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Thought Issue 01
thought issue one
april one 1996
(c)1996 mindflow productions
subscriptions, submissions, or any comments to:
email : thought@www.woodford.k12.ky.us
www : http://sac.uky.edu/~jrruih0/thought
----------------------
credit where credit is due...
this is the .txt version of thought issue one. all complete issues
including visual art (photography, ect) can be found on the web page
cover photo by : sara compton
cover photo of : lisa rippetoe
creation : josh ruihley
editing : melissa pike
executable versions : keith shapiro
graphics : tin hung lok, josh ruihley
html : tin hung lok, josh ruihley
submissions : josh ruihley
----------------------
content:
prototype - a welcome to thought
I dream I am a blimp pilot Micheal McNeilley
Poem Straight from my SubConsiousness Antti
Honkeys M.K.
a thought... Aqua
Let the Poem Be Charles Cooper
A Tear in my Eye, And a Smile on my Face Bill Bauman
In a Feeling of... Christopher Stolle
fortunate. melissa pike
In the Pink Danielle Stickler
Impatience Sander Koyfman
the sixty machines of mr. mills josh ruihley
posthumous forgiveness Barry de Waal
journey Keith Shapiro
untitled Seven
Winter Comes Jody Larsen
passions of yesterday paul kell
----------------------
prototype: a welcome to thought
the first step has been taken.
the path seems a bit more clear.
jump on.
go where you wanna go.
welcome to thought issue one. im not really into these 'editor telling you
exactly what he thinks' pages, so i will keep this short. i do, though,
want to say thanks to all who helped make this first issue possible. the
first step has been taken, and it was the hardest step to take. its all good
from here on out. i am pleased with the response to thought before the first
issue was even released. so ive decided to not let anyone down. ive put much
time and effort into making it all come together, and i am happy with the
first issue. i hope you are diggin' this also. feel free to submit. this
isnt an art review... its a place for all to come together and share their
thoughts. okay... the 'editor telling you exactly what he thinks page' is
now done. i'll let the pages speak for themselves.
enjoy.
j
----------------------
I dream I am a blimp pilot
Micheal McNeilley
I pilot my blimp
my big black
blimp down
the river corridor
down the shipping lanes
where weather is
predictable
and navigation
is a breeze
it is night and I pass
blimp hotels and bars
clifftop moorings and
treetop apartments
with dim red
porchlights
and I pull into
the Judy Bar
which offers free parking
for blimp jockeys
and my heels spark
on the metal gratings
as I pass through those
swinging doors
everyone working in Judy's
looks about the same
female and male
waitrons dressed alike
it's a clone bar
and one with copper
hair and that
intractable headache manner
takes my order
white spider with a twist
and as she turns
to go a motion
in black denim
I think of you
walking away from me
and then it all
starts to make
sense
----------------------
Poem Straight from my SubConsiousness.
Antti
Behind the mask of madness , just
- just is the rule of time ,
as it will take away our mind .
For what good could it be , if
- if we little people could see ,
how feeble is this our try to be free .
Great people of time ,
- people who rule their own mind .
So driven and sane ,
motivated until the game ,
shall take away the pain .
Pain that was born in flames ,
pain of need and pride ,
pain of years in dark .
Losers and bums ,
we never wanted anything hard ,
we always could deal with the dark .
if motivation is name ,
that lights this little game ,
where god signs his name ,
i think i wont see the end .
----------------------
Honkeys
M.K.
My parents take pictures on the first
day of school.
They smile while I scorn, and
the pats-on-the-back are frequent.
My parents like everything except
real things, and nothing in between
They brush their teeth together and
toothpaste oozes out of their
mouths as they smile.
My parents are envious of childless
couples and they are 911 morons
My parents drive a Volvo and they
buy CD's for our cassette player
satisfying wishful thinking.
My parents clean their bedroom on
Saturdays and see a matinee if they
are deserving.
My parents are hopeful, but they
are limited in achievements
They have adjacent burial plots and
labeled laundry baskets.
My parents are virgins of the world.
----------------------
a thought...
Aqua
If we are all actors playing a part in the role of life, we should rehearse
the bedroom scene more often.
----------------------
Let the poem be
Charles Cooper
Find a new way to say it
Looking for something more
Use a word that no one knows
Sounds good
Looks good
It's meaningless.
Meaning and understanding walking hand in hand
One without the other may walk but not stand
The poem must be understood to mean anything
One-half page of footnotes is nice
But it means little to me.
Why write for a few intelligent snobs
When the world awaits your words
With your dreams caressing mobs.
Do you want your writing to be like God?
condemning us all to death for worship,
So we can worship with honesty truth
Do not! He deserves nothing and so shall you.
It is left for us only to be better then God
to rise above the standards set for us.
To give the poem meaning, to whisper words of truth
To know that all that read the words walk with understanding In their
hearts
and claim to all the wisdom that is ours to impart
For us to be the selfless ones
For a poem to mean more then content and words
For the poem to live our hopes and dreams.
For if we truly crave meaning in life
And our satisfaction came from learning to write
From learning to rhyme and give the words time
We may not be omnipotent omniscient creators
We shall live and then may die
But we shall be Gods.
----------------------
A Tear In My Eye, And A Smile On My Face
Bill Bauman
There's no definition
For the way that I feel
I don't understand
This can't be real
I feel so sad
Yet filled with joy
Life's not that bad
When I hear your voice
You break me down
You pick me up
You reverse my frown
And fill my cup
With so many emotions
I can't sort them out
What's this commotion
That I can't hear aloud
From where did it come
And where did it go
It's left me in shock
And forced me to grow
To face what's inside
And confront my pain
Where my thoughts reside
And my feelings remain
Within my soul
The hatred that sleeps
His story is old
As he sits and weeps
Not due to loss
And without hurt
He weeps cause he's happy
Just thinking of her
Her voice is enough
To drown out his pain
She's calling his bluff
It's the end of his reign
No more secrets
My heart is exposed
Don't feel bad
And accept this rose
This isn't the end
I've a long way to go
It's only the beginning
On a dead-end road
Some day I will realize
This is getting me nowhere
I'll see things through her eyes
And I'll know why she cares
With a tear in my eye
And a smile on my face
I'll sleep soundly tonight
Now that I've found my place
----------------------
In a Feeling of...
Christopher Stolle
if a dream came true
should I be happy
or should I question it?
should I pray
to what I cannot see
or imagine it does exist?
and can I whisper a story
into your innocent ears
so you can laugh?
for if I should die
a flower will be planted
that I will never see grow.
so I cry.
----------------------
fortunate.
melissa pike
he looks up when he thinks
as if looking to God for the answers,
and he talks in chopped language,
taking small breaths every few words.
large mysterious man,
casting his knowledgable gaze over the class,
constantly questioning their learning,
re-explaining, watching for understanding
in the faces to which he cannot yet attach names.
they are as mysterious to him as he to them,
because it's only the 2nd class for many,
and it's late in the day
The darkness outside relaxes the mood
of the room, and diversifies the class.
Their busy, talkative days come to a halt
as they sit those 2 nights a week,
trying to get where they need to go in life,
one piece at a time.
does the strange man realize his part
in each of the tiny lives to which he is so unfamiliar?
perhaps.
yet they all go on.
as if nothing is out of the ordinary.
----------------------
In The Pink
Danielle Stickler
Chubby pink children
In chubby pink shorts
slurping cherry shaved ice
Trotting along after
Hurried teenyboppers
who slam their knapsacks into me
And splash Coke
Onto my sunburn.
I hate them.
Tall, lean, graceful
My companion smiles at me
Amused by these sticky children
And their Appalachian mothers
With too-big hair.
His green eyes shine.
I smile at him
His blacks, whites, greys
So tiresome a moment ago
Now offer welcome relief
From hideous pastels.
"Damn! Scuze yew."
Yet another backwoods inbreed
Runs into me
Dropping her Taco Bell
On her red-faced child.
I have mild sauce on my shoes.
He is laughing now
So hard he cannot speak
As he reaches over to
Hug me.
I glow.
And when the next
Tubby redneck child
Gets her lollipop
Stuck in my hair...
I don't mind so much.
----------------------
Impatience
Sander Koyfman
Impatience is arbrosia for mistakes
of personal and more generic nature.
Impatient bird ends up all dead and cold,
Impatient friend is often lonely,
Impatient lover loses sight of love,
Impatient poet seeks the inspiration.
Impatiently.
And all of them are me
and are in me,
they bug me all the time
instead of letting be,
They rob me of mistakes of being slow,
absorbent for a change
and laying low.
Instead of making waves
make no sound.
I wish I could... but
Like Brooklyn bound train,
I am impatience bound.
