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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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poetry is a means of looking into the soul. without the
confines of grammar and paragraphs, rigid form, or even
spelling (witness e.e. cummings), the poet can merely lay
out the words that describe his purest intention, using
pattern, rhyme, and structure to outline the intended
effect. a poem can say in four lines what an essay cannot
say in four hundred. therein lies the magic of poetry - written
well it can be a timeless expression of the human condition,
without the trappings of an over abundance of words.
demonika
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Interlude
Lightning opened the room
And cast shadows on the bodies
Twisted in a naked embrace
Tossing in the blue-black light
Teeth gnashing tongue flicking
White flesh colliding with sin
Frenzied motion and gritty words
Thunder closed the room
demonika
regarding music
cool trance of unethical meditation
sounds of silence and noise of art
little box on the floor with reverb
quiet me, soothe me, relax me, rape me
dis
right now
Daggers hidden deep within her eyes,
dodging direct contact,
and avoiding the obvious.
Loud music, rhythms blasting.
Bass pounding, as a heart beat,
a soul so shattered.
Green pools with brownish gold swirls flowing down, around them.
Fair skin, the softest at touch,
and a look in her eyes that could kill, if she wanted.
Running her tongue over her lips,
a bright colour, full of life,
a fever runs through her,
that no one would ever know.
Daggers hidden deep within her eyes,
dodging direct contact,
and avoiding the obvious.
Jaded heart,
shattered soul,
murderous look,
a spirit trapped,
now gone from hatred ...
And, left as dust.
Me, Myself, and I.
Amnesia
Once filled with images,
Words, colors.
Now grey, desolate;
Lingering scent --
Dust?
Fragments smeared,
Blurred,
Shattered.
Wiped.
Erased.
Legion
Can we say, non-sequitur?
Next time you see the pander kissing find a strong bow to
pluck their feather dust. Make the caravan an open house
to fold the witty unknown. To love we give our devotion
and passion. To lust we throw caution through the pole and
make fidelity mark the raven's tongue. Oh you passionate fool
we know the broken mirror. Oh you rapturous being who makes
the fleet of evil dance around in decay. For tonight is the
time of carrion men. The lips of death claps but once upon
the mortal man so in love lies eternity. Come to gather straw
for the gods. This mental block shall show no road block. For
the time of love has become the moment of now. We can hold
bells and whistles and know truth but love is forsaken by the
immaculate and the witty. All round the angel's head with
common ground.
rage
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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 (soon)
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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