Poems for the Unhappy and the Social Heretics

By: Jessie Briones(Cover Art by Esao Andrews)

Dedication

The poems that I have compiled to form this collection are all dedicated to the people who wonder, the people who contemplate, the people who want more, and the people that go against the social norm and the social law of conformity. These poems are an anthem for those who need to face their problems and find the strength to grow and prosper. This world is filled with mysterious puzzles and confusing situations; and the people of intellect only strive for one thing- answers. I’ve always wondered if there were more people out there like me; people only striving to seek out the best things in life, to obtain the most happiness and bliss this short life has to offer. These poems are the poems that have truly touched me. They have left an impact on my life and the way I view things as an individual. My own personal writings that I have included here were the writings I thought could best express the way I wanted to make you think, and make you see the true art in life and in everything it has to offer. This world is a cold and sad place, and I hope to God that one day we can fill this place with pure bliss and zeal. The world would be a better place if we wouldn’t get stuck in a place where we are content. We can do so much better.

Jessie Briones

WonderingBy: Miranda

Sometimes people go through life wondering what they're here for or who we are supposed to spend our lives with or even what we will do when we get older. I know I ask myself those questions all the time but why spend life wondering, or asking questions? Life is too short to live wondering why or what.You need to live your life,love with your whole heart and don’t hold back, and laugh until you cry and it hurts to laugh anymore.Life is here one day and gone the next. So live like it is your last day to live, and love like you’ve never been hurt.

People live their day to day lives wondering, but never seeking the answers. Why am I here? Why am I staying here? Why am I not doing something with my life? Why am I not doing better?

Miranda wrote this poem very well, in a rugged free-verse fashion. Some people may argue, saying that free-verse style is a cheap excuse for poetry, but at times, a poem needs the freedom. Boundaries can choke off creativity, and I have a feeling that if the writer would have stuck to the confines of a rhyme scheme or a syllable limit, it would have taken so much away from the poem. The writer talks about the people in this world who live their mundane lives, having questions but never seeking the answers. This haunts the “character” of the poem, yet there is always a simple solution. Live your life without worrying, and be content with the bliss that life has to offer. This was somewhat of a poor choice of a poem, because there are very few metaphors and sources of imagery in the text. “Live like it’s your last day to live, and love like you’ve never been hurt”. Too many people need to hear those words. Living in your sadness isn’t any way to live. Be happy and be proud.

False HopeBy: WishingWell

And, once again, I hear from himMy heart does cartwheels--it's a sinOnce again, my hopes are highThen silence comes; I want to die.

My life revolves around false hopeHis contact makes me think I copeBut when I do not hear from himI go under the covers, where light is dim.

All others groan--hope it's a phaseI walk through daytime in a dazeWhen nighttime comes I'm wide awakeAnd think of him--for goodness sake.

I know one day this will diminishMy thoughts of him will come to a finishBut I know hearts have no common senseAnd, my mind holds on now to that defense.

This poem is a perfect example of how sometimes it can work to write within the confines of a rhyme scheme and beat. The poem is written in an AABB rhyme scheme, which is slightly unconventional when it comes to poetry. The writer talks about being hung up on a past relationship, and hoping that maybe things will get better. In reality, she knows they won’t, and she feels stronger and wiser because of the experience, even though she still wishes deep down those things could still work and be resolved.

This poem also uses very few noticeable metaphors, but the one that stuck out to me the most was, “I know hearts have no common sense”. Hearts may not have common sense, but if something makes you happy, nothing should stop you from pursuing it. People like to cling onto their hang-ups as a reason not to be happy, but why should they? Just as many people say, life is short, so just live it. There is no reason to dwell on sadness and past hurt when we know that there’s so much more to find out there. Nobody wants to look back on their lives and say “Wow, I could have been so much happier”. Live life, and take it as it comes.

