The Angel (a very long poem)

I remember, last winter, in the cold and the snow
I was waiting for the blizzard and ice storms to go.
I was feeling so downcast, and I felt just a bit
Like living was worthless in this world full of people.

In the gloom and depression of the mid-winter freeze,
My hope blew away on the icy-cold breeze.
I was ready to end it and blow out the flame,
When a bright light appeared, and called out my name.

And it was an angel! Such shimmering beauty!
Her pretty young face made her really a cutie!
She had flowing gold hair, a dainty young lass
With gorgeous grey eyes and a wonderful nose.

“Young human!” she cried. “Are you feeling depressed?
Fear not, for I know how to lessen your stress!”
(Though I didn’t really listen, I will admits
Since I couldn’t stop staring at her supersized forehead.)

“Please listen!” she cried. “You’re doing it wrong!
There’s still more to life! Not all hope is gone!
Your problem, young mortal, is really quite plain:
You think other people are the ones you should blame!

“You think that they scorn you and torture and beat you
And make your life crappy with a goal to defeat you.
But you’re wrong, my good friend, for what you must do
Is see that the problem is not others but you!”

“Who, me?!” I shouted, “What the hell do you mean?!
I spent my life working like a broken machine!
I’ve worked for ten years, yet I’m nowhere near rich,
So stop all your babble and piss off, you idiot.”

“Such language,” she scolded. “But let me explain:
The reason you think all your work is in vain,
Is because as a mortal, you quickly define
Your ‘succcess’ by the boundaries of our culture and time.

“Your ‘wealth’ is not there and your life is such ‘crap’
Because your world’s standards tell you to think that.
All you can see is the pain the world brings,
When compared to the cavemen you live like a king.

“Success is all relative- you have what you need.
They way to true bliss is not envy and greed.
You must make your wants simple, your mind must be free.
For then you’ll be happy - just try it, you’ll see!”

“So, wait…” I said slowly, “What you’re trying to say
Is that I should stop listening to what people say,
To end the beliefs that I’m told are correct,
Like success based on money and stuff like respect?

“I should end obligations that are forced down upon me
Cut the ropes of hygiene and being kind that surround me?
I should be who I want, not what others expect
Regardless of whether they think I’m correct?”

“N-no!” the Angel stammered. “That’s not what I mean!
I didn’t mean ‘savage’ when I said to be free!
You can’t choose the meanings of my words and then switch!
You twisted my words, you son of a hamster!”

But I did not hear her for my mind was set free!
I did not have to listen to her stupid decree!
So I ran down an alley with my money and paid
A woman I found so that I could get food.

And so I lived life as I wished it to be
Spending days drowning life in my primitive needs.
I splurged all on food and drugs and hi-techs,
On beer without end, and really great stuff.

I stopped with such boredom as bathing each day,
And holding back urges that got in the way.
My family left me, but I couldn’t care less
For they were conformists and I felt no stress.

And as for the world, they looked down and sneered
On the life of great pleasure that I lived without fear
Of being called a “loser”, and “bottom of the pit”
But I didn’t listen - I did not give a fudge.

And I will admit it- sometimes, life’s tough
When you need some more pills but you can’t buy enough
Or your money runs out and you stumble and crash
Or that woman you saw gave you horrible rash.

Or when just out of nowhere, your skin starts to itch
Or your friends start to leave, or your eyelids to twitch
Or you run out of beer, or a night turns too wild
And you end up the dad of a dumb, deformed child.

But yet I am happy, I feel no more sorrow.
Don’t tell me, you fool, that my joy is too hollow.
For even if you think I’m a failure and such,
I still feel quite happy, albeit not much.

Your standards mean nothing, so go off and do
All that dumb useful crap that’s expected of you.
I’ll be where I am, having great fun for sure
With my beer and my drugs and my food and a burger.

So the moral, dumb mortal, that the Angel conveyed
Is that success in life is defined and not made.
The standards for happiness are yours, yours alone
To be changed at a whim and not set in stone.

And me? I’m still here, living life on the streets
Spending days with a woman and no food to eat.
For back when I cared, my life used to suck
But now I am happy and don’t give a crap.

I love reading your poems
They're always such fun
Delighted and furious
Whimsical and serious

I hope you don't mind
But I couldn't resist!
Replying to your poem
With one of my own.



Haha, your writing
Is always full of such wit
It makes for fun reading
Though I must protest a bit

See, success is relative
I think the angel was right
But are you really happy?
With your druggy, hazed life?

Am I a fool?
For believing that you
Can fly up so high
With all the things you can do?

So, uh, if I tried
To drag you back up
To the bright, shiny world
To test again your luck

Do you think I'd succeed?
It's a bit righteous of me
But I want to help
Change your definition of 'free'

I can't say I understand
What you mean by 'more conflict'
But, okay, I see
You were being ironic~

Hmm, sorry then
Perhaps I was rude--rough
I'll leave this poem to its own
Its own is enough

I've been too long in IB, so I
See everything with hidden lines.
Your poem is no rebel!
It can be annotated!