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Spilled Ink 02
ÚÄ Ü Ü Ü Ü Ä¿
Ûßß ÛßÛ ß Û Û Ûßß ÜÜÛ ß ÛÛÜ Û Ü
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ÛÛÛ Û ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ Û Þ ÛßÛ
ÀÄ ÄÙ
Ä electronic literary 'zine Ä
*ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ*
ù ÄÄ´ volume two ÃÄÄ ù
*ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ*
stop plagiarism - let out your soul
Copyright 1995
ú úùcompiled & edited by Twilightùú ú
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
þ Table of Contents þ
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
1. A Short Dialogue: A Solution To Truth - Chameleon
2. Astrotaught - Slayer@ZON
3. Dark Seed - Gabrielle
4. Desolation. - Twilight
5. Face The Wall. - Slayer@ZON
6. Flash Flood - Twilight
7. Garble - Soul Eater
8. Generation XXX (Casual Sex In The Nineties) - Shadou
9. Holy Waters - Sin
10. Iconoclast - Sin
11. Leap Of Faith - Sin
12. Lie - Maryjane@CWK
13. March Of The Dead - Sin
14. Missing You - Twilight
15. More Than Life - Ben Hoogterp
16. No Way Out - Twilight
17. Pain - Soul Eater
18. Perfect - Sin
19. Phoenix - Drucilla B. Blood
20. Poetry Corner - Radhika Gajjala
21. Questions, Motivations, And Questions Of Motivations - Chameleon
22. Seed - Slayer@ZON
23. Terminal - Sin
24. There Will Come A Time - Angel Alice
25. Truth By Elimination - Chameleon
26. Undo - Slayer@ZON
27. Untitled - Annoying Man
28. Untitled - Dark Goob
29. Untitled - Egypt
30. Untitled - Iyad Ismael
31. Untitled - Sin
32. Untitled - Soul Eater
33. Untitled (2) - Soul Eater
34. What Rap Music Makes Me Write - Soul Eater
35. Why I Cried - Twilight
þ Including Quotes From:
M.J. Adler, V. Raiuhes Ahaefvthe, Courtney Love, Abraham Maslow, Mycroft,
Julia Soul, and Sting@243
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
A Short Dialogue: A Solution To Truth
þ Chameleon
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
Wiseman: I am a seeker of truth!
Skeptic: What is truth?
Wiseman: I don't know, that is why I am seeking it.
Skeptic: How do you know what to seek?
Wiseman: By revealing of what is false, inconsistent, and
contradictory.
Skeptic: How do you know what is false?
Wiseman: It proves not to be consistent.
Skeptic: What is consistent?
Wiseman: Anything that remains constant given a particular
set of circumstances.
Skeptic: How do you know what is contradictory?
Wiseman: Anything that reveals unto itself an inability
to remain consistent by virtue of its nature or
collective elements.
Skeptic: How do you conclude it is true?
Wiseman: By giving it the benefit of probability.
Skeptic: Does the truth necessitate certainty?
Wiseman: Yes.
Skeptic: How?
Wiseman: By eliminating any doubt.
Skeptic: How can you eliminate doubt?
Wiseman: By eliminating the question, for questioning
feeds doubt, and fundamentally, nothing is certain.
Skeptic: So how can you be certain if something is true, or
that the truth is certain?
Wiseman: I've already answered the former, as for the
latter truth is certainty.
Skeptic: You've only said that the truth necessitates
certainty and that truth is a benefit of
probability.
Wiseman: The truth is without doubt.
Skeptic: Is there anything without doubt?
Wiseman: Yes, but only the truth!
Skeptic: Can a man live without doubt?
Wiseman: No.
Skeptic: What is doubt?
Wiseman: To doubt is to question, to be uncertain.
Skeptic: How can one be not uncertain?
Wiseman: Death.
Skeptic: The truth is death?
Wiseman: No, but death needs no truth.
Skeptic: So the answer to the seeking of truth is death?
Wiseman: Not an answer but a solution.
"Intelligence is the ultimate aphrodisiac."
Astrotaught
þ Slayer@ZON
ùúùúùúùúùúùú
Now hear this
Let there be no misinterpretation
You live among the lonely
You live in a capitalist nation
In the past you've been scarred
By someone
I need the expiration date at the bottom of your card
Prey on the weak and poor
Prey on the weak and poor
This is a capitalist nation
I am an astrowhore
Let it be known
Now hear me out
I see for you wealth untold
Just sit back and listen to me
And watch it all unfold
Let my conscience be your guide
Listen to my words
See the shelter they provide
To lose sight of reality
To have a place to hide
Prey on the weak and poor
Prey on the weak and poor
This is a capitalist nation
I am an astrowhore
"All through the '80s, it was a goddamn nightmare, hearing things from other
women like 'Well, I can borrow my boyfriend's bass. We can open for my
boyfriend's band. I can't make practice tonight because I have to meet my
boyfriend.' Ugh!" Ä Courtney Love
Dark Seed
þ Gabrielle
ùúùúùúùúùúù
You've done this to me.
It's your fault.
Taken something innocent and frail
And transformed it into this.
You've planted this seed.
This dark seed of hatred and evil,
Planted deep within the soil of my heart.
And it grows and grows.
Each day, turning my red vibrant heart
Into a poisoned black hollow mass.
Each day, you water it with harsh words,
Nourish it with hatred.
All the while, this dark seed continues to grow, to harden, to strengthen.
Soon, this dark seed will envelop my heart.
And there will be nothing left of the innocence.
Nothing left of the love I once felt.
There will be nothing left--but evil and hatred.
desolation.