Power of FearBy: Star711

I sat alone another day.The world was moving all around me,but it seemed as if my life was in a standstill.The doctors say its anxiety.Everyone thinks anxiety means nervousness or fear,but it is deeper than that.Anxiety holds you prisoner.You can't leave your house.Ding, Dong, Ding, Dong.The doorbell rings but I can't answer.There is too much fear inside.You can't answer the phone.Ring, Ring, Ring."Telephone for you!" my family yells. Itell them to say that I will call back, but I won't.You can't eat.Chomp, Bite, Chew.No, not me. The anxietyeven controls that. All the pain rushes back up withevery little thing I eat.You can't go out. Step, Step, Step.Everyone walking around me, but I can't move, theapprehension paralyzes me.Everyone says, "Be brave. You can do it. You'll make it out of this."But sometimes I wonder if I will.I try to combat it all, but if I attempt to do anything,it all starts over again.Thump, Thump, Thump.My heart beats faster and faster.I can feel it in my chest.Beads of sweatRacing, Falling.Running down my forehead.All the thoughts swarm in my brain.The fear picks up.It is unbearable.I'm so frightened, but I don't know what of.The paranoia sweeps over my body like a giant wave.Every day I have to fight what seems to be a losing battle.But then . . . I look outside.I see the colors.I see the life.I see spirit.I know I can do this.Hope, Pray, Win.

This poem is probably one of the saddest things I’ve ever read. Not because it’s written to be sad, but because I know that it’s a hardship that so many people have to deal with every day, and I’ll never be able to know how that feels. Sometimes, I know people like to be alone, but I could never put myself into a position like the writer of the poem is. Being afraid of contact with other people in any way is a situation I could never be able to put myself into. The writer uses some of the things I hate about poetry the most. I’ve always been extremely irritated by poetry that uses onomatopoeia and cacophony. Yet, he seemed to make it work, and I know without a doubt that without it, the poem wouldn’t have carried its message the way he wanted it to. This poem is also written in free verse style, and there are very few noticeable metaphors in it. The poetry I enjoy either has a lot of metaphors or none at all. The writer tells about his daily life and his own personal struggles. He was diagnosed with social anxiety disorder, and he tells of his experiences with all of the normal, every-day things we do. He is constantly haunted with this fear, and I can only imagine how terrible it has to feel. The overall tone of the poem seems tense and anxious, just as the writer probably felt as he was writing it. The tone is probably the most powerful part of this poem, simply because it puts the reader into the writer’s position as he suffers from his anxiety disorder. Overall, the poem explains how challenges are just another thing in your way of happiness. Work as hard as you can and you’ll be able to get over what’s holding you back. Happiness is just around the bend.

Let It FallBy: Michael G.

One more anti-hero worshipfrom the depths

of some enigmatic foolthat left the suburbsfor the open fields

of post modern flight from hell.No, not from the quakes

or the rumblings of racism,that stench we all tend

to want to get rid of,but the fact that there

were just too many things wrong.So off I went to the last

journey of my youth,through the pubs and alleysof Los Angeles that served

many nights of reckless talkand the establishment be damned.There goes Happy House, Scream

and all those open up at 10 pmparty houses, where you paid 5 bucks

to drink yourself to life,and walk out Saturday morning at 6 am

like the kind demons we were.And dance the pain that we had

kept for the weekand wonder what 30 would be like

and if the Virgin Pruneswere right about

"If I die I die".But then, that love in your soulthe one that makes you write

and pour out those false indignitiesthat caress your heart and mindfor after all we've been through

stars have their moments and then they die.

To me, this writing ultimately tells the story of the life of an anti-establishment kind of person. The writer was a punk kid, a so- called Suburban Anti-Christ, who left the suburbs to rid himself of the horrid morals, indignity, and attitudes of the people that were surrounding him. This punk kid, so to speak, talks about the way people live their pointless lives in his world, denouncing the establishment and partying. Yet, what they don’t realize is that everybody, whether they like it or not, needs the establishment. He explains later in the poem that “the love in your soul, the one that makes you write and pour out those false indignities, that caress your heart and mind, for all we’ve been through, stars have their moments and then they die”. To me, this represents that these people are still slaves to the establishment that they denounce. As much as these people want to hate what they don’t want to represent, they need the establishment, or else their art would not exist. They need the establishment to give them something to hate. They need the establishment to give them something to write about. They need the establishment to be in their own personal state of contentment. This poem is an example of the poems that I like that are full of different metaphors. These punk kids escape what they hate to drown themselves in alcohol, drugs, and partying, just to find out that it’s all for nothing. What they do to destroy the thing they hate, in the end, empowers it. The “moral”, so to speak, of this poem, is that running from the thing you hate the most and selling yourself short to bring down what you’re so passionately against can and will hurt you in the end. It’s all a worthless cycle that has no real purpose other than to give you a reason to hate and a reason to express yourself, when you can do it outside of the cycle. Don’t drag yourself down, and just be happy.

