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ÚÄ Ü Ü Ü Ü Ä¿
Ûßß ÛßÛ ß Û Û Ûßß ÜÜÛ ß ÛÛÜ Û Ü
ßßÛ ÛÜÛ Û Û Û Ûß Û Û Û Û Þ ÛÜß
ÛÛÛ Û ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ Û Þ ÛßÛ
ÀÄ ÄÙ
Ä electronic literary 'zine Ä
*ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ*
ù ÄÄ´ volume six ÃÄÄ ù
*ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ*
stop plagiarism - let out your soul
Copyright 10/95
ú úùcompiled & edited by Twilightùú ú
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
In memory of Gordon Lepley IV (1972-1995)
...the creative soul...may it ever fly free...
þ Table of Contents þ
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
1. Antiphon - Steve Regis
2. Before You Were Born - Toad the Wet Sprocket
3. Bitter And Shaken - Julie Marquardt
4. Bleed On Me - Mike Dayoub
5. Dying In Your Absence - Twilight
6. First Time - Calvin Sayles
7. Fistfuls - Gena Schwam
8. Frantic Zone - Nicole Couch
9. Hiding Out On Halloween: Videos To Ease The Guilt - Drew Feinberg
10. I Am Trash Too - Carolyn Hitt
11. I'd Watch You Above In Crinoline - Scott Cudmore
12. In The Blue Light - Jane Siberry
13. Inside - Twilight
14. Inspiration - Mark Hallman
15. Last Waves - Gena Schwam
16. Loved Ya To Pieces - Michelle Meldrum and Nicole Couch
17. Lovegone - Marco Morales
18. Motherlove - Marco Morales
19. My Maple Tree Holds Green... - Therese Leigh Stamm
20. My Misery - Phantom Blue
21. Naked My Maple No Longer Shelters Me... - Therese Leigh Stamm
22. Pale Blue Eyes - Velvet Underground, modified by Courtney Love
23. Scream - Gena Schwam
24. Shivers - Dana Hurd
25. Summoning - Twilight
26. Temptress - April M. Ardito
27. The Betrayal - Marco Morales
28. The Bird - Zowie Mills
29. The Burning - Janet Kuypers
30. The Cheval Glass And The Fountain - Jenniffer L. Lesh
31. The Insane People That Are Notably Sane - Kylie Johnson
32. Thinking Of The Dead Child - Maree Jaeger
33. Through The Faces - Marisa VanDyke
34. Untitled - Angie Cooper
35. Untitled - Leanne Kruse
36. Untitled - Libby McGroom
37. Vows - Mike Randall
38. Wasted Moments - Angela Dawn Soutar
39. You're Free - Michelle Meldrum and Nicole Couch
þ Including Quotes From:
Robb Buchanan, Linda Carroll, Rosemary Carroll, Kurt Cobain, Amanda de
Cadenet, Dinosaur Jr., Courtney Love, Thurston Moore, Friedric Nietzsche,
Phantom Blue, Lisa Robinson, Kevin Sessums, and Twilight
ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ
Antiphon
þ Steve Regis
ùúùúùúùúùúùúù
In such a night as this
/bred from the wrong genes
in such a night
/seeded within the wrong delta
/breeched via the wrong birth
will countless letters be inscribed
to those
/born into the wrong family
who
/walked down the street the wrong time
/stopped at the wrong moment
by some outrageous fortune
/boarded on the wrong plane
/swirled through the wrong fog
will have found their lives
/caught upon the wrong war
/joined to the wrong race
their only lives
/furrowed in the wrong colour
to have been
/touched by the wrong gods
terminated.
Before You Were Born
þ Toad the Wet Sprocket
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
How can it happen that every time
You ask us this question the answer seems like a lie
You know what we're saying and you know what it means
But it never gets through to where you need
Before you were born someone kicked in the door
There's no place for you here, stay back where you belong
Before you were born someone kicked in the door
You are not wanted here, stay back where you belong
God damn the people who left you in pain
God damn the father without face, without name
God damn the lovers who never showed up
And God damn the wounds that show how deep a word can cut
Before you were born someone kicked in the door
There's no place for you here, stay back where you belong
Before you were born someone kicked in the door
You are not wanted here, stay back where you belong
And how can it happen now that you know the cause
That nothing is changing and everything's wrong
But pain is the healing and the tears sting like alcohol
Just keep on there breathing
We'll help you down the long, long road back home
"Once upon a time, you were the first of your generation. Ignore everything
else that went on before you." Ä Courtney Love
Bitter And Shaken
þ Julie Marquardt
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
Remember -
the instant you swore you'd never forget...
the moment when you first met.
when in his eyes -
you saw no lies -
(only ties)
little did you realize...
you had been taken.
sadly mistaken.
and when you discovered
that second lover -
you parted ways.
lonely strays.
forever.
and now it seems -
he is in your dreams...
always.
when you're awaken
bitter - and - shaken
the sheets twisted beneath you
HE IS THERE -
HE IS THERE...
inside you.
beside you.
like glue.
with each night that passes
ever so slow,
you grow to know -
you WILL never forget -
the instant you REGRET...
the moment
when you first met.
"Convictions are more dangerous enemies of truth than lies."
Ä Friedrich Nietzsche
Bleed On Me
þ Mike Dayoub
ùúùúùúùúùúùúù
paint my thighs, stripe my ribs
coat us brown with sticky flies
surge this moon river, urgent child of tides
this scarlet need
to bleed
"Hole. The name connotes a hunger - for sickness, for oblivion, for indecent
fantasies, for the sheer catharsis of it all. At its very core is where
language and logic break down. Where anger floods in and harmony dies.
Hole is where the extremes of abjection, obsession, trauma, atrocity - and,
most importantly, humanity - collide." Ä Hole's 1991 biography
Dying In Your Absence
þ Twilight
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
the rigid cold of the metal chair
shoots up my spine
the cloud of grey loneliness
suffocates, blankets, chokes me
a hole pierces right through
my now empty heart
for inside, you have died
you have left me.
i mourn you, i mourn my loss
but yet, you breathe still
you just have forgotten me.
too busy, wrapped up in your own life
while i, constricted by mine
still made the time for you,
my love, my one source
of pure happiness and consolation.
who would have ever thought
that my comfort
would become my despair...
i fear that you will lose me,
i do not trust my aching heart
for as it found yours in its time of need
it may find another...
another in this pool of neglect
in this riptide of gripping sadness
that plagues me in your absence
that is so prolonged...
will you not come to me
will you not let me know how much
i am loved...
in not only meaningless words
that soothe only temporarily
as the real pain endures...inside.
if one cannot make time...
then what is the point
in loving at all?
come to me, live inside of me
show me that you care
for i surely will die as well
enduring this death of you.
