Page 229 - saugus1984yearbook
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The Jester "Ah, look at the jester
He's making jokes again."
They laugh at my jokes
But they cannot see I hear a knock
Through the jester's make-up I open the door
Or they'd just see me. I reach out for an embrace
But she's there no more.
I'm living in a land of make-believe
And I can't stand it any longer Doomed to be a jester
Because I'm starving to death Doomed to be a clown
With a case of mental hunger. My outerface may smile
But my inner one shall frown.
I cry for love
But they just look and grin by Matt Szymanski
The Old and the Young Part of any maturing process is looking into oneself.
These poems are an expression of students examining
I hear them speak across the land their own emotions, thoughts, and actions.
'Bout the way it used to be
The good old days
The happy times
When men were young and free.
They speak of wealth and health galore
Till we can stand no more, May I Have This Dance?
Yet never a word
Do they utter Each night I go home and think
'Bout the hardships and the wars. Think about pain
Think about love
Speak up, young child, and don't be shy They are one in the same you know
Stand where we can see Herbe~de me ~taken
Voice opinions, but Her in front of me is taken
No matter what Her behind me thinks of another
You'll never be like we? I am an anachronism
Living in a time of spite
But we cry out, "Unfair," we shout. Living in a time of hate
"We do the best we can do. A hopeless romantic locked in a void
Yes, you were brave, Doomed to die just that, a hopeless romantic
But you were fools. No one listens to my voice that screams out
Thank God, We're not like you!" No one listens to my crying inside
They all see my outerself
Tori Caldera One of happiness
One of someone else
Just once, to kiss a girl
To have her smile because of it, and mean it
I long for that day
Young Days They all sit though
Sit and talk of others
Remember the days when we were young Not noticing me as I walk by
When we would play hide and seek No one to take out
Have picnics on the grass , As a love
When we ate salted icecubes No one to walk over to and say
And rode big wheels in the street "May I have this dance?"
When there was always time
For hopscotch by Matt Szymanski
For watermelon
For never going to bed
Remember my friend
Remember
by Kim Steep ART & POETRY-225
