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THE   POEMS   OF   A   TEENAGER

These are some of the poems that I wrote as a teenager oh so many years ago. So please be kind and don't send me any e-mail complaining about bad poetry. Judge my merits as a writer by the other sections of my home page.


SELECTED   POEMS   FROM   MY   YOUTH

CHILDREN WITH NO GOD TO CALL THEIR OWN
children of despair
wandering aimlessly
with no god to lead them
rejecting absolutely
wih no identity to call their own
hating passionately
the meaninglessness of their existence
destroying vehemently
everything that stands in their way
searching desperately
for new ways to express their madness
waiting longingly
for an apocalyptic end to their nothingness

DIVERGING DREAMS
We held hands,
tightly.
We waked together,
closely.
We whispered,
intimately.
Then You and I,
slept,
And dreamt,
different visions.

JUST A FEW PRIVATE MOMENTS
just a few 
private moments
with her
left a residue
of eternal regret.

SHE HURLED AN INSULT
maliciously
she hurled
an insult
breaking the mirrors
of my soul,
And then,
with orgasmic glee she stared
as I blindly picked
up the jagged
pieces

LOVE SOON ENDED
Deepy I drank,
of her love.
Abruptly she stopped,
her wells.
Cheerfully she stared,
as I shriveled up in despair.

POTENCY OF LOVE
Attracted,
we spin around in circles.
Exhausted,
we fall into each others arms.
Revived,
we love the night away.
Perplexed,
we sorrow at the lethargy,
of the world.

A PEOPLE LOST
A generation groping,
for an identity.
A people pleading,
to erase their history.
A community crying,
for cohesion.
A society searching,
for order admist disorder.
A nation needing,
a spiritual awakening.

MACHINERY OF LOVE
The machinery of love,
shreds me,
into pretty ribons,
which she
shrewdly uses,
to decorate her hair.

THE OUTSIDER
The Outsider
Is polite strictly
as a matter of expediency
Talks to others
only when it's an absolute necessity
Condescends to love
soley when it's to his benefit
Is willing to trust
only when he has no other recourse
Feels sympathy
for no one not even himself
The Outsider will never die
for that would be terribly redundant.

REFINED VULGARITY
In a world gone burlesque,
discretion jumps out the window,
and vulgarity marches in,
with pomp and circumstance.

NO PLEASING HER MAJESTY
I presented her with
an evening sky
of twinkling stars
and a smiling moon
but she noticed only
the chilly breeze

 1998 Robert Paul Reyes 

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WRITTEN  AS A TEENAGER IN MY WEB SITE.



Now please read the poems I have written as an adult:

THE POEMS OF A WISE MAN:


This poetry page has been visited times by people with less than great taste.