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               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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        simple diversity will do amazing things.  reading five
        different poems, in five styles, by five different
        people will make you challenge what defines poetry.
        does it have any bounds?  Or maybe we should ask, do
        we want it to have any bounds?

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                             VENOM

                   Empty like a cloudless sky
                  Darker then a starless night
                  Forgotten like old memories
                Yet still glittering, slithering
                       a diamond serpent
                   Enchanting with her beauty
                              look
                        but do not dare
                            to touch
                      the coldness in her
                         emerald stare
                She slides in delivering a kiss
          her taste more potent then the sweetest sin
                   wrapped up in her essence
                  overpowered by her presence
                     She lets lose her bite
                     releasing your desire
                       igniting your fire
                      she remains unmoved
                     a mass of burning ice
                         stinging cold
                       against your skin
                      feeling the droplets
                         roll right in
                    grasping in the darkness
                  searching for an empty place
             you hear her voice ringing in your ear
             Venom she whispered as she wiped away
                            a tear.

                           Bluerose



        RESOLVE: HOW TO ACCENTUATE TRUTH

        fleshing and exposed, i am not a television advertisement;
        another commodity to have people believe in -
        selling me for half of what I could probably be worth.
        
        inner groove and mixed, I am not a stereo-enhanced radio song;
        (please, no videos or extravagant media ploys for me)
        another record producer to promote my image -
        whatever the latest craze dictates.
        
        reissued, reboxed, revised, remixed and rerun -
        I am not a re-occurring fad for some fashion trend;
        style has gone out-of-style for my dollar's worth.
        
        preaching and divine, I am not a religious conscious;
        always confusing proverbs with adverbs and adjectives -
        hoping one day people will not need God to save them.
        
        designed and delivered, I am not your morning newspaper;
        but when you dissect this commonwealth, words tends to digest -
        sad to think that common sense is running a fever
        and wants to allow stupidity to decide my standard of freedom.
        
        Indiana Poet                    Jan. 1, 1998



        Fire Within

        - to the trees

        Looking up, and seeing your beauty,
        I wish to embrace you,
        though know I shall not.
        
        Disturbing your last days of peace,
        is not what I wish to do,
        though how I wish things would be different.
        
        - realization

        Watching, what I see in the future,
        ignites a fire deep within me,
        of hatred, and understanding
         of a new kind of life.
        
        Now fully realizing what it once was,
        that I had turned on,
        I really wonder if I would be better off...
        
        - to grandpa

        Grandpa, why can they not, just go some other way?
        Why must people insist on the easiest method?
        Don't they see the beauty you showed me?
        
        A Fire Within me burns,
        of the ones that had been taken before,
        the ones that will be taken today,
        and the ones that will go tomorrow.
        
        - my feeling

        Wishing a Fireball, to attack and change,
        can you honestly not retreat and think?
        
        A fire within me,
        I do not wish to see thee die.
        Please help them and I,
        to see eye to eye.
        
        - Kamira



        when i'm god

        i went to god... just to see.
        i found out it was always me.
        found out heaven and hell were lies.

        when i'm god... tha mystery dies.
           to many times they tried to blind my sightful eyes.
        its no surprise... seeing how the enterprise...
           lies... in my...eyes.
        hows and whys?
           falls and flies... down and rise.
           check tha time... its a quarter past nine...
           i've got five...until i die.

        i shut my eyez tight... fall asleep and awake a new life.
        they force fed me... hard they tried...
        but i found no truth in those lies... i'm too wise.

        u cant serve a dream... a dream serves u...
        unless u'r dream is true... and here are a couple clues....

        if u cant see it
         - u cant touch it
          - if u cant touch it
           - dont trust it
            - if u dont trust it
             - get disgusted and say F.U.C.K. it!!

        sadia



        The Side Show Freak
        
        I.   A prodigious wonder, sir!
             A marvelous contrivance, madam!
             Born of pumice and slate,
             Transformed by Ovid
             And foretold by Cassandra,
             See me and tremble!
        
        II.  A bittersweet melody,
             But - who knew!?!
             Mozart knew. . .
             And died. . .
             The peaks and depths
             And quite plains,
             Unmolested and untold;
             Counterpoint and divinity;
             Swell and sink and a hint
             Of knowledge unforeseen,
             Yet fiercely guarded!
             See me and quake!
        
        III. One in a millennium,
             But one of a millennium.
             To be envied?
             To be emulated?
             See me and shake!
        
        IV.  The end of this tunnel
             Lies in dust
             Where for a thousand years. . .
             An alabaster face stalks
             The sepulcher of life.
             And brute Achilles, traitor!
             Accident of bee's diligence,
             And farther from life
             Than even death. . .
             But the dust. . .  The dust,
             Akin to none, knows.
             Kalypso still weeps,
             But none hear.
             Not even me.
             For I, encased in stone,
             Hear only my own screams.
             See me and shake your head.
        
        Screamin'Lord Byron
        


        White Anger
        
        You are the winter of my life.
        Cold and grey you make me seek warmth.
        No hope of compassion or caring.
        Silently you tear my hear out.
        The hope of spring rain gone.
        Summer heat a long lost fantasy...
        Fall, a teaser to the pain you sing.
        My physical reaction to your material being
        it's a parallel to the hell you bring.
        Please.. let me flee...


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        E D I T O R S:   jericho@dim.com   &   demonika@dim.com
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        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. 
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	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         
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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