----------------------
the sixty machines of mr. mills
josh ruihley
make up your mind mr mills
youve a choice of sixty or more
you know whats in store
so make up your mind mr mills
walk down the street mr mills
take it all in
dechipher within
doesnt it give you the chills?
to walk down the street mr mills?
yeah... all sixty of them. they seem after you, dont they? they seem
to know just a little bit more than you do. well, actually, they don't
'seem' to know more... they just 'do' know more. and they are after you.
always have been. yeah... they're after me too. its funny though. i
stop, they stop. they never actually catch me. i dont think they would
catch you either. in fact, they've never caught anyone before. they
have just let that person run and run until he died. they laughed.
happy little guys, aren't they? you run and run and miss everything
around you. they know so much more than you. you think they do.
but they dont.
you created them.
you can take them away.
----------------------
Posthumous Forgiveness
Barry de Waal
frightening situation seems unsolvable
acted sympathy brings more sorrow
opening up to the stranger
always a promise to be there tomorrow
no message or letter goes to show
real adversity they don't know
no special wish to touch the horizon
just a simple plea to unfocussed ears
no frantic desire to sense belonging
just someone out there to catch my tears
closing in on me, the edge is calling
virtual sympathy got me falling
ghostrider on the highway of life
just past the final turning
martyr forced to smile at the gallow
tied to the torch that keeps on burning
saw your features in my final confusion
the roaring I heard was just an illusion
----------------------
journey
keith shapiro
walking on eggshells
with cracks down the side
looking for someone
who's uttered a cry
some eggs are strong
and bear my large mass
but others are weaker
won't allow me to pass
the landscape i wander
most beautiful of all
must watch my step closely
can't slip or fall
the mountains in front
as steep as behind
wondering, wondering
who am i to find
the shell-splintered land
gives way to a maze
opening on caverns
with fires ablaze
before the games start
i look at the land
over years filled with caution
of holding of hands
and then to the catacomb
long-crumbled walls
once open pathways
blocked by rockfall
winding and twisting
and many dead ends
corpses with ferry-fare
show what folly portends
past spiked pits and deadfalls
for weeks i forge through
always with care though
not to hurt you
and then to the center
most wondrous of all
a beautiful rose garden
ringed by a wall
in the middle of eden
your garden of life
a beautiful fountain
spared from the knife
with toes in the water
a beautiful girl
hiding from rainbows
a head-hidden turtle
her eyes open wider
the nearer i come
her wiry frame tenses
readies to run
i stop in my tracks
and drop apprehensions
the fear in my eyes
must import my intentions
caring and hope
from eons of longing
finally at pinnacle
a sense of belonging
the beautiful maiden
rises from waterside
finally awakened
a true hope realized
a smile long forgotten
dusted and cobwebs swept
returned and then answered
by what happened next
hands clasped with fervor
the walls tumbled down
i reached to my pack
pulled forth the crown
the beautiful mountains
crimson and red
watching the sunset
the crown on her head
the eggshell field
of thousands of cracks
finally nurtured
and ready to hatch
she looked on with awe
and i looked on with love
at the shells all sprung open
the rainbow above
----------------------
untitled
Seven
my talents flit away
i don't know who i am
i spend all this time searching
hunting, trying to find
what is inside
dying there unused
----------------------
Winter Comes
Jody Larsen
"The leaves are falling," whispers wind,
"I have seen it, where I've been,
Winter dances, winter weaves,
Cold is falling, like the leaves."
"The plants are browning," whispers wind,
"I have seen it, where I've been,
Summer prances, summer leaves,
Leaves are falling, in the breeze."
"Flower's dying," say the bees,
We have seen it, soon we'll freeze,
Coldness turns, coldness comes,
Summer dances, summer runs,
"Clover's gone," whisper bees,
We have seen it, soon we'll leave,
The wind is crying, the grass is dying,
Winter's gliding, we're all flying.
----------------------
passions of yesterday
paul kell
though it's
almost
been
two years
i still think of
you
all the time
your face
a picture in my
heart
an offering to my
mind
and i now that you've
gone on with life
found your
true love
so you say
i still can't seem to
free my life
from the
passions of days
when we would walk
hand in hand
and make our
future plans
and talk of how our
lives would be
together without this
maze
of school and parents and other things
that were
always in the way
and how we'd
love
no other now and how we'd be
today
and i know it all seems
foolish
now and i should be like
you
but of all the things i told
you
one thing still
stands true
i said that i would
love you
with my
body, soul, and mind
forever
to be
faithful
and
new love
never find
and though i never thought it would
be over
quite like this
and
fate
would deal an
empty hand
and leave me
you to miss
i often still can find
myself
reaching back in time
to grasp the days with
you and me
our passions undefined.
----------------------*