First Time
þ Calvin Sayles
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
gentle lights lift us
featherlight, aloft, we bathe.
smiling, spinning, circling,
humming, black-dizzy, anxious fainting
surrendering to the darkness.
crossing over
no touching, yet bonded...
a desperate and pleasing ache.
dance with me,
high in the cool night air
while points of light encircle us.
explosions, phosphorous green,
eruptions, burning cinders of red
ice blue flame, so pure, only the mind can see.
white shimmering radiance.
engulf me now...and I will engulf you
swallow me, and I will you
drown in me...drown me
whispering, whispering
drown in me
"Simone de Baauvoir in _The Second Sex_ wrote about this thing called sexual
valuation, meaning you are who you fuck. You cannot get back a man that
way, but a man can get back at a woman by sexually devaluating her."
Ä Courtney Love
Fistfuls
þ Gena Schwam
ùúùúùúùúùúùúù
Throwing fistfuls of dried leaves
at your window
they can't break the glass
but i like to watch the
orange reds and yellow greens
dance around in the air
a party outside your window
the glass makes a whistling sound
i'm clenching fistfuls of chestnuts
just found 'em today
on the sidewalk
irregular brown blotches
so similar to your eyes
hard and cold
pinching my skin
i throw them at your glass
breaking
shattering the window
how brittle for
the musky air of October
now i've got fistfuls of blood
from where my nails
pressed too hard into the
soft flesh of my palms
i can't throw it at you
like the leaves and the nuts
but i can smear my red heat
on your shattered window pain
a signature
a last reminder
tiny red half-moon shapes
but you're not home again
" 'Meow', she moans, mimicking a cat. 'Meow'.
'That's what the kitty says. And what does a doggy say?' Love asks.
'Woof, woof, woof!' Frances Bean barks.
'And what does a ducky say?'
'Quack, quack, quack!'
'And what does Frances Bean say?' I ask.
The child lifts her head from her mother's pillowed chest, then raises her
hands in the air like claws. Suddenly she begins to growl in a voice as
terrifyingly grizzled as any angry, grunge-encrusted rocker's. 'Arrrgggrr!'
she lets loose.
Love pretends to be scared and hides her face in her hands.
Frances Bean laughs at her mother's fright and growls again.
'Arrrgggrrr!'
Love hides her face.
'Arrrgggrrr!'
Surprising Frances Bean, Love ferociously begins to growl right back.
'Arrrgggrrr!' she goes, mimicking her daughter's inherent Kurt-like cry.
'Arrrgggrrr!'
Frances Bean stops her laughter.
'Don't scream. Don't scream, Mommy.'
Love stops her cry.
The child places her tiny hands on her mother's cheeks. 'We be gentle.'"
Ä Kevin Sessums
Frantic Zone
þ Nicole Couch
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
Skylight's dim
Sonic's freight
Uncontrollable misfit
Contractable fate
The seduction began
Realized too late
Easy to see
There's no escape
A regression of time
An intrinsic state
Been sabotaged
With too many weights
A solid approach
To the tailored plans
To hold on to
The ultimate game
In the frantic zone
Taking hostage by insanity
In the frantic zone
Intangible security
Look around
It's not so hard to believe
Hear the sounds
The answer is so hard to see
The showage of
Starts with sanitude
The masterminds
All break rules
The seduction began
Realized too late
It's easy to see
There's no escape
In the frantic zone
Taking hostage by insanity
In the frantic zone
Intangible security
"My feeling is that, while we should have the deepest respect for reality,
we should not let it control our lives."
Hiding Out On Halloween: Videos To Ease The Guilt
þ Drew Feinberg
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
Halloween is almost upon us, coming quicker than Hugh Grant in a BMW. As
Meg Tilly so brilliantly asked in the cinematic disaster known as Body
Snatchers, "Where ya gonna go? Where ya gonna run? Where ya gonna hide?"
Eloquently, she voices the dilemma of millions of Americans every
October 31. I've done them all, with less than optimum results. Let's
run through the options, shall we?
Okay, first there's trick-or-treating. Being a greedy bastard and
visiting every house within a 20 mile radius, hitting them up for the
goods, is socially acceptable as child, but, three years ago, when I was
dressed as Zsa Zsa Gabor and asked all of my neighbors to "Give me some
candy, DAHLING, or I'll give you a slap," the results were less than
desirable. From what I can remember I got assorted candy bars, candy
corns, rocks, kitchenware, lollipops, and a jack o'lantern, still lit -
THROWN at me, with great velocity. I can't even spell the names people
called me, and I was told to do things to myself that aren't even
physically possible, lord knows I've tried. One grandmotherly looking
woman was actually kind to me, and gave me some popcorn. My faith in
mankind had been restored, that is, until I heard the muffled call to her
husband "Come see this poor slow boy. It's lovely to see the mentally
challenged out and about." At the tender age of 23, I retired from trick-
or-treating forever.
The next year I opted to stay home, watch some scary movies, and give
wondrous candy to the the legit trick-or-treaters. The candy aisle at the
supermarket was pure pandemonium. I might as well have been looking for
the last green Power Ranger on Christmas Eve. I didn't want to be one of
those houses that gave out nickels, fruit, hard bubble gum, cream soda
Dum-Dums that stuck to the paper, black licorice, those awful dark
chocolate Hershey's Miniatures, or Smarties. Honestly, do people ever BUY
Smarties for themselves? I made a quick scan of what was available, and
I saw some variety packs of assorted good chocolate stuff that the
others had apparently not seen. I made a mad dash to get two packs. I
popped 'em in my cart and very confidently strolled to the checkout
counter. The line was huge, and I noticed the elderly woman behind me had
nothing in her cart but a box of Metamucil, so I let her go in front of
me. I started to sing along with the muzak..."Precious and few are the
moment we two can shaaaaaaare..." CRASH! I looked to my side and saw
this huge pyramid of canned beets topple over. "Hope that wasn't my
singing," I thought to myself, then turned back. Quicker than I could say
"The cast of Wings should be sterilized," my treasures were GONE! I was
completely bewildered. I was shocked when I looked in the cart ahead of
me. The woman I had sacrificed selflessly for had two bags of assorted
chocolates along with her Metamucil. I tried to conceal my anger and
kindly said to the woman "Excuse me, I think those are my Halloween
candies there." I believe she mouthed the words "Bite me." I walked
right up to her cart and reached in and picked up what was rightfully
mine. That's when she started bawling hysterically, which caused the
entire supermarket to glare in my direction. I was frozen like Jennifer
Tilly would be if you aimed a flashlight at her eyes. I was never so
furious AND so humiliated; I just stood there with my hand in the
metaphorical cookie jar. I slowly backed out of the store, and still
candyless, I decided to go to a convenience store, where I bought 50
Chunky bars. A mixture of chocolate nuts and raisins makes my stomach
turn, but hey, I didn't have to eat 'em. I had enough Chunky bars to
feed a small South American country, or Marlon Brando. I sat down and
started to watch Halloween. Before the opening credits were
finished, the doorbell rang. "Trick Or Treat," I was greeted by a child
and his mother. "Here ya go, fella," I smiled as I handed him a Chunky.