þ Twilight
ùúùúùúùúùúù
sitting in this forlorn pit,
emptiness surrounds me...
the hollow echo of silence
hardly heals this aching soul.
my head buried between my knees
oblivious to the outer realm:
shutting out the world,
shutting out life,
all they do is harm me.
thin rays of light
dancing over my skin
they provide no comfort
as i huddle, shivering
my arms, around my legs,
try to pull my outer self in.
drawing all into my internal black hole -
my crushd chest...
and a void of nothingness enveloping.
"I lived with someone who said every day that he was going to kill himself,
and it wasn't like I was bored with it by any means. I did what I could
to make sure that didn't happen. And that resulted in a lot of hysteria
on my part. There was a lot of screaming, a lot of yelling. A lot of
kicking the walls, a lot of broken fax machines and telephones. I started
to feel like my purpose in life was noble - to take care of these two human
beings, my husband and child, and make sure that they lived."
Ä Courtney Love
Face The Wall.
þ Slayer@ZON
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
Another sleepless night next to her
All I do is toss and turn
I grip my pillow and face the wall
I dream of her and it seems like real
I lie awake and this is what I feel
I can't build a life on regret
For things not done, words left unsaid
I lay here and think every night
How to break free
How to make it right
She drapes her arm over mine
She runs her hand through my hair
The thought of losing me
I know she couldn't bear
What to do, what to do
I want to wake up in another place
No one to look at, no one to talk to
Except for you
But for now I grip the pillow and face the wall.
Flash Flood
(to my love, Dave from Alaska)
þ Twilight
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
sweet notes floating, drifting...
caressing rolling hills of everlasting green...
the series of melodies seep into my heart,
my soul, my mind, my existing being...
steering itself to the left and right
while lightly skimming each emotion -
each feeling, every thought and dream,
continuously sailing
into my limpid pool, my eternal ocean,
every now and again,
coming to bank upon the shore...
the sanctuary where your aura, your presence
gently rests and resides...
clinging ever-so-softly on the vines
which swing as the images of yesterday
tug upon them.
tears attach themselves delicately
to the grains of life -
the sands of time -
as my heart calls out for you.
visions of laughter, of comraderie...
of fleeing, yet so deeply imbedded passion
underneath moonlit skies and fluffy clouds,
intertwined, our arms,
as down the path of light we flow...
so graceful...and yes, so serene...
forever down this rippling waterway.
these blinded eyes beg to see again
as the sweet breath of music
gently pushes along
the quickening pulse, the pumping heart -
yearning to see you,
it's other half...
by its side, in its reflection,
for all to come - one and complete.
entities singing heavenly interludes to one another
as two interlinked golden bands
chasing life, racing death,
drifting...gracefully...
continuing on
down the river of time
for eternity...
"Sex, to him, was incredibly sacred. He found commitment to be an
aphrodisiac." Ä Courtney Love
Garble
þ Soul Eater
ùúùúùúùúùúùú
I hate the little notecards that fall out of magazines.
I hate the little people that piss me off.
I hate all the commercials trying to change my mind.
I hate all politics that go on around me.
I hate having teachers that are ridiculous.
I hate people that get in the way of learning.
I hate when my mouse doesn't respond.
I hate my parents.
I hate my teachers.
I hate when my parents tell me what to do.
I hate when teachers don't know what they're doing.
I hate not being able to beat Doom.
I hate having to explain who I am.
I hate not knowing what I'll be.
I hate all the questions without answers.
I hate people who think they know what's good for me.
I hate liars.
I hate fakes.
I hate having all these things I hate.
I hate not being able to express myself.
Generation XXX (Casual Sex In The Nineties)
þ Shadou
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
The back seats of cars,
in darkened city parks,
behind locked doors,
with old dirty whores.
In dingy clubs, grungy bars,
or wide open fields under the stars,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Find me a chick, and get laid tonight.
Teen girl beauties with unblemished skin,
Flirt not so innocently with older men.
Pick them up, drive them around.
Take it off and stick it in.
Condom, Oh condom,
keep me safe tonight.
Dieseases today are quite a fright.
They fuck all night long,
or maybe to just one song,
They play bondage games,
and never tell their names,
Or fall madly in love,
like the soft-hearted dove.
At any measure,
the sex is what they treasure,
coming in droves,
to the caves and coves,
and watering holes,
and meeting places,
come every night,
you'll see the same faces.
They sit and they drink
occasionally a wink,
Lustful and sly,
inviting a
"Hi there, I was wondering....."
Women will talk,
about bad pickup lines,
Men will think twice,
about committing new crimes.
Of passion and lust,
"Don't cum in my mouth."
Oh, the hideous trust.
Eventually they leave,
paired off once again,
"My place or yours?"
and the sex games begin.
They kiss and suck,
nibble and blow,
fondle and fuck,
cum and go.
Trading phone numbers,
that accidentally get tossed,
trading memories
to be immediately lost.
Out the door and once again alone,
I got myself laid,
Now it's time to go home.
"Virgins are addicts waiting to happen. All they need is one little taste,
one well-placed nibble, and they're hooked. They're sluts to passion upon
their first fix, their first connection." Ä Sting@243
holy waters
(dedicated to scd)
þ Sin
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
all i can give
is all i can take
all that is left
is this empty ache
sent my soul down in flames
burnt up all that is true
now my evil thirst
drinks up the goodness in you
if i can't be redeemed
please let me still choose
the right to do wrong
and do it with you
gonna hammer the nail
gonna drive it right thru
gonna give you my sin
again and again
my love is blind
but my guilt can see
that these flames that surround me
were not your destiny
but my final prayer
my only chance to be free
is thru the burning seas of your soul
you've parted for me
iconoclast
þ Sin
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
you castrate yourself
with tribal fertility imagery
and weekly sacrificial rites
to appease your god
you put your brain on a shelf
you abdicate your responsibility
you abuse what little reasoning you have
as an expression of your faith
in what isn't
and never will be
you spread your brain wide
you let yourself get fucked in the head
but he loves you
so that makes it ok, right?
you beat yourself
and others off
into pacifistic submission
to the will of an all-powerful god
that your primitive ancestors created
out of wood and stone
and then watch with your god
as the crops still fail
and bad things still happen
to good people.
you deceive yourself
with divine words of wisdom
written in greek on crumbling parchment
that wise men with secret prayer decoder rings
and secret motives
decipher
into crude dogmas and cheap platitudes
dressed in stuffy jargon
and expensive three-piece suits.
let's see. how does your ludicrous chant go?
say you're sorry for your bad breath
ask fred to come into your kitchen
be baptized in ketchup and olive oil
then you'll go to wal-mart and live happily ever after
now send me money.
that's it, give or take a word or two.
your church is a social club
your religion is amway
and your god
is a god of fools.
"I had this theory that the persona people project onstage is the exact
opposite of who they are. In Kurt's case, it was 'Fuck you!' And
ultimately, his largest problem in life was *not* being about to say,
'Fuck you.' 'Fuck you, Courtney. Fuck you, Gold Mountain. Fuck you,
Geffen - and I'm gonna do what I want.' *My* thing is 'Don't fuck with
me.' In real life, *real* real life, I'm supersensitive. But people tend
to think I'm not vulnerable because I don't act vulnerable."
Ä Courtney Love
leap of faith
þ Sin
ùúùúùúùúùúùúù
thru your clouded skies that blinded me
i lifted up my eyes to see
i tried to stand for truth and dignity
and trust in the sincerity:
of these empty dreams you promised me.
you drove me to the edge of sanity
with nothing left inside of me
you tried to get the best of me
it is the worst obscenity:
to take another part of me.
above a slave world of hypocrisy
i'm gonna jump i'm gonna be
i won't stoop or crawl on bended knee
i'm gonna fly above it all:
i'm gonna always be just me.
this euphemistic "flexibility"
this capitulation to "society"
well i've always believed in honesty
and now that i've clawed my way up i can see:
with broken wings you're never free.
you took the very best of me
no way to even up this score
nothing left but one more thing
here's the bloody rest of me:
- don't find the time to cry for me
don't find the words to speak for me
don't find the nerve to feel for me
just get the fuck away from me-
leap
of
f lying thru the clouds - they're all around
a nd everything is rushing up - the world is falling down
i 'll never feel the pain - i'll never hear the sound
t hundering like a bolt of pure lucidity
h eadfirst into a dawning sky of blue eternity
.
Lie
þ Maryjane@CWK
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
i love your lies
oh they are so beautiful
vibrant stories
ancient security
their warmth wraps around me
hold me closer
whisper in my ear
they dance around the room
i love your lies
oh the way i can see through them
plastic thoughts
rubber soul
dont let go
your gentle touch is soothing
let me kiss you
hold my lips and laugh
i love your lies
"I may lie a lot, but never in my lyrics." Ä Courtney Love
march of the dead
þ Sin
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
we do not cry
but we have forgotten how to laugh
we do not kneel
but we have no strength to stand
we do not surrender
but we have lost the war of life
do you hear the marching drums?
what are we to do?
across an endless battlefield of gray
faceless names of pain arrayed
lovers, sisters, brothers
strangers to each other
and strangers to ourselves
pale shadows reaching out to one another
mere shadows of our former selves
do you hear the marching drums?
what are we to do?
across the river of forget...
is it there the answer lies
out of the ticking hands of time
perhaps there deliverance lies
beyond a funeral vault of hellish skies
i hope and pray a heaven lies
do you hear the marching drums?
what are we to do?
what is to come of us
tish, black star, and goob
when our death wishes have come true
when there is nothing left
when there is nothing more to do
and what will make it right
when everything is wrong
and where are we to go
when everything is gone
what are we to say
when everything is said
where will we find ourselves
when it is by the lost that we are led
and we move to the silent heartbeat
of the drums of the marching dead?
Missing You
þ Twilight
ùúùúùúùúùúù
It took six years...
Six long years after she left me...
Part of me... closed itself off -
Shut out and hidden to the outer world,
I thought it to be lost forever;
Thought she had stolen it from me.
But then, *you* came along -
unexpectedly.
I was made whole again...
The missing puzzle piece,
you filled that part of me up
And set me free.
Riding in with your cascading curls
I finally felt fulfilled...
But as soon as you left my presence -
consumed by the night,
the clouds rolled in ominously
and covered half my joy,
half my sunshine -
in total obscurity.
But...together...
Together, life was made
a fun game
Holding hands, side by side
Two bitches, joined at the hip -
Laughing at the world
and its complete absurdity.
The love, the music,
The emotion, the pain...
The games everyone took so seriously...
Dammit, why did I meet you
so late in life...
As soon as we've grown attached,
I'm forced to go -
my separate way.
And I'll live on, not knowing
when I'll see you next -
when your voice will brighten my day
And when my inner cell
will be unlocked once more
underneath the violet, smoking skies...
Who is going to comfort you
Who is going to listen to me whine
How are those we ridicule
going to keep on living...
without us...?
*Twelve year-old SH heavy metal chicks*
Damn you, girl with the beautiful name,
I'm going to miss you...
And *sigh*
I'm going to miss that part of me...
More Than Life
þ Ben Hoogterp
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
"I love you more than life itself!" she said.
And though I'm sure she spoke to me in truth,
I'll always have to wonder what it meant,
For in that very night that she had spoke,
She went and put a bullet in her head.
"I used to be able to talk to Kurt more, wherever he is. But now he's gone.
I used to feel like mourning him was really selfish because it would make
him feel guilty. And the best thing to do was to pray for him and show him
joy, so he could feel the vibration of joy. But now I know he's dissipated,
and he's gone. There's not anything left. Not even to talk to."
Ä Courtney Love
No Way Out
þ Twilight
ùúùúùúùúùú
Knock, knock, knocking...
