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 - ------------------------------------------------------- Inspiration is all around us, all the time. our emotions, our thoughts, and our imaginations all bring about words that swirl, flow and freeze into our hearts, into our minds eye and bring about new worlds waiting to be explored. ------------------------------------------------------- If I Were Never Here If I were never here, this piece would not exist. I would not have felt the pleasure in receiving my first kiss. I would not have been tormented by the pain, for the loved ones that I miss. And I would not have to put up with all of my friends' stupid bullshit. I'd take back all the hateful things I said, and the awful things I've done. Maybe even tell that special someone that I was their only one. But the point is that I'm here, and there are things I cannot change, And how different would things really be, maybe they'd be the same. There are no fingers to point, and there are no people to blame. For the wrong things I've done in the past, I do truly feel shame. ...This is reality, and I think I'm too afraid to hear... or see what it would be like, if I were not here. -damasa Computers You know ... age is a funny thing. how it changes thoughts... ideas... consider for example the fact that I adore computers I love them, I am the hacker kid that idolized the kid in the grade higher than me that knew thow to do that thing he did with his commodore 64. I named all of my machines and 'bout creamed the first time I saw a graphing calculator. BAck then It wasn't *JUST* a computer IP hostmask, it was *your* machines NAME. There may have been faster machines with larger capacities for processing or Ram, but none of them had the character of "devastator" or worked just like yours because you yourself had made signifigant alterations to the operating system. It was your toy, your friend, an escape and Spock all in one. Now its a multimedia multimarketed, multifaceted, multiprocessing peice of shit you can't use but bought anyway. The Mo-man Delerium meaning it from somewhere i knew before healing it as i lay wounded soiled and gored pealed of all wisdom melted where i stood i found a goblet full of pride a throne to reside i found a person sitting there in all the splendour of a willowed bride i found her with deception in a carved out dense reception i called my hand quite stolen without a narrow barrow or face i felt a silted melon a godly place it was but one a place for fun where we run i slept in there in there so deep until i woke nor did not speak i shamed it for a bastion mellow a purple wing a single arrow people gone now singing healed and fallow from a weary fellow a fellow of long hair description i fell over my feet my kitchen severed and toilet complete i raised my head began my feet only now i see with knowledge of what it is or what i want i see it clear i see it now falling from a ledge or bough i hear a cry a crack of whip a seared tear of golden lent your pasture grown from nothing more i fall down now i fall and cry screams from heart from soul from eye i cast my passion with no lie once i heard you once i tried i got so close but now ive died! its not my nature you know that true its not my face or tell from view i cant help i cant say you know it now so why you stay? Lost in my insides plotting and scheming my way i wonder aloud you hear me not for i have become something within a knot i twisted a bloted tie a scavenged fear drenched felled sky up inside an airship my mind soars around its sting i hear the man they talk in riddles fingers broken like autumn willows jeers from you likened to hate a fallen fallow from yonder gate now when i say why? ill seer it all ill know your lie when i get this way in state of deliruim i hear my soul but to fast for me to fast it goes i cant catch it quick i steady myself as it flashes its brick upon a mountain side i sang the birds around me twisting and floating in the air below hanging motionless without a gallows no suport nor motion narrow. like bats on a string held without a hand i laugh again i laugh so hard the tears roll now without there scar getting close but still...So far i hear a final horn sound so distant from the car. Leaping tree like across the fields of strange ideas of strange ideals. I leapt i leap again now i fall from canopy rain soaring halted guested felled. Lost in shocked and ghosted head i try to stop but still it pours my morning nonsense from my mind tonight i felt it grow i felt it still a group inside me for you like gold felled from forest heater i go now ill be back some time i havent decided goodbye for now this poem is resided! Euan Bingham I wish that I could hate you Maybe then the pain would go away I wish I didn’t miss you and all the things you don’t say I wish I could tell you where this aching void came from I wish I could send it back there and enjoy my life I wish I could enjoy the happiness and the smiles that he brings Without thinking of the past and of best forgotten things I wish you were half the person my memory wants you to be I wish you would go away and just let me be. -kbh For Some Reason --------------- When it comes time, for comfort, feeling safe and loved - I find haven in those people, places, and things that remind me of you. Deciding which design to buy, there's this one that reminds me of you. Not sure why, you never mentioned the colors or the patterns and infact, you probably would hate it. But for some reason, it calms me, reminding me of you and that in which we share. For some reason the symbols that don't really mean anything, amount to a larger skeme which still just show a large pattern. Maybe it's because our past does the same. Just facts and myths of times gone, not really amounting to anything - but us. Walking down the rows and rows of products, there's a color, a picture, something that makes me think of you. Somehow reminding me of something to do. Reaching for a phone, I pick it up to dial, only setting it down again, for just one more hour. When that hour passes, I still have not called, and you still do matter. Something holds me back, keeping me from that pact. Or maybe it's that vow, from so many years from now. Sometimes I wonder, and find myself wandering, the halls of empty paths. Getting out and reaching, is the first step in teaching. Yet, I here I am, you there, and I am here. For if I were to do more, then you would lose the score, and then there would be nothing. Here I sit, writing out patterns, only annoying myself, and denying you. So with that, I close this piece, and hopefully find some sort of peace. Really, though, I know I will just end up filling more pages. It's a puzzle that's within me, that you somehow can put together, but the desire to do so, is long gone. Or maybe it's the fact - that I am. - Kamira (c) Copyright September 30, 2001 - Sunday emotions, too many to share, one would not have me here. looking at a half full glass that is now in the past. the emptiness has now subside lonliness going out with the tide. not before it washed ashore a tiny bundle to adore. Blaise. (sorry can't help my inspiration at the moment. no matter how i start italways comes back to this.) ------------------------------------------------------------ E D I T O R: geekgrl@attrition.org ------------------------------------------------------------ to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to fuckpoem-request@attrition.org with "subscribe" in the subject. --------------------------------------------------------------- A V A I L A B I L I T Y: WWW: http://www.attrition.org/~poetry ---------------------------------------------------------------- S U B M I S S I O N S: e-mail geekgrl@attrition.org with the subject: Poetry submission all e-mails that are not in a ascii text format will be rejected. ----------------------------------------------------------------- (c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author. -----------------------------------------------------------------