UnhappinessBy: Sri Chinmoy

A life of unhappiness Is a contagious disease. The world is already full of misery. Allow not your unhappiness To increase the world's misery.You want to end your unhappiness.I tell you, there is one way To end your unhappiness, And that is to end your constant feeling Of unpleasant unworthiness.Do not allow unhappiness To capture your heart. Do you not know that unhappiness Is the heart-cancer? Today's unhappiness Must not be kept for removal Until tomorrow. Tomorrow will be another day For me to either suffer new unhappiness Or enjoy a flood of delight. Today's game I must play today Wisely and perfectly.

The author feels compelled to tell people that unhappiness is a pointless thing, in this poem. The poem is one again, written in free verse. It seems that some of the most expressive and deep poems are written without any creative boundaries. The author is writing with a dated style of language, which suggests that this poem is slightly older. Yet at the same time, the dated style helps the poem get the message across a lot better. If the writer were to have used a modern tongue, the poem would seem fairly bland and repetitive. The poet uses very few metaphors in this poem, but the one he does use is very deep. “Do you not know that unhappiness is the heart-cancer?” A constant state of unhappiness will ultimately be the death of you. It eats away at your soul until you can’t feel anything but sadness. The author compels you to defeat yourself and let go of the constant feeling of unworthiness and unhappiness, and to find the pleasure in each day.

Personal Contributions

The next five poems are poems by myself.

InkMy body is a cage,My house is a void,Keeping me in my nightmares.My love is all but dead,My life is rotting away,My soul is broken and tired.I lay here, taking the hurtDoes it feel better? Does it feel good?Yes...maybe it does.I should want better...I should want more, for myselfFor my family, for my heart.

When I wrote this poem, I knew it would be perfect for this project. This poem is just a way for me to let anybody that’s reading this know that I’ve been exactly where you are. I know exactly how it feels to be at an ultimate low, where you couldn’t give a care in the world about whatever happens to you. The only thing that kept me going through all of the tough times was knowing that through all the struggles and all of the bad times, there’s always something good that comes out of it. I hold very few grudges, and everything I’ve been through has made me a stronger, smarter, and wiser person. No matter what happens, you’ll always learn new ways to improve yourself.

An Ultimatum From the God of Jealousy

My cityscape of stone,My creation, my abode,Defiled by my children.The supreme disgrace.What did I do to deserve this?I saved you from the snakes.I saved you from my son.Yet, you spit on me.Come, kick the dust in my face.Maybe I'll enjoy it.Maybe you'll regret it. Drive me into darkness.Drag me down with you.Come, amplify the pain.Make it resonate, make it bleed.You know I deserve it,I gave you everything.Your structures grow taller,I disappear into nothing.Yet, I gave you everything. I guess I'm meaningless.Go, leave me here.You'll see me again soon.When you've run out of hate, I'll remain here, waiting.

The concept of the social heretic has been deeply rooted into our culture since time began. In hunter-gatherer societies, the ones that were strange or not of a familiar tribe tribe were slaughtered, the resources were raped from the land, and they moved along. People have been slaughtered and labeled heretics for coming up with logical, fact-based developments for the good of man. It’s been somewhat brushed off by humanity, but the fact are there and it makes the world look like a disgusting, evil place. This poem looks at the concept of the social heretic from the opposing side, from the creator of the people. He is being torn apart by the fact that there are people that are staying away from what he wants, but what exactly is wrong with it? We were given this wonderful gift of choice, and we have the right to do whatever we please if we’re not hurting anybody and we’re the ones that are happy. Society will always view these people as threatening, but they are the people that will ultimately bring the rest of the slaves to society to a true salvation.

