting chills
But one day she took it a little too far
Her wrist was cut deep, it was no longer a scar
She fell to the ground and felt peace at last
Now she is happy, away from her past.

By: Shiva

Dark nights of the soul take flight

Georgia Straight Arts Notes
By Pieta Woolley
Publish Date: August 4, 2005

Even with the help of an agent, Vancouver poet Sara Bynoe couldn't find a Canadian publisher for her recent book Teen Angst: A Celebration of Really Bad Poetry (St. Martin's Press, $18.95). The nation's presses might live to regret it. Featuring work by Bynoe and 31 other writers, the anthology is listed as one of the New York Library Association's "books of summer"-a sure-fire sales booster. It also made the Cleveland Plain Dealer's top 20 picks for the season, and Bynoe has become, in her words, a "media whore", appearing on the CBC and in the Globe and Mail, the Boston Herald, and other places.

In October, avid readers will vote to decide whether Teen Angst is the NYLA's young-adult book of summer. Will the sole Canadian on the list be the Big Apple's star? "It's my dream to write a musical about it," Bynoe told the Straight. "The song lyrics are going to be teen-angst poetry. It'll be like Breakfast Club meets Grease." She said the idea has already attracted the attention of a Los Angeles producer.

Teen Angst began with Bynoe's own tortured verse, written between the ages of 10 and 18. She started a Web site for teen-angst poetry back in 2000, and the book appeared this spring. Every second Monday at Montmartre Café (4362 Main Street), Bynoe hosts Teen Angst Poetry Night at 8 p.m.

"You know the deal now," she explains on her Web site. "You come to Montmartre, you drink, you read some old and embarrassing poetry, you laugh, you go home feeling better about the world."

Bynoe, 25, a graduate of Studio 58 at Langara College, is currently preparing to perform Sparkle Bunny: The Last Raver Standing at the Vancouver and Victoria Fringe festivals.


Darren, just let me cry!

Note to readers: This poem is based on real life when I had my heart broken by my first love.

Darren, just let me cry!

Ive been told that you miss me
And hey, I miss you too
But when I think about
All that shit you put me through
Im better off without
Your lies and cheating game
Looking back on it all
Boy you should be ashamed

You were evrything that I looked for
I even thought we would last forever
If you would have just told me yourself
Just think, we'd still be together

You said that you loved me
And I said I loved you to
But looking back at that now
It must not have been true
You said you'd never cheat
Then you said you never lied
But when I asked "did you touch her"
You went and denied

Don't get me wrong Im sad we split
I'm getting told to get over it
You were my first love, the one I adored
The one I was living my life for

Maybe its dumb but I still wanna be friends
After all it was you that put us to an end
I thank you for when you were actually there
And when you acted like you cared
I used to think I had it all
But who's there now to break my fall
I haven't a clue what im gonna do
My heart was torn in two

So don't blame me for this broken heart
When you locked lips with her my world fell apart
There's nothing left for you
That you could possibly do
So just let me cry!

I hate myself for not hating you!

By: Kristy

Two Poems From Karen

I wrote the following short poem in Biology class when I was 17. I hated the class and rarely paid attention. On this particular occasion, I had just had a fight with my mother about using up too much shampoo. This was the 60's and I washed my hair every morning and combed it straight as a board. I couldn't understand why she didn't think it was more important than the few pennies it cost her for shampoo. Having survived two teenagers myself now, I can certainly understand why she didn't want me to use up a whole bottle of shampoo in one week. I was heavily influenced by Ferlinghetti's poetry especially one about Jesus Christ was Hot, so they stretched him, and admired the style of having poetry all over the page.


I withdraw
into my hair
to avoid your

The second poem was also written in Biology class. There was something about all those Latin words which I had difficulty with. This poem was about putting on makeup. I despised how my mother wore red lipstick while I was so sophisticated with white lipstick and blacked eyes.


I create a face

both inner and outer

and conceal who I really am

Like you

By: Karen Ballinger

Can't you see I'm crying?

My teenage diary is stuffed with poetry and big angry writing, plus I had notebooks of random thoughts and quotes and lists of things I liked and hated, so it was really hard to choose something really bad. Most of it is standard alienation-themed drivel, like a poem about a guy walking by himself through the snow or bums drinking from paper bags on sidewalk with their tears falling in etc.

I read Sassy magazine (circa 1992), liked drama and art class, and had this huge crush on this skater guy. I really, really liked the skater types in general (ooh, rebellious) and this guy was like my dream man. I wrote a lot of poems for him lamenting our missed love connection, but by grade 11 I was giving up hope of him ever being my boyfriend or of being popular in general. Still, when he paid attention to me by playfully borrowing my supplies in art class or smiling that (still) killer smile, my hope would return, then turn into the despair that fueled free verse masterpieces like this one:

Can't you see I'm crying?
I'm crumbling
within the four walls
of my haven.
You don't see, you don't want
to see me shatter.

It will soon amuse you
as I take on
proportions of a circus

I silently cry and beg you
to notice me
that's all I hope.

Please, I cannot ask you.

It's a charade, you know.
Through the wire that connects us
distortion changes me
act, it's what I've been trained to do.

So you cannot see
how I cry out,
and hope.

Created: November 1992

By: Christine Dahlo

Alone in the dark

Alone in the dark

I walked around in a daze,
thinking I was all alone.
My mind was chaotic craze,
If only if I had known.

Standing in the dark,
I cried.
My life was such a lark.
I died.

Why didn't you tell me?
What is the truth?
Why did you lie to me?
What you did was uncouth.

