I have sat here bye the bye always watching.
No attention do they pay me, as I see them.
Trees and woods,
it's barren land spread amongst my, bed of Roses.
Roots are stirring, deeply in the earth,
the Lilies barely patched so like most roofs.
Teenage Wasteland
of My memory of my youth was not like this.
Am I old and they are young,
memories vague some thing stirring, prejudiced.
Lilies mixed with Roses.
Horse and carriage take me back to my old days
of Lilac water.
Rings of 'Cheap' cigars held out, about each label.
Holding out against tight jeans.
When I have to buy them,
does she have to make me watch her..try them on.
Burlap is not silk and each cotton face, I see.
The center rose and lily knows this teenage wasteland,
some how got the best of what is left inside of me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem