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Poetry Wall Archives 2002

Welcome to Payson Road's Great Wall of Poetry Archives 2002.  These talented poets have graciously offered to share their poems for the Wall.

One of Payson Road's goals is to help people by expressing themselves through creative outlets.  Poetry is one of the most passionate and intimate forms of writing.  Here, many of the poets have expressed their suffering, pain, delight, spirituality, sexuality, frustrations, love and many other emotions through their words.  I thank them all for sharing a piece of themselves with us.

If any of these poems touch you or inspire you. please let us know. Please post your comments in the Guest Book.   

PLEASE BE ADVISED .  All Articles/Content are property of the author and Payson Road and subject to US Federal Copyright Laws and  International Copyright agreements.  You must seek Permission to Reprint  from the author for use of any articles/content. 

Click here to SUBMIT POETRY.

Visit the Poetry Wall for Current Poems

Table of Contents: 

December - Best of the Poetry Wall 2002

Poetry Wall Archives 2005 | 2004 | 2003 | 2002 | 2001

Current Poetry Wall

Poet of the Month - 2002

It is difficult to chose the best for the Poet of the Month category--we had so many talented poets this year, but Jeremy Smyers really stands out for me.  He was selected for the Poet of the Month-July/August 2002 edition of the Poetry Wall.  The beautiful thing about poetry is being able to see yourself in the poems, and I felt as thought I could have written these poems myself for how true they rang in my life.  Thank you Jeremy for sharing your poetry with us!

Poems by Jeremy Smyers


It's funny how people become
inspired by my lies.
My mind: a collection of stories
that I either took part in
or knew someone who did
or thought how cool it would have been
to do it.

Either way they're my stories now
and people listen when I tell them.
People need to hear what I have to say
because it makes their private hell
a little bit better.

they think about loose women
and drinking too much.
staying out too late,
going to jail,
walking in the rain,
beating the hell out of some
punk that should have known better,
or having the hell beat out of me
and then laughing about it...
they live vicariously through me
it's like watching a TV show for them
but instead of adding electricity to make it work
just buy a few drinks
and the performance will start.
I don't know when it will end or if it ever will
but what I do know
is the bar is my home
and the drunks and the whores
and the two bit con men
are my people
I'm the King of the Fools...
and tonight I'll go to the bar
and I'll get drunk as hell
and tell a few lies
and people will listen
and I'll be back on my throne
fooling the fools once again
The only trick is:

I don't try to separate the lies from the reality
because to tell you the truth...
I really can't

Remember Me

Remember me?
I was the guy sitting on the bench
I was at the light in the car next to you
I was the crying child
I was the one pressed against the window
I was the one in the airplane that you wondered about
the one in the background of a tourist picture
the one crying at the funeral I wasn't a part of
I was the one the poets cried for
the one that sacked the groceries
I was the guy that took too long
you were mad at me
without considering the day
that I might have had
I was the one caught up
in times that neither I understood
or, at the time, cared about
the guy that was walking in the rain
the guy that was counting
stair steps
the guy eating by himself
the guy that was seeing a movie
with no one sitting next to him
you wondered about me
maybe I was crazy?
or maybe some type of a "predator"
I'm the guy that the cops always look at twice
you never worried yourself
with my feelings
just shuffle on by...
everyone has their own problems right?
but I'll be the one whistling Pachabel
when the last note is played
and the days are gone
when it's all though
Ill be the one walking, by myself,
over the hill....smiling


she took everything I had
and I'm talking about all the intangibles,
gutted my soul and left the shell
like a discarded candy wrapper
and now she's gone,
one moves ahead and one stays behind?
I've read all of the books
and heard all the philosophical reasons
as to why I'm standing here holding the bag
but the truth is...
no matter how you cut the slice,
her leaving me has set me back 10 years
and that's along time when you take my age into
now I have the drink and the pen
neither of which does me one damn bit of good
but both, I guess, are some type of parachute
to catch me...
right before I hit the ground
and then back up I go
to watch the sun come out again


He's not happy,
he just looks happy
because he's drunk all the time
and it's not his fault
that the light at the end of the tunnel
turned out to be a train.


like a freight train,
I feel tonight;
rolling away.
no one can stop me,
but then again
no one wants to.
I'm caught up
into everything
that I can stop
or change
and here I sit
and this chair calls
my name
and the corpses of
beer bottles are everywhere.
it's almost as if
the walls are alive
and looking at me;
watching me
telling me...
telling me that I fell through
the ice.
so close...
so very damned close,
and now it's all gone.
almost as if it never even happened
but when you break the promises
that you made to yourself
they never go away.
right there in my memory.
a little devil sitting on my shoulder
telling me to jump
or drink
or say it
...but I'll guess I'll just go on writing
it down
maybe just until I learn
to sharpen knives better
or move closer to a place that has
bigger cliffs.


