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 - ------------------------------------------------------- Thursday December 5th Little Rock Poetry slam http://www.vinosbrewpub.com/listen/index.html -MoMan ------------------------------------------------------- Brother, Can You Spare a Dime? When I was in elementary school, we were all taught that from hard work comes happiness. "Just keep at it" and "don't be a quitter", they'd say. As I sit here watching my friends smoke up, it would seem that they've found a shortcut. Apparently they were all tired of keeping at it and decided to quit. When I was in elementary school, we were all taught that drugs were evil. They never told us about the good things it did, only the bad. I've been working hard my entire life, yet I'm not happy. Why isn't this working out the way they said it would? What I wouldn't do for just a taste of happiness. When I was in elemetary school, we were all taught that marijuana would make us lose everything. We'd end up on the street, begging for change in order to fund this artificial happiness. It couldn't be all that bad, could it? Just one try. Just one night. Just to experience for a little while what has been promised to me for so long. I turn to my friend and I ask him. "Brother, can you spare a dime?" -VxD "Dea Lacunosa" (Hollow Goddess) Some angels speak in forked tongues and taste of tainted flesh Some angels wearing golden crowns bear marks upon their chest Some angels walk on cloven hooves and trod upon the rest Some angels hold you close that you might feed from poisoned breast Some angels sing you lullabies with mind to lull you in Some angels mask, with beauty eyes, a soul replete with sin Some sweet angels sing you songs they know you can't resist and make you wonder just where was this demon that you missed. ---- Mors Question Me for Things You Don't Do I cry, I show emotion, I write poetry, yet you question me. I caress, spend time with my girlfriend, i open doors, yet you question me. I rise when a lady enters the room, or when she joins or leaves the table, that's the way I was raised, yet you question me. I love all of my friends, and care for many people around me. I will help another individual in need, and talk with others for hours on end about nothing. I'm beginning to value life, and live it how I feel, however long it may be, so is that a reason to question me? Now I question you for questioning me for doing the things you don't do, or don't see. Am I really that different, because you and me don't act the same way? -damasa I don't know why I miss you you're just a foot away I don't know why I need you or why I want you to stay.. I don't understand what's going on or why this peace is so loud I don't want to know what you think of me or why my heart's so proud I really wish I could hate you and just turn around and walk away I managed it quite nicely, just the other day.. Your love is a sort of poison A cloud hanging over my head A slow demolition of everything left unsaid I can see my last chances slipping away to make myself known and speak what I need to say I can't force myself to reach out to tell you what I'm thinking Pride in hand, slowly walking away... Kel Story Weaver - Part II ---------------------- Watching from a distance, keeping track from the first glance. Longing and planning, plotting ... until you got your chance. Deciding things to be the way they were, for you to stay. You weaved a story, that would get you laid. Telling others to keep their distance, trusting that I would be led to you. Never doubting, one step of the way -- except all you had were doubts. Weaving a story, within your mind, where you were the hero and I was vine. You were the grapes feeding a princess. Being blunt beyond comparison, some would even say crass. Not even trying to say you had class. An offer was made, to make this babe. Planting seedlings into my mind, you waited until they flowered. Watching from a distance, keeping track along the path. Longing and planning, until they grew. Growing into a bud, you decided to pluck. Taking the chance that it would die, with being gone from thy. Weaving a story, telling of your glory. Admitting nothing and everything. All in a glance, taken upon a chance. Discussing what would be, would be, still not getting what you mean to me. Not believing that it would be anything less, even though I stood there in a dress. I told you straight out, the end of the story but you were too busy weaving your version. You speak of what will be, is what you want, yet, how can it be when I do not? Planting along an edge, seeping into the depths, waiting until nurished from others, to sweep in and catch me for eterenity. Yet, you had to plunge ... and that is the end. You weaved a story, containing what you desire, as the object of the center of the plot. Never minding the fact, that you knew, and now I am less of what I should be. Story weaver, you are, and remain to be. For you, sit there, not realizing this is me. - Kamira (c) Copyright November 9th, 2000 - Thursday Sorrow seeps into my heart at night I lay motionless, no will to fight and as the sun comes up at dawn I open my eyes, stretch and yawn Prepairing myself for another day my heart not in it all the way Blaise ------------------------------------------------------------ E D I T O R S: jericho@attrition.org, geekgrl@attrition.org --------------------------------------------------------------- to receive new issues via e-mail, send mail to majordomo@attrition.org 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: WWW: http://www.attrition.org/~poetry ---------------------------------------------------------------- S U B M I S S I O N S: e-mail geekgrl@attrition.org with the subject: Poetry submission all e-mails that are not in a ascii text format will be rejected. ----------------------------------------------------------------- (c) Copyright. 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