Syracuse | Teen Ink


January 8, 2010
By acousticalex BRONZE, Garland, Texas
acousticalex BRONZE, Garland, Texas
4 articles 0 photos 41 comments

Favorite Quote:
"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist. That is all." Oscar Wilde

There were so many gems I left
At the base of the treasure chest
Of the cul de sac near
My childhood's creek.

And to speak of this would not fit
Inside the puzzle of propriety
So now I must turn away
From the trespassing sign.

And clean from my shoes the prints
Of a careless stroll's fingertips
Of the obstacles overcome
In our afternoon grass.

We got our Vitamin D
You were my energy
And we kissed sometimes wondering
Why we hadn't before.

While I thought we got through one storm
The good was just you on my arm
While the world could see what color
My upper drawer advertised.

You babysat bits of moss
As the sky and I'd sit and talk
About why the minnows had to die
At the hands of our squares.

Why the government had to tear
Through the one spot that hummed its peace
Like the blind busker mumbling
Melodies for some bread.

I said, "Oil's the lord of land
It's why our field sputters sand
And our Mecca preaches peasantry
Against its own will."

But you laughed all my thoughts away
Said, "Don't let it become your day,"
You wrote that in my book of ends
To cement the point.

We shared a sofa of leaves
And stared up into the trees
Knowing how the end of us
Looked on nature's sheet.

Since our school days had found their dusk
And hitchhikers on a bus
We pretended we'd meet again
Where the dirt met the creek.

But feelings were obselete
Expired with my warm drink
The vestigial organ
I'm still trying to lose.

Because we beggars will never choose
We belong to the streets
We charmed for food
And the creeks where we washed our souls
Will always be ours.

So when new blood shows on the dirt
I don't let its smell singe my nose
Turning my back on marks
We made in the ground.

'Cause new ripples replace our old
New sprouts in the fields we mowed
And even we will replace
Our places so dear.

So there is no future there
At least not in my sphere
And when we all die
There will be towers
On all our dirt roads.

The author's comments:
There is a place on the road Syracuse that used to foster the greenest grass and the most mischievous of teenagers. Today it is a construction site, marred by the tracks of machines. Writing this song/poem/ramble was the action I had to take in order to move on from the intense memories that stuck with me from the time in my life the field characterized.

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This article has 2 comments.

on Apr. 6 2010 at 10:07 pm
abc.angela BRONZE, Ottawa, Other
1 article 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
The edge.....there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. - Hunter S. Thompson

i liked this. i find most things on here very... well just very ridiculous is really all i can say.

this is legitimately interesting.

Riley141 GOLD said...
on Mar. 10 2010 at 3:59 pm
Riley141 GOLD, Yale, Michigan
13 articles 3 photos 145 comments

Favorite Quote:
" Always do right. This will gratifiy some people and astonish the rest." Mark Twain

This was realy good.. you should keep writing!