Upon opening each door,
It never fails...
It happens to be the wrong one.
Constantly erring,
Constantly making mistakes,
No matter which path I pick -
No matter which gateway I choose -
Each destination points downward,
Each drop, a pit of hell,
Each retried attempt ends in misery,
and every try eventually fails.
Some day the sun will stop shining;
Every day the sun sets.
Like my own trials
of many dawns and dusks,
Inevitable is that repetitive darkness...
Wandering forever in this maze of doors,
I will never find the true way out...
Doomed to have each new hope -
crushed... to pieces,
I am chained in the links of despair,
Locked within the cage of self-ruin...
I will never get out,
I will never escape...
I will never fly free.
"Sometimes I wish I could hop into a time machine and go back to my younger
self and say, 'Hey, man, it's all right; you'll be doing fine, and it'll
happen sooner than you know it.' I was so scared then, but I am now who I
set out to be then... It's good to be your own king..." Ä Mycroft
Pain
þ Soul Eater
ùúùúùúùúùúùú
putting yourself in pain is rather easily achieved. enjoying this
sensation is an altogether different reality. i'll let you figure that
one out. there is physical pain and emotional pain. i don't think
there is mental pain, because through my entire somewhat lax and
regrettable life, i've never suffered mental pangs from overthinking.
physical pain has varying degrees of anguish. some people can control
and maintain their very nerves that react to this type of stimuli. I
think twisting your ankle is much different than jumping off a building
and twisting your ankle. fear mixed with pain is rather harsh, one
thing that usually is not a feeling well thought upon. i'm rambling on,
so i'll get more on track. do not be afraid to do something because you
fear the sensation of pain. no matter how bad the pain is, it actually
goes away rather quickly. the first couple of seconds of pain is
actually overblown by your own mental capabilities. if you just stop
and try to breathe normally, the sensation regresses quite
substantially. controlling the effects of pain is another thing.
self-control is a big part of it. i can endure extreme pain, but i usually
break out into a cold sweat. i just realized there is no plot
whatsoever or purpose to this entire message. i'll move on now.
emotional pain i think is worse than the harshes of physical pain. it
sticks in your mind, haunting every living second of your existence.
you make an effort not to think about it, but it's always there, right in
focus. mental anguish at its worse - mix in a little guilt, a nice
heaping helping of depression and loneliness - you've got neural torture
to last you the rest of your life. somehow, this is the situation i've
ended up in. over the past week, i've figured out my entire family
should seek psychiatric help because we're all dysfunctional. i figured
out i have no idea where my life is leading, i sometimes forget my own
name because i'm tottally confused. i'm going insane and to top it all
off, i'm typing under two blankets so my parents don't hear me typing.
i'm losing it. i'm losing it. what the hell is this message supposed
to be about? i don't know anymore. mental anguish, i've got it.
physical anguish, easily obtained. definitely take the latter before
even considering tasting the prior.
"If you're never scared nor embarrassed nor hurt, it means you never take any
chances." Ä Julia Soul
perfect
þ Sin
ùúùúùúù
perfect little job
wrapped in cold electric black
tied with little colored wires
that could never be traced back
perfect little charge
packed inside a pipe of lead
as troubled as the dreams
trapped inside a screaming head
perfect little touch
for the hurt held deep inside
blooming like a flower of flame
for the burnt out life inside
perfect little hole
for a soul betrayed by fate
for a perfect little boom
from a plastic explosive hate
perfect little twist
of a key in the ignition
for a lifeless little spark
charred beyond all recognition
perfect gift of pain
on a burning road of dreams
nothing to show
and
no evidence to remain
just a twisted hulk of metal
and a
perfect little stain...
Phoenix
þ Drucilla B. Blood
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
The anxious whisper that
is your voice becomes a cat call
Wooing me
Spiraling downward
Into you
I want to write our names together
in the snow
Or on the mailbox
of a small hacienda
in Phoenix
Both of us barefoot
and pregnant
with youth
To give you candy cane kisses
and fetch the dawn in
skirted bliss
(how glad I am)
Snaking through shadows
Something on fire
draws me nearer and nearer
We burn there
together.
"Some of Kurt's ashes will be buried in a public cemetery, some are
underneath the Buddha in my bedroom, some are in the altar in the living
room, and some more of Kurt - not a great amount - is in India, being made
into a stupa. For the stupa, you get to pick a place and a deity. The
place I picked is Nirvana, and the deity is a minor god. He's a small man,
and he has this really large diamond that he's holding, and the diamond is
so big that it keeps knocking him over. The diamond is far too heavy a
burden for him." Ä Courtney Love
Poetry Corner
þ Radhika Gajjala
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
At the book store
browsing
poetry corner
Indulge, Bask
words float, they
swim, they dance and
sink
deep into my
Being
Great Literature?
what do i
Know?
i smell a Body standing
nearby
Browsing too perhaps.
am SelfConscious
Panic
suppose i know him
her
or....
Am known?
i sigh with relief as the
Brief moment of the
other's presence passes.
no more physical.
As the body looks to
other shelves for
illumination (?)
Imagined conversation
then intrudes
what if -
"Do you know the
Latest
By...."
"He's the Greatest"
but why?
"She writes with
Skill
such Metaphors,
Oxymorons too..."
"Remember those words ...."
[blah blah blah]
no i don't.
poetry i don't
quote
to show my
Knowledge
of words or
Skill
i care only for it
If it makes me
Feel.
The feel is all i have
left
when the words evaporate
a feel i wish would
flow
from the depth of my...
soul (?)
through the tips of my
fingers when i
write
i wish.
I wish.
To Feel and
make you feel.
if only i could.
"A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he
is to be at peace with himself. What a man can be, he must be."
Ä Abraham Maslow
Questions, Motivations, And Questions Of Motivations
þ Chameleon
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
My life has no meaning. I only strive to exist so that my fears of
nothingness may be at peace. I seek understanding of why I should continue
to adapt to the laws and traditions of society's functions. I question the
certainty of many, those who have focused their lives on the world that is
encompassing them versus the contemplation of their inevitable death.
Mankind functions to provide not meaning but the escape from
contemplating his meaning, that may not exist at all. When one is certain
of particulars, how can one question the utter realism or meaning of such
particulars? Has man escaped the quest for truth, for with it comes a
stifling depression led by a state of utter confusion? Has man deluded
himself to the point that he must participate in this story known as life
without questioning its primary reasons? How can we continue to function
without purpose? Must faith and beliefs always substitute for the underlying
confusion of our daily lives? What drives men to the belief in certain
particulars? Why focus on certain elements of the Universe when the meaning
of the Universe itself is not understood? How can I continue to exist without
understanding why? Why must an inward fear of inevitable death and
meaninglessness be my motivator versus a will toward accomplishment? Why I am
so unique as to endlessly question others' motives? Why must they continue a
road to death without stopping and wondering why?
I am the center of all things; everything is for me; all things serve me.
All that is important is how I am, who I am, what I am, and essentially why I
am. The Universe is here for me; it exists to be the slave of my wits and
intelligence.
Reality is what I perceive; reality is in my mind; without me, reality
would not be. The Universe is possibly infinite in nature yet it is finite
in my head. Supposing it is infinite, all objects are relative to the
subjective center; therefore I am the center! Reality is a mere reflection
of my perceptions and delusions. How must I find what reality is when reality
itself has no measurable basis? Am I reality?
I seek no pleasure, I seek no love, I seek no power - for all these
things are mere diversions from a hopeless existence soon to become
nothingness. My hopes are from fears of an existence without understanding.
I fear my loss of self, for without me, reality is nothing, and I am nothing.
Seed
þ Slayer@ZON
ùúùúùúùúùúùú
Inside here it's warm and cozy
No one comes around to bother me
They get closer every day
I can hear the voices
Can't make out what they say
When the darkness falls the voices fade
Silence
Sweet, divine
No more voices
Only mine
I live in a grape
I hang from a vine
My only fear is being turned into wine.
It's growing colder every night
I'm getting bigger, tender, and ripe
But I fear something
Is not right
They're here for me now
They're in my sight
I have no weapons or tools to fight
Silence
Sweet, divine
No more voices
Not even mine
Killed and raped
Torn from the vine
My soul is now suspended in time
Fermenting slowly, in a bottle of wine.
terminal
þ Sin
ùúùúùúùú
somebody turn off this head
somebody turn off this pain
somebody turn off the machine
that plugs me into this brain
some body
somebody kill off this hurt
somebody shut down this rage
somebody tell me my crime
that keeps me locked in this cage
some body
somebody let me go free
somebody give me the key
to all the heavenly things
that never opened up here for me
some body
somebody make it all stop
somebody make it all bleed
somebody burn it all up
so it won't have a carcass to breed
some body
somebody bury it deep
somebody put it to sleep
somebody nail down the lid
on these dead hopes that i keep
please somebody...
"When we decided we were in love at the Beverly Garland Hotel, we found this
dead bird. Took out three feathers. And he said, 'This is for you, this is
for me, and this is for the baby we're gonna have.' And he took one of the
feathers away." Ä Courtney Love
There Will Come A Time
þ Angel Alice
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
Today you strike me,
I falter and fall,
Prostate at your feet.
Rage eradicating tears of pain before they form.
I turn my head, and you do not see my face,
Twisted into lines of hatred that any fool could read.
When I turn back, it is blank, and does not betray me.
I tilt my chin upward, oh! ever so slightly!
My proud black eyes stare into yours, unblinking, unfrightened.
We both know who is stronger, inside.
(for there is nothing stronger than anger, except what keeps it in;
that's stronger)
And this knowledge drives you mad; insane!
Yes, your face is distorted with this hatred, hatred for yourself,
Although yu mistakenly assume it is I you are beating.
The bruises will fade away... they will not leave a scar.
But the memories will always be there.
Hidden away in that pretty picture window inside my head.
You will have forgotten by morning, won't you?
It doesn't matter.
Because there will come a time when you will fall at MY feet.
When you will look at me with respect, instead of hatred.
This will not be tomorrow, no.
Tomorrow, you will strike again,
And I will look at you and laugh silently at you, you weak fool!
Biding my time, saving my strength.
Until the time when I am strong enough to challenge you.
And then you will fear me, because it is then that you know I will
triumph.
And you will know that it was you that was weak and I that was strong.
Yes, there will come a time.
Truth By Elimination
þ Chameleon
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
The ultimate and technical solution to any problem is elimination.
Elimination is the means to truth. All that is false is subjective, and all
that is subjective is uncertain. A proposed problem implies the need to
problem-solve to have a desirable answer or result. A problem is an opinion
or value judgment of dissatisfaction, direct or indirect to the source of
question; thus, all problems are subjective. The elimination of the problem
or source of question absolves the necessity of an objective answer; by
problem-solving, that can only be subjectively satisfied. The desire for an
objective answer is necessary for the fulfillment or resolution of a deprived
state. The self's continuous state of deprivation is primarily from a
phenomenal (a subjective perception of) existence seeking to fulfill the
deprivation of the uncertainty of being (an objective perception of existence).
This deprivation is infinite because the substitutes for the unobtainable state
of being are subjective states of satisfaction. These subjective states are
only temporary, for one becomes tolerant, or the initial satisfaction
diminishes so one has a desire for more substitutes. Most substitutes tend to
branch off others; this causes the mind to appear like a tree of extending
branches of thoughts each diffusing from the other until all thoughts are
diluted into a mass of mindless behavioral reactions and reflexes.