Poem of the Month 2002

For the Best of...edition, I felt that the obvious choice for Poem of the Month should be the March 2002 selection which was written by our own Sarah Mason. It was intended as a song, but then songs really are poetry. Sarah's poignant views never cease to amaze me. Songs, like poetry, speak to each person a little differently. In this particular song, the words themselves have a ring of frustration, that I think is very common for people with EDs, that need we feel to save the world. However, there's also power in these words.

Thank you for this contribution Sarah, as always, you have such a way with words. And the Grammy goes to......

Super Savior
by Sarah Mason

I didn't ask to be a savior
But they gave me the job anyway
My head is too big for this halo
But I can't seem to put it away

How can I stop all of the seasons
From circling past my prime
It's my reluctance as a hero
That's wasting all of my time

Show me the manual for this silly super suit
I can't stay up here in the sky
Trying to fake it on a pair of rented wings
When will I learn how to fly

This cross to bear is such a burden
And it's starting to piss me off
My mission doesn't seem to get much clearer
And it's taking all that I got

I didn't ask to be a savior
Why can't I take off this crown
I keep on hoping that I'll figure out the way
But I really don't know how

Show me the manual for this silly super suit
I can't stay up here in the sky
Trying to fake it on a pair of rented wings
When will I learn how to fly
Shutting my life from my eyes
I wish I could learn how to fly



Best of the Poetry Wall 2002

from September 2002

If I Was Still the Same
by Lori Ann Day

If my soul remained the same but my skin colour changed,
would you still love me, or would you say my colouring was to blame?
Do you look beyond the skin into the heart, or do you only
see the surface, and only see me in part?
If my teeth were still crooked and my ankles still weak,
would you still see me as beautiful
or would you run away from the words that you speak?
The outward appearance might change,
but inside I would still be the same.

If I had a different look, would you look beyond and see me?
Do you ever look into your heart
and see hardened eyes looking back at the world through lies?
Part of you may have grown cold.
Truth from a distance may be looking back from of old.
Would you love me?
Would you marry me?
Would you want me to have your child if I was still the same inside,
but another colour on the outside?

from July/August 2002

by Ron Beam

You are a butterfly.
I watch you from a distance.
My eyes are attracted
To the colors of your wings
Your gently trembling wings.
I want to come closer,
But I know you will fly
Away if I approach.
You know little of love.
You know only of flight
To be lifted from harm.
But, I would not trap you, as some
Nor pin you down on a cardboard display
To be shown as a trophy
From a tiring hunt.
I would speak to you softly
And be a trusted companion.
We could explore the meadow together.
You would show me the sweetest flowers
And I will turn away a crow
Who hopes to feed upon your beauty.
You could fly far out of sight
To search where butterflies must search alone
And I would be content knowing
That you will race back to me.
Here, when you are tired
Or.. ill of flight,
You could rest upon my shoulder.
And then perhaps ..... someday,
You could teach me how to fly.

by Paige

I sit here staring blankly at the wall
Just waiting to fall
I've sat here so many times
I feel like a mime
So bored and so confused
All alone and abused
Feel so sad
Feel so bad
Don't know what's wrong
I just listen to this sad lonely song
I feel the breath on my neck
I kneel down and start to pray
While the water washed my feet in the bay
I lay there looking up at the stars wondering

Sense of Self- Worth
by David Soriano

The resplendent out branch
Of intense intrapersonal discourse
The ability to reach synthesis
The harmony of intellectual fusion.
The deepest true self
Exposed to truth beyond conjecture
Mystery and wonder
At the source of universal outflow.
Enjoyment , harmony and laughter
The latter an indication of contentment
Not sadness
Veganistic approaches to the sublime.
A fresh and clean aroma
Of genuinely achieved internal beauty
The apple Is never far from the tree.

Please Tell Me
by Amber Byrd

Please tell me that you never loved me,
and that you never cared.
Please tell me you never needed me,
and that's why you were never there.
Please tell me that when you look at me,
you see right to the wall.
Please tell me you never wanted me,
not a little bit, not even at all.
Please tell me one of these, are the
answer to my question "why".
Please tell me one of these, are why
you want to say good-bye.

