Poetry from Class

I wrote this while sitting in Molecular Biology I today. It is an interesting take on my feelings and is barely following a particular rhyming scheme.

Tell me how to feel
Tell me how to heal
How am I to know just what to do
I'm looking for direction
A greater plan for my selection
By the world to get a job like all of you

I want a job
Don't want a career
I need something that keeps me near
To my love
Gives family time
I need a plan that will provide for me and mine.

I sit here in class
Hoping just to pass
And leave all of this behind
I think of my life
Of my family and strife
Of my future and my wife
And so I find

That I want a job
Don't want a career
I need some way to keep me near
To those that I love
Gives that family time
I need a plan for me and mine

I need a plan to let me know
What I need to do so
I can graduate in May...
What to do so I will find
A job that will ease my mind
And help melt my cares away

In the future I will be
A grown man with a family
That for I will need to provide
Yes monetarily
But also lovingly
And the only way to abide

Is to find a job
Not a career
Something which will keep me near
To those I love
Give me family time
I need a plan for me and mine
To find a job
That's all I say
Not a career which takes me away
From my family fun
My beloved ones
With a career I'd be married more than once
Wedding both my wife and job is nuts
I can't imaging loving a job with a larger part
Than the one for othse who occupy my heart.

The Cult of the Bells

I originally wrote this in early 2001, I had been reading a great deal of Edgar Allen Poe at the time, which is reflected in the dark tone of the piece. It's also reflected in the fact that I became enthralled by the word tintinnare. It had actually won a contest in my high school for their old literary magazine, Pen & Ink. Enjoy --

You hear the lovely tintinnare
The ring-a-ling flows through the air
They seem to sing and call you there
The flowing ring of tintinnare.

As you enter, people stare
This house the source of tintinnare
This lovely ring has drawn you there
To this temple of despair.

You witness all the cretins bare
Their heads all black with raven's hair
With bells they hoped to lure you there
Seduce your soul with tinitinnare.

Now you're brought within the lair
Become a member of despair,
You are dragged back by your hair
Taken in by tintinnare.

The ring-a-ling flows through the air
The sounds they sing within the lair
Your beaten, bruised and bloodied there
Your ligaments begin to tear
The people kill you without care
Behind them, sounds of tintinnare.
Maybe draw another there
Another victim for this lair
And the song of tintinnare.