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Ä electronic literary 'zine Ä
*ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ*
ù ÄÄ´ volume nine ÃÄÄ ù
*ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ*
stop plagiarism - let out your soul
Copyright 4/96
ú úùcompiled & edited by Twilightùú ú
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
* All literature presented herein is copyrighted by their respective authors *
þ Table of Contents þ
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
1. Adultery - Ray Heinrich
2. Amanda - Medea
3. And On The Second Day - Stephen Lush
4. Annoyed And Numb - Stephen Lush
5. Bitter Garland - C. Dianne Long
6. Blind Date - C. Dianne Long
7. Bottom - Tool
8. Bound - Twilight
9. Concrete - Ray Heinrich
10. Darkness - Renee Medeiros
11. Dyers Eve - James Hetfield
12. Event - Sylvia Plath
13. Flood - Tool
14. In A Darkened Room - Sebastian Bach, Rachel Bolan & Dave Sabo
15. Let Me Go - Twilight
16. Lucidity - LaceyL@aol.com
17. Maybe Solo - Stephen Lush
18. Mental Cases - Winfred Owen
19. My Black Shoe - Eu-Ming Lee
20. Overabundance - Autumn Silver
21. Passion - Zac Maloy
22. Please Come To Boston - D. A. Loggins
23. Psycho Love - Rachel Bolan
24. Quicksand Jesus - Rachel Bolan & Dave Sabo
25. Routine 1996 - Victor Saunders
26. Sober - Tool
27. Somber Locket - Medea & Hecate
28. Sweet Beyond - Zac Maloy
29. Sylvia Plath Is My Mother - Ray Heinrich
30. The Poet In Pain - Winfred Owen
31. Untitled - HappyMonk
32. Untitled - HappyMonk
33. Untitled - Molina
34. Untitled - Molina
35. Untitled - Quinn@adren.net
36. Untitled - Rob@adren.net
37. Untitled - Tempest
38. Untitled - Eddie Vedder
39. Wasted Time - Sebastian Bach, Rachel Bolan & Dave Sabo
40. When She Was Free - Quinn@adren.net
þ Including Quotes From:
Tori Amos, 'V. C. Andrews', 'Cliff Notes', Ralph Waldo Emerson, _Ferris
Bueller's Day Off_, Dana Gould, Ray Heinrich, Jimi Hendrix, 'Mademoiselle',
Mary McCarthy, Joyce Carol Oates, Winfred Owen, Anne Rice, Alix Kates
Shulman, _The Simpsons_, and Oscar Wilde
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
Adultery
þ Ray Heinrich
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
your breasts were just the right size
just the right brown
for the light
one window away
balanced between
the two parts of a day
our love
innocent
but only to us
and they
could always be waiting outside
but not in this room
where two months rent
was more than enough
for eternal love
for your breasts
the right size of my hands
your breasts
that sucked firm in my mouth
and the constant surprise
of your thin sweet milk
as his baby
slept quietly beside us
þùúùþ
Ray is an ex-Texas technofreak and hippie-socialist wannabe. He writes poems
for thrills and attention, likes dogs, and owns a blue fish. He published his
first chapbook by secretly placing copies in local bookstores and libraries.
His poems have appeared in CrossConnect, Morpo Review, So It Goes..., Sand
River Journal, 33 Review, BiSexual Journal, billetdoux, Droplet Journal,
Sub-UrbanTerrain, No Trace, Biopsy, his own "Word Biscuit E-letter" and
elsewhere. An electronic edition of his chapbook: "lots more damn poems"
(Word Biscuit Press) is available free via e-mail.
Send e-mail/requests to: ray@vais.net
"A poem is written first in its writer's language. When you read it, you are
translating it into your own language. Which act requires more skill and
creativity, depends on the individual writer or reader." Ä Ray Heinrich
Amanda
þ Medea
ùúùúùúù
Superstitous and on the prowl,
blonder and blonder holds the black down.
Kissing the universal nemesis, while we close our eyes,
first and forever he was my garbage boy.
Shut the door as I choke in his darkness,
pretend not to hear him admiring my name.
Lodged in your throat is the look of a whore.
Sometime in candlelight I'll want to play,
because first and forever he was my garbage boy.
And On The Second Day
þ Stephen Lush
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
today is the day to end all days
with sinking blood and vertigo
and hallucinations of what I thought of you
rigor sets into what we know
and flashing lighthouses boast the brightest noise
crumbling
shapelessly into
the sea
and pits of disease and death shriek
in bastardized monotone, ominous thunderings
they set us free into the night
they thought we knew what was right
chalices on a lace centerpiece
nine levels of babylon,
no one speaks the common thread
I can't tell the live
from the
dead
bury your friends in the sand
(they'll be safe there)
as glass was formed on a european beach
somewhere near the heart of the world
a gull cries dear to the end of my soul
erosion shatters and shakes, sincere but slow
when the one became two
in heaven's rain
i'll never know
so i looked inside
the curled shell i found
something alive poked out
and i let it go
it cratered the wet grain
and i saw it go
colossus nightmares
of large feet alone on windtorn spyres
jagged ankles pointing into a forlorn sky
commerce below
in italy it rained
in reykjavik it snowed
colossus fell into the abyss
the mistakes of the day
are the fears of the night.
Annoyed And Numb
þ Stephen Lush
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
the day is laced with novocaine
there are no stars from where I stand
given up in such a short time
maybe I should have talked with that girl
some dreams aren't meant to come true
I wonder where we are
wondering if I is a plural
stuck in the divots in the lawn
wishing for my own song
listening on where I don't belong
creatures frolic in the newborn sound
and I don't even know
caterpillars and centipedes crawling around
I built this lonely Friday night for you
its worn to the ground like a soleless shoe
if its such a success to live, why don't I fly?
at least I have feeling
but it's such a bowl of dust
I could be blown apart by one gust
I smoke like my father now
it's only a matter of time
it blends together and scoots along too fast
sometimes I like bad music
with the passion that never lasts
the people have been set to shuffle
the people have been set to shuffle
london bridge is falling down
and I'm never sure when things are supposed
to be the same
except with you
my heart is anchored to your drying cement
it would take so little
to forget what I meant.
"I'm the one who has to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live
my life - the way I want to." Ä Jimi Hendrix
Bitter Garland
þ C. Dianne Long
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
Don't look at me I said
You won't see
my beautiful dress.
Hours of needle and thread
Fingers pricked
healed but scarred.
You can't see what I've done
The perfect hem
underneath.
Only the frills and lace show
Not the seam
sewn arrow straight.
You'll only see
The flowers and bows
not the lining.
You don't deserve to see
Such a beautiful dress
worn only on Sunday.
The beauty is embedded
In the fabric
pressed neatly smooth.
Don't look at my dress
You won't see its beauty
until crumpled on the floor.
"I have never heard of an ex-feminist. Ex-Communists, ex-Moonie,
ex-convicts, but no ex-feminists. Once that light goes on at whatever
age, it remains on." Ä Alix Kates Shulman
Blind Date
þ C. Dianne Long
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
Silver taped
blowhole
roped feet and hands
broken glass
swollen eye
purple nose
bloody thighs
shiny watch still
in place
tissue ripping
fingers gripping
my own flesh
was it
the two drink
minimum
or my short skirt
or the girl
that stood him up
either way
I'm here
its done
and
each night
a part of me cracks open
and dies
wondering why
As he
continues to
tip
the waitresses.
Bottom
þ Tool
ùúùúùú
Impression is broken now. The wounds, they're erupting now.
Desire is broken now. Makes me feel ugly.
I'm on my knees and burning; my fits and moans are human.
I set my head on fire. Smell my soul, it's burning.
Broken, lookin' up, I see the enemy.
And I have swallowed the poison you bein' me
But I survive on the poison of bein' me
Guilt within. Hatred within. Weakness within.
And it makes me feel ugly.
I'm on my knees and burning, my fits and moans are human.
I set my head on fire. I'm dead inside.
Shit adds up at the bottom.
If I let you, you would make me destroy myself. In order to
survive you, I must first survive myself. I can sink no
further, and I cannot forgive you. There's no choice but to
confront you, to engage you, to erase you. I've gone to great
lengths to expand my threshold of pain. I will use my
mistakes against you. There is no other choice. Shameless
now. Nameless now. Nothing now. No one now. But my soul
must be iron 'cause my fear is naked. I'm naked and fearless,
and my fear is naked.
Dead inside...
Nameless now. Shameless now. Nothing now. No one now.
(Shit adds up) As you see me naked now. Fearless now.
Naked now. Fearless now.
(Shit adds up) It leaves me dead inside. Dead inside.
Hatred keeps me alive. Hunger has kept me alive.
Weakness keeps me alive. Guilt keeps me alive at the bottom.
"I've got enough guilt to start my own religion." Ä Tori Amos
Bound
þ Twilight
ùúùúùúùúùú
pierced gushy eyes -
staring, pins outward,
sharp points.
running waterfalls -
mixed clear and crimson,
interweaving pink.
dripping onto chestplate -
seeping into heart,
shaping funnels.
velvet-red like a robin's breast -
furiously bright,
but tenderly sore.
eager to rise -
aflight with broken wings,
but leaden down.
punch through the alloy cage -
from tarnished wire,
to another light.
"Eternally may sad waves wail his death,
Choke in their grief 'mongst rocks where he has lain,
Or heave in silence, yearning with hushed breath,
While mournfully trail the slow-moved mists and rain,
And softly the small drops slide from weeping trees,
Quivering in anguish to the sobbing breeze." Ä Winfred Owen
Concrete
þ Ray Heinrich
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
a condominium on the 23rd floor
one with a balcony
is NOT the place
for a poet
or even someone who pretends to be
a poet
you see
there is a sliding glass door to the balcony
and you open it and walk six feet
to the railing which is three feet high
and look down
23 floors
to
pavement
concrete with gravel
that gives it
a little texture
makes it
seem hospitable
but
from 23 floors up
it
is just as hard
as life
"We all enter this world in the same way: naked, screaming, soaked in blood.
But if you live your life right, that kind of thing doesn't have to stop
there." Ä Dana Gould
Darkness
þ Renee Medeiros
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
a man
with broad shoulders
huge eyes
glowing
a frightening shade of red,
dressed in black.
I see him walking
with a light step.
He floats,
above a fog
a black cloud.
He reaches out
His long, thin, pale hand,
grasping for something,
I will not give up.
He speaks,
with a whisper
barely audible,
yet able to shatter glass
With a voice,
sharp and cold,
my name.
We face,
each solid
brave.
He smiles,
a toothy grin,
in a drawn face,
lips scarlet
his mouth a dark hole.
He opens his arms,
thin and long.
I feel the fog
at my feet.
He pleads,
for me to join him
I am alone
I am not afraid
I do.
We embrace
becoming acquainted
becoming friends.
He offers
to keep me company
a companion
another man to embrace
to become a family.
I smile,
I am not alone,
I know him
too well to distrust.
He turns
calls forth
his friend
Death.
Dyers Eve
þ James Hetfield
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
Dear Mother
Dear Father
What is this hell you have put me through
Believer
Deceiver
Day in day out live my life through you
Pushed onto me what's wrong or right
Hidden from this thing that they call life
Dear Mother
Dear Father
Every thought I'd think you'd disapprove
Curator
Dictator
Always censoring my every move
Children are seen but are not heard
Tear out everything inspired
Innocence
Torn from me without your shelter
Barred reality
I'm living blindly
Dear Mother
Dear Father
Time has frozen still what's left to be
Hear nothing
Say nothing
Cannot face the fact I think for me
No guarantee, it's life as is
But damn you for not giving me my chance
Dear Mother
Dear Father
You've clipped my wings before I learned to fly
Unspoiled
Unspoken
I've outgrown that fucking lullaby
Same thing I've always heard from you
Do as I say not as I do
Innocence
Torn from me without your shelter
Barred reality
I'm living blindly
I'm in hell without you
Cannot cope without you two
Shocked at the world that I see
Innocent victim please rescue me
Dear Mother
Dear Father
Hidden in your world you've made for me
I'm seething
I'm bleeding
Ripping wounds in me that never heal
Undying spite I feel for you
Living out this hell you always knew
Event
þ Sylvia Plath
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
How the elements solidify!
The moonlight, that chalk cliff
In whose rift we lie
Back to back. I hear an owl cry
From its cold indigo.
Intolerable vowels enter my heart.
The child in the white crib revolves and sighs,
Opens its mouth now, demanding.
His little face is carved in pained, red wood.
Then there are the stars - ineradicable, hard.
One touch: it burns and sickens.
I cannot see your eyes.
Where apple bloom ices the night
I walk in a ring,
A groove of old faults, deep and bitter.
Love cannot come here.
A black gap discloses itself.
On the opposite lip
A small white soul is waving, a small white maggot.
My limbs, also, have left me.
Who has dismembered us?
The dark is melting. We touch like cripples.
Flood
þ Tool
ùúùúùú
All I knew. All I believe.
Crumbling images no longer comfort me.
Scramble to reach higher ground.
Order and sanity something to comfort me.
I'll take what is mine, hold what is mine,
Suffocate what is mine, bury what's mine.
Soon the water will come and claim what is mine.
I must leave it behind and climb to a new place now.
This ground is not the rock I thought it would be.
Thought I was high. Thought I was free.
Thought I was there to find destiny.
I was wrong. This changes everything.
Running away, got me running away.
Now I'm running away.
I'll take what is mine, hold what is mine,
Suffocate what is mine, bury what's mine.
Soon the water will come and claim what is mine.
I must leave it behind and climb to a new place.
Water rises over me
Said the water rises over me
So will someone come deliver me
But it seems they've come to punish me instead
Die...
Ground break down right under me.
Cleanse and purge me in the water.
In A Darkened Room
þ Sebastian Bach, Rachel Bolan & Dave Sabo
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
In a darkened room
Beyond the reach of God's faith
Lies the wounded, the shattered remains of
love betrayed
And the innocence of a child is bought
and sold
In the name of the damned
The rage of the angels left silent and cold
Forgive me please for I know not what I do
How can I keep inside the hurt I know
is true
Tell me when the kiss of love becomes a lie
That bears the scar of sin too deep
To hide behind this fear of running
onto you
Please let there be light
In a darkened room
All the precious times have been put to
rest again
And the smile of the dawn
Brings tainted lust singing my requiem
Can I face the day when I'm tortured
in my trust
And watch it crystalize
While my salvation, it crumbles to dust
Why can't I steer the ship before it hits
the storm
I've fallen to the sea but still I swim
for shore
Tell me when the kiss of love becomes a lie
That bears the scar of sin too deep
To hide behind this fear of running
unto you
Please let there be light
In a darkened room
"Promises are like spiderwebs we weave to trap our own dreams, but dreams
have a way of thinning out until you're left with nothing but the web."
Ä 'V. C. Andrews'
Let Me Go
þ Twilight
ùúùúùúùúùú
why did you rush at me
take away the gun from me
it was so softly nestled
in the fleshy pit of my temple
why continue my ceaseless crying
why pretend that you care
with those falsely-lit pearly teeth
lying through those teeth
eyes glassed over in deceit
but then why do they cry
is it a lie
why do you still want me here
do you enjoy prolonging my suffering
continuing this horrid thing
that they - laughingly - call "life"?
why did you grab my wrists
wrap my wrists in gauze white
they were so eagerly flowing
in dark, peaceful crimson
why bar my entrance to peace
why pretend that you care
with that selfish, sexual look
eyes glazed over in lust
carefully disguised as empathy
is it a lie
why do you still want me here
do you enjoy prolonging my pain
continuing this awful thing
that they - jokingly - call "life"?
why did you slap the bottle away
why did you take my pills from me
they were lovingly working wonders
gently slowing down responses
why continue this agony
why even try to relate
with that tongue that creates
your own tragedies with make-believe
tears cried, an actor's tears
red and puffy from practiced plays
is it a lie
why do you still want me here
do you enjoy prolonging my torture
continuing this miserable thing
that they - sardonically - call "life"?
why did you run at me with the chair
put the chair back underneath my toes
i was dangling like a stringed puppet
waiting for the curtains to close
why won't you let me out of this dungeon
why pretend that you don't have the key
with that hand hid behind your back
grinning unmercifully, playing keep-away
from this monkey in the middle
who only wants release from captivity
is it a lie
why do you still want me here
do you enjoy prolonging my suffering
continuing this masochistic thing
that they - amusingly - call "life"?
why can't you just let me go
let me go in peace
do you enjoy me in misery
do you love the upper hand...
or can it possibly be
that you rush at me,
grab at me, slap at me,
run at me...
because you actually
love...
me?
"When someone says 'Have a nice day', tell them you have other plans."
Lucidity
þ LaceyL@aol.com
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
Falling, blinking, through beauty and lost time
Crystal clear and the words connect within
Familiar emotion nightwalks a chime
The faint sound hints to me it will begin
God take me to this far off glitter land...
Symbol of empathy lies in a letter
Soul of a man is in peace with his band
One day we will meet, rest, peace and be better
But do those who read this know where I'm from?
You laughing, saying, "Beautiful Loser"
Thinking of his outer looks make you cum
How can you not look inside? - a chooser
But now take me away - green hills and sun
Where love is the power and all is fun
Maybe Solo
þ Stephen Lush
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
maybe your social life is better than mine
maybe it isn't
maybe we can meet halfway
maybe we can rule the world
maybe we can rule our trailer home
maybe we can conquer our fears
maybe we can shrug them off and have fun
maybe we can lose ourselves
maybe we can find ourselves
maybe you could give me your name
maybe you shouldn't tell me
maybe it wasn't meant to be
maybe it's all too perfect
maybe I'm paranoid
maybe I'm saner than most
maybe you're jealous
maybe I'm egotistical
maybe you could give me some food
maybe I can give you something back
maybe you're better than me
maybe you're stronger
maybe you've found the way
that I can see no longer
maybe I get too much attention
maybe I deserve what I have
maybe I should give it away
the guilt of owning what isn't to be had
maybe we're allowed pride
maybe that's something for others to hide
maybe we can have just one wish
maybe you could give me another kiss
maybe you'll be my last reason
maybe you'll be my last hope
maybe I shouldn't have left
maybe I shouldn't mope
sometimes I think you're for me
sometimes I think I'm for you
at times we are uncertain
at times we are uncool
look deep inside my maybe soul
and cherish it with care
god forbid I lose what I live for
maybe I shouldn't dare.
"Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes." Ä Oscar Wilde
Mental Cases
þ Winfred Owen
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight?
Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,
Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish,
Baring teeth that leer like skulls' teeth wicked?
Stroke on stroke of pain, - but what slow panic,
Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?
Ever from their hair and through their hands' palms
Misery swelters. Surely we have perished
Sleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish?
- These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished.
Memory fingers in their hair of murders,
Multitudinous murders they once witnessed.
Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,
Treading blood from lungs tat had loved laughter.
Always they must see these thigns and hear them,
Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles,
Carnage incomparable, and human squander
Rucked too thick for these men's extrication.
Therefore still their eyeballs shrink tormented
Back into their brains, because on their sense
Sunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black;
Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh.
- Thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous,
Awful falseness of set-smiling corpses.
- Thus their hands are plucking at each other;
Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging;
Snatching after us who smote them, brother,
Pawing us who dealt them war and madness.
My Black Shoe
þ Eu-Ming Lee
ùúùúùúùúùúùúù
My girl, I know you're chanting
your mantra again.
Though your thin lips are still,
and your blue eyes unwavering,
their tautness and dullness
reveal the secret song you sing.
Though you turn your back
and your gaze casts through me,
I know your soul yet:
Taut tarnished brass harp string
accidentally plucked by God's clumsy thumb--
buzzing and wailing in ugly disharmony.
I hear you, my girl, it's true:
That jangle-toothed saw
clawing your soul---
you do not do, you do not do.
Hear me out, my girl.
My soul is noisy and rattles and wheezes
like a sick horse, stomps around and lingers,
that lame goat.
Though more annoyance than music,
you cannot deny our queer resonance.
Listen, I don't want a mythic goddess,
I just want my girl.
For though the world
may feast upon your words and noisy soul,
forever---
It is I,
alone---
who shall starve when no sensuous smile
and no soft laughter
shall sing---
with me
anymore, black shoe.
Overabundance
þ Autumn Silver
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
morbid
glistening
tangled in my hair
sliding off the curb
in bloody puddles
and the rain washing away
the death
to be replaced with pain
tears burning through laughter
smiling of death
greet the reaper with a kiss
and watch the blood flow
white wrists with pink scars
beneath anguished, dead eyes
fingers idly stroking the gun
hot metal warming cold hearts
screaming inside my head
until the explosion comes
blood spattered on the walls
screaming, screaming aloud
laughter and sickness
dead silence
dead
screaming
morbid
"Tragedy is the art form that revels in death as if death were a kind of
transfiguring experience and not the portal to mere deadness."
Ä Joyce Carol Oates
Passion
þ Zac Maloy
ùúùúùúùúùúù
He doesn't see her anymore, and yet she stands in front of him
No communication, only empty words are spoken
With a memory, she lingers on and on and on
For a moment, she'll just close her eyes and drift away
He doesn't see her anymore
Somehow forgotten what it is he promised to be here for
But there's something there, something left
That keeps her by his side, close her eyes...
She remembers the passion
Doesn't feel her breath, her kiss, and yet she lies beside him
No imagination, keeps two steps back - two steps back
With a memory she lingers on and on and on
For a moment she'll just close her eyes - remember when
He doesn't see her anymore
Somehow forgotten what it is he promised to be here for
But there's something left, something there
That keeps her by his side, close her eyes...
She remembers.
She remembers him, she remembers why she came here
from far away to find her way through fairy tales...
He doesn't see her anymore
Somehow forgotten what he promised to be there for
But there's something there, something left
Keeps her by his side
Something there, something strong that keeps her hanging on.
Close her eyes and they remember why it is they promise to be here
Close her eyes
She remembers the passion
Please Come To Boston
þ D. A. Loggins
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
Please come to Boston for the springtime
I'm staying here with some friends and they've got lots of room
You can sell your paintings on the sidewalk
By a cafe where I hope to be working soon
Please come to Boston
She said "No, you come home to me."
She said "Ramblin' boy, why don't ya settle down?
Boston ain't your kind of town
There ain't no gold and there ain't nobody like me
I'm the number one fan of a man from Tennessee..."
Please come to Denver where the snow falls
We'll move up into the mountains so high that we can't be found
Yell "I love you"s echoing down the canyon
And we'll lie awake at night 'til they come back around
Please come to Boston
She said "No, you come home to me."
She said "Ramblin' boy, won't ya settle down?
Boston ain't your kinda town
There ain't no gold and there ain't nobody like me
I'm the number one fan of a man from Tennessee..."
Please come to L.A., we'll live forever
The California life alone is just too hard to bear
We'll live in a house that looks out over the ocean
And we'll see stars fall from the sky, livin' up on the hill
Please come to Boston
She said "No, you come home to me."
She said "Ramblin' boy, won't ya settle down?
Boston ain't your kinda town
There ain't no gold and there ain't nobody like me
I'm the number one fan of a man from Tennessee..."
"Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in awhile, you
could miss it." Ä _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_
Psycho Love
þ Rachel Bolan
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
Check out Clementine
Cleanin' needles in her wine
Face down in her one-eyed world
With her brain-dead valentine
She'll be your zombie, your livin' dead
Her sweet corruption
It's gonna make you, gonna break you
Ohh yeah, she said...
Haunt my house of pain
And feel my psycho love
We'll shine and pray for rain
To heal my psycho love
Legs at ten and two
Chain her down that's what you do
King Tut and snake-eyed slut
In the pink but screamin' blue
I'll taste your crazy, you smell insane
I'm just another ghost
Inside your spirits hall of fame
Haunt my house of pain
And feel my psycho love
We'll shine and pray for rain
To heal my psycho love
As the warm smooth soul
Chases through the cold silence of a body
A body of touch not feel
One question, is she a stone in the
devil's garden
Or a speck in an angel's dust
Ashes to ashes
And lust to lust
She'll teach you true love
Watchin' you turn blue, love
She'll wrap you in a chokehold
And suck your spirit dry
"Sex without meaning is like sleep without dreaming."
Quicksand Jesus
þ Rachel Bolan & Dave Sabo
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
She caught the melting sky
It burned, but still the winter passes
by and by
To the other side
A slow parade of wind
That blows through threes
That wilted with the season's children
Are we saved by the words of bastard saints
Do we live in fear or faith
Tell me now who's behind the rain
A maze of tangled grace
The symptoms of 'for real' are crumbling
from embrace
But still we chase...the shadows of belief
And new relgion clouds our visions of the
roots of our souls
Are we ashamed of our own fate
Or play the fool for our own sake
Tell me who's behind the rain
What do we need where do we go
When we get where we don't know
Why should we doubt the virgin white of
fallen snow
When faith's our shelter from the cold
Quicksand Jesus, I'm so far away
without you
Quicksand Jesus, I'm so far away
without you
Quicksand Jesus, I'm so far away
without you
Quicksand Jesus, I need you
Quicksand Jesus, I believe you
Quicksand Jesus, I'm so far away
"God offers to every mind its choice between truth and repose. Take which you
please; you can never have both." Ä Ralph Waldo Emerson
Routine 1996
þ Victor Saunders
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
Why have ya come to my confession box? Because you want to be absolved of
your sins. I see. Before ya begin, I don't want no half-truths. I expect all
your sins ta come a pourin out. What's that? I don't sound like a killer.
How does a killer sound then? You don't know. What, like in the same way you
don't know if I'm training a gun at your head from behind this partition. How
do I know you're not doin the same? Because if you was, this conversation
wouldn't be happenin. Know what I'm sayin. What do you mean it disgusts you
that I use the holy order as a front to cover up my murderous lifestyle? Well
ain't that just too bad. Anyway, let's stop fuckin around and get to the real
reason you came here today. Oh be real, you've come here for something more
than a confession my friend so don't lay that bullshit on me. You've come to
me because you want someone killed. Yes, you're absolutely right, you don't
have ta take this kind of talk from me. You can walk right out of here and
get yourself another killer. But ya won't do that cause you know I'm the best
there is. Do I enjoy putting you through this humiliation? No. There's not
one thing about you I enjoy. If you want the truth, I'm indifferent to your
existence. Within my life you're represented as a bundle of notes. To come
here and imagine you are anything else is a mistake.
Just a little question before we begin. Do you have any problems with
duality? What kinda question is that? Well it's a relevant question of
course. For my information you don't have any problems with duality. That
surprises me, cause when I met you and your bodyguards earlier, I could've
sworn you were rude to me. You don't remember meeting me? Then perhaps you
should cast your mind back to the guy who asked you why you were harassing
the beggar sleeping in your office doorway. Ah, you remember now. You
thought I was going to attack you. Is that why you had your bodyguards rough
me up? It wasn't personal? What, so if I came round the other side of this
partition and dished you out a beatin, you wouldn't think of it as an assault
on your person? How would I like it if I found a guy sleeping in my front
porch and the next minute, another guy steps up behind me? To be perfectly
honest, I wouldn't mind. A man has to sleep somewhere. As for steppin up.
The only person who was doin that was you and ya bodyguards. What do ya mean
I don't arrive at my office every day with roaches beggin out front? What
the fuck are you if ya ain't a roach?
I should be careful in case a description of me falls on a homicide cop's
desk. Well ain't that somethin, a big old gangster like yaself threatenin me
with the pigs. Don't surprise me though, pig or gangster, you're all the same
ta me. Anyway, if ya so friendly with the cops, how come ya don't get one of
them ta do the hit for ya? It's none of my business. No, you're right, it is
none of my business. Though it becomes my business when ya get your guards ta
push me around while ya big up yaself in my face. It was a mistake? Keep
makin em, man. No, that's not a threat. It's called good advice. You don't
take advice from suckers like me. I commend your boldness, seein as none of
your guards are around. For my information, they are around. You had three
of them stake out the church in case anything went wrong? Yea, I guess you're
right, my voice has gone all quaky - but then so would yours if someone
reminded you that earlier you shot dead those same three guards. You don't
believe me. Here, take a look at these; then tell me I'm lyin. Hey, you're
shakin all of a sudden. See, I knew ya had a problem with duality. And there
was you, all shy ta tell me, as if I was some kinda insensitive type who'd
take advantage of a man who no longer had the luxury of three heavily armed
friends to do his fightin for him.
Hold back the tears for the minute, my friend, and savor the cozy scene.
Ah, almost brings a tear to my own eye. Hey, man, I know us two bein alone
in here in my humble church is a beautiful moment, but there's really no need
for so much tears. Oops, silly me. For a second I thought you was cryin
cause ya felt the beauty of our moment together.
I should have realized you were cryin cause you think I'm gonna blow ya
away. Sorry, I'm a little insensitive ta some vibes. Ya know, they just
don't get through. Anyway, ya can rest yaself, cause I ain't gonna shoot
ya - well, not yet anyway. See, when I destroy, I create. Why ya lookin so
down, man, you're in the presence of an artist who takes great pride in his
work. Shit, when was the last time ya was in such company? Speak up, man,
you're all mumblin on me. You've wet your crotch! Oh fa christ sakes, why
didn't ya use the toilet like everyone else?
Why are ya passin me the collection box? Are ya makin a donation to the
church restoration fund? Or are ya just hopin this little bribe will make me
forget this morning's events? It's a gift. Thanks very much; I love
gifts - except when they're not really gifts at all, but a bribe from a sad
little sucker like yaself. No, please, there's really no need ta explain; I
understand clear as crystal. See, I've had the misfortune to breathe the
same air as the likes of you all my life. The greedy sucker who thinks he
can solve any problem with a fat bundle of crisp notes. Sadly, my friend, I'm
very flush on the cash front so I can't be bought. Though seein as you've
given me this tidy sum, I'll see it goes to the charity of my choice - may
even give it to the guy you kicked outta ya doorway this mornin. Hey, why
are ya runnin ta the door? Don't ya know churches are always locked nowadays.
Ya know, theft, vandalism. A defenseless priest like myself just can't be too
careful.
What's this ya throwin at me? Well lookie here. It's a fatter, crisper
bundle of notes? Well thanks again. What is it for this time? New Year
spirit, you say. How commendable. We can be friends? What ever gave ya
that idea? Oh, of course, it's New Year's Eve, I forgot. Here, pull up a
chair and join me in celebration. Oh, for christsake, stop fiddlin with the
door and come and sit down. There, that's better. Sit yaself right down
and ree-lax. So what was ya wishin for in the new year? Optimism and cheer,
you say. Let's just clear the air with a little bit of reality. When you're
celebratin and slappin each other on the back and shouting Hap-pey newoo
ye-aragh and tellin everyone how ya gonna win the lottery and gonna get ridda
the car and buy a bike and ride ta work and get fit and stop smokin and save
more money and drink less and earn more and buy a bigger house and move to a
better area and...
And you'll do none of these things. You'll still be a fat, nicotine
loaded, scared, confused, spiritually impoverished sucker. Though that
wasn't the point I was goin ta make; that was just a little aside - ya know,
somethin I had ta get outta my system. Anyway, what I was gonna say was this.
When all you guys are havin a great time sayin all that ha-ppey new ye-ar
stuff, there'll be: women bein raped, kids bein molested, people bein
stabbed, people bein shot, people bein dumped by their family/friends/
themselves, people livin in hell.
Hey, I'm sorry, have I put you on a downer? Here, have some holy water. Oh
shit, I'm really sorry, man, someone must have put acid in the water
receptacle by mistake. Wait til I see my assistant. Here use this cloth ta
wipe ya face. Sorry, could ya say that again. What, with ya screamin and
everything, I can't hear what ya sayin. Oh right, ya sayin ya need a hosp and
not a cloth. What the fuck is a hosp? Look, if ya don't calm down, I won't
be able ta hear ya, and if I can't hear ya, I can't help ya, can I. Now run
it past me again. This time a little slower. Hosp? I ain't gettin ya man.
Whatever it is ya tryna tell me, it's just a passin me by. Ya know flo...in
right over my head.
Anyway, let's get back to the murder ya want me ta commit. Er, hallo, is
anybody in? Ah, for christsakes, what is it now? Ya want me ta take you
where? Look, stop screamin and flayin ya limbs around and tell me what it
is ya want. Ya want me ta take ya to a hosp. Look man I don't wanna sound
repetitive, but I thought we'd both agreed that hosp means very little ta me.
Hosp? What is it, a word ya made up, like ya own kinda slang or somethin?
Are you listenin ta me? Or are ya thinkin of a way to communicate hosp to me.
Ah, whatever. The deal! Christ, I almost forgot about the murder you want me
to commit on your behalf. Now go through the details slowly, an I'll repeat
them back to ya. The ac-id h-as bur, burn, burn-t ya ska-in and ya ner-eed ta
ger-oo to tha hos, hosp, hospit. The hospital! Christ, why didn't ya just
say - aggh, I get it now, when you said hosp you meant hospital. Jesus, I'm
so dumb sometimes. I should have realized acid burns flesh. Look, man, I'm
really sorry. Ya not gonna hold it against me, are ya? I mean anyone can
forget that if ya throw acid inta someone's face, it'll really fuck up their
complexion. I mean you must have known. Why didn't you say something - oh
shit, there I go again, forgettin myself. The receptacles they were - well,
ya know what happened. Hey, look, I, er, take full er responsibility for
what's, er, happened here today. I promise I'll, er, compensate you so to,
er, speak. How's the acid coming along. Um, looks a bit sore. Does it hurt?
Ha ha ha - just a little joke. Ha ha ha. Come on, lighten up, it's New Year
after all. That's better. Here, sit back down; let's have a chat. How ya
soul shapin up? I hope it's clean, cause God don't like dirty souls. What's
that? You'll give me anything I want if I let ya go. Anything I want. Umm
that's quite a proposition. Tell ya what. How bout me and you havin a little
talk about God, souls and the afterlife. You think that's a good idea?
Great, then fire away.