The child glowed; the mother frowned. "Michael is ALLERGIC to nuts.
Don't you have anything else?" she inquired. "Umm...n-n-no..." I
stammered. The mother ripped the treat from her son's hand and handed it
back to me, setting Michael into a temper tantrum. "I'm really sorry," I
managed to say. "Thank you, thank you VERY much, it was his first
Halloween and you ruined it for him. Aren't you proud of yourself?" she
sneered as she stormed off. I sighed, shrugged, and went back to my
movie. Five minutes later, more doorbell. Two teenage girls dressed
up - looked like the girls from Clueless, gum chewing and all. "Like,
trick or treat." I handed them two Chunky bars, which appalled them.
Clueless #1: "Like HELLO, do you KNOW how many grams of fat are in a
Chunky? Only like a MILLION!" and handed it back to me. Clueless
#2: "Geez Louise, don't you have any like Snackwells or fat-free potato
chips?" and deposited El Chunky back in my hand. And so it went all
night. Kids whining about chocolate, kids complaining about raisins, kids
bitching about options; in 4 hours I got through about 15 minutes of my
movie. And got stuck with 45 Chunky bars. Hey, you want a Chunky?
Last year I tried another great Halloween option - the costume party. I
bopped on down to "Costumes R Us" to rent one, which was oh-so-wise to do
on Halloween day. Sparse selection? The place was emptier than Jenny
McCarthy's skull. Let me tell you, all eyes were focused when I stumbled
in the door as a huge orange box of Tide. I felt about as mobile as
Gilbert Grape's mother. I scanned the room and saw assorted Beavises,
Ticks, Shannon Dohertys, Newt Gingriches, and one big orange blob. I
went straight to the punch bowl and then mingled about. Everybody bored
me, and they all seemed to be staring at the monstrosity that was my
costume. Then I saw her, the woman I would spend forever with, the woman
who wouldn't bitch at me for drinking milk out of the carton. She was a
twin of Mia Wallace (a.k.a. Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction), and she looked
me straight in the eye, walked up to me, and what followed was a few hours
of engaging conversation; this and my never-empty punch cup kept me in
seventh heaven. In the middle of debating which was more torture,
watching the OJ trial or watching a Mickey Rourke movie, she blurted out
"Do you always talk so much before you a kiss a girl?" That was all the
invitation I needed. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed. It was just
like the movies...the world started to spin in a little circle, like in a
DePalma film, except it made me dizzy, and I suddenly realized it wasn't
the kiss, but the heavy imbibing at the punch bowl. I lost my balance,
which is not a smooth thing mid-kiss. The huge Tide box caused me to
stumble and I held my love tight, knowing she would be my rock and prevent
my imminent falling, but my feet became entwined with hers and I fell
forward, taking Mia Wallace with me. I could see her expression of horror;
the girl I so wanted to impress was being crushed by Mr. Tide himself. I
believe the words that she used were "Jesus, I can't feel my legs!" I
struggled and squirmed, as Batman and Thor managed to pull me off of her,
but by then it was too late. Physically, Mrs. Wallace was fine, but she
was none too pleased with my squashing her, inadvertent as it was. In
fact, everybody at the party just sort of glared and pointed at me until I
left in utter shame. No more Halloween parties for ME, thank you very
much.
Don't walk down the same unpaved road as I did. Learn from my mistakes,
my friend. This Halloween, hide out with some friends, turn off on the
lights and rent some movies. Try a couple of these; you'll thank me
later. Halloween, Nightmare On Elm Street, Frankenhooker, Carrie, The
Shining, Evil Dead 2, Dead Alive, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, The
Exorcist, and Re-Animator. When the doorbell rings, don't answer it.
There's no shame. In fact, I've found that detaching the doorbell all
together makes things much more pleasant. And if you turn the volume up
really loud, you can't even hear those little fists knocking.
þùúùþ
Drew Feinberg is twenty-something and resides in East Meadow, NY where he
is currently a full-time philosopher. He enjoys watching movies and then
bitching about them, joining crusades he knows he cannot win, and singing
TV theme songs to anybody within earshot, especially the "Facts Of Life."
Drew and his partner-in-crime, Jen, are starting their 'zine "Marvin
Nash's Ear" in the very-near future so they can rant as long as they like
to make the world smile and/or think, preferably both. For a free
subscription, just send a request and the name of your favorite childhood
board game to afeinber@panix.com
I Am Trash Too
þ Carolyn Hitt
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
rage to be delivered from the slippery catacombs of your innocence and
your youth thinking i am a god but I am simple though you would make me a
novel a painting a work of art I am trash too i am trash too i am trash
too and maybe if you peeled the honey glazed wax from your eyes you would
see that i am trash too and i though a granite slab may seem am but
mortal in my confusion so don't tempt me with the virgin bulge in your
leather because what's to say i won't bite my fangs are sharp and pierce
without recognition and you won't know what sucked the life out of you
til you are lying there helpless like raw chicken on the concrete the
shards of me slicing at what you thought you owned - so don't fuck with
what you don't know
"The woman in me is the killer in you." Ä Courtney Love
I'd Watch You Above In Crinoline
þ Scott Cudmore
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
I'd watch you above in crinoline
Upon the border of white beach and wave
Arboreal, you'd sway on the interface
Of endless ocean under endless sun.