Now I cry.
You just tell lies.
My heart dies.
Oh why....

By: Amy Tucker

A Few Teen Angst Poems From Danielle


I would be happy to send more poems later (I have no
shortage of these!) if you would like.


I really had difficulty selecting what could truly be considered my "best" teen
angst poetry. Honestly, it is difficult to get the entire effect without
reading my entire notebook in succession. I never wrote "fuck you" poems or
odes, or anything of that nature. My teen angst years were filled with "I love
you more than life itself" and "I'm going to die alone". The true irony is that
one such "I will never love again" masterpiece might be followed immediately by
some passionate expression to the new love of my life.

My very first "real" boyfriend and I met when I was fifteen years old. He was
nearly three years older than me, charming, and had an accent. He was
brilliant, spoke fluent French, and I was madly in love with him. I eventually
lost my virginity to him, in, of course, the most romantic of situations. We
were at his friend's party and could only find one open room. The room in
question belonged to the host's little sister, and had a bed with “Barney”
sheets. We were both still wearing our socks. Two weeks later, he slept with
another girl and then begged me to take him back, only to dump me a week after
that. I wrote this soon after my major heartbreak. Please note that it is
modeled after a Shakespearian sonnet. I really thought that pain equaled

They say true love is difficult to find,
I guess I was fortunate to find you.
When once, two knowing hearts possessed the kind
Of love we thought was relentlessly true.

And so they screamed, “This world’s an ugly place,”
This made it tough for me to understand
Could this wisdom prove true in every case?
It was beautiful when you held my hand.

Like color in sun, love fades when left long,
Feelings become bleeding, festering wounds
There is an end to every pretty song,
When the pain screams, and we ignore the sound.

Alas, I knew that I could not pretend
But young minds never recognize the end.

("I'll never love again")

My next great love was a sixteen year old, skinny, awkward virgin with facial
hair. Looking back, he didn’t have much to offer, other than the fact that he
worshipped me. In time, the feeling became mutual. Somehow, we were both
convinced that we were soul mates and would end up getting married. This
particular section of my notebook is covered in hearts, combinations of my name
and his, and pictures of us together. Worse yet, I used to read my literary
outpourings to him over the phone. This is maybe the worst thing I have ever

Have you ever dreamed something true
Long before it came to be?
My entire life I’ve wanted you
To come along for me.

You are the only thing that matters in life,
The only one for whom I cry
I know someday I’ll be your wife,
And love you till I die.

I don’t think that you realize
Because I’ve never told you
I know when I look into your eyes
You are my dream come true.

("More than like")

I continued to write poetry about this particular individual, Ari, for the
entire length of our relationship. Another real gem:

I never felt like anything
before I was with you
but you've told me I'm special every day
because you believe its true

what is it you see in me
that no one has ever seen?
all I know is that I'm happier now
than I have ever been

You tell me that I'm perfect
but I don't think that is true
the only thing that I believe is
I am absolutely perfect for you.

("More than like")

After little more than three months of “pre-marital” bliss and bad sex, Ari
announced that he was moving to Israel. I was devastated, but determined to
keep the romance alive. We lasted about six weeks. Really, though, I can’t tell
if I was lonely or horny when I wrote this one:

I remember when you sang to me
Every night before I slept
But no longer can I hear you sing
And so last night I wept

I miss speaking on the phone for hours
I miss knowing you are there
Most of all, I miss your touch
Your fingers in my hair

The feeling of your skin on mine
Is far removed from today
I never knew I could be this lonely
Until you went away

("More than like")

The story has a happy ending, though. I went on to have some very healthy, adult
relationships, during which I felt no need to write “more than like” poetry. I
no longer get that “I am going to die alone with a lot of cats” feeling when
dumped, and certainly don’t pull out a notebook. I’m single now, but fully
aware that I am not the only person in that situation (though I still think it
sucks- perhaps THAT part never goes away). Coincidentally, I am now studying to
be a writer, even though some of these submissions may ruin any possible future
I have.


Hi! My name is Danielle and I am currently a student at Tulane University. I
recently purchased your book after running into it (honestly, someone left it
on the table at Barnes and Noble), and, after reading through it in the course
of a night and thinking it was screamingly hilarious, spent the next six or so
hours divulging the products of my particularly teen-angsty teen years to a
close friend of mine. He suggested that I submit some of my "gems" to you, and
I wondered if you accept submissions from just anyone...yes, I AM over 18
(haha, and thank god!). In any event, even if my work doesn't qualify, I really
love the premise of your book- what a wonderful and funny idea! It's kind of
nice to look back and realize that everybody wrote the same crappy poetry that
I did.

Thanks so much!

The Anti-Teen-Angst Poem

The Anti-Teen-Angst Poem (or "Today I've Decided That Life is Unfair")

Today I've decided that life is unfair
'Cause I don't have cool clothes like the in-crowd kids wear.
And my mother won't let me put gel in my hair!
For my tragic existence, does nobody care?
Today I've decided that life is unfair.

My favourite T-shirt was all dirty and wrinkled
My sis took the last Pop-Tart, with icing and sprinkles.
My folks said I'm too selfish, they're so unaware
That today I've decided that life is unfair.

Got an F on a test, 'cause I'm too cool to study
Got dissed 'cause I'd gossipped about my best buddy,
A car splashed my leg, now my pants are all muddy!
I'm feeling so hopeless, I want to despair,
'Cause today I've decided that life is unfair.

I'll go get some piercings, I'll dress in all black,
Get a skull and a serpent tattooed on my back!
Hey world, I'm depressed, can't you cut me some slack?!?!
I know that my classmates will whisper and stare,
But today I've decided that life is unfair.