Am I gonna kill ya? Are ya askin that question in relation to, er, God and
the, er, afterlife? Was that a yes? It was - good. Now I want ta ask ya
a very serious question. Are ya ready. OK. When ya dead do ya think ya have
ta accept God's judgment? You wouldn't claim ta know what happens when ya
die. Well that's unusually modest of you. The way you go on, I thought you
had a direct line with the Almighty. Don't defame the word of God? Why not?
After all, that's what he wants ya ta do. He wants ya ta make your own
decisions. Ya know, be responsible for your own actions. Then again, you
don't have ta do anything at all if ya don't wanna. Man, that's when all
this God stuff gets real scary. Ya know, like when ya realize how ya think
and how ya act is up ta you. Hey, I don't know how that makes ya feel, but
it scares the shit outta me. I mean, most people think life's gonna be
explained in some kinda post-death college. Though don't getta thinkin we're
in anyway special now. Oh no, we're no more special than the roach ya rush
from ya room.
Hey, get up of the floor, man. What do ya think this is, some kinda
chillout bar? This is a church, and a church ain't no place ta lay around
on tha floor. Sorry, I missed that, could you speak up. The pain from the
acid made you faint. Oh, I really wish I could do something ta help ya.
Prayer! Yea, I'll get on my knees and give ya some prayer. What do ya mean,
ya don't want prayers, ya want a hospital. What a thing ta say to a man of
the cloth. What are ya belly achin about now? So I'm not a man of the cloth,
I'm a what? A dirty fuckin killer. Swearin and a cursin my church is very
rude. How can I say that when I've murdered so many people within this modest
chapel? I haven't murdered people. I've murdered arseholes. The location of
their deaths is irrelevant. What do ya mean a church is a holy place? A
church is just another buildin, and you, my friend, are just another arsehole.
Does that mean I'm gonna kill ya? Well, of course it does. Christ, man, why
do ya have ta do all that gibberin shit? I thought you was a big time
gangster who feared nothing and nobody. Your family will hunt me down for the
rest of my life. I see. Well you'd better give them this ticket so they'll
know their place in the queue. At the moment, they're the 87th family in the
'hunt me down for the rest of my life party'. Shame you won't be there.
Please don't shoot ya. I have no intention of doin anythin of tha sort. I'm
an artist, remember, and you, my latest masterpiece. Shoot you. Oh you are
funny sometimes. Anyway, you should realize how I feel with you bein an
artist yaself. Oh, come on, don't give me that puzzled look. Or perhaps
it's modesty. Whatever it is, I know deep down you're an artist. Here, let
me illustrate what I mean so there's no confusion.
Remember the time ya had ya guys carve up that young woman who borrowed a
little of your small change so she could feed her kid? Man, that was pure art
the way your guys bust into the bed, sit and cut out the defenseless woman's
heart and stuffed it in the kid's mouth. Pure art. Then there was the time
you rigged the guy to the scolding radiator and the time ya handed a guy a
wood plane and told him ta plane his shin down ta an acceptable standard -
pure genius. I could go on all day, but I need a little time ta match ya
artistic endowment. Obviously I'll never be able ta match ya for such huge
extravaganzas like the nail bomb that killed 120 people, or the way your guys
filled up the local swimmin pool with acid and threw in a hundred or so
tenants of a block ya wanted ta convert inta offices.
Though I'll attempt to balance the lack of quantity by fillin my work with
quality and invention. Wow wow, ya have a gun. Where did ya get that?
Put my hands up and walk out front so you can shoot me in my face. Now
that's not a very nice way ta talk to a priest, is it. After all I've done
for ya, I - okay, man, relax; I'm comin out. There, now ya can see me.
I'd advise ya not ta pull the trigger. Am I sayin that cause I'm scared
of dying? No, not at all; I'm tellin ya cause I've rigged it ta backfire
and shower ya with tiny shards of glass. Bullshit, you say, then fire
away.
Cut out that agonized screamin shit, man. I just warned ya what would
happen, and ya chose to ignore me. Yea, I know it hurts when hundreds of
tiny shards of glass stick in ya hands and face. Looks good though. The way
the light filters through the stained glass and drifts across the glistening
sores created by the acid. It really is a wonder to behold.
Aghh. Trust you ta spoil my work with a pain-filled grimace. Here, grimace
some more. Oh, christ, I meant ta throw the water in your face. It was
supposed ta be a joke. Hey, man, lighten up. Anyone can mistake acid for
water. I mean, the acid's bright yellow, and the water, a kinda grey
transparent color, er, if ya know what I mean. Anyway, ya won't have ta
worry about screamin for much longer, cause I intend ta shoot ya pretty soon.
Stop beggin, it was only a joke. Hey, come and sit round here. I wanna tell
ya somethin. Er, excuse me, Mister. I'd prefer it if ya stopped all that
pukin - it's, er, messin up tha floor.
That's better. Now listen up and listen hard.
I'm a killer, plain and simple. Why beat around the bush and pretend I
wash cars or sell insurance? Lies are for the weak. I should know, I spend
my time killing them. I, the killer of the liar and the traitor. What a
moral job. When I get ta heaven, God himself will thank me personally for
my contribution to cleaning away the scum. And who is the latest piece of
filth ta be annihilated? Well, it's you, of course. Though not yet. Hey,
you're right, eyes lookin really red and sore. I think ya should see a
doctor. Shall I call one? Yes per-leeeze. I suppose that's a yes. It
is - too bad I've already pulled the trigger.
How many more of these suckers will I torture and kill before I am
tortured and killed? No time ta speculate, next confession'll be along in
five minutes. Better dispose of the body.
Into the furnace. One, two, three, up!
A smokin, my furnace is a smokin with the flesh of another bad boy sucker.
Dah, dah, dah-oh yea.
Maybe the inside of this confession box could do with a lick of paint. I'll
give it some thought later; here comes the latest guilt-loaded loser from a
long line of guilt loaded losers.
Why have ya come to my confession box? Because you want to be absolved of
your sins. I see. Oh, and before ya begin, I don't want no half-truths.
I expect all your sins ta come a pourin out...
"In violence, we forget who we are." Ä Mary McCarthy
Sober
þ Tool
ùúùúùú
There's a shadow just behind me. Shrouding every step I take.
Making every promise empty. Pointing every finger at me.
Waiting like a stalking butler, who upon the finger rests.
Murder now the path "must we", just because the sun has come.
Jesus, won't you fucking whistle
Something more that's past and done
Jesus, won't you fucking whistle
Something more that's past and done
Why can't we not be sober? I just want to start this over.
Why can't we drink forever? I just want to start this over.
I am just a worthless liar. I am just an imbecile.
I will only complicate you. Trust in me and fall as well.
I will find a center in you. I will chew it up and leave.
I will work to elevate you, just enough to bring you down.
Mother Mary, won't you whisper
Something more that's past and done
Mother Mary, won't you whisper
Something more that's past and done
Why can't we not be sober? I just want to start this over.
Why can't we sleep forever? I just want to start this over.
I am just a worthless liar. I am just an imbecile.