I'd wash you over in off-white gingham
To your hair afix a pewter pin
Remove the sand of yet one more day
And shower you in kisses.
In The Blue Light
þ Jane Siberry
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
I was on a train
Somewhere in Spain
Sometime in the night
I drew up my knees
In second class
And watched in the blue light
Strangers beside me
Strangers across from me
They've closed their eyes
So far away from home
The empty stations echo
As we go dreaming by
I miss you like crazy
I wish that you were here
Holding me
So many times
I see something
I want to show you
Like the crazy man
Crying on his violin
I game him two drachmas for you
And every city square
Pigeons everywhere
Fountains and painters
I sit upon the step
My chin upon my knees
I watch lovers go by
I miss you like crazy
I wish that you were here
Holding me
Because you give me peace
You give me hope
I love you
Of course - there are other men
Sharing in the sways and bends
Of Paris and Rome
And though I do not know
Exactly what the difference is
I never asked them home
It made me realize
How beautiful and strange
Is the bird of love
It flies so differently
Cries so differently
From the bird of whatever the other
I miss you like crazy
I wish that you were here
Holding me
Because you give me peace
You give me hope
I love you
Do I give you something too
I was on a train
Somewhere in Spain
Sometime in the night
I drew up my knees
In second class
And watched in the blue light
"In some paradoxical way, the reason why Courtney Love and Kurt Cobain
connected so much was that he was the female version of her and she was the
male version of him." Ä Kevin Sessums
Inside
þ Twilight
ùúùúùúùúùú
echoing, the silence
ricochet against concrete walls
resounding emptiness
void of nothingness
alone in the crowd
red haze infests eyes
prickly skin of armor
stay away
false love won't seep in
for long
no need, self-sufficient
go away, begone
hurt
bludgeoning innards
turmoil trapped within
no escape
hate the ones i love
ghost of a face
i don't exist
i don't care
but i do.
"When she was in second grade in Eugene, Oregon, she was having a lot of
nightmares. I had no idea what to do. I took her to a psychiatrist just
to try to find some way to bring her some solace. The psychiatrist said
part of the problem with her was that she needed to join Girl Scouts. She
needed to be in normal kid activities. I dutifully went to a Brownies
meeting with her...I could tell it was really hard for her to be in this
room with all these kids. The person who was the Brownies leader suggested
they have an art show. She asked all the kids to draw something. The
things that Courtney drew were always startling. She didn't draw sunsets
and apple trees. She would draw sort of...*wounded figures*. I can still
see her that day - her little face so intense with those crayons. At the
end of that, the teacher told the troop that they were going to see what
drawing they liked the most by holding them up one by one and everyone
applauding. I knew that this would be terrible for her. When it got to
hers, she just grabbed it and ran over to me, and we left. At that time,
when a child was exhibiting the kind of pain Courtney was exhibiting - a
lot of nightmares and a lot of crying and hating school and hating
*everything* - the treatment was pretty much to try and make that child
what they called 'normalized' rather than saying, What kind of creature is
this, and how can we make her be O.K. with who she is? That whole belief
system was really awful for her." Ä Linda Carroll, mother of Courtney Love
Inspiration
þ Mark Hallman
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
You withdrew your tongue
to plead, "Why aren't you moaning?
"What am I doing wrong?"
"Because," I answered,
"you're making my head
write poetry"
"Courtney is very strong-willed and *not* afraid. I tend to be like that,
too, but that can work to your detriment, because people think you're just
loud and obnoxious when it's just having a point of view...People are
intimidated by a woman who has an opinion...Rocksters spend a lot of time
debating whether she's a junkie, or she's a bad mom, or did Kurt write her
last album. Gossip focuses on the negative. But that fuels her. The more
you hate her, or slag her off, that inspires her. She takes all that stuff
and puts it into her work." Ä Amanda de Cadenet
Last Waves
þ Gena Schwam
ùúùúùúùúùúùúù
It seems they're dead
lifeless squalls
no more thrashing whitecaps
like whipped cream
capping the great blue waters
so vast and tumultuous
the waves are gone
squalid pools lie everywhere
the ocean is still
the blue-green screaming hushed
looks like velvet
a cloth covering for the
muddy crust
dead sand piled up high
debris settles across the floor
the waves have stopped
standing water
like piles of liquid filth
you can't even walk anymore
the water has died
the fish now float
everywhere bloated scaly bodies
insipid mist on the horizon
where used to be seaspray
damp humid fishy air
has replaced the glory of
the waves
the colossal rainbows
the foamy mist
i stood and watched them die
on the cliffs
the last wave crashed at my heels
saturating me
i am the witness
the only one
the blood-lined mist curled
around me
sealing me in the present
trapping me in the sorrow
i was too a fish
lacking oxygen
gasping helplessly as
the waves ended
"The earth is not inherted from our ancestors; it is borrowed from our
children."
Loved Ya To Pieces
þ Michelle Meldrum and Nicole Couch
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
Such a lovely day
The sun was shining down on cell thirty-seven
God, turn this water into whiskey sour
Pay you back if I get to heaven
No one to love or need, think I'm lonely
Judge wouldn't pardon me, he only gave me
A life long lease in a house that's ugly,
And a maid that's big and mean
Loved ya to pieces more than life
Loved ya to pieces, cut like a knife
Preacher spoke and grown men cried,
Rest in pieces from your sweet little wife
It was my last cigarette
And I was looking back on you
You were so damn sweet, lying in my sister's,
Lying in my sister's bed
Turn the other cheek, that's what they told me
Lasted for a week, then they sold me
A six-inch blade with your name written on it,
A gift from me to you
Loved ya to pieces more than life
Loved ya to pieces, cut like a knife
Preacher spoke and grown men cried,
Rest in pieces
Now I might sound a little bitter, baby
But you know what I'm talkin' about
You know it's cold inside, cold inside
Yeah, I loved you too much
Couldn't stand to see you
Touching someone else
Why not me
Loved ya to pieces more than life
Loved ya to pieces, cut like a knife
Preacher spoke and grown men cried,
Rest in pieces
Loved ya to pieces more than life
Loved ya to pieces, cut like a knife
Preacher spoke and grown men cried,
Rest in pieces from your sweet little wife
"Is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?"
Ä Friedrich Nietzsche
Lovegone
þ Marco Morales
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
I see your face just above the waves
I hear your voice whispering away
I wish you would come to stay
but you're not here, and I'm alone again...
