Friday, March 27, 2009
All Apologies
My dear TeenAngstPoetry.com fans, I must apologize to you. I have been a bad blogger. I have neglected this site and for that I am sorry.
TeenAngstPoetry.com began nearly 9 years ago in the winter of 2000, back before many of us even knew what a blog was. The site had its heyday in the early 00s and was meta blogged all over the interweb, this coincided with live comedy shows and both resulted in the publication of the anthology Teen Angst: A Celebration of REALLY BAD Poetry. Then there were tours, live theatre shows and even my solo show. It's been a wonderful journey, to be sure.
Sadly though, sometime in 2006 (or 2007) the original computer which TeenAngstPoetry.com was created on - some ancient Linux box system in the basement of my parents house- died and it took hundreds of glorious Teen Angst Poetry to its grave. Since no one could remember the original code the site had been created on (yes this was very pre-blog sites) I attempted to reinvent the site on blogger. I have since become more active in acting and writing which left this baby neglected. Nowadays archival sites like this are a dime-a-dozen and I have simply fallen behind the times, without the finances to make this site as fancy-dancy as it originally was.
As I am currently in the midst of completing a Masters Degree I am not able to post as often as I'd like to, but please keep e-mailing your Teen Angst Poems to teenangstpoet(at)gmail.com and I will get to them as often as I can.
I hope that you will continue to enjoy the Teen Angst Poetry on this site. I believe it is a wonderful reflection of our dramatic adolescent emotions and something we can all learn from. Please keep laughing at yourself and especially your hilarious teenage creations. If you are a teenager I know you may just relate to the poems you'll find here and hopefully find comfort in the fact that someone else does understand your pain.
Sincerely,
Sara Bynoe
Teen Angst the show can been seen in Vancouver and London. Check out www.TeenAngst.ca for full info.
SHOW UPDATES
Teen Angst "the show" has now officially separated from TeenAngstPoetry.com. For all show information please check out www.TeenAngst.ca
TeenAngstPoetry.com will still continue to be the worlds first online database of teen angst poetry circa 2000. Please continue to send in your poetry and it will be updated as soon as possible.
Now on with the show info:
TEEN ANGST in LONDON, UK
Monday, MAY 4, 2009
What: As part of the new Monday show The Book Club Boutique
Where: At ‘Dick’s Bar’- The Green Fingernail,
Address: 23 Romilly Street, Soho, London
When: 7-8.30 pm
How Much: Free Entry!
Get digging through your old journals and see me on stage for some international TEEN ANGST! Email sarabynoe(at)gmail.com if you’ve got something to share!
TEEN ANGST is still running in VANCOUVER, BC, CANADA
The Second Tuesday of EVERY Month!
Hosted by Jane Stanton
Where: The Railway Club, 579 Dunsmuir Street Vancouver MAP
When: The Second Tuesday of Every Month
Dates: MARCH 10, APRIL 14, MAY 12, JUNE 9, JULY 14 etc.
Time: Show is from 6:30- 8:30 pm sharp!
Tickets: $7 at the door or FREE if you bring something to read- come early and check in the door and with host Jane Stanton to book your spot or email sarabynoe(at)gmail.com to reserve your spot.
TeenAngstPoetry.com will still continue to be the worlds first online database of teen angst poetry circa 2000. Please continue to send in your poetry and it will be updated as soon as possible.
Now on with the show info:
TEEN ANGST in LONDON, UK
Monday, MAY 4, 2009
What: As part of the new Monday show The Book Club Boutique
Where: At ‘Dick’s Bar’- The Green Fingernail,
Address: 23 Romilly Street, Soho, London
When: 7-8.30 pm
How Much: Free Entry!
Get digging through your old journals and see me on stage for some international TEEN ANGST! Email sarabynoe(at)gmail.com if you’ve got something to share!
TEEN ANGST is still running in VANCOUVER, BC, CANADA
The Second Tuesday of EVERY Month!
Hosted by Jane Stanton
Where: The Railway Club, 579 Dunsmuir Street Vancouver MAP
When: The Second Tuesday of Every Month
Dates: MARCH 10, APRIL 14, MAY 12, JUNE 9, JULY 14 etc.
Time: Show is from 6:30- 8:30 pm sharp!
Tickets: $7 at the door or FREE if you bring something to read- come early and check in the door and with host Jane Stanton to book your spot or email sarabynoe(at)gmail.com to reserve your spot.
Mulitple Angst Poetry
My name is Lisa Cashley, I wrote all three of these poems over a short period of time in which i broke up with a violent boyfriend and then had to abort the baby we had concieved together. I found it helpful to write a poem about the loss and then I don't know really I suppose it just became an addictive way to let it all out. I think either "life sucks and i want to die", "I am alone and no-one understands my pain" or "more than like poems"
You!
I’ll dry my tears
I don’t need your arms
I don’t need your hold
I can do this alone
You weren’t there,
You don’t know how it feels
You don’t want to be here
You should go…leave.
My heart was broken
My eyes did cry
Not for you
For it.
For the loss
For the pain
For the life
For the name
For Baby.
