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.
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 ****************************************** ACCEPT MY APLOGIES FOR INCLUDING POEMS WRITTEN AS A TEENAGER IN MY WEB SITE.