I see your shadow overcast by the moon
you feel so close I could almost touch...
Alone, breathing in the dark
empty eyes greet me every night
volatile words born up in mid-flight
beautiful shapes with empty arms hold me tight.
When you're not here, my world isn't such.
king of misery and beggar of love
my chaos goes up in flames of alcohol
as daybreak shines upon my restless soul.
I may not be right, my heart could lie
time could play cruel games on us
life is not life, and the future may die
but I know our shadows were not meant to part.
I was wrong.
Motherlove
þ Marco Morales
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
Torn apart by the wrong of a child
who, disobedient, left the house
in dubious company, with older lads
dirty, rotten in their smoke and drugs
cries the mother, to see her child depart
so innocent, so sweet, so far.
She awaits in sorrow, in the dark
on a solitary chair in an empty house
void of laughter, pregnant with silence
looking blearily at the wall, white, stark.
pondering what woeful wrongdoings
might her stolen sibling act.
Sadly, the unforgiving hours drag,
while by the minute, she falls apart
in the spinning room of her heart.
Impotent, letting out a quiet cry
her tears burn her blinded eyes,
'til her blood runs thick, sad, dry.
On a blue tiled floor she lies,
lost in frilled remembrance of the past
when her suckling toddler
a breast greedily grabbed,
when falling, taking refuge in her hand
as he walked for the first time.
Then, after many years and a day
in a sudden, angry sway
the cherubin became a young man
drawn to concrete jungles, rage,
rejection of the love of a mother
because he was older in age.
Without a kind letter or parting goodbyes
he left, with a pack of prowling fiends.
He shaved his head, lived his sins
while burning, unwatched, her mother's eyes.
Now she mourns, now she weeps
her cries blue, infinite as the skies.
With echoing noises, pots and pans
forced from the cupboard, with a hand
she wipes her tears, prepares dinner
opens his bed, sees herself thinner
and motherly, with the heartfelt hope
that her son will, soon, come back home.
"As Negative Approach said back in the day, 'Why be something that you're
not?'" Ä Thurston Moore
My Maple Tree Holds Green...
þ Therese Leigh Stamm
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
my maple tree holds green
close to its heart
clutches it there
to try to keep it longer
while hot color implacably
touches leaves hundred by hundred
faster each crisp day
tips turned crimson like
a young girl's painted fingers
here and there a flagrant cluster
bleeds lipstick red
in gold
profusion.
i think it dreams
and dreads
knowing winter is coming on
remembering outer branches stripped naked
diamond bright fused with ice and
aches knowing
no futile hope.
(how many times has it known death)
it gives a little more to the cold
each night. remembering.
how little time it will hold any green
and how its core will hold onto
pain after the killing frost
remembering
the summer that was lost.
My Misery
þ Phantom Blue
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
God only knows that sometimes
It's hard to even fake a smile
It gets so old looking at these city lights
So dark and lonely, but I'll be all right
I'm praying
My misery,
Bring it down, come and take it from me
My misery
Love is careless in just who it might see
My misery
So far away
Closer than those who are surrounding me
Something's reaching, something unseen
Keeps coming over me and calling my name
My misery
"Courtney is not containable. She was never containable...My deepest fear
about her is that what always made her life so torturous - this kind of
psychic pain - is what is making her famous, and that ultimately has got
to be *so* wounding. Her fame is not about being beautiful and brilliant,
which she is. It's about speaking in the voice of the anguish of the
world." Ä Linda Carroll, mother of Courtney Love
Naked My Maple No Longer Shelters Me...
þ Therese Leigh Stamm
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
naked my maple no longer shelters me
from the eyes of the neighbors across the parking lot.
all summer curtained in green
i had no need to pull the shades or draw the drapes.
now overnight stripped of foliage
i am exposed to the world and
no longer can lie uncovered on my bed
basking in sunlight that streams
east of verdant shadows onto my sheets
caught in a baroque cluster of dangling crystals
refracted on my walls in a flutter of rainbows.
i console my tree - but you are still beautiful
naked branches in crisp line
reaching cleave the sky just as bones
stripped of flesh have beauty
piercing unlike the tender applecheeks of youth
with all that is easy torn away
so what remains of bones
stark empty branches
shape of true beauty one can hold
run a finger along the underlying structure
hardness of joint snap of twig
think - mystery of cell and cell wall
electricity to make the fluid flow
urge the surge of sunlight driven sap in spring
and know the quiet waiting
the patience of winter.
my maple tree flows now in dark lines
silhouetted against the white sky
a delicate extension upward
fragile and elegant
a graceful fall of branches
bends with its own weight
curves toward the glass of my window.
"[Frances Bean Cobain is] so preternaturally *adult*. My daughter, Katie,
is about two years older than Frances. At Christmastime, Danny and I took
Katie and Frances to see 'A Christmas Carol'. We came home, and the kids
were playing and they got in a fight, as kids do. My daughter tends to be
a...well, 'brat' is one word that other people have used. Anyway, she
said, 'Frances, I *hate* you!' She threw down a doll and stormed out of the
room. The normal reaction is for the kid who is left stading there to start
crying, especially if your mom or your nanny isn't there. Frances *did not
bat an eye*." Ä Rosemary Carroll, Courtney Love's lawyer and wife of
Warner's Danny Goldberg
Pale Blue Eyes
þ Velvet Underground, modified by Courtney Love
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
Sometimes
Sometimes I get so sad
Sometimes I feel almost heavenly but
Baby I mostly feel mad
Yeah, baby, you just make me mad
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
It was good what we did yesterday
And I'd do it again
The fact that you're single
Nearly proves that you're my best friend
Well, I will never fuck anyone else again
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Thought of you as my mountain top
I thought of you as my peak
Thought of you as everything that I couldn't keep
Yeah, that I had but I couldn't keep
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Used to blow inside of me
Yeah you used to blow my heart
I never had nothing anywhere so the end is where I start
[...]
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
Linger on, your pale blue eyes
"She gave the perfect strain to my heart." Ä Kurt Cobain
Scream
þ Gena Schwam
ùúùúùúùúùúùúù
The last breath has left me
empty
my diaphragm caving in
the soulless night cracking
above me into
rain
endless and shameless
bleating whispers
pleading with the sky
not to break
not to rain
my carcass will decay
my beauty will cease,
fleeing from the taut dried
flesh that once pulsated
in rhythm with my heart
my cheeks rose and fell
imperceptibly
they have fallen
finally
so i lie here
not a woman anymore
a corporeal female body
in the slush
in the rain
my eyes match the sky
drained and wet
dripping all it has left
pouring out all the tears
one final time
a sigh into the bliss
no more dreams
an alternate reality
here beneath the hidden moon
my hair grows no longer
"I feel the pain of everyone, and then I feel nothing." Ä Dinosaur Jr.