As I walked home from school, whilst I wallowed in gloom,
I saw in a gutter, unwashed and ill-groomed,
A man who had nothing. Until now, I'd assumed
That I had it the worst, that nobody cared,
After all, I'd decided that life was unfair!

As I looked at this man, and he slowly gazed up,
And jingled the change in his worn paper cup,
His clothes were unruly, and so was his hair,
Yet he spoke quite politely, (though his looks caused a scare),
"Kid, why do you think that life's so unfair?"

As I pondered his question, put myself in his shoes,
I realized contentment is something we choose.
For this man had so little, and I had it all,
Had a house, food, and water, which may appear small,
Had a family who loved me, and would always be there,
While he slept on cold pavement, 'neath streetlights' harsh glare,
This sobering lesson made me wholly aware,
That it's to MY advantage that life is unfair.

By: Emily, from Canada

I Win, You Lose

When I was 13, I was introduced to the internet. And, omg! Instant
messaging. Around 14, I really got wrapped up into the whole "online
relationship" stuff. For some reason, I really had this thing for this guy
named Brett. He was older than me, in college. He was kind of a friend of
mine, but like I said, I was 14, and clueless. We "dated" for a week and he
broke up with me. This is what I wrote after that. The room I refer to is a
chat room. Brett then became my "could never just leave it alone" guy. We
"went out" and "broke up" 2 more times after that, within a year. I still
talk to him. I'm not hung up on him anymore, though. Not since I was 15. At
16 1/2 I started dating my current (real) boyfriend. So, you can see I got
over that stage. I'm 19 now, and Brett is just a friend. But, I owe him for
the inspiration for one of my favorite poems: I Win, You Lose.

I Win, You Lose

The anger inside pours over and out my ears
It chases you down the street
You run screaming for your life
But now all the girls in the room see you coming
Never again
A giant ax swings at your head while you’re not looking
What a shame, now you have no head
But you keep running
Stupid fool!
Can’t you see?
There is no escape from my wrath!
It will hunt you down like the dog you are!
Die you mutant piece of crap!
I gave you my heart!
Now give it back you ass!
You don't deserve my love!
You don't deserve the time I gave you!
You don't deserve me!
You speak as though you’re sorry
How can I believe you now?
I’ve been lied to too much
This is it...
I’m done and through
Screw you!

By: Megan D.

New Day

New Day

The day comes to a close.
Gone is the warmth,
the laughter,
the sun.
Very gradually until,
only cold remains.
The evening is here.
Not to worry,
tomorrow is very soon,
and brings with it, its companion,
A brand new start.

By: Been There

Written in 1992-93 at age 16/17



You will never truly be mine,
but I can still dream.
You will always pursue another,
but I can still dream.
You will call me, "Just a friend",
but I can still dream.
You may never love me.
But I will always understand.
As long as I have my dreams.

By: Been There

Written in 1992-93 age 16/17



Up high on a pedestal you stand.
That's where I put you.
The only thing that comes crashing down,
is my heart,
my soul,
my mind,
my everything.
You just gather a thin veil of dust.

By: Been There

Written in 1992-93 age 16/17

Existing for You

Existing for You

I sit here thinking,
Thinking of you.
I lay here dreaming,
Dreaming of you.
I am existing,
Existing because of you.

By: Been There

Written in 1992-93 age 16/17

I Want You

I Want You

In every waking hour,
I dream of you with me.
In every little moment,
I think of you with me.
In every golden vision,
I see you with me.
In every painful thought,
I want you with me.

By: Been There

Wrote: 1992-93 age 16/17

Friday, November 16, 2007


Best Friend

If I could take your mind,

And wring out every thought of her sweet personality

I would.

If I moved my world

Just to make you smile

Would you?

If I could take your eyes,

And scratch out her perfect face from view

I would.

If I changed myself to be like her

Just to make you love me

Would you?

If I could slice off the piece of your heart

With her name on it

I would

If I severed her hair, and twisted her face

Just to stop you loving her

Would you?

If I only knew how

To make you love me

I would

If I told you I loved you

Hoping you would just like me

Could you?

If changing my life, and I things I do

Could make you love me,

I would

But it wouldn’t

Because you couldn’t

I’ve tried

Best Friends.... isn't enough

By: Scarlet Open



Crimson drops of blood fall off my arm

I wonder why I caused myself harm

A blade I used to cut real deep

Into my skin, allowing the blood to seep

Anger and depression caught up inside

Trying to ignore care and give off lies

Hatred caught up within

Making my thoughts and my head spin

Crying and cutting after disses from peers

It's mostly the guys, they cause me tears

Afraid to let anyone know

The pain I've held, the pain I've let grow

If I tell them about why I have cuts

They'll send me to the looney bin and proclaim that I'm nuts

I wanna end this supposed "life" I have

But I don't have the guts to hurt myself real bad

Some people would say that cutting hurts

But no it really doesn't, even if my tears burst

My friends -- they really don't care

They don't understand that my life isn't fair

They don't understand what, where, when, why and how

They don't understand that I wanna kill myself NOW!!!

As I slice my arm, twice, yet three times again

I slowly think of my suicidal plan

Blood drenches my arm

Tears stain my garmets

And I'm hoping tonight is the last of my life

Cause I'm sick and tired of using this knife

Maybe I'd stop.. If I wasn't already in too far

Maybe I'd stop if people hadn't crossed the bar

Maybe I'd stop if people had showed they cared

Maybe I'd stop if I didn't feel snared

But it's almost over.. All this pain and this hurt

See, this wouldn't have happened if I didn't get treated like dirt

If happiness had been an asset of my life

Believe me, dear god, I'd not be using this knife!

