Peace Is Overrated
A land of peace is overrated.
The dream of it is seriously out-dated,
Because peace is truly non-existent
The dream of it is only ever lent
There will always be someone who'll fight,
That someone will always believe they're doing right.
There are different reasons for it all,
Such as self-defence, pride or just being poor.
If you were living in poverty with a family to feed,
Would you not fight to steal what you need?
If your country was invaded by power-hungry politicians,
Would you not fight to save your home's position?
It is human nature to fight,
To defend what they believe is right.
The only way to discontinue this,
Is pretend that nothing is amiss.
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poem by Lenore Lee
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Forgiveness Is Not the Key
I look down at the people, I worry about their woes
I worry about their joys, their friends, their foes
I worry about their lives and the way they live it
I worry about their dreams and wonder if they’ll heed it
I worry about the tears I see running down their face
I worry about their lies they tell in this time and place
I worry about their truths that always hurt more
I worry about what they will definitely have in store
I look down at the people who never showed compassion
Who hate each other with the strongest passion
Who pushed me aside as though I were nothing
I wonder, do they care about anything?
I realise they treat each other as dirt
And they revel within all the hurt
Not one ever worried for me
I’m so glad that I can finally see
I refuse to worry or care about them and their petty ways
I will never again worry for their days
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poem by Lenore Lee
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Being 'Normal
I once came across a rather ordinary man
Who believed in being perfectly normal
He smiled at me and took my hand
And kissed it in a manner quite formal
He took me to the movies and the shops
He seduced me until I was besotted
He fed me chocolate and push-pops
And played with my hair until it was knotted
But every time I did something original he’d scorn
He hated my creativity and uniqueness
He ordered me to act more like the norm
And like a slave I obeyed him, I must confess
Soon I was dressing in the fashion
I was acting like one of those sheep, too
I threw away my one true passion
And had never been so blue
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poem by Lenore Lee
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Winners Never Quit
I met a man once who was clever and witty,
He could make up a story in a jiffy,
He told me he wrote a horror book,
But it got rejected after one look,
And I said:
Please do as you dream, I implore,
Find a different publisher that’ll like your lore,
Because quitters never win.
I met a little girl once who was kind and cute,
She used to do ballet but she got the boot,
Said she loved dancing but wasn’t talented,
She had no grace is what she said,
And I said:
Try again and you’ll be the best,
Don’t give up and you’ll be impressed,
Because quitters never win.
I met an elderly couple once who were in love,
They wanted to marry but didn’t have the shove,
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poem by Lenore Lee
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The Path In The Sky
True love never ends; it has no beginning,
If you quarrel with a dear one you will make amends
And I’m trying to give love to someone other than me.
The road is mine to choose, I choose the one of friendship
And I hope I’m strong enough to walk in these shoes;
I hope to become half the person I aspire to be.
There is no fate to guide me; no one shows me the way when I’m misdirected,
So I’ll walk on my own until I find someone that’ll make me feel connected.
Because in a loving hand I’ll take my final stand,
With others I’ll be strong enough to say and do all.
Cannot outrun my past; caches up to me too fast,
Don’t need a trampoline to touch the sky; used to jump now I fly.
Sometimes when I’m drowning in the blue river,
I can feel the touch of a friendly hand
And they’re giving me hope, teaching me to love again.
I hope others can see in me the kind of person that I want to be,
So please accept the best and the worst of me
And soon enough I’ll be the person I should be.
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poem by Lenore Lee
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Death Of An Innocent (Part 2)
'I went to a party mum,
I know what you'd say.
You'd say not to drink mum,
But I drank anyway.
I felt sick inside mum,
As I knew I would.
I didn't catch the bus mum,
As I definitely should.
I pulled into the road mum,
I felt dizzy in my head.
I didn't see her coming mum,
And now she's probably dead.
I saw her bleeding on the road mum,
But I got up okay.
I kept saying ‘I'm sorry' mum,
What else could I say?
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poem by Lenore Lee
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An Old Soul
I’m not like other children my age.
The children my age are precarious fools,
Whose actions are unjustified.
I don’t understand why they do as they do,
But oh, children will be children, will they not?
I’ve now gained the nickname of ‘mother’
Because I see them hurt each other for no reason,
And I’ll always step in to tell them to stop.
I hear them spread rumours,
And I don’t believe a word they say.
I’m implicated about their futures,
As if they care about their futures.
All of the foolish teens are in agony,
So despite their absurdity I try to help.
They only stab me in the back in the end.
I don’t understand the children my age,
They are cruel, unsophisticated and hostile.
They hold such pain, yet they cause that pain in others. Why?
I hold pain and it only makes me want to erase any pain in others.
Why would having pain make you want to upset others?
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poem by Lenore Lee
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In The Art Class
I look around this joyful room,
Amongst the peaceful teens
This is perhaps the only class
Where students are not machines
In the art class they’ll smile
In the art class they’ll yell
In the art class they‘ll be kind
And not raise a hell
Many teachers wonder why this is so
Many teachers wonder where the secret lies
The secret to peaceful teens, which enjoy their work
The secret to the students without depressed cries
The students wonder how they could not get it
How they could not understand
How the teachers don’t realise
That in the art room there are no demands
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poem by Lenore Lee
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The Abyss
The darkness reaches out to me and gently caresses
The abyss is creeping up on me
The emptiness strokes my arms in a comforting manner
I know its arms like an old lover
It kisses my cheek in a butterfly manner
It muzzles my neck like a puppy
Its arms hold me from behind
I’ve been given this depression many times
As it gently holds me I try to leave its arms
But its lover’s arms have turned to restraints
Its arms lock my arms to my stomach, ties its legs around mine
My body is trapped, I can’t move but I beg it to stop
It doesn’t stop, its tight grip burns but the pain is pleasurable
Its head pushes into my neck and its mouth starts to open
Its teeth grips my neck and it bites as I scream
All that makes me real pours out of my veins, into its mouth
My love, my joy, my hope, my pain, my fears - all drained away
When there is nothing left the abyss replaces me with itself
As I feel it take me over my fearful screams turns to quiet peace
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poem by Lenore Lee
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Great Hate Comes From Great Love
Everyone kneels as you walk into the room,
It seems as if you’re made of gloom.
Mist for body, shadows for clothes,
Who you are everybody knows.
I kneel with the crowd, to my dismay,
I hate kneeling but I must obey.
You smile like a gracious host,
But you’re really just a dark ghost.
You signal us to rise and for that I’m thankful,
I hate feeling like I’m your fool.
You come to me and shake my hand,
“‘We’re all friends here’, understand? ”
“No, we’re enemies”, replies me,
You are an ugly creature, don’t you see?
The ghostly king takes my hand,
And leads me outside to a stand.
He turns me to him, I feel horrified,
But with a troubled look he only sighed.
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poem by Lenore Lee
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