Shivers
þ Dana Hurd
ùúùúùúùúùúù
this i want
expand in me
leave me gasping
shivering
sweating out
the demons
ripping at my stomach
and stealing my mind
this I need
explosions in me
riptides
carrying my sanity
please
grasp at me
catch me
haunt me
this is what I crave
"I'm afraid to criticise her as I know she'll get upset and debate me and I
have no quest for that - I talk about her more than anything else in these
posts because she is special. She knows I have hopeful and loving feelings
towards her even though I think she has an impossible and continuing
destructo vibe. Drugs make her (and just about anyone I've known)
confused/confusing and lousy to be around. Her existence and consciousness
since Kurt's suicide is so extremely traumatized that I will never fathom her
self-impression. I can only hope she can get away from body-politic as
body-mutilation. She knows I know she's beautiful, but chemical obliteration
clouds the reward and the romance. She likes music for the musician - who is
the hero (who she can be). And she wants Buddhism - which is the worshipper
worshipped. She can have all this without being crushed by inner and
societal conflict. I see her happy, forgiven and pure. She's gonna have to
believe in herself this way for the good of her own being and for that of
Frances." Ä Thurston Moore, regarding Courtney Love
Summoning
þ Twilight
ùúùúùúùúùú
Throwing myself down,
Flung upon the ground -
The Earth embraces me
As my elbows dig trenches
Into the dirt so soft...
Packed, yet still...comforting
Pillows of protection.
Into my mouth,
I taste the rusty scent -
Pouring down my throat,
Choking my gasps
As teardrops fall all about
To form tiny droplets of shiny, new mud
In my now tangled swarm of tresses.
Shoveling underneath my fingernails,
I scratch until they bleed -
Furrowing rows into the soil -
Like a rake.
Trying to become one
With that of a lost soul,
Someone taken away so abruptly from me...
Crying helplessly -
Come back...
Torn up and tattered -
I can't go on without you...
Upon this grave -
Oh, please God, PLEASE...
Of yours.
"Time. That's all there is. *Time*." Ä Courtney Love
Temptress
þ April M. Ardito
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
if tonight
you were to grab my hand
shower me with declarations
of love and devotion
promise me the world
i'd only turn away
hating this power
you've forced on me
wishing i could do something
to make you take it all back
but knowing
i would never be able
to break your heart
i want to love you
but i could never be
what you need
still i tempt fate
teasing
loving the feel of your body
pressed against mine
needing you
"I like a little evil; sometimes it makes me feel." Ä Phantom Blue
The Betrayal
þ Marco Morales
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
I - The Fall
Her soft hands and sweetness blinded my soul, how was I to know?
As I fell I touched the sun, and its burning, twisting flames
devoured my love in a ravenous rave of wrenching glow.
My mind burnt and buried, wriggling worms wreck body and being
Ripping skin, reducing organs to a rotting wound
while the cemetery's black earth, cold, cruel, cranks my lifeless limbs.
The stone-grey skin, pierced by skewing roots weaves into decay
to feed blind trees, deeply rooted into hellbound graveyards.
Flaming screams, churning my throat, burning coal through my innards,
push tears of fire through a tight grimace, sending my soul astray.
How can anything hurt so much? I crave physical pain
to liberate the mind from the broken pieces I am.
No freeing death nor comforting oblivion from pain's dart,
condemned to coexist with love, that hot claw clenching my heart.
II - Undead
A thousand million worms feast in my intestines,
their acid vomit dissolving a shredded cry.
Love is the door to suffering; a deceiving reception
to the dark, murderous hell of separation.
Is the initial pleasure worth the torments of the soul?
An instant of sublime heightening, fond affection of someone dear
and a lifetime of dreaded sorrow and harsh, lone fear.
Undead by numbness to reality, abandoned to the unknown.
History repeats itself as young lovers burn up in flames
blinded by the folds of love which nurtures their feelings,
mocks affection and posesses the soul like a spider, weaving
the destruction of the poets, plotting, creeping.
III - Solitude
And the worst torment - solitude. Loneliness, as extense
as the Pacific seas, where there is nothing but blue.
Alone, like the hangman's tree in the open field, rotten through
against the rage of the weather, unbeloved, misunderstood.
The solitude of the lone wolf, sick and old, left behind to die
is like the lonely grievance of a thousand men, quietly drinking,
anonymously hanging onto the bottle, absently singing
voicing the emptyness of their hearts in a howling cry.
IV - Abandonment
Would death help me forget, then come sweet and swift,
lift me off this thoughtless world, and rock me to sleep.
I yearn for dreamless nights and absent days
to die at dawn and repose at night.
Let the blood come gushing out, my life slowly consuming away.
I want to smoke away, to disintegrate, and forget,
like a candle, suddenly blown away.
What else is left in this pompous heart? Great monuments to knowledge,
hidden treasures and mighty deeds.
What is the use, when there is no reason to live?
Without you. I merely exist.
Death would forgive me, the pain ease.
but I am unforgiven, unaccounted, undead. Cannot repose in peace.
Damned to lurk the surface of this earth tormented, mutilated, pierced,
eyes torn out of their housing when lovers kiss.
I still remember how it used to be...
V - Regrets
HOWL! SCREAM! CRY OUT! Let me die, let me out!
Is it so much to ask? Will no one hear my shout?
I don't eat, I don't smile. Life is just a buffoon's act. Watch me laugh!
Angela, Angela, Angela! 'Tis your name in fire branded on my heart.
For every letter, a thousand sufferings,
for every thought, a million tears of blood.
Angela...
That word capable of inflicting the most excruciating pain.
The word that brings lost memories, desperation and anguish
And yet, it was my choice to love you.
What a fool!! Didn't I know the price to pay?
Did I not know this black day
would finally come, to take you away.
I only want to forget,
and dull the pain.
"And one never knows if letting someone in beyond the barrier, beyond the
mask that we all pose to the world, letting them see who and what you
really are, is worth what that one soul can do with this knowledge of all
your happiness & hardships..." Ä Robb Buchanan
The Bird
þ Zowie Mills
ùúùúùúùúùúùúù
She swoops low, mangled destiny, deliverer of death,
and gathers me up in her unloving arms to soar again.
