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Fucked Up College Kids Poetry 003
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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"I am not in this world to live up to your expectations,
and you are not in this world to live up to mine.
You are you, and I am I..." - Frederick Perfs
I was so young when I first read that. Always kept it in
the back of my mind. Don't know what made me remember
it this time, just that in editing a zine of any nature,
it is a wise lesson to be remembered. Poetry is a subjective
medium, one that has no real basis for determining value
or talent. Always keep this in mind when reviewing
works of poetry, for it helps keep perspective on the
overall experience.
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Fluttering Ideas
Ideas flutter through my mind,
as the conversation goes on around me.
I wonder many things, and wish nothing.
Noticing none of them, wonder,
why it is, that I am so quiet, today.
Probably better that way.
Pictures of the way things use to be,
find their way to my line of vision,
I look through them,
trying to get to the end.
Not wanting to remember most of them,
and wishing the others did not happen.
Then I find one, that I wish I could live again.
Flipping from the pictures,
are memories that are found,
deep inside my mind.
I wonder why, things happened the way they did,
and ask myself "Who was it that I used to be?".
Shaking my head,
I do not want all that pressure, again...
but, here I find myself,
so close to where I dropped the quarter.
Wanting nothing else,
but a simple happiness,
knowing nothing else,
except hardship.
Wishing nothing, wanting things,
needing only a few ...
I cannot help but wonder,
where I am now,
and where I will be tomorrow.
Ideas flutter through my mind ...
Kamira
magnetic poetry ii.
a woman is a gorgeous monster
of sweetest beauty
a pink picture -- a delicious rose
her language is black poetry
demonika
Family Values
Brian can't come out to play,
he got a nasty bruise today.
"Don't run in the house," I always say.
Ask again another day.
Brian can't come out to play,
He really burned his hand today.
"Don't play with matches," I always say.
Ask again another day.
Brian can't come out to play,
Because he broke his arm today.
"Don't horse around," I always say.
Ask again some other day. . . .
Brian can't come out to play.
Because Brian . . .
Brian died today.
legion
cursory
her eyes reached out to me
picked me up and spun me about
a cursory examination to size me up
something's wrong, the eyes glaze over
her demeanor changes once again
the firm grasp over me tightens
drains my will before my strength
dis 1996
confusion on the wings of despair
Ride comfortable into the night
like an old enchanting melody
Cradling the words against my ear
The wind on the lips like a touch
or perhaps a breath reminders that
i'm still alive.
I dive mercilessly into the air,
finding comfort in the dark,
shading my eyes from the light
Veins throbbing with fright
Aching to explore uncharted
arrays of the sky but the
grasp still holds tight.
A bird trapped by five fingers
and two feet.
Struggling to to be free....
and yet submissive to the familiar
clutch. Fighting fruitlessly ,
squirming , yearning...but alas no avail
For night is my master, and i forever
its slave....
bluerose 11-03-97
do you remember the way the sun set upon your face like a pale rose.
or the song the angels sung as they kissed your cheek and made the
apparitions vanish into night.
the things that made you well, the things that cured your pain.
and the only thing that scares me is the truth.
and the only thing i've found is the truth.
what irrational thoughts have become my salvation.
and what irrational deeds have become my salvation.
the next time you hear a scream upon my watch,
shout to the gods "this thing you have made was not fit for life."
rage
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E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com
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A V A I L A B I L I T Y:
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WWW: http://www.dimensional.com/~jericho
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(c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author.
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F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997
