💾 Archived View for gemini.spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › magazines › FUCK › fuckp009.txt captured on 2022-06-12 at 12:01:42.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
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 -
-------------------------------------------------------
There are so many forms of expression, and this is Poetry's
Venture. Venturing through the glimpses of the mind, heart,
or spirit of the one that is writing, only to show a glimmer
of something, or someone. Ways to express the things that
may be oridinary that they see through an unordinary prespective,
or maybe it's just the reality? A venture through a glimpse that
is a glimmer of something, or someone ... to expand the vast
plain that we find a place to call our own - the Venture
of Poetry.
-------------------------------------------------------
Linda...
Linda, lovely lady
with long dark braids
and flashing eyes.
Working for a question mark
in a grimy little dive,
pushing beer and hugging
drunks and wondering...
Wondering why the one she
loves doesn't and what happened
in the years just past to change
the place she thought
she knew.
And other thoughts exist there too..
Lovely Linda, old at 30 and
getting older. Feeling
helpless in a life
of lifelessness
and seeking death
to find her life.
Nights upon the bar room
floor when the moon is
dark and the beer moves
quickly.
And Linda thinks back
to last week or sometimes
when its really bad to late
last year when life was calm
and pouring beer was just a way
to make a buck.
But now the drunks have said
too much and stayed too long
and anyway, there ain't nothing
much worth going home for anyway
so why not stay open just a bit longer
and listen just a while more.
And who knows, one night it might
come true and a prince will
claim her for his own.
But the evening passes and
the beer stops flowing and
soon its time to call last call
and see just who has stayed.
Lovely Linda, seeking life
and love and finding pain.
She of the multitude and
yet alone.
FTF
Untitled and Unfinished
The echo of a thousand voices
Thunders in our heads
As the melodies there engendered
Whispers of the fathomless mystery of the soul,
Piercing us with these same passions
That characterize our essence.
We are the instruments. Our souls,
The symphony of our desire.
Like petals on the summer breeze,
By this desperate cry we are animated,
A marionette on astral strings
As the bright moon wanes.
Slipping into the darkling distance,
It crystallizes into a single plaintive song
Dimly wailing its message:
We will die soon, you and I,
And join the voices on the other side.
Screamin' Lord Byron
the silk black finger caressed the mesh of gold.
the silver lining seemed far too green too far away.
this blue night casts a red shadow on your brown door frame.
and the woodwork finished with a tin of lead came from the yellow man
sitting on top of the purple haze.
never again will i buy such orange flavors from a man with only one
tan hand.
never again will the white streaming milk flow around his pink
insides.
rage
an example of a bad poem
would be that one by robert frost
about the boys swinging
on birch trees the one
that is so long
i know that it is supposed to evoke
EMOTION and that i am supposed to
LEARN something from it but instead i am
sitting here with a mug of
luke-warm chocolate
writing this
anticipating the new wrestling show tonight
picking my nose
hoping my package from that gaming store
arrives in the mail today
and not thinking much of anything else
except that robert frost
sucks the methane clear out of my
fucking rectum
which is maybe enough emotion
and learning from one poem that
i can take
mr. frost has finally done
something right for a change
and he didn't
even
mean it
styx thefedz@rad.edu
No Particular Order
unknown likeness in the distance
mutual spirit close to heart
never ending friendly surprise
daily routine repressed the spark
curiosity, maybe even destiny?
always meant to be, in one form or another
one with true concern
silently provoking, such a tease
never met, already known
content with eternal comfort
to find the solace of you
kindred hate if nothing else
four. that mean something to me.
dis
-------------------------------------------------------
E D I T O R S: jericho@dim.com & demonika@dim.com
-------------------------------------------------------
to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to
jericho@dimensional.com 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.dimensional.com/~jericho
-------------------------------------------------------
(c) Copyright. All poems copyright by original author.
-------------------------------------------------------
F O U N D E D: October 30, 1997