I resort to the company of my silver blade

Whenever I feel like I'm about to raid

And a few days ago I'd almost believed I could stop

But my heart and my soul told me I just could not

And here I am thinking of my suicidal plan

Maybe possibly jumping infront of a moving van

But then again, my silver, sharp friend

You've been with me until the start, why not the end?

So I hold you up, up to my throat

But then I think of what one of my peer's had wrote

"Help was always there

People would always care

But help cannot come

Unless you realize what you've done"

This made me wonder what life would be like

If I let myself live for just one more night..

So I pause with the blade held tightly to my neck

And then I realize, I can stop this wreck

See I wouldn't have realized this without a true friend

A true friend I'll cherish until the very end.

By: Angel



so I saw you on Breakfast TV in Toronto the other day...so I picked up the book.

OH MY GOD. It was appalling...and yet so entertaining. When I was a teenager, I was sure that my poems were so cutting edge and were going to change the world...little did I know. I was reading some last night...



should our outside reflect our inside?
should our heart hide the emotion?
should our smile hide our pain?

should anyone see the battles we fight?
should anyone see the our tears that already formed an ocean?
or should we protect them again?

does anyone need to know?
does anyone care to know?

I won't tell
I just don't let them even notice i'm in pain
I'll just cry like the rain
be a shadow
feeling hollow, but still so full

By: Linda Teijlingen

Poem of a Mother's Child

This Poem was written when I was 15 and very angry at my mum

You have no idea how much I hate you right now, but that's okay, I'll get you back later, when you're older someday.
You refused to let us move and destroyed my social life, I'm looking on the shelf for the kitchen knife.
No, I mustn't I say to myself but wrack my brain for a logic shelf, something to get me out of here and let me live, I need to get out of here and let you fuck up the rest of your kids.
I hate you so much, you hear me say, what you don't realise are that my words are my way.
You stick to your 'principles' and don't change your'e mind, you stubborn cow, you hear me grind
I'll run to the end till my feet are numb in the snow or mud , that's what you make me want to do Mum!

By: Amy S


Hi! I'm not submitting anything (although I have tons of "angsty" poetry that if I wasn't so embarrassed by it, I would love to share), but I would just like to compliment you on your site. It is an awesome idea and you did a really good job on it. I also want to express my gratitude because your site helped me immensely while working on a graphic desing project. We're doing sort of a typographic project using a "recipe" or "how to" of some form, and I did mine on "How to write Bad Poetry", because, let's face it, there might as well be a recipe for it. However, my studio instructor completely missed the point that it wasn't a serious examination of good vs. bad poetry and she suggested that I research "good" poetry to contrast it to my explanation of "bad" poetry. This frustrated me because if she'd actually read my piece then she maybe would have realized what I was shooting for. Nonetheless, I set out to research the teen angst poetry genre that I was trying to
mimic. Which brings me to your site. It was an absolutely perfect example of the type of poetry I was trying to explain, and provided the tangible evidence I needed to prove my point. Hopefully I will be able to make her understand what I am trying to do so I can salvage the concept of my project. So I just wanted to thank you for your site, even if I hadn't been on a mission to find some sort of defintion of teen angst poetry, I would still enjoy your site and was rather excited to find something of that nature on the Internet, because back in the day, I too thought my poems were brilliant and profound. Keep up the good work, and good luck with the site and future book plans!

Kelly Leaman
(Iowa State University)

sent in 2004


To love is to cry
To want is to die
Words take their course
Leave your voice hoarse

To feel is to want
To flirt is to flaunt
Simple smiles and sighs
Happiness in your eyes

Starving, Crying, Laughing, Frown
This is how it starts to fall down

To hurt is to care
To hurt someone, no soul is there
intentional or not
you'll hurt in that spot

Hating,Swearing, Wishing, Alive
Leaving yuor heart without any drive

To move on is to accept
To hold on is to be kept
All the feelings inside
Never let yourself cry

Loveing,Smiling, Falling, Away
Real love is real when you stay

To hope is to be true
To care is to love you
Be strong and survive
Youll feel it all inside

To stop is to think
To analyze is to sink
All sadness has hope
All lovers will cope

By: Valerie Mandru

Class off 33

Class off 33

I sit at the back of the room now,

In a class of 33.

It’s kind of secluded back here,

Like being alone.

Funny how alone I feel,

In a class of 33.

Everyone seems to talk in front of me.

Like I’m not here.

I shouldn’t have moved back here,

In a class of 33.

It’s too late now,

There are no seats left.

By: Nancy F. Revie

Note: Nancy now works as a motivational speaker



I sit on the shore as the waves roll in.

Each one seems to speak to me.

Who are you and why are you there.

And are you where you should be.

I stare out at them in self defence

Denying I’m going no where.

But they just laugh and splash on the sand.

Why worry – when I know they don’t care.

I’m living and that’s what really matters.

At least that’s what everyone keeps telling me.

So why do I feel like I’m dying instead?

All I want is just to be free.

The wind is now whispering to me,

Why don’t you make up your mind.

Pick up the pieces and start again,

Go out and see what you can find.

It sounds like a good idea to me,

So I’ll do what the wind has said.

I’ll just go out and be myself,

With new ideas in my head.