So young
These bruises bare no image of you,
My mind passing over that night
What night
Those nights
Over and over
Again and again
No stopping
Until I fell to limp to fight back
Scarred, scared, helpless.
A baby,
So young, me.
So alone,
No-one
Not even you
Dad…I don’t know how,
But yes. A call
A cry for help, you’re not there.
A want, a need, a hunger,
A joy
A life
A child
Taken away
Just like that.
No care, no love, no memory
Dead!
Nothing
Not you, not it
Just me
Alone again
This time for ever
Alone
Me.
A never ending prayer
1, 2, 3
I won’t stop counting,
The weeks
The months
The years
Always on my mind
In peace
In bliss
In happiness
You’ll be
A never ending prayer
Of sadness
Of joy
Of pain
How suddenly you left me
It’s ok, don’t cry,
I’m here
I’m sorry
You’ll always be in my heart.
I’m sad
You’re gone
I’m happy
You’re mine
You’re Baby
I’m Mum
I love you.
You!
I’ll dry my tears
I don’t need your arms
I don’t need your hold
I can do this alone
You weren’t there,
You don’t know how it feels
You don’t want to be here
You should go…leave.
My heart was broken
My eyes did cry
Not for you
For it.
For the loss
For the pain
For the life
For the name
For Baby.
So young
These bruises bare no image of you,
My mind passing over that night
What night
Those nights
Over and over
Again and again
No stopping
Until I fell to limp to fight back
Scarred, scared, helpless.
A baby,
So young, me.
So alone,
No-one
Not even you
Dad…I don’t know how,
But yes. A call
A cry for help, you’re not there.
A want, a need, a hunger,
A joy
A life
A child
Taken away
Just like that.
No care, no love, no memory
Dead!
Nothing
Not you, not it
Just me
Alone again
This time for ever
Alone
Me.
A never ending prayer
1, 2, 3
I won’t stop counting,
The weeks
The months
The years
Always on my mind
In peace
In bliss
In happiness
You’ll be
A never ending prayer
Of sadness
Of joy
Of pain
How suddenly you left me
It’s ok, don’t cry,
I’m here
I’m sorry
You’ll always be in my heart.
I’m sad
You’re gone
I’m happy
You’re mine
You’re Baby
I’m Mum
I love you.
Untilted Political 15 year old
I've got a poem I found that I wrote when I was 15. I guess you'd be able to put it under the "Political Action" category:
Where's your leader?
Where's your martyr?
Where's your savior great?
All made to fool,
To pursue,
To be used as a bait.
What do you owe?
For whom do you work?
Whose gilded feet do you kiss?
The sweat on you brow
Is the heavy reminder
Of the life you lost and, surely, will miss.
To your front,
To your back,
To your right and your left.
Nowhere to run,
Nowhere to hide,
So you give in to your death.
You cover your ears,
You blindfold your eyes,
You don't let anything get in nor out.
You zip up your mouth
And you stifle your heart.
Don't even know what your work is about.
But you don't have to back off.
You don't have to give in.
It's your life don't put a price on it.
So that
Maybe the next generation
Will be a true diverse nation,
No box in which they'll have to fit.
By: Ester
Where's your leader?
Where's your martyr?
Where's your savior great?
All made to fool,
To pursue,
To be used as a bait.
What do you owe?
For whom do you work?
Whose gilded feet do you kiss?
The sweat on you brow
Is the heavy reminder
Of the life you lost and, surely, will miss.
To your front,
To your back,
To your right and your left.
Nowhere to run,
Nowhere to hide,
So you give in to your death.
You cover your ears,
You blindfold your eyes,
You don't let anything get in nor out.
You zip up your mouth
And you stifle your heart.
Don't even know what your work is about.
But you don't have to back off.
You don't have to give in.
It's your life don't put a price on it.
So that
Maybe the next generation
Will be a true diverse nation,
No box in which they'll have to fit.
By: Ester
Untitled
No one understands me
everything I say or do is twisted and confused
everything is pointless
My life is a ruin.
My life is a prison.
My life is full of disappointment.
No one likes me
they all pretend
they all are fake
My life is a ruin.
My life is a prison.
My life is an endless pit of disappointment.
I am sick
of this whole world
of the constant struggle to please others
My life is a ruin.
My life is a prison.
My life is overflowing with disappointment.
I can’t wait
to finally be free
to finally be alive
My life is a ruin.
My life is a prison.
My life is over.
By: Margret Hoover
everything I say or do is twisted and confused
everything is pointless
My life is a ruin.
My life is a prison.
My life is full of disappointment.
No one likes me
they all pretend
they all are fake
My life is a ruin.
My life is a prison.
My life is an endless pit of disappointment.
I am sick
of this whole world
of the constant struggle to please others
My life is a ruin.
My life is a prison.
My life is overflowing with disappointment.
I can’t wait
to finally be free
to finally be alive
My life is a ruin.
My life is a prison.
My life is over.
By: Margret Hoover
Untitled
Surrounded by caring and wealth, she cries
In these years it’s so hard to be strong.
“Everything’s perfect; my life satisfies
And that’s why it all feels so wrong.”
I say, “Stop chasing the grief you’re after,
There’s always a high to be found.