The two solutions to deprivation are elimination and substitution. To
eliminate deprivation, one may eliminate the element, what is deprived, or
eliminate the self. Uncommonly is suicide the valued solution, so one
begins to eliminate deprivation of the element by substitution or elimination
of the element itself. Often the valued and perhaps only plausible solution
is substitution (the elements of substitution or the primary deprivation(s)
may be infinite in replication), thus the individual progressively seeks
different substitutions for the original deprivation(s). If an awareness of
substitution has taken precedence, one may substitute further along an
infinite cycle, become compulsive in the desire of eliminating the element
itself, or eliminate the self.
The greatest substitute for uncertainty is the claim of having the, or
means to, truth. By doing so, one has undergone a series of believing in
particular absolutes. Since the questioning of such absolutes leads to the
uncertainty of the proclaimed truth, the continual enforcement of faith or
ignorance is necessary for the constant delusional state of certainty. This
enforcement is necessary so that the perceived absolutes may withstand
against relativistic and existential philosophies. An example of this
situation is Christianity. In this case, we have the necessity of
irrevocable beliefs in a particularly conceived God, and the enforcing of
such beliefs, with the contrasting evils and wrongs of a morality accompanied
with the fear of eternally drastic consequences, is dependent upon one's
choice of thought and action. In this context, faith excuses ignorance and
faith is a primacy to substitution. In summation, the absolute belief in any
particulars requires the denial of the possibility of other particulars being
true. This may cause the believer of such particulars to appear biased and
narrow-minded.
The ultimate solution to deprivation is elimination of the self. The
primary state of the self is deprivation. To eliminate this fundamental and
possibly incurable state, one must remove the state itself. Since it is
inherent in human beings to be primarily motivated by the state of
deprivation, the solution is in eliminating the deprivation by eliminating
its cause; the cause is the existence of the self and its naturally deprived
state of not being. The only true solution is elimination of the self, for
the self is a deprived state.
In conclusion, though this entire concept is uncertain, the only truth
is the phenomenal truth of uncertainty. This may seem paradoxal, but the
absolute, objective, truth may be hidden or nonexistent, which is not certain.
The outcome of accepting such a paradox, the acceptance being a substitution,
is a state of utter confusion followed by a relentlessly haunting depression.
"It is unfortunate that we do not feel pangs of ignorance as we feel pangs of
hunger." Ä M.J. Adler
Undo
þ Slayer@ZON
ùúùúùúùúùúùú
I am no longer inspired
My head is worn
My body is tired
My spirit is torn
I keep searching for an answer
I'm on the verge of lunacy
The answer is not anywhere
That ears will hear
Or eyes can see
I have no reason why
This secret stays locked inside of me.
This trail has brought me to a fork in the road
Only two ways to move
Which way will I go?
Will I be a man
And take the pain
Or will I go left
And run away
For now I'll just drift
To the right for awhile
Until I find the key
I'll move through time
Forward
I'm starting to believe
This love is blind
I'll move through time
Transcendentalize
Life is a journey
You cannot rewind.
Untitled
þ Annoying Man
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
The resplundant black darkness of nothingness inundates into my
cadaverous, limpid soul.
I am
Drowning.
I am nothing.
The nothing
is me. And I am everything. And everything
Is nothing.
My clairvoyance fails me as
this pure, opaque darkness clouds my vision.
I am a shipwreck on the empty sea, abandoned by the intrepid sailors
who I mesmerized by my seductive big sails.
I am tossed by the raging storms of desire that consume my innocent
form.
I burn. OH yes. I burn.
Break me, fuck me, kill me, hate me, Destroy Me.
But...I am already destroyed.
Ashes to ashes, dust
To dust.
I will remunerate the Lord of the Sea, who broke me
And put me on the Cross of Life.
Who will ameliorate this strife of darkness?
Are you the one? Or will you exacerbate my bleeding, fucking empty soul.
This clandestine murder of my retentive inner child within
Me makes me cry.
Untitled
þ Dark Goob
ùúùúùúùúùúù
i lost myself in mental feign
but i'm found again
i often trip and fall
on holes myself i make
i keep holding on the shovel
that is my mistake
to rise above the mental low
as easy as it is to bear
gets clouded by my vision
clouds that aren't really there
need to find an anchor
for the drifting boat
can't seal the leaking hull
can't stay on course and afloat
the anchor line broke a while ago
but only now i see the slack
better to do something about it now
than be forced to swim back
but i have a sinking feeling
on the wrong course
can't live up to what i say
and it only will get worse
off i go again
off to pump the leaky hold
but one man is not a crew
at least that's what i've been told
Untitled
þ Egypt
ùúùúùúùú
Mother
As the days go by
it seems that being one's daughter
is not enough
to guarantee love.
Nor is being one's mother.
We seem
more and more to be strangers
misreading each others' intent
and trusting less and less.
Conflicts go unresolved
and bad memories creep into dreams
like spiders spinning webs
to trap our emotions
and hold them still.
They dangle there waiting
for the next hurtful words
to flutter and be snared.
Words to be trussed, wrapped
and saved for trophies -
lest they be needed again.
I have no magic spell
to speak them away -
no potion to make them sleep.
No mighty sword to sever their webs
nor sacred rings to dispell them.
I can only feel to save our hearts
a distance we should keep.
Untitled
þ Iyad Ismael
ùúùúùúùúùúùúù
Sometimes lost in solitary thought,
Of the purest levels of sensitivity,
I think such thoughts that move my heart
With the Joy of feeling and of Memory.
I then think of writing those down
To remember them later, in an attempt
To make the memories last longer,
To try to live the Joy again.
But then I hear them speak to me -
Have pity upon us, Sir, be kind!
Do not confine us to a limited space,
As your own mortal mind.