By: Nancy Revie



can't comprehend your words
my eyes are blurred
short, sharp breaths escape our lips
you hold me close in the freezing cold
numbness descends my fingertips.
i wont sleep but watch over you. keep you safe.
i'm sorry i shake
cried enough to fill a lake.
too scared to close my eyes
how are you so calm when you tried to die?
you tried to fly.
was it selfish of me to stop you?
i could have been a friend
but i believe you could do so much more
don't want your life to end.

By: Sally Jeffery

Death From Cards

Death From Cards.

Tears are leaking from my eyes
You really don’t have a clue
Here I am crying hard
Standing naked, in front of you.

Laughing when I’m breaking
I throw a tantrum, a fit
Yet I think you think you know
And you’re right…every bit.

Putting in lines of hahaha
You think I’m laughing hard
But the residue of my salt leaked soul
It’s destroyed by get well cards

Your touch will burn my very self
Your eyes can break me too
And to think that I was fool enough
To believe the sky was blue.

My days are spent under cloudy skies
The shadows cut and bruise
And when I reach out for your guide
Your winning hand, I lose.


Lil summary:

It's a poem from long ago, about a guy i'd fallen for. in the game of life, i sometimes find it feels like playing a game of poker - strip poker even. and i keep losing. and he assumes he knows my every move, and he's right. and though he breaks me enough that i feel i need to be hospitalized, i can't enjoy this depression since others keep worrying about me. they don't realize that i could heal easily, from a touch, or a smile from the one i loved - yet when i reach for his hand, he gives me a full house. and i lose...not only in the game of poker but in the game of life.



Sick and tired

To young

Tell me to talk

They only talk

Cant do anything


By: Jill


My musics blaring to drown out your screaming
writing poems with out any meaning
crying soundlessly at night for living here
but i know for you i'll never shed a tear
being here with out any source
always feeling so remorse
my life is losing its sense
i cant do anything without consent
your waiting for me to fall
making me feel so godamn small
... i cry at night knowing nobody will return my call

By: Aleecia Velazquez

I'm in the Park

i'm in the park
were i dwell
i meet this guy
i love so well
he came and stole my heart from me
and now this boy has set me free
he sat another upon his knee
and told her things he didn't tell me
i went home and cried on my bed
a word to my mother i never said
my dad came home that same night
opened the door witch he had broke
and saw me hanging from a rope
on the dresser I left a note
"dig up a grave
dig it up deep
from marble to stone
from head to feet
please place a dove
to show the world
i died for love

By: Tyler Durden



your site is hillarious! I didn't know you guys were in vancouver! I wish i
was still there, but i left on the 14th of august :p

I live in Thunder Bay Ontario, i just wanted to say, your site is cool. keep
it up! Also, Sara Bynoe
: you are very attractive, but that's neither here nor there.





In the revolver of my mind
I thought of killing my self
because of all the pain that you caused me

so I pulled the trigger
and saw blood on the carpet

But it wasn't me
that's impossible
co'z i shot you instead

By: Illia Lou

Living in a Shadow

This shadow I am in is dark and scary
It makes me feel like I'm not good enough
Maybe I am not good enough....
I might not be I don't know
I've been living in a shadow of my brothers dream
And I don't like it
but i guess i have to be
in this shadow of someone elses life and dream
I've been trying to escape...
but theres no way out of this hell hole
screw life
screw this
I hate this shadow
I want to get out
I want to be free
I want to be me!
But i can't do that cuz I'm in someone elses dream.

By: Alison

Promises... Fuck them...

"Promises... Fuck them..."

A solemn promise was made
To ease my heart at pain
Said you'd wait for me
No matter what they say

Promised this and that
Told me very cheesy words
Promises to good to be true
But I still believed in you

I trusted you with all my heart
Believed that I'll be the only one
Every promise you made
Is like healing my heart

And then it happened so fast
Like a blink of an eye
All your promises were broken
And so was I

Now I hate your guts
And I hate your smile
I hate your name
I hate all you are

Dont wanna see your face
Dont wanna hear your voice
Fuck all your promises
You miserable whore...

By: Albert Jr.

My Brain...

My Brain...

How can I explain

I'm insane

Nobody else knows

It comes and goes

Inside me there are others

Some have brothers

They all talk at once

Sometimes for months

For now it's o.k.

I still have my say

But it won't be long

Their influence is strong

I can already tell

I'm becoming a shell

For them it's a game

To make me insane

I know I'm in me

But I'm looking to flee

All I ever hear

And not in my ear

Is all the bad

And everything sad

I'm so tired of them all

They don't hear me when I call

I beg leave me alone

It gets lost in the drone

In the voices that won't stop

My brain…

The talk shop

By: Manfred Ohrt

Rancid whore

Rancid whore

i wish i could kill you stupid rancid whore
for telling all those people that i was a hoe
you think you're so tough because u got the guts
to make my life a living hell
i couldnt belive my eyes
when i saw u in front of the hotel
sucking camerons dick
bitch you make me sick!!
its over and i've had enough
now we'll see whos so fucking tough
bitch think i wont choke no whore
till the vocal cords in ur throat dont work no more?!
think u can beat my ass
ill get u in the motherfuckin cuffs
next time i see u ur face will be imprinter in the fuckin concrete!
still think ur so motherfuckin sleek?!

By: Leina B.


Ultimate Getaway
Sara Bynoe

Life is a worthless Journey through hell
Walking on hot coles which in turn scorch our souls
But death is freedom, a place with no pain and no joy
just peace
Death is the Ultimate getaway

Hi, Sara, I really liked this poem. After 10 years of religion, fundamentalism, post-religion, spirituality, mysticism and confusion, I have come to the conclusion that Hell is nothing but the fire that keeps our ignorant minds alive, and stops us from realizing the ultimate truth that "death is freedom", freedom from ignorance, from hell, as the great persion poet Hafiz says, "death is a favour to us, but our mind have lost their balance". So, I really feel that your poem is true.

