A series of venting poems to combat depressive moods. Usually existentialist in nature. |
A Compilation of Poems by Paul Cuclis Note* I have organized these from least depressive to most. None of the poems should be offensive, but some may be disconcerting. Some material may also repeat, as I wrote these over the course of a year and did not consider prior works. Challenge I stand upon a precipice, gazing out at the awesome spectacle that is the future My memories push and pull me along the ledge Daring yet reluctant, they bade me forward before advising caution Those darting whirring winds conflicting in such twisted forms with a roar that deadens my ears But my eyes remain unclouded, And though I may not see the details of a too bright sun I know in what general direction it may lay. Passing brooding swamps that threaten to delay me Rising above looming mountains I must climb Reflecting off of the blissful fields I hope to one day cherish My goal, as unyielding as time itself, will not die The journey is in full sway, And though the path may be treacherous, I meet the changing breeze and inhale its energy with exhilaration And though I stand upon the brink of failure, always balancing on a frail ledge of rock, I know this is part of what makes me relevant For what is height without the threat of falling? I refuse to crawl, nor even walk, I shall run with all the determination and vivacity of youth And though a stumble may derail me, my momentum will push me to ever greater heights And not till I reach that rising sun will I be satisfied World… I challenge you. In the Lands Across the Sea In a village called Curiosity In the forgotten lands across the sea The crops were poor, the work was hard Yet the villagers had no animosity In a village called Curiosity The villagers had no animosity In that land of sands across the sea Because they toiled day and night And in their weariness, experience' complacency The villagers had no animosity While experiencing this complacency In the demanding sands across the sea A child was born in a humble home And a boy named Same came to be While experiencing this complacency When the boy named Same came to be In the shifting sands across the sea He brought forth power to make the rain And the village rejoiced in ecstasy When the boy named Same came to be As the village rejoiced in ecstasy In the dwindling sands across the sea The crops grew thick, of barley and wheat And the villagers ate with glee As the village rejoiced in ecstasy Once the villagers ate with glee In the verdant hills across the sea They grew to be sad, fat, and weak They no longer toiled in complacency Once the villagers ate with glee They no longer toiled in complacency In the fresh green lands across the sea And in their boredom, they learned greed As they hoarded their crops selfishly They no longer toiled in complacency As they hoarded their crops selfishly In the rotted lands across the sea The village was tainted with discontent And villagers warred for superiority As they hoarded their crops selfishly While warring for superiority In the hostile meadows across the sea The boy named Same begged for complacency But no one listened to his heartfelt plea While warring for superiority When no one listened to his plea In the ignorant lands across the sea The boy named Same died that day And the pouring rains stopped instantly When no one listened to his plea As the pouring rains stopped instantly In this violent land across the sea The crops did wither away to dust And the villagers mourned their idiocy As the pouring rains stopped instantly As the villagers mourned their idiocy In this harshest of land across the sea Their now-soft hands could not toil the soil And the sands destroyed all ceaselessly As the villagers mourned their idiocy The sands destroyed all ceaselessly In the lonely lands across the sea In the empty hills and barren fields There once was a village called Curiosity The sands destroyed all ceaselessly Memorial on the ides of march, the martyred lay, upon thy hearth, in cell of clay for these were the ones, remembered long hence for sacrifice, value, and fearless tenants for love of life, and bravery towards death of love of war, and envy towards peace yet on the ides of march, these warriors face solitude for in clay coffins no virtue deludes, and a soul must conclude that an idea may be worth dying for, but much more worth living for Sleep's allure sleep, is there an action or state more profoundly evident of the mind's magnificence? in such vulnerable stupor, we stumble into the realm of impossibles such that laws of man and physics alike cannot impinge upon our imaginings hopes, fears, loves, and loves lost, actualize with all the potency of our waking lives before slipping back into its ephemeral state intangible, ungraspable, but present all the same Insomniacs Paranoia Darkness is a pervading source of my reality It encroaches upon my every boundary, Pressing in some places, subtly, while coldly piercing in others the only source of light is the process of thought the mental leaps that allow me to conceptualize all that is not darkness matter or the idea of matter which is like a defining line amongst the black abyss yet my eyes grow weary of watching, my soul grows heavy with the dust of tedium i cannot doggedly keep up this pace forever like all things I will fail against time heavy lidded eyes will shut against all intention and sleep will come again Born from anew the following morning my fears will have washed away Chemical imbalances I'll say Or paranoia brought on by stress But I know now with inescapable certainty That to sleep is to die For what is not in motion, is out of space and time And as I sleep I cannot comprehend either thus the world turns without me And in my sleeping state all that is me will cease and only cruel mockery of what I am at days end Stretches forth with hesitation to meet the morning sun I shall grow much during my waking life, especially under cruel tutelage of the night And from child of morn, till elder of dusk, shall I remain whole till sleep claims who I am, and sums my life, and all past lives as reference Always towards the future Always towards the unknown A tree discards its precious leaves to the soil, which rot away in slow agony to nurture the tree that bears the new leaves Some may say self-sufficient But I say a parasite unto itself With the future insatiably feeding on the present that will be past Isolation An island I occupy In a sea of eyes and mouths Open and spewing my inadequacies The ticking hands reach for my tongue to strip me of my desperate pleas I'm starving now Life's blood is gone Loneliness has brought me to my knees Innocence no longer Its hand reaches down my throat, A sinking, deadening abyss, My heart beats with difficulty, As if surrounded by nails Piercing foulness infects my life's blood. As the hand clenches around my lungs, I inwardly struggle for air. My mask displays nothing, As I suffocate within the confines of my own mind. I hear a child crying in the darkness, An honest, pitiable wail. Blinded, it lays helpless. Not understanding, but fully feeling, The agony of discontent. I cradle and coo, Yet the crying does not cease Until cruel fate snuffs it out And dead and unknowing eyes, Stare up in an unfeeling bliss. And I know envy, And pity, And shame |