Let us fly free, that you may still,
Seek us, and raise us high -
For only then will you find Joy
In memories that make you cry.
Untitled
þ Sin
ùúùúùúùú
Logic looks like the devil, but has earned his science degree
thinks it's fascinating, he's just a heartless half-breed
Faith and Hope the stupid sluts, never a clue that something's wrong
always dancing to and singing, that stupid do-me do-me song
Hate the starving glutton, fills but never satisfies
eaten right out of house and home, swollen fat from hurt and lies
Anguish the twisted child, gnaws on the bloody stumps of fingers
too scared to run away, in too much pain to linger
Apathy the deaf and dumb boy, sees it all but cannot speak
just sits alone in a dark corner, because his eyes are growing weak
Love the faceless corpse, lies chained upon a slab of black
hacked to lifeless bloody bits, yet still keeps coming back
behind the endless walls of a thousand empty rooms
lying in the dusty ruins of a thousand rotten tombs
the remains of happiness, the remains of what was free
these shattered broken fragments
of this thing that once was me.
"I have this real obsession with grace. That's the number one thing I look
for in a person in the physiological realm. But part of grace is not
speaking - like the silent ballerina. I've wondered, after everything
that's happened, 'You can change your persona. You can be the silent
widow.' But I cannot kill the thing inside of me. That has to be kept
alive. Or I will die." Ä Courtney Love
Untitled
þ Soul Eater
ùúùúùúùúùúùú
This bowl of ice cream is much too cold for me to hold. The cold stings
my hands, but I cannot let go. My fingers are numb, blue with frost. My
mind is numb, the ice cream tastes wonderful. This bowl of ice cream is
much too big for me to hold. I can barely wrap my arm around it. Maybe I
should just set it down and eat it as it makes a cold imprint on the floor.
The water that emits from the coldness sticks to the outside of the
container, but I don't want to let go. The chilling languid feeling of
the ice cream washes smoothly over my searching tongue. I eat and shove
spoonful after spoonful of this wonderfully fattening processed milk
product into my waiting mouth. I eat faster and faster, the whole back
of my head hurts like goddamn hell! My brain freezes, my tongue is numb.
I drool out of the corner of my mouth. I still have a lot of ice cream
left. I still want to eat it! Oh goddamn, I stick my head into the
container, chewing the soft ice cream. The bitter cold gives away as my
face presses further and further into the container. My face stings, a
thousand tiny pins stick into it as my nerves go overload! I love this
goddamn ice cream! I brace myself on the edges of the container as my
face gobbles down mouthful after mouthful of gob! My head is exploding,
bright white spots appear in my vision. It feels like I've been sucking
slurpee through a straw for thirty minutes non-stop. If you've drank slurpee
like I've drank slurpee, you'll know what excruciating pain I am feeling.
My hands are slipping, oh, what the hell. I release and let my body lean
over to this container. My mouth still a moving, chewing orifice. I love
this goddamn ice cream! I feel myself slipping over the edge. I put my
hands inside the container to try to brace myself from tipping in, but the
soft, wet, cold mass gives away easily. I fall into the container. I'm
immersed in ice cream. This is so great. I'm upside-down inside a
container full of ice cream. I feel myself sliding downwards, my body
working with gravity as I keep falling in. I keep eating, eating hordes
and hordes of this delicious ice cream. I'm still sinking inside this
ice cream. I don't care. I have all this ice cream to eat. My entire
body is within the container and buried under ice cream down. It is very
cold. It's colder than jumping into the ocean in the middle of the night,
butt-naked. I'm shivering uncontrollably, my appendages wiggling. A
seizure takes control, but my mouth is working fine. I'm still eating
this delicious ice cream. Its so cold though, but this delectable smooth
food is still traveling down my gullet. I think I've had enough ice cream
now...but it's too late. I'm trapped inside a large neverending container
of ice cream. I'm slowly traveling downward...toward hell. I'm moving
ever so slowly. At this rate, it'll take me forever to get to hell. Might
as well keep eating this delicious ice cream. I love this goddamn ice
cream.
"Do not operate heavy equipment with your head submerged in this liquid for
extended periods of time." Ä Warning on a bottle of spring water
Untitled (2)
þ Soul Eater
ùúùúùúùúùúùú
More sadness. Again I sit in this chair. Four wheels attached to a cross,
holding up a plush, not very comfortable resting place. I spend more time
in this than not. I think deep thoughts that come out all wrong. I cry
out in agony at the grave injustices, at my deprived life. All the things
that don't go my way, all the things I wish for. All my dreams shattered
when she left. Who am I kidding? She was never mine. I was wrong. Once
I had thought she felt something for me, but that was just a glimmer. A
faint afterthought. I cried when she left, she looked back and laughed.
How pathetic I was, she said. Just look at yourself, she said. I can't
believe I've stayed here so long, she said. The bitterly cold thrashing
she left in her wake. I remained sitting in the middle of the room,
watching the door that wouldn't close. My shoulders hunched over, my face
in my hands. Barely I could contain all my emotions. 'Til the end, they
just poured out. Not sadness, but more hate. I don't need any more hate,
but more appeared. Angry sobbing wracked my body as I stared out the door
once again. One last grasp at what I had wished for all my life. She was
gone, the light outside was empty. My eyes could not adjust to the sun
that shined its uncaring offspring onto the earth. I sat there a long time,
I think I left my soul there. An empty shell I stood up. My face lined
with streaks of leftover pain. A deep dull emptiness inside me, hard to
breathe. So tired...so tired. Thoughts of ending everything and all
flashed through my perception, she'd be sorry if I did that. No wait, she
wouldn't. I am so sad...I am so sad. Don't you understand? Ragged gasps
came as the aftershock of my torn rantings came back fullspeed. Life is
harder to live now. She had eased this harsh world, giving to me what
she could offer. Her special gift at making me happy. She is not a bad
person, I thought. But I still hate her more because of it. Looking around
for something to abide my time, there is nothing. I fall into manic
depression, sitting by the window watching as the sky turned dark, bright
twinkling shone out. The clouds moved, but not as I could perceive them.