Here is the full poem by Hafiz:

Deepening The Wonder

Death is a favor to us,
But our scales have lost their balance.

The impermanence of the body
Should give us great clarity,
Deepening the wonder in our senses and eyes

Of this mysterious existence we share
And are surely just traveling through.

If I were in the Tavern tonight,
Hafiz would call for drinks

And as the Master poured, I would be reminded
That all I know of life and myself is that

We are just a midair flight of golden wine
Between His Pitcher and His Cup.

If I were in the Tavern tonight,
I would buy freely for everyone in this world

Because our marriage with the Cruel Beauty
Of time and space cannot endure very long.

Death is a favor to us,
But our minds have lost their balance.

The miraculous existence and impermanence of
Always makes the illumined ones
Laugh and sing.

'The subject tonight is Love -
60 wild and sweet poems of Hafiz'
Versions by Daniel Ladinsky

thank you Sara, I wish you Bliss and Love
Arlind, Kosovo



And I'll smoke one last cigarette
before drifting off to sleep
to dream of you
lying in bed
next to your picture of Penelope Cruz
and the calendar of Marilyn Monroe
on white, scuffed walls.

By: Kaytie Mansel

x my surrender x

x my surrender x

These bruises
and scrapped knees

x my surrender x

The white flag
waving high above my head.
No more fighting
No more caring...

Just a tragic resesitation
of a heart
that's long stopped beating.

*kiss* these tear stained cheeks,
rub warmth
back into these hands,

Give me life.

Help me [ become ]
the one you've always dreamt of

Every aspect of the
you deserve.

By: Kaytie Mansel

E-mails from Fans

Hey i really like ur poems, they are very similar to my life. Although ive actually tried to commit suicide but I was taken to the hospital. Sometimes I don't know what to do, the concilers dont help much...but those poems are very deep and it helps me think. well i just wanted to let u know u should keep doin wutchur doin.


My World

Mr world you make me sick

And these clocks I hear them tick

Tick tock driving me insane

Stupid boys play Stupid games

Mr world you make me sad

Yet sometimes happy and sometimes glad

I understand now that you revolve around greed

Your souls intolerance makes me bleed

Mr world when will you see?

The trouble that you are causing me

But there is that voice which calls me on

Saying things will change so please hold on

By Sinthu V.

"Apathetic Greed"

"Apathetic Greed"

So many feelings I just can’t express
Lost, alone, scared, discarded, hurt…
So much more
So much worse

No one cares
No one ever knows
They walk around blind
And don’t see all my pain

How can they be so happy?
What is so good about their life?
Is it the fact that they are together?
The fact that they have someone to share their life with?

Is it the fact that they don’t go through this?
The fact that they don’t even know…
They don’t understand
They never will

It seems that they smile way too much
They never have a frown to show
They never feel this pain I do
They don’t have to live with this pain inside…

No one understands what I am going through
I don’t even understand…
How could anyone else?
No one even cares

Even if they knew
Even if they understood
They’d still treat me like shit
And throw me away to be alone

It doesn’t matter to them
Because I am nothing
I never was and I never will be
I can’t mean anything to anyone

No one will ever understand
Never care to do so
Wrap me around your fucking needs
Don’t understand what I need to breathe

Don’t ask
Don’t care
Don’t notice
Don’t need

I’ll leave this place today
No one will notice
I’ll just disappear
And no one will realize it ‘til they need more…

By: Jeremy Duley

Thoughts on the subject

Thoughts on the subject

These dreams I held in my hand,

Burn me down to dust and sand.

Weighing heavy on my torn soul

Filling up the dreams I still hold.

Without you here this dream is pointless

But with you here I don’t deserve this.

The remnants of this shattered life,

Bring hurt and pain into my mind.

I feel lost, broken down,

Empty, soulless, and hell bound.

I tried to stop the pain by death,

But that just brought more emptiness.

Nothing I do stops the doubt,

Nothing done stops the drought.

By: Yanna


My dreams faded with you, you stole my dreams, you broke my heart, by the time you finished i had no spirit....
but now that your not with me i have dreams, i have a spirit and most of all i have my heart back...

By- Liz written at age 16yrs

Angel Of The Dark

Angel Of The Dark

Like a feather, she floats away.
There’s no more reason for her to stay.
Flying from the body that lies on the ground,
Where the tears and the blood can be found.

Her body is cold since there’s no blood inside.
All her scars, like the memories, she hides.
She watches as they take her body out.
The things she did that no one knew about.

The black angel flies in the corner as they mourn.
She watches her family, the ones that are torn.
She took her life in her own room, where she always stayed,
Where the music, sad and cold, was always played.

A letter is sent o her friends one state below.
Her pain was something they would never know.
She sees the one who cared the most read his letter.
She floats in the corner and knows, this way, its better.

Everyone will be better off in the end,
Her enemies, her family, her friends.
She disappears into the night.
Now, everything will be alright.

By: Anon.

One Month Later

One Month Later

A month has passed, but things are still the same.
In fact, I’m worse than before.
Unfortunately, now they know.
They’ve seen what happens to me behind closed doors.
The wound, I know, will never go away.
It can’t be healed.
People try to get me to talk,
But my lips are sealed.
I don’t want to hurt them; I don’t want to scare them,
But I do want to push them away.
It will be too hard for me to end it all,
If they stay…

By: Anon.

