Old Poems Die Hard

Oh my Gosh!  This blog stuff got me going through some of my old writing and I pulled out the binders full of my poems.  Man, was I bad (at first!).  I like to think they got a lot better and there's several that I'm rather proud of.  Here's a particular favorite of mine.  It's called "Advice" and it was written three years ago when I was working with my mom and my brother.  I was working part-time, basically as an intern, but I was getting paid pretty well (more per hour than I'm getting now, actually...bummer).  Every single day, someone tried to talk me into staying at this job, even though I was pretty clear that I wanted to pursue my dreams of being an editor.  It literally got to the point where I was in tears over it, because I was basically being called an idiot for not taking this "great" offer.  So, here's what came out of that:

Advice
Is death the only solace
To this unwarranted despair?
Is silence just too strenuous?
I want you, quietly, to care

Judgments swarm around me
The world is seen in black and white
Dreams somehow seem to vanish
I must endure the fight

Forlorn, I reconsider
Please end the persecution
The price I'd pay for ecstasy
Is nothing short of execution

Ignorance is blinding
Your callow words have numbed my soul
My momentum shortly halted
My efforts growing cold

I must quell all my emotions
And your advice must be forsaken
Your apparent words of wisdom
Have left my motivation shaken

This vision's never faded
And will not go unattempted
I said I'd never settle
And for once, I think I meant it...


It's a bummer that no one realized how much their pressure was effecting me.  I was legitimately upset about it.  I was essentially being told to give up on all of my dreams and take the easy road...take the job that I only got because my mother worked there.  No thanks.  I got my degree in English with something specific in mind to use it for and I'll be damned if I'll give up on that.  I do realize this poem could use a little "tweeking" and some editing, but I have a general rule that I don't really edit my poems.  I don't know why...I hate to ruin them and take away from the original meaning.  I like to keep all the emotions in tact, so when I go back and read them I can still feel what I felt when I wrote it..if that makes any sense.  Judging by the meticulous notes I take on all of my poems, I wrote this one in two different sittings...which is kinda obvious, but oh well.  I like it.  I remember writing it and I remember how I felt when I was writing it.  I guess that was my point.