Time grew slow, it was day again. I sat there for many days, 'til I fell
into a semi-conscious sleep. There were no dreams, but I would wake up
screaming; death did not want to claim me. I fell off the ledge
onto the floor. I tried to get to watch one more sunset, but I was too
weak. I closed my eyes and I died. All the memories forgotten, all my
worries taken care of. And most importantly, she was not there....
"Hate has a reason for everything.
But love is unreasonable." Ä V. Raiuhes Ahaefvthe
What Rap Music Makes Me Write
þ Soul Eater
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
Silence. The room is silent. I am once again alone. The phone does not
ring, and I wait. Hoping...wishing for a break in the silence. I hear my
heart beating. It beats slowly, my hands tremble. The heaviness of the
silence bears down on my mind, I thrash wildly inside. There is no escape,
I cannot leave. I am stuck here in this void. The books are stacked in
front of me, the radio at my side. I turn it on, noise comes out, I don't
hear any of it. When I'm like this, none of the songs are good songs. I
don't know any of the words. I am still waiting for the phone to ring, where
are all my friends? They are with others, they have forgotten me. I pace
madly within the confines of this square chamber. Three steps and I have
to turn around, and three more. My hands grasp and grab at my hair. They
pull in frustration, my eyes wide in anticipation. My patience grinding
and tearing my blood-rimmed eyes. Hate rages in my stomach, a hot burning
sensation floods my body. Tingling spreads thereafter. I jump around
my room, making the echo that tells me I am still alone. I take out a pen,
scribble furiously on many pieces of paper. I stab through the sheets,
no blood comes out. How easy it is to tear through that stack...how
easy it would be to just force it through my head. It would enter in a
second, penetrating spongy matter. The pen would enter through my temple,
get lodged four inches horizontally into my cranium. I would drop, blood
would be all over. My body slumped back into the chair. The pen sticking
straight out the side of my head. If I were able, I'd pull it back out,
stuff some Kleenex in the newly-formed hole in my head. I would bang
my head as hard as I could against the white textured walls. The blood
would mark my passing as I rush outside. I take a butter knife from the
kitchen and run outside! Ahhh, there's that girl that lives down the
street. All thoughts of love, sex, relationship forgotten. Come here
girl, I have something to show you. I violently shove the pen through her
orb, pull it back out. Screams echoing in the back of my mind as I
shove it through her chest. Leave her there in the middle of the road.
I'd drop the knife and head toward the beach. I run, my lungs explode
after a few minutes of hard running. I don't stop. The aching builds up
'til I cannot stand it. But I do. I make to the blue ocean, the white
shifting sands below. There are many people here. Many many victims yet
to be handled. There is a little boy on the beach. How easy it would
be to wrap my hands around his puny neck and strangle and break! I move on.
She lies there. Golden tanned body, scantily clad. I want to break her
violently, furiously! I can't, I don't know how. A radio lays beside her.
I grab the radio and raise it above my head! She starts saying something
to me, I don't care. I slam the radio into her and the radio stops its
music. I kick her many times, the blood is all over my feet. Her face,
dripping from the massive wound that gapes from it. Many substances
that used to be contained within is all over the sand. I move on. I
don't think anyone noticed. What happened to all the people? Where are
now? I don't know. I'm tired, and its hot. I'm going to go home.
I am perfectly normal.
Why I Cried
þ Twilight
ùúùúùúùúùúù
As I held you tightly against my skin
And felt your love ebb through me,
All past pain and sorrow felt
Made me realize how much I loved you
I stopped and looked into your eyes -
So blue, and yet, so heavenly
I wondered why we put ourselves
Through all of the unnecessary torture,
Through the endless and vicious cycle of anguish
"What's wrong?" you ask endearingly
And they turn to limpid pools of care
Of true and deep concern... and worry
How could I have doubted
That innocent, beautiful look of love
How could I have said
Those awful things I said
How could we have treated each other
Like enemies...
The pain flows out, the emotion takes over
I cannot restrain myself
And in your arms, I feel at home
As you kiss my tears away
The shoulder shows itself,
And I feel myself letting go...completely
I become your lover, your friend, your child
All at the very same time
I would never trade this for anything else
Ever again.
"Imagine this: You're peaking. You're in your youth. At the prime of your
life. The last thing you want to be is a symbol for heroin use. You've
finally met somebody of the opposite gender who you can write with. That's
never happened before in your life. The only other person you could ever
write with wasn't as good a writer as you, and this person's a better writer
than you. And you're in love, you have a best friend, you have a
soul-fucking-mate, and you can't even believe it's happening in your
lifetime. AND, as a bonus, he's beautiful. AND he's rich. AND he's a hot
rock star to boot. AND he's the best fuck that ever walked. AND he wants
to have babies, and what you want is babies. You've wanted to have babies
forever. AND he understands everything you say. AND he completes your
sentences. And he's lazy, but he is spiritual, and he's not embarrassed
about praying, he's not embarrassed about chanting, he's not embarrassed
about God, Jesus, none of it. He fucking thinks it's all really cool. He
wants to fucking learn the path. He wants to be enlightened. Everything.
And there's even room for you to fix him, which you like, 'cause you're a
fixer-upper. He's perfect in almost every fucking way. The only fucking
happiness that I ever had.
"And then it gets taken away..." Ä Courtney Love
ßÜ
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Legalize.
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
Submit your original literary works for Spilled Ink, [volume three], to
Twilight.
Actual Reality: (512) 873-1900 (to Green Hell)
After Ours: (512) 320-1650 (to Twilight)
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telnet liberty.com
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