Under The Sheets With A Flashlight

Under The Sheets With A Flashlight

All alone with my thoughts and nothing to do but write them down and hope that it eases my mind and lets my body go to sleep. Oh, what I would do for sleep. What I would do for rest. Constant wrestling with my sheets as my mind wrestles with hope and worries. My tear-stained sheets bring no warmth to my cold and bitter heart. As I toss and turn while I think of everything that could still go wrong. I used to think that things couldn’t get any worse… I was wrong. I set myself up higher only to make the fall longer and the crash harder. The only lesson I learned was to never put hope into anything because you’re just holding yourself hostile to more pain and fear. If you are given what you have hoped for, it will only be taken away from you to want again. Then it will never return. It will bring you to the point where nothing else matters and no one can help you but yourself, and you’ve stopped caring. You know that caring will only cause more trauma and heartbreak. You can’t handle anymore pain. You’ve already done enough damage to your brain and your flesh. So you just lay here in the four walls of hell, on the bed of bricks and needles, while your blood-stained pillow offers nothing but memories of what you’ve lost. So you give up… You fall over… You die… On the inside for now, you’ll save the outside for later.
I’m so tired of being tired.
I’m so sick of being sick.
I’m so angry that I’m sad.
I’m so sad that I’m angry.
I’m put up with being put up with.
I just want to be wanted.
I don’t want to be unwanted.
I hate myself for hating myself.
I can’t feel the things I hide.
I can’t hide the things I feel.
I hurt myself for hurting others.

By: Anon

Crimson Pain

Crimson Pain

I'm lying in the nightmare I created for myself.
The decisions I made led to all this pain.
The sind is roaring, the lightning striking,
This cold hard bitter rain.

Let the one that I love watch me bleed,
Crimson pain pouring from my veins.
The call of the thunder covers the sounds of my screams,
From the mental and physical pain.

Since the one who is suffering is not at fault,
For the cards of pain that he has been dealt,
I'll take this knife and watch the blood,
As I let it all out on myself.

I seem to fuck up everyone's lives,
Never making the ones I love smile.
The girl that brought hapiness to her friends,
Has suddently become so vile.

Ripping my hair from my scalp,
Crying in pure insanity,
Drowning in the puddle of my own tears and blood.
This is what life has brought to me.

Crying, bleedind, slowly dying,
All because of what I've done to you.
Close my eyes but don't go to sleep,
Hope the sunrise brings something new.

By: Anon.



Trapped again by these four walls of hell. Slowly, silently, they close in on me. The air gets thinner. The room gets colder. Hell gets darker. I can't breath. I can't see. I can't think. One by one, the chambers of my mind shut down. Why is this happening? What did I do? Why am I at fault for everyone elses pain? It's too late. I waited too long, jumped too soon. I can't take it back now. Hell has surrounded me. There's no way out. There's no window to shatter. No lock to break. Just leave me here. Let these walls cave in. Let me suffocate in this life. Let. Me. Die.

By: Anon.

Blurred Memories

Blurred Memories

He had it all and he threw it all away.
He said he needed her, she promised to stay.
He took her heart and sliced through it with a knife.
So, in return, she’ll do the same to her wrists tonight.

Now he says he’s sorry and he made a mistake,
But going back to what they had is a chance he doesn’t want to take.
So, once again, she pulls the knife from under her bed,
And watches herself bleed as she thinks about what he has said.

Why couldn’t the car have crashed on the way home that night?
Why couldn’t she have just died so that everything could have been right?
Isn’t that what he wants, the girl out of his life?
Her death with a bullet, a rope, a toxin, or the knife…

She’s too lost to even complete a thought.
Insanity is the only thing that the break-up brought.
The light bounces off the knife… into her eyes… reflecting.
The death of this girl wasn’t the one they were expecting.

The death of the girl who was already dead inside.
The one who had nothing left to do but die.
The girl who thought she could finally be cured.
Who’s memories of happiness have been permanently blurred.

By: Anon.

The Bitter End

The Bitter End

I hate to say, "I told you so,"
But I was right all along.
You've seen the reaons I disagreed,
When you told me I was wrong.

I pushed you down, made you fall.
I wasn't everything you hoped for.
Just like the dream where you were hanging,
I kissed you, and then the rope tore.

Everything is always my fault,
There's proof in that everyday.
I wish I knew what it was,
That makes me this way.

Nothing can take the pain I've put you in, away.
Nothing can make the rain you've drowning in dry.
No one can stop the hurricane that I put you in.
Nothing can dry the tears I made you cry.

I promised to do my best.
I promised I'd try.
But now I've broken all those things.
There's nothing to do but die...

That would be the best thing for you.
That would make you smile.
So I'll try my best to bleed to death.
Because I am so vile.

By: Anon.

Thank You (Happy Fucking Valentine's Day

Thank You (Happy Fucking Valentine's Day

Thank you for a reason for the pain to be more serious.
Thank you for the courage to deepen the wounds.
Thank you for the blood stains on the carpet.
Thank you for the numbness I feel in my arms.
Thank you for the tears I cry every night.
Thank you for the screams that escape my lips.
Thank you for the scar I’ll have in memory of you.
Thank you for the knife I keep under my bed.
Thank you for letting me see my favorite color on my skin.
Thank you for the pain I put myself through over you.
Thank you for the hate I have towards myself.
Thank you for my fucked up life and fucked up thoughts.
Thank you for the want and need to die.
Thank you for the idea of hidden wounds.
Now no one will know but me and you…
Thank you for everything Corbin… It’s all because of you.
What? Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this what you need?