Off to the clouds of despair, and to places
untouched by kindness, and unknown to lover's dreams.
In this twisted solace of this my final summit I look out
over a domain cast down, trodden under the feet of Her,
She who so quickly turns away love as if it were a gentle,
but unwanted rain. Advances over, daunted, my gaze drops.
Times of passion and love return, if only in mind,
and deliver their mocking messages of pain and darkness.
I look up into the bird's eyes, and what do I see?
The cold, steel-hard gaze as she looks at her prey of me.
My heart yearns both for release from her talon, as much as
to feel the warmth of her breast. Indecision is my plague,
inaction my dominion. Frozen in this abyss, I neither struggle
nor advance.
And what becomes of the prey? Perhaps Dianna would tell,
were she here to guide me, as the to-be slain,
the still-walking dead, am I.
The Burning
þ Janet Kuypers
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
I take the final swig of vodka
feel it burn its way down my throat
hiss at it scorching my tongue
and reach for the bottle to pour myself another.
I think of how my tonsils scream
every time I let the alcohol rape me.
Then I look down at my hands -
shaking - holding the glass of poison -
and think of how these were the hands
that should have pushed you away from me.
But didn't. And I keep wondering
why I took your hell, took your poison.
I remember how you burned your way
through me. You corrupted me
from the inside out, and I kept coming back.
I let you infect me, and now you've
burned a hole through me. I hated it.
Now I have to rid myself of you,
and my escape is flowing between the
ice cubes in the glass nestled in my palm.
But I have to drink more. The burning
doesn't last as long as you do.
þùúùþ
Janet Kuypers, Chicago, is the editor/publisher of the literary/art magazine
"children, churches and daddies". She has had two books published, _hope
chest in the attic_ and _the window_, is a graphic designer by day, and also
sings with a band.
Bio sketch:
Employment: Art/Production Editor for a publishing company in Chicago
Education: bachelor in News/Ed. Journalism (Communictions), with a minor in
photography, from the University of Illinois, Urbana/Champaign
Publication Credits: published over 600 for writing and over 150 for artwork.
"What Courtney has in her she *came* with. The reason that I'm a therapist
is that I began taking her to therapists by the time she was two, and could
really find so little help and empathy for both of us in the people I went
to. She was in *so much pain*. And that manifested itself ever since she
was a little girl in ways in which I had no clue how to deal with. I had
no idea of any way to help her except just to love her and hold her. When
I started taking her to therapists, one of the awful things that happened
was they began to pathologize her, which is what psychology has done with
what they don't understand. I think that Courtney came with a tremendous
sense of pain in her...She's not that different than she was when she was
two years old...Yet there are times, even as a small child, she would be
really, deeply touched by something. And when that would happen it was as
though every part of her went soft for a little while - including her heart.
Even then she was touched by oppression and pain. It was a part of her
that I think was genuinely touched by Kurt. They were very alike. I don't
know if this is true, because I didn't know Kurt when he was only two, but
I suspect that Kurt was pretty different until he was about 9 or 10. I
don't think Courtney was. I think she has carried this grief longer, and
maybe that's why she's a survivor, because she came with it and she had to
learn how to survive with it from the beginning...Strangely enough, she
was an absolutely, unimaginably calm and happy baby. She hardly cried."
Ä Linda Carroll, mother of Courtney Love
The Cheval Glass And The Fountain
þ Jenniffer L. Lesh
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
The old cheval mirror was tired
of its life. _I'm always
everyone but myself_, it thought,
and walked away from the boudoir.
It wandered through the house and felt
architectural elements move fleetingly
across its surface - crown molding,
sconces, corbels, wainscoting.
Being the echo of this large house,
however solid its contents,
wasn't enough.
The mirror walked outside and filled
to overflowing with the riches
of a garden. Roses bloomed
in its path and said, _You are too kind
in your compliments_.
Then it met with a woman
stooping by the fountain
who put a withered hand to her face
and fled, crying _You are too harsh!
I hate you!_
The mirror shuddered silverly
and tilted back, clouds skating
across the empty heavens of its gaze.
_I am nothing more than an eye
without a mind behind it_, it murmured.
Waters gurgled assent in the fountain
and the mirror turned towards the sound
and found itself wrinkling
and smoothing on a happy surface.
The mirror moved closer
and then paused.
Even today,
it stands sentinel there,
reflecting itself infinitely
against this reciprocal welcome,
fascinated beyond belief.
The Insane People That Are Notably Sane
þ Kylie Johnson
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
Shadowed white night
Stark naked you stand
Looking at the land
Eyes obscure from all reality
Stains on your face
Show us not a race
Nor all your grace
But I know
What you are searching for
And how you are alone
And how you fear us
They don't listen
I do, so listen
Listen to me too.
Shadowed white night
Life is all too short
And you need support
With me you will survive
Ne'er perish under this day
Keep memories at bay
Forever I shall stay
Because I know
What you are searching for
And how you are alone
And how you fear us
They don't care
I do, so tell
Tell me if I speak truths.
If you believe me
Then let is show
Sparkle and glow
Show me yourself
Help me to unveil you
For you show the strength
Of more people than those that live.
Shadowed white night
Pictures all aglow but bare
Of things so beautiful and rare
Like things we imagine much
A fantasy world as such
Full of life and love
Pure as a twilight dove
All alive in your mind and mine.
Because I know
What you are searching for
And how you are alone
And how you fear us
But you are my saviour
For I am your shadow
And with you I shall go.
Thinking Of The Dead Child
þ Maree Jaeger
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
The mother
the father
the dead child
and the child
sit together
and the father
(thinking of the dead child)
butters his bread
and says to the child
look at the huge boat sailing
out to sea
The mother
thinking of the dead child
(always thinking of the dead child)
nods and smiles
and stares at the boat
sailing out to sea
and the child
(thinking of the dead child)
looks at the father
buttering his bread
looks at the mother
nodding, smiling, staring, out to sea
and softly half to himself -
I wonder if boats
really go anywhere?
I wonder if boats
really go anywhere?