I will only complicate you. Trust in me and fall as well.
I will find a center in you. I will chew it up and leave.
Trust me...
Why can't we not be sober. I just want to start things over.
Why can't we sleep forever. I just want to start this over.
I want what I want...
"The blues isn't about feeling better... it's about making other people
feel worse." Ä 'Bleeding Gums Murphy', _The Simpsons_
Somber Locket
þ Medea & Hecate
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
On the chest of the dark girl sits
the blonde one
braiding firefly bellies into bracelets.
They seek the deepest understanding
that can never be found.
Even white suggests impurity
if it's your brother's hands
beneath the fabric.
The silver moon is glinting its reflection of reality.
Somewhere beside them all
you can aquire the foulest desire
to be amongst the dead.
The only sins are committed before dawn.
"You've got to let go of innocence or it will take you down with it when it
sinks like some old rotted shrimp boat on the canal." Ä 'V. C. Andrews'
Sweet Beyond
þ Zac Maloy
ùúùúùúùúùúùú
In the end...I lay the flowers, I lay the flowers down
I have bent my rules I have laid before me
Falling deeper still than I ever thought I would
and I would again
As we begin this journey, put your soul with
Connected from this moment throughout life and death and time
I would show you the deepness - if there was a sea forever
I would give you the planets - if there was a way.
In the End...
If your life I should fail to save...
I'll lay the flowers on your grave.
As the years surround us, this will stay beautiful
Through the change of appearance, love remains
I would show you the vastness if there was a sky neverending
I would give you the sunlight if there was a way.
In the End...(I will be here)
If your life I should fail to save...
I'll lay the flowers on your grave.
I have felt what I never conceived
From here through sweeter beyond
Impossible for words to bring you understanding
I will be the one you see
In the End ... (I will be here)
If your life I should fail to save
In the End ... (I will be here)
If before me you should leave this place
I'll lay the flowers on your grave.
Sylvia Plath Is My Mother
þ Ray Heinrich
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
sylvia plath is my mother
i
practiced cutting my finger like her
a few weeks ago
it was
exactly as she said
she
is perfect
the perfect poet
risking everything
and
losing it
and
gaining it
at the same time
i look
at her picture
posted
just to the right of my computer
just beside gary snyder
and the one
smoothly lives
and the other
roughly dies
but looking at the words
left behind
for all i know
they sit side by side
maybe even kiss me in my love for them
mirror images
reflecting paths
down which
any of us
can go
"Q: A friend makes tiny cuts on her arms with a razor. Why does she do this
and how can I help her stop?
A: It sounds as though your friend is exhibiting what's called
self-mutilating behavior. Some people - an estimated 7/1,000 (most of them
women) - seem able to relieve stress only by injuring some part of their
bodies. Most use razors or knives; some burn their skin or bang parts of
their bodies against walls. A few hide their cuts and scars, but many hurt
themselves in obvious places, perhaps as a cry for help.
There are many theories about why this happens. Some women may inflict
injury in an attempt to relive the emotional pain of childhood abuse.
Others might do so to prove they have control over their bodies. The
behavior is especially common amoung women with anorexia and bulimia.
Your friend's cuts may not be life threatening, but you're right to be
concerned. Urge her to get help; treatment usually involves a combination
of psychotherapy and medication. For more information, call (800) DONT CUT,
a help line run by the University Hospital of Chicago's S.A.F.E. (Self Abuse
Finally Ends) Alternatives program." Ä 'Mademoiselle'
The Poet in Pain
þ Winfred Owen
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
Some men sing songs of Pain and scarcely guess
Their import, for they never knew her stress.
And there be other souls that ever lie
Begnawed by seven devils, silent. Aye,
Whose hearts have wept out blood, who not once spake
Of tears. If therefore my remorseless ache
Be needful to proof-test upon my flesh
The thoughts I think, and in words bleeding-fresh
Teach me for speechless sufferers to plain*,
I would not quench it. Rather be my part
To write of health with shaking hands, bone-pale,
Of pleasure, having hell in every vein,
Than chant of care from out a careless heart,
To music of the world's eternal wail.
*plain: mourn, complain
Untitled
þ HappyMonk
ùúùúùúùúùúù
she told me all she knew
in a dream, so softly
i thought i knew her
but whispers never stay
i told her all i meant
promises made
i thought i knew myself
but whispers never stay
and now i've given up
hope crumbled to sand
going to that cold desert
where whispers never stay
Untitled
þ HappyMonk
ùúùúùúùúùúù
you lead me through a barren sky
and follow my trail of blood
i've been here once before alone
again that's where i'll go
they can all see how i feel
of course you can as well
inside out, forward's back
still i endure this hell
you're just as lost as i am
pretend as though you aren't
still i know you'll find it
and know that you were wrong
need to love the one who hates me
only hate the one who loves me
time to change my pain erase me
open hole through comes the bleeding
clouds down rain up window closed
always not me you must know
window through my blood i throw
empty hand i show my soul
"Trust brought such a relief to one, such a feeling of being connected, and
that is how you let down your guard, and you can be destroyed." Ä Anne Rice
Untitled
þ Molina
ùúùúùúùú
Boredom comsumes my every thought
Attention span ran out long ago
Thoughts digress to other things
Faded memories take control
Close my eyes to block them out
The beautiful black and streaks of crimson
Set into a clash of piano and guitar
My mind sinks back to a world I don't control
Seduction, lies, and happiness
Submission, faith, and despair
Swirling backwards and losing control
Blindfolded to pain and sadness
Falling down bruised and broken
Attempting to pick myself up I stumble
Shining brightly in my face
I notice the light growing closer
Eyes now open I look
Trapped inside my head
I try to get out...escape
Pounding on the flesh, screaming for freedom
Lying alone in the corner
Crying, given up on all hopes
My will disappears as the dust settles
Aching with pain that should have passed
The crying stopped long ago
But still it tries to emerge
My hateful heart ignores it all
Wishing for personal destruction
Turning instead to mental relief
Chewing away the temporal world
An array of colors and memory loss
I settle back into my own existance
Smiling, laughing, eyes open wide
Time passes slowly but no longer hurts
Temporary relief from life's frustrations
A short time later I come back down
Turning my back once again
Longing for that freedom
Stuck in darkness, silence, it consumes me
Shivering, I relish in my pain
Soak it in, enjoy the sensation
Dancing to the beat of a different tune
Now I feel somewhat better
Pick myself up and dust off the grime
Learning how to walk again
For the first time seeing things as they are
A sense of happiness washes over me
I step outside for a breath
Not realizing I've escaped my cage
Untitled
þ Molina
ùúùúùúùú
Held the flower out.examined it.the soft petals tickled the palm of my
hand.a droplet of dew escaped and ran down my flesh.so tender.so
precious.I savored the smell.breathed it in deeply.such a sweet
fragrance.reminded me of you.so i ate it.taking out my tensions.chewed
on its sugar sweet innocence.i hated it.so delicate.so soft.i made it
ugly.i wanted to ruin it.spit it out.such a sour taste in my mouth.like
you.so much like you.