By: Anon.

Meaningless Life

Meaningless Life

It’s been so long since I’ve wrote my feelings down.
And since the last time, my world has been tossed around.
My lips have been cursed with a never-fading frown,
And my life and my thoughts have been turned upside down.
I now know that I can never turn around.
It’s too late, I’ve fallen, I just lie here on the ground.
A girl, in her own tears and blood, she will drown.
An empty body, a useless soul to be found.
She was screaming for help but no one heard the sound.
A meaningless life, to her death she is bound.

By: Anon.

My Favorite Color

My Favorite Color

The burn of the knife on my flesh is such a release.
I laugh as the blood pours from my veins.
Landing in small red puddles on the snow,
As the trees watch me go insane.
This is not what I want, but who cares about me?
This pain is for all the others, though this is not what I need.
I can’t help them, I can’t save them,
There’s nothing left for me to do but bleed.
My wrists are on fire as the knife beats them like a whip,
Striking the same place over and over, again and again.
I scream and I’m afraid that the world has heard me,
But then I realize the scream was only in my head.
If I had a bullet, the pain would come greater.
If I had fire, the burn would be stronger.
If I had a rope, this would end more quickly.
If I had more time, this pain would last longer.
If I weren’t such a procrastinator I’d already be dead.
Though, there would be no one to mourn.
Remove the body and the stains from the carpet.
Pretend the girl was never born…

By: Anon.

The Things I Hide

The Things I Hide

Pissed at the world, crying in pain,
Slowly dying in the life that I've made.
Laughing at jokes, pretending its okay,
Yet contemplating my death every other day.
No one warned me of these fears.
Closer to death every year.
Like the mascara pouring down my face,
I want to run away, leave this place.
Should I hold on or just let go,
To the things in head that no one knows?
I’ll pack a bag and then just run.
No one will notice until I'm gone.
Everyday I just paint on a smile.
I’ll let them pretend I'm okay for a while.
Though, they know I'm not who I used to be,
They still think I'm the same me,
When the truth couldn’t be farther away.
It’s all because I still act the same.
Laughing and joking about my checkered shoes.
Not knowing, this friend, they’re going to lose.
I lose my grip and finally fall.
No one saw this coming at all.

By: Anon.

A Box of Matches

A Box of Matches

I abhor you with
One thousand pieces of my mind.

One thousand shards of expired shrapnel
Would embed their talons in the
Deepest alleys of your celebrated dermis.

One thousand wolves with onyx jaws
Would demolish you, un-piecing your
Somatotype as it were a backwards jigsaw.

One thousand flasks of frenzied acids
Would drown you, drink you, dissolve your
Sociopathy and your bad sense of humour.

By: Steph


I live in a world of solitude,

Filled with regret and remorse.

In my world a good day is a rarity,

And sadness is the norm.

I fill myself with uncertainty,

Uncertain of the choices I make,

Hopefully looking back on these choices will not be regretfully

if all goes well these decisions should pull me out of my world,

and bring me back to yours.

By: Cora


The rain hits the freshly cut grass,
My clothes drenched.
Yet still I stand there,
All alone.

The skies are dark tonight.
In my hand clenched tight,
My only way of remembering.
My only reason to go on...

Tears stream down my colored cheeks.
My eyes, they swell.
My life, it slowly disappears.

As the rain hits the freshly cut grass,
My clothes are all drenched.
Yet I still stand there,
All alone.

Is this what life is supposed to be like?
Where have the smiles gone?
Is everyone’s heart caked with this grief?
This pain?

My pain...
It feels as if some one has shoved their fist through my chest,
And in their hand they clench my heart.
Squeezing harder, and harder,
Till it feels as if it will burst.

Tears stream down my colored cheeks.
My eyes, they swell.
My life, it slowly disappears.

As the rain hits the freshly cut grass,
My clothes are all drenched.
Yet I still stand there,
All alone.

Why was I not aloud to see you?
I don't understand what they want me to do.
All I ever wanted is to see you.
They pull me away,
From the only thing I was living for.

As the rain hits the freshly cut grass,
My clothes are all drenched.
Yet I still stand there,
All alone.

I tighten my grip (all alone),
On my only reminder (always alone).
My only memory worth keeping (alone).
Till the end of time I shall carry this with me (always).
Till the day I day I shall long for you (my love...).
Though you are gone I remain (to carry on),
I will live my life day by day (the pain).
Your voice echoes in my head (it grows).
I yearn for you're touch again in bed (the sweet touch).

My reminder, my only one.
Grasped in my hand as your grave is dug.
They lower the coffin,
The hole so deep.
Six feet under they will keep,
Your body, my love,
Will decompose.
But your soul with soar freely,
As mine longs to.
But I stay in this world and carry on.
With this reminder in my hand I cry one last time,
Allowing myself one last moment.

Forever, my love.
You shall be in my heart.
Never to leave.

By: Li

Monday, November 12, 2007

Lonely In Love

the first one had beauty,
the second had smarts,
the third was awesome,
the forth is strong,

the fifth had everything
A man could want.
The first, shot me down
like a bird in the sky

the second and third
doubled teamed me,
with their late night stories,
and weekend fisaco's

The forth i gave away
to a friend of mine,
she was a good dime
but not mines

the fifth got a "friend",
with her around i got no chance,
try an make a date, to the movies, out to dance,
She say's yes, "friend" says No
Thats how the tragedy ends

Chris Boutte
written at age 14
Catergory: Life Sucks and I Want to Die