I'm Going Down
by David Soriano

It's hard
So awfully tough
Life was so easy
Now all is going bad, I'm going down.
It was all games and gifts
Now no job
Lousy state of body and mind
Always bad news.
Endless soul searching
Endless empty bottles

Things I've Learned Along the Way
by Sally P. Karioth, Ph.D, R.N. (adapted)

I've learned
that if I don't take care of myself,
I can't take care of anyone else.

I've learned
that whatever you need
in a hurry will be in someone else's room.

I've learned
that reality is what is,
not what I would like it to be.

I've learned
that time flies
whether I'm having fun or not.

I've learned
to separate between
a minor event and a major episode.

I've learned
that every day I can make a difference
in someone's life, and that I choose
to make it a positive difference

I've learned
that if I don't celebrate the exquisiteness
of each day
I've lost something I'll never get back.

I've learned
that you don't have to meet
all the objectives to learn a whole bunch.

I've learned
that some things
have to be believed to be seen.

from June 2002

At My Door
by Durlabh Singh

Who knocked at my door
In the middle of the night
Directions to awake
Breaching journey
Of a thousand miles.
Colours idly spread
In conformity with hues
Across a chasm of skies
Dreaded infirmity of few.
Some salve shapes arise
Dreamt by quest for a change
Ribbled branches in green
A tree of spirit at the gate.
Some courage to explore
The shadows under your feet
Dusty entanglements held
For the serrated probes
Where hazen horizons meet.

The Broken Horse
by G. E. Graven

I arrived quite promptly at the market square
hoping a buyer of my horse would be there
I required the pounds for a debt I'd pay
On a drunken wager lost yesterday

Since I hadn't the coinage to make the debt good
I had three horses and one of them could
The oldest was frail and sickly indeed
and this one I'd barter to cover the deed

"Damn this mare," I mused to myself
"I had two others in much finer health."
So this one I marched to the market square
a crooked old horse and a broken down mare

I grinned at the fancy of the next to own her,
Indeed he would curse me, that dejected owner
But of concern to me was a debt to be paid
regardless of trade or deceit that I played

It soon became solid as the day wore on
I would have no purchaser for which to pawn

this decrepit old mare I began to detest
and I lowered her price to a second-best

The market square secured its shops
as dark clouds clustered over naked tree tops
and the sun sunk low in the village West
along with the outlay to an any-best

The beast was not fancied, and this seemed certain
The village fled home, from the stormy curtain
that swelled to black in the Eastern sky
and men scurried by as loud as I'd cry

A gale wind coughed and I fell chilled to the bone
the eve had fallen and I surrendered home
The distance was great so I left the square
with arrears unsettled on a crooked mare

The air was ice and inkwell black
I made haste homeward, I headed back
to the simple cottage on the seashore's shelf
lived in by none but my ripe-aged self

I charged on thunder while galloping East
through a wooded trail of many o' beast
yet the clouds cracked open and wept their souls
as I dashed up the way of mud-filled holes

With reins in hand and hooves at trail
I galloped away on a mount so frail
that she cracked as a twig and fell to the ground
I drew my colt and she neighed no sound

As I scurried on foot through the sleeting air
I heard the wind whisper a whimper where
the pitch of night stood -- front, back and side
the whimper of mourn when the living has died

A cold like steel had ripped me apart
considering the dead I rushed without heart
I raced the beast at continual strain
blind to the animal's compiling pain

My pace had quickened at this culpable thought
and through the sea of sleet I fought
my way to safety; to my shelter on the shore
where the unrested being will concern me no more

But the horror had established its truth at once
when I heard a neigh from the broken horse
that I erased with my colt -- a shot to the head
and checked it for life; I'm sure she was dead

Yet now I gathered the following steps
of the once-dead beast and then perhaps
the dragging sound of a twisted hoof
as it scrapped the rocks in horrid proof

that the horse's immortal was haunting its master --
the soul that slew her was the whole she was after

"Away, you pest," I snapped at the wind
but it squalled all the greater and stinging again,
pulling and tugging at my buttoned coat seam
whilst infecting my ears with a yowling scream

For many o' mile I charged through the rain
to flee this beast of wandering pain
Its horrible hoof lay scratching the stones
and flushing a madness through my very bones

Finally I broke through the fields of my home
and fixed my sight on its comforting stone.
I broke with a passion whilst gasping for air
since I knew at the cottage, my saneness was there

Upon reaching the door, I spun wide around
to see only sleet and a fallow ground
I found no hoofed-demon as I imagined last
I bent over heaving, as convulsions passed

I studied the earth at a branch I could feel
lodged in the rear of my split boot heel
that mimicked the sound of a dragging hoof
my fear was madness as there lay the proof

I mused at the fancy of my spurious fright,
of fleeing from ghosts in the midst of night
I unbolted the door and my cheeks flushed red
as there stared the mare with a gap in her head.

