F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S ------------------------------------------------------- - t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e - ------------------------------------------------------- Poetry A form of expression that can explicitly state the obvious, while not saying the exact words. A form of expression that can tell a tale, not telling if it's a female or male. A form of expression that may allow one to state things that would otherwise go unstated, based upon the facts of an experience, emotion, or item. Kamira ------------------------------------------------------- a generation of cinderellas welcome to the machine we hope that you choke, that you choke Joseph walked on and on The sunset went down and down sewn together like hand and glove not ever knowing what we're hoping to find with the rerun shows and the cocaine nose jobs now I'm 32 and don't remember what I saw in you a cry for mercy In the city of the damned a Fight...some things they fight living this way, the goal is to be unified maybe not from the sources you've poured yours into maybe not from the directions you are staring at strip away your heart's veneer and see what I can find there's a destination a little up the road the radio's live transmission fill my eyes with that double vision and I'm afraid to come back home to the noose, to the neck to the boost, to the check I've been all around the world, looking no one knows what it's like to be the sad/bad man waiting for the operator on the line it's hard to get away with anything resembling dignity watch the basket people walk around and mumble Is it any wonder I reject you first? these towns, they all know our name Beaten on my mind every second with my fist I feel it closing in, As patterns seem to form. And now we are one in everlasting peace, we hope that you choke, that you choke welcome to the machine (for thomas friedman) Douglas Penn a collage of lyrics heard off the radio. Shooting Down Angels The pawn shop has my size. Plastique and light, like the taste in my mouth. But it brings its own as well. I can't enhale this dirt. It only makes me want to choke more. And I do as quickly as I think. So your my guardian angel. You never took the money from my hand. Then you always stood in my line. Clog my intake. You and your dose of reality have fallen. Drive me to the gate. This gate I speak of is open. Opened with the key I gave you out of love. Now locking me out of my own field. God, take me down that road. Stop curbing my mouth and splitting my head. Quit blowing my mind on the cement. This is over. Concrete speaks like a tombstone. Silent to all except the one its above. - SYCO - The Net We wander endlessly through this net of technology. It's strange, it's kind of like walking in the desert with no one in sight, but at the same time there are a million people in the same place at the same time as you. Weird. And the desert contains all the knowladge of the world. And as we wander, people are fighting, selling/buying, yelling, hacking, browsing, downloading and everything else possible in the real world. Somewhere in nowhere Ohio a man is viewing child porn, in Zero Montana a 13 year old kid is hacking the NSA web site, in Zilch Albania a young man is distributing pirated software, and in Nada France a 16 year old girl is writing a macro virus that will soon infect 30,000 computers. Yet as all this goes on, we wander. Weird..... -Shadow Wolf Vines Grew II Taking out a dagger, slashing at the vines, I slit and throw my way all the way through. Crawling out from the depths, darkness and rot all around. Light begins to sparkle, as I reach near to air. Taking a deep breath in, releasing slowly, as I close my eyes and then open them again. Looking around, there is light! The vines begin to wither away, shrinking back from whence they came. Leaving small trails of sand and dirt grit and grim, along the ground as they go. The remains of us - together. It's over and done with, gone on and passed over. Time to start a-fresh. Tears spring to my eyes, some trickle down, but more often a fury within my raises. Hopefully this is letting go. - Kamira August 10th, 2000 nowhere to go dark shadow of my pen, in wavering candle light lead me to a promised land, where words meet wit where unabashed i may say as i feel, write as i want a place where the clock doesn't hound me, chasing life's little unacceptable pleasures par for everyone music flows free in all its forms, backing my words as if to say i am a lyrical poet, but not rather, reprimand me for another misguided soul aching by. looking for a sea of tranquility to drown in, enjoy a jade shade of pain. bleak ending in resolution of a black sheet covered bed candle. incense. delirium. solitude. pen and paper 8.15.99 mea_culpa Gone in a Whisper. There is no fear, not no more, pain is gone, emotions raw. The world is numb. Moving fast stand back and watch it pass. Movement all around I am still & cannot be found. I watch as people kill & lye asking no more, "why"? ... I watch in silance, without fear abuse, no more i hear... Head held high, i stand with pride destend to take one last ride. I reach inside & rip out my heart holding it out as i depart No one can see, noone can hear who can see what they all fear? Movement all around I am still & cannot be found. Blaise ------------------------------------------------------- E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com, geekgrl@attrition.org ------------------------------------------------------- to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to majordomo@attrition.org with "subscribe poetry". if you do not have FTP access and would like back issues, send a list of missing issues and they will be sent. ------------------------------------------------------- A V A I L A B I L I T Y: AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY WWW: http://www.attrition.org/~poetry ------------------------------------------------------- (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. -------------------------------------------------------