Untitled
þ Quinn@adren.net
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
whisper softly
your voice will carry
rescue me from the shadows
you can pull me back
from the depths I've thrown myself in
call my name
I will hear you
take me out of this darkness
you can save me
and maybe finally we both can win
losing sight
why do i give up
is it worth the fight
drifting into endless sleep
it's painful to wake
stay away
it's just so much easier this way
darkness all around me
seeps into my very soul
I hear you calling
but it's too late
I've lost control
just let me go
Untitled
þ Rob@adren.net
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
you've got no reasons for the things you said
but you can't keep your feelings to yourself
and i can't find an answer to this emptiness
no i can't find an answer
and i wish that i was dead
i never dreamt i'd hear your echo pounding in my head
and though the tears have dried
i'm ripped inside
i'll say i'm feeling fine
but what's the use
when nothing could be further from the truth
oh where will i find comfort
and strength to live again?
if there's a God above then show me how the story ends
if there's a God above then how could me desert a friend?
because i feel so tired
and ripped inside
you'll ache for me when your hands are tied
you'll wish you lived in another time
and if you're thinking the pain subsides
there's no place to hide
when you're ripped inside
there is no meaning in the things you did
and you might still go round denying it
if you could live that hour again would you resist
or was i just another victim
innocently picked?
was i carefully selected or the next one on the list?
to be cut down to size
and ripped inside
"There's no hate such as that born out of a love betrayed." Ä 'V. C. Andrews'
Untitled
þ Tempest
ùúùúùúùúù
It rained once.
It rained once, it was quite cold then.
Sometimes, when she is clear of mind,
She can remember it all.
All the play in the rain.
The water, the mud, the bodies in the sun,
Unfamiliar feelings.
And not all displeasing.
It was warm once.
It was warm, the children played,
In the water, in the sun,
Warm and running...free...
Once.
You were there once.
She knew you, she knows you,
You were her, once.
She's everything you want to be,
Everything you wanted to be,
Everything you could be.
You were everything she was.
She'll always be in you.
She had power once.
She had strength, courage,
To hold us all up.
It's all still there, and if you find her,
You'll see it again.
She was lost once.
She was lost, alone,
How it was meant to be.
You were not to live in her,
Consumed by her, caught between walls.
Once upon a time, she could dance,
Between your mind, between your life,
Untouched.
But she was brought down,
Once.
She had it all once.
She was safe, until the walls,
The solid walls, not without purpose,
Melted under mortal fingers.
Hands invaded the muddy walls,
Brushing her...
To death.
All the hands, the hands, the hands...
Reaching for her...
Only wish to be there,
But it could never happen.
But they kept trying.
There was irony once.
She was the constant.
She is the constant.
But the variable hands reach, grab, chew...
The silver star was dying.
How could she let this happen?
She was in control.
Even at the end.
Fires raged once.
Fires raged and reached for the sky.
Flames choked and gasped,
And cried for the heavens.
Get to close to the fading life,
The searing soul, and you'll be burned.
She lived once.
She dance and twirled 'til the stars fell at her command.
The elements raced around her in innocent play.
Flowers bloomed at her touch.
Birds sang. People laughed.
But no one was supposed to know it was her...
She tried to breathe life into the dying flame.
And she was burned.
People were happy once.
People were happy together.
People laughed, loved, enjoyed.
Their pain was none of their troubles...
It was her burden.
And when she fell,
Nations fell,
Lovers died.
She was beloved once.
Beloved of all...
Her care, her love, her kind heart,
Had touched mortal souls.
Oh, if they knew,
To love her back is to murder her.
And so she fell.
The elements ruled once.
The rain, the wind, the flame, the heart,
The family, the love, the compassion
All converged for a brief moment.
In that moment, all was possible.
Mortals saw themselves for who they were.
Some cried.
Some died.
I was a poet once.
I've been a poet since the dawn of the age.
I saw what I could not see, what I was not to see.
I lived inside of her, as you do.
She reads at this very moment,
The words too sacred to write.
You see through her eyes, one she's touched you.
We are immortal.
She was burned.
You live inside us.
All converge.
We have it all, you and I.
The power, the binding love.
And we reminisce...
When we held each other tight,
When we played in the sun,
When we loved like no other,
When the words would flow from the quill...
I was King once.
I was Queen once.
I was a dreamer once.
I wished once.
I was her once.
I loved once.
And I love you.
Untitled
þ Eddie Vedder
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
She laid alone
during her best days
as a work of art
reading naked on the bed
spent some of her best days
cleaning carpet from her hair
spent her worst days
owing you the pleasure
of taking blame...
spent her whole life
disbelieving in her worst fears.
A work of art...
A work of art.
"There is a special kind of tension that comes with being misunderstood.
On one hand, one is determined to prove society wrong and to show people
who you really are. On the other hand, there is always a tendency to
accept another person's judgment, and, in doing so, become the very
person you are seen to be." Ä 'Cliff Notes'
Wasted Time
þ Sebastian Bach, Rachel Bolan & Dave Sabo
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
You and I together in our lives
Sacred ties would never fray
Then why can I let myself tell lies
And watch you die every day
I think back to the times
When dreams were what mattered
Tough-talking youth navete
You said you never let me down
But the horse stampedes and rages
In the name of desperation
Is it all just wasted time
Can you look at yourself
When you think of what
You left behind
Is it all just wasted time
Can you live with yourself
When you think of what
You left behind
Paranoid delusions they haunt you
Where's my friend I used to know
He's all alone
He's buried deep within a carcass
Searching for a soul
Can you feel me inside your heart
As it's bleeding
Why can't you believe you can't be loved
I hear you scream in agony
And the horse stampedes and rages
In the name of desperation
Is it all just wasted time
Can you look at yourself
When you think of what
You left behind
Is it all just wasted time
Can you live with yourself
When you think of what
You left behind
The sun will rise again
The earth will turn to sand
Creation's colors seem to fade to grey
And you'll see the sickly hands of time
Will write your final rhyme
And end a memory
I never thought you'd let it get this far, boy
"People want you to be a crazy, out-of-control teen brat. They want you
miserable, just like them. They don't want heroes; what they want is to see
you fall." - Leonardo DiCaprio
When She Wa
s Free
þ Quinn@adren.net
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
she tries to pay attention
her concentration weak
her mind closed in by walls
she'll try to use this as an excuse
but don't let her fool you
the walls are made of cardboard
she says she is chained in
but did she fail to mention
the chains are made of paper
she complains of locks,
but they're locks she chose herself
to keep herself in
to keep others out
she remembers a time when she was free
when she had no fears to overcome,
no precautions, no hesitations
when she was hurt,
when she felt pain,
then she crawled away, curled up
she'll show you the scars
the wounds that will never quite heal,
but that's okay
she'll say with a small smile
for no longer can I feel
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ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
Submit your original literary works for Spilled Ink, [volume ten], to
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