a rant on overextended adolescence

Overextended adolescence has taken us by the throat. The child becomes the grown up- yet the bar remains all too low. Generations before laid the floor too far down. Their ceiling is the first steps of these to come. But they too often don't invest and only suppress. Creativity tried to thrive-but maybe good intentions, maybe indecision, only cause the imagination to die. We don't give them room to breathe, all we do is chalk up their inefficiency, shoving it in their face."Be a child-live your life, at at 35 I'm sure you'll realize, now maturity will arrive." Instead we watch them go from edge to cliff no finger is lifted to help. They all have troubles at this age- but we don't try to help them learn the lesson from our book, our name on the page. 'Cause the dark pit is swallowing lives.You see David lead an army and ruled a nation, "but these youth- they're full of vain imaginations." Mary carried a King when they don't have the ability to even carry their own dreams. Anne wrote the diary of an era-but they die before they realize they have no need to wait to see their story start. Rachel started a reaction of hope-but we have lost all of ours in this out of control nameless mass. Lets allow the children to grow up and be who they are-reach out and guide them- help them cling to a Greater Cause. For its up to us to see this through- where the next generation goes- relies on the trail you've left to follow.

Desk of Memories

Pages mount on the desk of memories.

 stories, poems, thought and lesson plans

  No red marker to correct

   Only pen and paper to revise

    a constant student of words I am

     books of life lay inside these lines

      What is it all for?

       They lay there graded by me

        critiqued by me, on the desk of memories

       there is no rubric for the form

      no time for rough drafts

     these stories, poems, thoughts and lesson plans

    are written in bold emotion

   with italicised mindsets 

  and underlined meanings

 lay it down to get it all out

As the pages mount on the desk of memories

The Words I Whispered

Standing there with your hands on my sides

The grin on your face mirrored in mine

Our laughter could be heard down the road

This moment too sweet-can I make it pause?

These words are caught in my throat

As my eyes get pulled to the lightning from afar

The thunder above echoes our applause

A kiss on the forehead nearly pushed me over the edge

Butterflies rise inside as a sigh escapes

If I could only get this out- do you know I feel this way?

This memory remains now- on my heart engraved

With my cheek in your hand, my lips ready to say your name

Yet as we said goodbye I watched my moment slip away

Still I whispered those words to the dark in your wake.