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.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
The FLAVA
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.
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."
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:
http://youmakemetouchyourhandsforstupidreasons.ytmnd.com/
For better viewing check out:
http://youmakemetouchyourhandsforstupidreasons.ytmnd.com/
"Perfect"
"Perfect"
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
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:
12/22/89
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)."
Best,
Tits Mcgee
12/22/89
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)."
Best,
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
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
FUNERAL OF INNOCENCE
FUNERAL OF INNOCENCE
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
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
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
Hey!
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
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
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