[fuckpoem] PV #60
security curmudgeon
jericho at attrition.org
Wed Oct 20 03:20:30 EDT 2004
F U C K E D U P C O L L E G E K I D S
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- t h e p o e t r y v e n t u r e -
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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.
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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
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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 it always comes back to this.)
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E D I T O R: geekgrl at attrition.org
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