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COOL Archives: Cerebral Seepage


Posted on Thursday, October 05 @ 21:30:56 UTC by wyldwynd

fylthevoyd writes "A Collection of Short Poems

I have returned to this inner sanctuary of the mind,to spew forth grey matter. Why, I know not,nor do I know who for. These poems that follow this monologue,are from ages gone by. They are collections of thoughts that I was forced to face deep with-in myself. I threw myself into a dark realm of reality,which isolated myself from everybody and made me look deep into my own eyes to see the true self of my being. Unable to run away and hide as I had done for years. My inner demons manifested themselves into a destructive addiction to the opiated world of numbness, blinding my eyes to the reality that myself was at war with myself. The soothing cloud of death that I self- administered,only prolonged the fact of the matter.When that cold steel door,slams shut with a very sickening clang of reality.Knowing that if that demon is not fed,it will start to devour one's inner being. Consuming the physical body,with no regards for the toll the body will have to pay.Until in totally annililates the physical existence of one's body,soul,and spirit.These poems were written after my system had been cleansed of the poison which I had become so dependent upon,to the point of being on the verge of self elimination of myself from this physical world.These poems were pulled from deep with-in a corrupted heart,yet from a clear mental state of existence.Who they were written for,I really don't know.

Maybe the words had to be extracted in order for me to understand my true inner self,through out the turmoil which I had choose to inflict upon myself for 7 years of my life. Just as I don't know who these poems were written for,their recording here is just as vague.Cuz who I am writing these to, is really unknown to me. If some one can gain some insite from my journey through life,then they have served their purpose well. If they are never seen by another set of eyes,then they have been recorded for my own affirmation of a better life.For I am still part of this physical world,attempting to inform and educate others, as I procede on my search o find the answers to life and my existence.Looking for the reason of why I am still on this earth,seeking knowledge of the unknown. My journey calls me forward,so I must procede into the future for my answers.

"Let Me See"

I can't hear, and I can't see.
Please God,let them pity me!
God in heaven,take my heart.
I don't want this world,which sets me apart.

I bring a rose,which has no odor.
Yet the rose,I do relate.
This is my feeling,of love andhate.
Where am I at,I ask the world.

The smell of a man,makes me shiver.
For my handicap,I really quiver.
Shed the petals,but harden the stem.
That you really can begin!!!

Greg McElwee
1980


"Pick A Flower"

A flower grows,
eventually dies,when it snows.
As in time,man knows,
he steps to his death,as sure as the wind blows!!

For man is the measure,
but not of all things.
For it is God who determines,
which men,shall be kings.

Whether heaven or hell,soul or not,
we all end in the man measured plot!
So let it be known to one and all,
that man can determine his rise and fall!!!!

Greg McElwee
1981

"Brother"

From the depths,
>>>>>of the ocean floor.
Comes my feeling,
>>>>>of love and war.
To the feeling,
>>>>>I can relate.
This is my sorrow,
>>>>>I do debate.
The answer seems,
>>>>>to be in all.
Be my brother,
>>>>>and I'll not fall!!

Greg McElwee
1981


"The Walking Dead"

"The walking dead",
>>>>>the old-timer said.
The feeling of guilt,
>>>>>as I lie in bed.
The addict walks,
>>>>>but never talks.
The addict steals,
>>>>>and constantly deals.
The addict craves,
>>>>>and digs his own graves.
The addict rants,
>>>>>and the addict raves.
The addict sins,
>>>>>and never wins.
"The walking dead",
>>>>>the old-timer said.

Greg McElwee
1981

"Internal Assassin"

There is the enemy,
it is with-in.
There is the cause,
of the dreadful sin.

There the disease,
which cripples man.
Stops his thinking,
of future plans.

Find the chemicals,
and cure the soul.
Let it free,
to enjoy growing old.

Freed on grace,
knowledge,and prayer,
to become fully aware.

Greg McElwee
1981


"Help Me Please"

"Help me!",the voice cried,it screamed in pain.
But I was alone,so what was this scream?
I thought for a minute the drugs had robbed my brain,
this wasn't so,because this wasn't a dream.

There it was again,but where was it coming from?
But wait,what is this that I see?
I was helpless,and afraid,soI started to run.
I ran,and I ran,but it continued to follow me.

I cooked another shot,that would cure the fear.
I enjoyed as reality,drifted from my sight.
I began to sense,something terrible was near.
Nirvana was gone,and I was filled with fright.

What was this that I was running from?
"Help me!";the voice cried,louder and louder to me.
Yet,where was itcoming from?

Then the vision,came into sight,and I saw myself.
It was me crying in pain,but I was to blind to see.
All this time,I had been running from myself.
The voice had been crying;"it was me",who was in need.

The time has come to put the fix on the shelf,
and to open my eyes to the fact,that I need help.
So here I stand,and help is what I need.
"So help me please!"

Greg McElwee
1980
"


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Poetry & Songs


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