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Array
(
[sid] => 166323
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Teenage Life
[time] => 2011-05-17 18:21:27
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Head like shattered glass and still starry eyed we awake, Vague memories and blurred pictures of the hours before. Lying awake in what could be the nectar of this promise land, And pipe still smoking with hallucinations and visions of bounty. We pleasure each other, but our own selves more so, it seems, But we can still aren’t without each other as we act as an ego boost. It is picturesque when we live in a dream amongst nightmares, With pounding music and sore feet from the rhythm less shuffling. As we emerge from the ground which bounds us we feel uneasy, A slight itch where we cannot be seen give us regrets and we sigh. Why can we not break though into sensibility and just be normal, Our glory days of eating processed gruel and playing in mud is far gone. Yet we still yearn for something more as we are not completely happy, And as our eyes glance we see that it is nearly the hour to be sociable. Put on the same clothes as we have proudly worn the days before, And march shamefully back to our own homes, to disappointed parents. They didn’t have fun when it was their time and that is why they are bitter, Instead they had jobs and lived life to get rich and get married. Sprawled over the spoilt iron beasts that are shown love more than we, It seems almost pornographic they way it is spoken about to us. Riding the clutch and washing “Her” when she becomes a little dirty, Feeding the babies when they get low with the most expensive food around. Speeding along past us as we do not have personal chauffeurs to carry us, As we linger on corners looking undesirable, bringing down society’s good name. Still we slug round waiting for the weekend to come so we can rinse and repeat, Learning about that past and the future whereas we always live now. Eating and drinking until we become bored of living then turn our thumbs to bone, It’s what we do every hour as we have benefitted from a technological revolution. Like our mind always tell us we have to go like a plastic bag in the breeze, But we feel more like the rubbish that belongs inside it as we struggle. But no-one understands me or what I’ve been through and never can. Oh we love the wonders and tribulations of a teenage life. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 149 [topic] => 21 [informant] => MattHolcombe [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 1 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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