Your life is full of smiling and laughter,
But all you can see is the ground.”
She’s the most exceptional girl in the world
She could climb a mountain if she tried.
Now that she’s older, her heart has unfurled
And shown all the beauty inside.
All that she sees is what is above her.
Rather, I wish she could see that I love her.
By: Anonymous
In these years it’s so hard to be strong.
“Everything’s perfect; my life satisfies
And that’s why it all feels so wrong.”
I say, “Stop chasing the grief you’re after,
There’s always a high to be found.
Your life is full of smiling and laughter,
But all you can see is the ground.”
She’s the most exceptional girl in the world
She could climb a mountain if she tried.
Now that she’s older, her heart has unfurled
And shown all the beauty inside.
All that she sees is what is above her.
Rather, I wish she could see that I love her.
By: Anonymous
"Playing doesn't = Barbies and Toy Cars
“Go see what he wants for lunch tomorrow” that’s what I remember grandma saying
He would tell me and ask me to come back upstairs, “Grandma won’t mind if I play with you for a little, you are my girlfriends’ niece after all”
I run down the stairs like a good little 5 year old girl and tell Grandma that I’m playing with uncle Fabian for awhile,
“Okay have fun, I’m taking a nap”, she responds
So I run back up stairs and I wonder if he knew she would go to sleep and he would be safe…
Now that I think about it, he wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to play with me but I thought Barbie’s and toy cars not rape.
Everyday Monday through Friday after school for a year and half we “played” while Grandma napped.
No one knew because the punishment would be worse then “playing”.
He called it a magic trick as he finished on my stomach.
Tears falling down my cheeks as I tell this to you,
Can you understand the pain when you didn’t even notice when I said Grandmas’ wasn’t fun anymore?
No you will never understand, yet you turn off the TV when I walk in the room, for you think it hurts for me to watch “To Catch A Predator”
Well it doesn’t for I went through it and those girls didn’t.
They are the lucky ones not me.
You say I’m lucky because it could have been much worse, he could have killed me, or if I was older got me pregnant.
Yes I’m oh so lucky because I was only fucking 5 years old, oh so lucky to be growing up and learning oh so soon that life can be unfair to the young and innocent.
I was 5 and learned the hard way, yet you say I’m lucky.
Was I lucky when I was 17 and it happened again because I told “my close friend” no and he wouldn’t take no for an answer?
No I wasn’t lucky for I may still be alive but part of me has died inside, my trust!
In you and in everyone!
By: Keirsten D.
He would tell me and ask me to come back upstairs, “Grandma won’t mind if I play with you for a little, you are my girlfriends’ niece after all”
I run down the stairs like a good little 5 year old girl and tell Grandma that I’m playing with uncle Fabian for awhile,
“Okay have fun, I’m taking a nap”, she responds
So I run back up stairs and I wonder if he knew she would go to sleep and he would be safe…
Now that I think about it, he wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to play with me but I thought Barbie’s and toy cars not rape.
Everyday Monday through Friday after school for a year and half we “played” while Grandma napped.
No one knew because the punishment would be worse then “playing”.
He called it a magic trick as he finished on my stomach.
Tears falling down my cheeks as I tell this to you,
Can you understand the pain when you didn’t even notice when I said Grandmas’ wasn’t fun anymore?
No you will never understand, yet you turn off the TV when I walk in the room, for you think it hurts for me to watch “To Catch A Predator”
Well it doesn’t for I went through it and those girls didn’t.
They are the lucky ones not me.
You say I’m lucky because it could have been much worse, he could have killed me, or if I was older got me pregnant.
Yes I’m oh so lucky because I was only fucking 5 years old, oh so lucky to be growing up and learning oh so soon that life can be unfair to the young and innocent.
I was 5 and learned the hard way, yet you say I’m lucky.
Was I lucky when I was 17 and it happened again because I told “my close friend” no and he wouldn’t take no for an answer?
No I wasn’t lucky for I may still be alive but part of me has died inside, my trust!
In you and in everyone!
By: Keirsten D.
Alone
I walk into school,
you stare as I pass,
you single me out,
to the back of the class,
silently judging,
your stares tell your thoughts,
the odd little snigger,
my head, it distorts,
I know that I’m "different",
but is that so wrong?
I don’t follow the crowd,
I sing my own song,
I’m not like you,
I’m not a clone,
I am unique,
I am alone
By: Beth
you stare as I pass,
you single me out,
to the back of the class,
silently judging,
your stares tell your thoughts,
the odd little snigger,
my head, it distorts,
I know that I’m "different",
but is that so wrong?
I don’t follow the crowd,
I sing my own song,
I’m not like you,
I’m not a clone,
I am unique,
I am alone
By: Beth
Now you see me
I was hidden in front of you.
I stood there but you did not see me.
I waited.
I stood still.
You looked past me.
I just wanted you to see me.
Unable to move, to speak,
I start to bleed.
Pale in death,
Now you see me.
by Aaron
I stood there but you did not see me.
I waited.
I stood still.
You looked past me.
I just wanted you to see me.
Unable to move, to speak,
I start to bleed.
Pale in death,
Now you see me.
by Aaron
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