Poems by Curtis Verstoep

Lost

a poem by Curtis Verstoep

The revolution,
The chaos,
The entrapment,
The depression,
To go to the darkness of livelihood,
The far reaches of life on the brink.
To have death as the closest friend
But to never have shared truths with it.
Please burn up this sin when I am gone.

When all was inconceivably dark,
And mayhem was a desired dream;
I fell upon this soul.
With her beauty both obvious and blind
Her strength a show of miracles.
Her heart a gift worthy of gods.
Her soul so pure and innocent.
I never knew such a feeling;
Her name became the incantation feeding my mind.
With several Sibyls guiding my path;
Used for encouragement, an aegis for the pain.
Please burn up this sin when I am gone.

I had the urge and need to belong,
To feel and to hold once again,
To abolish the necrosis of my life,
To erase the sins that I have done.
To save the abberant life of one
Who’s changes have been scathed
By the aberrant blindness provocing life
Please burn up this sin when I am gone.

I charged into the blindness
Not knowing what to hope for.
The shock of acceptance being
A pandemic to those.
Those who knew of the suicidal battle
The battle fought for so long now;
Eliminated for what I thought,
Or postponed for what I now know.
Please burn up this sin when I am gone.

It was a fugue, a never-ceasing,
never declining, never fading, affection.
The heights of unimaginable nerve.
The chasms of undiscussed emotions.
The rivers of blood flowing from the heart.
I have become nothing
Please burn up this sin when I am gone.

The cascading life,
All the pain and the strife.
Looking through glass to get to you.
My rage and hatred on hold.
These unveiled feelings so confusing.
So completely propitious it felt right.
It completely blinded my sight.
Please burn up this sin when I am gone.

The gentle subtility of the touch,
Our mutual convivial socialities.
The grace of the motions,
But how longlived this state may not be
Was but a deceiving elocution.
A front put on for show.
Please burn up this sin when I am gone.

The affection once shared in life,
And to no avail.
The peace of mind once gathered,
Had no use.
One of us changed, was molded by chance
The togetherness and tranquillity escaped.
New open intolerance now unveiled
Avoiding the touch, pushing the crude
Hostilities so familiar to me.
Please burn up this sin when I am gone.

I tried to let it pass,
I abjured the restrained love.
Pushing the truth would do no good.
It would never be the way it was.
I made my mistakes and you made yours;
So oblivious to this which has come.
Forgiveness I seek for what I have done.
What I have done i seek to discover.
Please burn up this sin when I am gone.

Why can’t you look at me?
Why can’t you feel like me?
Why can’t you talk to me?
Why can’t I be around you?
Why can’t I help you too?
Why can’t I be with you?
Questions unanswered, I will never find
Occlusion being the last resort.
To find the last hope of friendship.
Please burn up this sin when I am gone.

That which was needed to know,
The mind gravid with secrets to which
The key was not to be found.
The flowing blood was damned with silence.
The open gates of life were closed with
The visablity of waning tolerance,
The glowing red embers of a fire once burning
Snuffed with lies and distant cries.
Please burn up this sin when I am gone.

Now the sun won’t shine on me,
Now the rain won’t even fall,
Never thought it could be this way.
Now the music fades away,
I waste away from all the pain,
I hope you get to play your game,
I hope you get to see again,
I hope you put the guilt aside.
I hope your happy with your new life.
Could’ve stripped her down,
Ripped the world from under me.
Made the world a mess for her.
Please burn up this sin when I am gone.

I know I must approach this abyss,
With the torsion of my soul.
My mind is clattered with images;
Both far and great superiorities slashing,
Things I never have done.
I’m too sick I can’t win,
My eyes can’t behold this,
I can never control this.
This feeling that’s left in my heart.
I never did any wrong,
I don’t deserve these prongs.
Please burn up this sin when I am gone.
I haven’t become all I want to be.
I haven’t become anything I need to be.
Don’t want to taste the pain I feel.
Need to be the one to be.
The one to be abused by the
Radiant burning of sins. The never-
ending rush of doubts.
The doubts of ideas once debated.
The ideas of life.
Life so incredulous and unadulterated
By blankets put over our heads.
Please burn up this sin when I am gone.

The ending to the sacred idolatry.
It is to deaf ears I beg for support,
A person to fall with, and the dim hopes
of another such soul to belong to.
Sick of saying farewells,
Sick of hidden emotions,
Sick of frustrations needed remedied,
Sick of being pushed aside,
Sick of the silence.
It is over.