Post by GW Odland on Aug 8, 2019 21:42:34 GMT -6
I have written poetry in the hardest and darkest times in my life and there have been plenty. No one gets through this life unscathed. Life IS suffering and suffering is how we learn to appreciate the things that we hold precious, whether we have them or not. I am going to post my poems from the past. I don't have any from the recent past. I guess I have been too busy just making it day to day, and to my amazement, I have seen the end of every month just as alive as I see the new one start.
“MADNESS” 12-19-94
What is this madness, this fu-tile fight
that we are a part of, our hopeless sad plight?
A raging inferno spewing fire and smoke
although no one’s laughing I fear it’s a joke
A convoy of agony, anguish, despair
a choking black cloud filling the air
a hole in the bulkhead, a fire in the hole
having no feeling, having no soul
sick with the torment, trembling with fear
wanting sweet love, getting kicked in the rear
endless tomorrows overflowing with grief
sadness and heartache beyond all belief
A portal, a doorway, some way to get out
a passage to freedom away from the doubt
that plagues me and hurts me and won’t let me be
The price is too high and nothing is free
Longing and wanting and spitting and such
An escape from the pain, is that asking too much?
I could go on forever, till I run out of ink
but then what is left? Only to think.
Life is a question, a puzzle, a maze
I’m glad there’s a limit to our number of days
The mind is a cavern, a sucking black hole
To dwell there is folly, it eats up the soul.
G.W. Odland
“MADNESS” 12-19-94
What is this madness, this fu-tile fight
that we are a part of, our hopeless sad plight?
A raging inferno spewing fire and smoke
although no one’s laughing I fear it’s a joke
A convoy of agony, anguish, despair
a choking black cloud filling the air
a hole in the bulkhead, a fire in the hole
having no feeling, having no soul
sick with the torment, trembling with fear
wanting sweet love, getting kicked in the rear
endless tomorrows overflowing with grief
sadness and heartache beyond all belief
A portal, a doorway, some way to get out
a passage to freedom away from the doubt
that plagues me and hurts me and won’t let me be
The price is too high and nothing is free
Longing and wanting and spitting and such
An escape from the pain, is that asking too much?
I could go on forever, till I run out of ink
but then what is left? Only to think.
Life is a question, a puzzle, a maze
I’m glad there’s a limit to our number of days
The mind is a cavern, a sucking black hole
To dwell there is folly, it eats up the soul.
G.W. Odland
