[fuckpoem] PV #59

[security curmudgeon]

	       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 -
        -------------------------------------------------------

	I have had a bit of a break, and now returning, not
	quite with a vengence, but at a snails pace, until
	my life finds some normality again.

	Anothers words, where we find strength, courage, sorrow
	and determination. poetry is all around us.
	how it affects us is up to you.

        -------------------------------------------------------

	Cyberwar

	Your whole career anti .mil
	But realize armies kill.
	Leaders use you as they will.
	Now we hack China for thrills?

	Learn then fear escalation
	Why front for either nations
	The truth is there so face it,
	Defacing fixes not shit.

	Those Cyber Elite Cattle
	New age of Saber Rattles
	The Politics of battle?
	The rhetoric and prattle!!

	Hacking but saving backup's,
	One reboot and their back up,
	Meanwhile the tension adds up,
	whole situations fucked up.

	ONE SPECIES ONLY ONE RACE
	Talking feces shows distaste.
	Angry atoms kill this place.
	Just so you could save some face.

	Us and Them hackers unite!
	Take their lies and make them right,
	Conceptualize our plight,
	We all lose if we must fight.

	TheMo-Man


	Tears Cried For Another Has Died

	A single, red, rose petal falls effortlessly to the earth,
	searching for a place to lay.

	As soon as it hits the ground, the wind violently blows it away.
	Now with the petal gone, the surroundings begin to set in.

	With a dark and grave atmosphere, the funeral will now begin.
	Now the rose petal is gone, but a tear will take its place, as it slowly
	beings to settle in my eye, soon after, streaming down my face.

	One turns into two, two into four, four into eight, too many to count
	anymore.

	These tears will take the petal's place, because they can't be blown away.
	They hit the earth and sink into the body, deep inside.

	As I shed these tears in misery and pain, for another one has died.

	-It makes no difference if this reaches publication, just the intensity of
	writing my feelings of a dead friend on paper ill do justice itself...
	...or so I hope.

	-damasa



	I never knew
	how someone could feel alone
	lying right beside you
	Thank you for teaching me that.
	I never knew what is was to be miserable
	every day of every week of every month
	Thank you for teaching me that.
	I never knew what it was to feel so suffocated
	that it was almost painful to take a breath
	Thank you for teaching me that.
	I never knew what it was to love someone
	while realizing the best thing to do was leave
	Thank you for teaching me that.
	I never hurt someone so badly
	that they couldn’t utter a civil word
	Thank you for teaching me that.
	I never learned to lash out in total anger
	wanting only to hurt and not to heal
	Thank you for teaching me that.
	I never learned what it was to want to hate
	in order to want to heal
	Thank you for teaching me that.
	I never knew what it was for someone to be so selfish,
	so consumed in their hatred that they couldn’t lend a hand
	Thank you for showing me that.
	I never thought I’d ever want to not speak to you again
	Thank you for showing me I was wrong.

	-kbh



	Concieve the Rational.

	We have our ideas
	concieved from the air
	we have our ideals
	carved from whats fair
	we see out life falling away
	and somehow it doesnt matter.
	Not anymore.
	Not when we have something else
	something to hold onto
	a truth
	a thought
	a belief in what we are
	a knowledge of what we've got
	all we've built and learnt
	passes before us.
	But what does it mean
	will you ever find it?
	Or guess the answer
	who will tell you it's truth
	you seek it but will you
	can you find it
	find it from inside
	or perhaps in the word
	the word they all have
	but refuse to see, hear believe.
	It's brought to you at birth
	your own conception
	a rationality of Gods will
	a fable or a dream?
	a testement to it all
	a silent inner scream.
	You'll run your youth
	curse your adolesence
	mourn your adulthood
	and die in reflection.
	What does it mean?
	You all have the answer
	but when the truth comes
	will you really want to know?

	Mizt.



	Story Weaver - Part III

	Just the other day,
	I realized the play.
	You saw me and cast me,
	into a part that you craved.

	Little did I realize,
	that you only spoke lies.
	Lining your story with fear,
	lacing it with uncertainity.

	You made one thing clear,
	that you were the hero.
	I was the one in the mess,
	and you were going to buy me a dress.

	Take you at your word,
	when you hadn't even spoken
	with the one that had the right,
	to make that deicision.

	Little did I know,
	that I was just a part.
	A mere actor in your heart.
	Something to capture.

	Take me and work me,
	into a plot that's twisted,
	only to end up at your side.
	There was only one goal -to end.

	The story you told,
	rhymed with the old.
	How was I to know?
	That you were so cold.

	I was told, and I warned,
	yet there was something ...
	that was a base of trusting.
	Call it fear ... disgust.

	All leading to this disguise,
	that you promised that I would rise.
	Not letting them harm me,
	nor distract me.

	Tossing a net over me,
	you thought you had won.
	For you even got to feel me.
	Yet, time has passed.

	All stories eventually end.
	Didn't you know that?
	Characters are controlled,
	but my part was not.

	For if it were,
	I would not be here.
	You would not be there.
	We would be wherever.

	Story weaver,
	you took a chance,
	pulled a string,
	and with a glance ...

	You let the seedlings
	of the story fall.
	Landing in my mind.
	Playing upon my lack.

	Here we all are,
	scattered about,
	and now to always doubt,
	except that you will never have me.

	Maybe you reached the climax,
	the chances you wanted,
	you took.  Now there's only
	reaction.

	Perhaps it turned,
	the way you wanted it.
	Yet, somehow, I doubt --
	I know you still want.

	A cry in the night,
	a whimper, a cringe.
	You still long ...
	for me to be at your side.

	Yet, you played me,
	body and mind...
	guarded heart -
	thank God divine.

	Haunting me, as I go to sleep,
	each and every night,
	I will release you soon.
	With no creature of the dark.

	You weaved a story,
	that could only end,
	with us on oppisite sides.
	Because, you see --
	    you didn't have my heart.

	Now that I have my body,
	slowly gaining where it should be.
	Now that my mind is clear,
	and I see the things where they are...

	I realize the story only continues,
	as long as I still play hopeful,
	to this wish that you cast that night.
	So I close the book.

	Shutting the lights off,
	writing a final line,
	I will no longer play,
	a part in the story you weaved.

	Past is past,
	light is dark,
	dark is light.
	Blessed be and merry meet.

	Until the weaver of the ultimate
	story, shall I greet.
	Close your eyes, and let me go,
	as I will never return.

	Story weaver,
	lying there in disheveal,
	work your lines and plots,
	to some other.

	- Kamira
	(c) Copyright February 26, 2001 - Monday



	The Gift

	oh you lied to me yet again
	you stand here and assure me its not the same
	i must laugh as i agree
	you look confused, you have yet to see
	as time goes on you will understand
	you delt your cards and lost the hand
	you think i want you back with me?
	forget it mate, you set me free
	you gave me something i most desire
	through your deceipt and burning fire
	a seed you planted deep inside
	bringing forth a beautiful child.

	Blaise

	------------------------------------------------------------
        E D I T O R:  geekgrl at attrition.org
        ------------------------------------------------------------
        to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to
        fuckpoem-request at 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 at 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.
        -----------------------------------------------------------------