No Logical Explanation
by Mindy Silbergleid

No logical explanation
an innocent 8 year old
refuses to eat
thinner and thinner she becomes
wanting to disappear
diagnosed anorexic

a pubescent 12 year
looks at her changing body in the mirror
tall and lean
a picky eater
asks her mother
"Are my thighs getting too fat?"
completes an EDI at school
profile shows high risk
for developing an eating disorder
parents in denial
do nothing to get their daughter help

a group of 14 years olds
congregate in the school bathroom after lunch
"Did you know if you throw up you won't gain any weight?"
They enter the stalls together
Toes pointing inward
some leave the stalls with puffy swollen eyes
a smile on their faces, "success"
others leave the stalls frustrated
they were not able to make themselves vomit

all of these true stories
every day I see it
girls so young
breaks my heart
if only I could prevent the pain
stop them before the cycles begin
for once it starts
it is so hard to break free

I know.
10 years with disordered eating
and still fighting this ugly disease
a single tear falls from my cheek
I can't stop it.
I educate and support but do not understand
why is this happening?
no logical explanation

from May 2002

To Bulimia
by Lauren Woody

You glittered,
You were fool's gold,
You carried me away
With perfect promises
Of ballerinas and movie stars,
Occupied vacancy and solid respect,
That I still force myself to believe.
You fed on my weaknesses,
Highlighted insecurities.
You drew tears from my eyes,
Then slapped me for crying.
What's important anyway?
I can't recall.
And I think I remember a little girl,
I think I see her shadow,
She's hiding behind you,
I don't see myself
Ever reaching her again.
But you taught me one thing:
All that glitters is not gold.
What a big f*cking price to pay,
For such a stupid lesson.

Please Hear What I'm Not Saying
by Jill Zevallos-Solak
Submitted by Michelle

Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear.
For I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
Masks that I'm afraid to take off,
And none of them is I.
Pretending is an art that's second nature to me,
But don't be fooled
For God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure,
That confidence is my name and coolness my game,
That the waters calm and I'm in command,
And that I need no one.
But don't believe me.
My surface may seem smooth but my surface
Is my mask, ever-varying and ever concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion and fear and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don't want anyone to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
A nonchalant sophisticated facade, to help me pretend,
To shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation.
My only hope and I know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
If it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
From my own self built prison walls,
From the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me
Of what I can't assure myself,
That I'm really worth something.
I don't like to hide.
I don't like to play superficial games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me,
But you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
Even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away the from my eyes
The bland stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me to aliveness.
Each time you are kind and gentle and encouraging,
Each time you try to understand because you really care,
My heart begins to grow wings, very small wings,
Very feeble wings
But wings!!
With your power to touch me into feeling
You can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
Who I am you may wonder.
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet,
And I am ever woman you meet.

Anatomy of an Eating Disorder
by Jonna

Hungry for Respect
Free of expectation
Hungry for Affection
Free of condition
Hungry for Understanding
Free of judgment
Hungry for Nurturing
Free of patronization
Hungry for Independence
Free of guilt
Hungry for Equality
Free of games
Hungry for a Future
Free of shame

Just Wanna be Me

by Ashlee Aldridge

All these questions to answer,
How should I know?
I'm just trying to be happy,
I'm just tryin to grow.
I want to fit in,
But I can't really see.
It's all pretty blurry...
I just wanna be me.
You don't make it easy,
When you push me aside.
You make it much harder,
You give me reason to cry.
Do I really know myself?
What do they want me to be??
I'm so sick of all you shit,
I just wanna be me.
So easily forgotten,
But I'm everybody's "friend"
I'm never really happy,
I just like to pretend.
I don't feel how you feel,
Or dream what you dream.
I'm not your mirror image,
I just wanna be me.

from March 2002

by Leslie Freeman

Real feelings
Ever changing}
Capable mind
Relinquish control over


Website designed and administered by Sarah Mason, .  Website Logo and  Graphics Designed by Tahara Hasan. Payson Road was created Copyright June 2, 2000.  All rights reserved. Copyright 2000-5 [Payson Road].  All rights reserved. Revised: January 09, 2006. 

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