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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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        let me tell you a quick story. last week, burned out and
        overworked, i collapsed in my bathroom. the doctor said
        it was exhaustion. so i called in sick, turned off all of
        my monitors, and spent 3 days reading. literally. i never
        left except to eat and drink. words can save your soul. so
        turn off your computer and read something that is printed
        on dead trees. your mind and body will thank you for it.

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        To come back to the one,
        What a loving thought.
        To erase human error,
        In which we have fought.
        To reach enlightenment,
        While on this earthly plane.
        To find peace in a world,
        That seems so insane.
        To walk by an ocean, 
        And feel my soul take flight.
        To look into your eyes,
        And see tha shining light.
        This is my prayer;
        That all hearts would feel...
        The love of the divine,
        That is so real.
        
        sadia



        ORGANIC EMOTION
        
        moods sift through a sieve
        to extract the seedy pulp
        allowing naked feelings
        to explain their genitalia
        
        Indiana Poet    Dec. 27, 1997



        Someone's Watching Over Me
        
        Someone's watching over me,
        for it was said, if I would take a step,
        in this colony, I never would breathe again.
        
        Looking out over the cars,
        that line the streets like ants,
        I know someone must be,
        watching over me.
        
        Walking along, a pebble rolls ahead,
        just as I was told my head would,
        if I were to ever attempt
        to walk this line.
        
        Breathing in and breathing out,
        I wonder if someone is copying my every move,
        or is it I am just lucky enough,
        to have someone watching over me?
        
        Kamira



        Hypocrite!
        
        All poetry sucks. No talent, eccentric
                                       fucks.
        subjective creativity is not art
        and does not hold meaning.
        
        Anyone can scribble, we can all force
                                      rhymes.
        
        So what makes 'good' poetry. If
        YOU like it. Nothing else. Like
        beauty
                        it is in the eye
                        of the beholder. Simple
                        as that as my
                        pen runs dry.
        
                                Damn.



        i've been lashing in the dark
        just to feel your broken heart
        and my mind goes racing down
        and the tears touch to my frown
        i have not heard you say my name
        for life is all a game

        won't you come out side with me
        we will find the abandoned tree
        here we sit inside the day
        just waiting for the rain
        then the night comes out again
        for this is now our end

        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         
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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