Two poems about parents.. Are they teen angst?
Considering the topic, I'm a bit afraid these poems will come across as teen angst. Do you think these poems have twilight-esque angst? Or they make you want to slap the speaker and tell them to stop whining and to grow up?
Quote:
If I did something like
Flooding the entire world
Because I didn’t like the way people lived
That would be rather sinful of me
However when God does such things
It isn’t a sin
Because he is God
Apparently
The same sort of phenomenon
Applies to parents
Quote:
On this farm
I’ve learned to love shaving wood
The same way I’ve slaved to shave turkey
Wood can be mutilated
Into nearly any creative force
My dad sickens me
Insisting I make cabinets and shelves!
He has no open mind
Barely even open eyes
When I show him my wood sculptures that
I feel,
Mean something more
One time he even called me “whimsical”
During angry ramblings
About God creating the trees
And how cruelly I try to make them “my own”
Usually I laugh when he uses words the wrong way
But not that time
Working hard straightens your spine
Working hard makes you wake up on time
But he doesn’t work hard
I don’t care how callused his hands are
He is a deviant with an elbow-grease fetish