Dreamscape: My DemonsThis house, it's cancerThe memories it's holdingTear away at meNot a single man-or woman knows of my thoughtsAlone, I dwell in themThis house smells of deathThis reminder haunts my dreamsNever acceptedI see you outside"What do you want?", I ask you"Bring me everything"I couldn't say noSo, I gathered everythingYou still weren't pleasedMy face hits concreteI hear the chaos ensueSilenced by a shotShe was on the bedYou got in your truck and leftLeft me an orphanApprehended? No,You lurk my home, you stole itI'm here to take what's mine.

This poem came to me in a dream. The dream was more or less a story about this group of children running from a cannibal murderer who had killed their mother. They had abandoned their father, and left on this epic journey to escape this evil man who was possessed by the need to slaughter these children. The story may be morbid, but the moral is hidden deep in the story. These children spent the majority of their existence escaping this evil, and it took them so long to be successful. But when they finally were victorious, it was made so much sweeter knowing that they had finally accomplished what they had dedicated their whole lives to. Problems come and go, but the ones that stick around are the ones you have to fight ten times harder. It feels so much better to defeat a problem you’ve had for a long time than to get over one in an instant.

I Am Heretic, I Am EvilYou’re under a veilPerceptions of love are skewedI am your prophet You ask of evil?Here I am for you to seeDon’t take this lightly Bring you to the pitMy existence is worthlessLearn from me, dear childI will be your meager blanketI will protect you from harmThough my edges are becoming torn,I’ll wear my battle scars with charmNail me up and tear me downHold me, throw me on the groundMake sure I choke on the soilMy coughing barely makes a soundI’ll be okay, not that you careMy edges are barely even thereI’ll be content if something finally comesAnd grants my wish: One final tear.We’re a lost cause, living in ignoranceWe’re a dying race, masked with liesWe’re unimportant, preserve nothingWe’re choking off the “heresy”.Scared to accept the truthForming societies around kingsWatching them burn to the groundYet, still trusting our dreams.What a sad world we’ve becomeDecaying in upon ourselvesWe’re a person in the mirrorWatching ourselves rot.

The social heretic is the person that will ultimately show the world that there is something more than just the standard social norm. Although people are made out to be terrible just because of their beliefs and mindsets, I am incredibly proud of these people. We need some more freaks in the world. We need to give something to feed the masses’ addiction to hatred, and we need something to make us strive to be better. The people that make us out to be terrible are our example. They are at their ultimate low, making people feel like trash to keep themselves happy. People need something to make them feel superior, and people need something to make them feel like they have some sort of power. In reality, it’s all worthless, and in the same way that they were put on this earth to teach us what not to be, we were put on this earth to show them exactly what they’re missing out on; happiness. The conformists are the people that will never be truly happy until they realize that we’ve found the key to enlightenment; do what you want if it makes you happy, have respect, and let other people live their lives.

The Tomb of My PsycheUnderstandable sorrowI know you think it’s meSo keep your intentions... And throw them to seaI know what you’re thinkingBut it can’t be me

So keep me locked awayFor no one to seeI know what you wantBut you can’t get it from meAnd drown me with everyone’s tearsI know the pain that I’ve causedI can still feel your fear

People in this world are kept as slaves of one thing- fear. The fear of being unworthy, the fear of being weak, or angry, or sad. The fear of feeling at all. And in order to keep themselves in their pitiful state of contentment, they have to bring other people down. The opiate of the masses is a worldwide inferiority complex that’s engrained into our genetics. The only real way to escape it is to let it go, which is easier said than done. Instead of hiding behind it and relying on it for yourself, be a bigger person. Become the Overman and better yourself, so that maybe you can leave an impact on the rest of our blinded world. The more people that can defeat themselves, the more people will convert themselves into the Overman, and a happier place our Earth will be.

Sources:www.srichinmoypoetry.com

www.poemhunter.com/poems/life

All of the artwork was obtained through Google Image Search, but all of the paintings are by Esao Andrews.

http://www.esao.net/index.php