"The American public really does have a death wish for me. They want me to
die. I'm not going to die." Ä Courtney Love
Through The Faces
þ Marisa VanDyke
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
I am here, at the circus
you are there, in the crowd
I may be only 4 feet tall in your world
of many places traveled, many girls romanced
but this feeling is drawing me to you
through all the faces
and I'm walking the tight rope
balancing myself only on empty air
to get to you, before you leave
all past lovers, forgotten friends
are reaching out thier hands
yet I seek your help only
through all the faces
of love, fame, or money
all I see is you
and the gypsy woman tells me
to remove my suit of armour
so I stand vulnerable
waiting to recieve a blow
but strong arms rescue me
and it is you
"What's the season of love if you can't have everything
What's the reason of love if you can lose everything
What's the meaning of love, it's a crime if anything
What's the meaning of love, it's grand..." Ä Kurt Cobain
Untitled
þ Angie Cooper
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
Love has taught me well
How to forgive---but not forget
How to smile---but more to frown
How to laugh---but more to cry
How to share---but more to hide
How to treasure---but more to abhor
How to communicate---but more to sulk
Honesty
Trust
Commitment
Togetherness
Why do I let such painful memories haunt my existance and force me to hide
deep within my tough shell?
Well-protected and well-isolated
I shall never give in
Not without a fight
Seems all it was
---fights
Can you remember any particular week that passed in which hurting words
were not a part?
Me neither
Seems a shame two friends and lovers ended this way
At least the way I am
You
You have learned to love again
Or are you hiding yourself behind a false sense of security?
Me
I have not allowed myself that freedom which you possess,
which would ignite my heart and soul, once more to give the happiness once
rendered me
Seems like every time I get the chance, a false set of circumstances
arises which shadows the reality of it all
I cannot let go
I cannot let go
My tenacious claws grab for true love
But cling and lock to the wasted time I have allowed myself for falling in
love again
I cannot let go of the emptiness of my heart
Without you
By my side
holding me
comforting me
I cannot let go of the memories which haunt me
yes, haunt me
Scare me to death
Will I ever be able to cast that demon aside who is so delicately perched
upon my heart and in my soul?
That love bird gone awry
I cannot let go of the fact that you are the only man I have ever loved
and the fact that I have not stopped loving you
I cannot let go
I cannot let go
Cast your fears aside and come inside
Let me shelter you
Protect you
I will not harm you as I have been harmed
Cast your fears into that pit of despair and open your heart
to the true you
Answer its questions
Hear it call for TRUE love
Hear it call my name
Come to me
Come to me
Come
in
me
Let me feel your strength and warmth
inside
of
me
Kiss after kiss
Lick after lick
Stroke after stroke
Thrust after thrust
Moan after moan
As we lay there naked
bodies intertwined
Let me
feel
the love you have for me
again
again
again
Comfort me
Love me
Hold me
Never let me go
Teach me
Teach me love again
Teach me well.
"As you dig into drawers while someone is away, being overly suspicious
and untrusting, trying to find some evidence of unfaithfulness, stop and
reflect for a minute. Are you wrongfully accusing and/or snooping for no
real reason? Then perhaps you are projecting your own character of
infidelity onto this person, and the actual person you might need to trust
in first...is yourself." Ä Twilight
Untitled
þ Leanne Kruse
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
Memories slicing my mind open
revealing the cancerous thoughts
that permeate my unconsious.
These thoughts twist and mutilate
my logic, clouding my vision
and attacking my need for life.
Darkness is where I cower,
I hide from poisonous emotions,
emotions that will tear me from reality
and throw me to the demon.
His mouth wide open, revealing
a cancerous tongue that longs
to lick my blackened heart.
My legs are split open so u
can use and abuse what was never
really mine.
MUTILATE ME! KNIFE ME! STRETCH ME!
Don't worry, I won't feel the pain
because pain is something I am now
immune to.
C'MON DEMON LOVER, FUCK ME DEEP INSIDE
WITH YOUR PHALLIC KNIFE!!
Engrave my heart, carve my soul and mind,
leave me here, sickened, twisted and cold.
I'll walk away enveloped in darkness
ready to face my next demon
who I will fuck, twist and mutilate.
Then I will be the one with my mouth wide
and open, waiting to lick someone's blackened heart.
"Courtney has that element of danger. You never know what she's going to do
next. We're not used to seeing that in a woman. We're used to seeing that
from Jim Morrison, or Iggy Pop, or from Johnny Rotten in the early days of
the Sex Pistols. She's a rock star in the sort of unpredictable, volatile
way that people voyeuristically expect." Ä Syndicated columnist Lisa
Robinson, seeing Courtney Love, ironically, as the latest in a long line
of male rockers
Untitled
þ Libby McGroom
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
I came out to see you
but you were not there
Someone else was in your place
same eyes, same lips, same hair
At first it struck me funny
This stranger by my side!
But he held such loath and hatred
He stripped away my pride
"Where's the man I love?" I asked
"What have you done with him?"
But he just stared a dead man's stare
and gave a ghastly grin
Then I looked into his eyes
and caught a glimpse of you
Somewhere in this stranger's soul
was the man that I once knew
Vows
þ Mike Randall
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
before you left
you should've taken those flowers
shadows race over the roof
and leaves choke and fall
littering your earth
shake now
and all my rooms are empty
bare walls
that click with your heels
watching nothing but the dust
collect where, well you used to know
and you forgot the faucet.
still drips anyway
outside the trees stand naked
shake now
because when that door closed
so did i
and now i'm left with one less thing
without sounds and smiles
without scents and feelings
color...and now i'm shaking
and nothing's left
except the ghost of a child
playing a toy piano
in the corner.
Wasted Moments
þ Angela Dawn Soutar
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú
Sand slips through his fingers
as the waves crash to the shore
and birds soar overhead.
Yet, it all goes unnoticed
He sees only the brilliant images
flashing incessantly in his mind
He yearns for the past,
for the way things used to be.
But he can't go back.
So instead, he sits
in the midst of life,
not realizing
that every moment passing by
is becoming yet another
wasted moment.
"Life is for entertainment purposes only. All other use voids warranty."
You're Free
þ Michelle Meldrum and Nicole Couch
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
I found you
I know where you're at
I'm so tired of sleeping
Through these nights, lonely nights
Close my eyes sometimes
Go now, you're free
Walk away from me
Go now, you're free
I was so blind
Slow mind
Go now
Hearts breaking, shattered in two
You kept on pushing through
You heard me crying lately
Bought what you said, yeah yeah
All those lies you told me,
Have gone to your head -
Go now, you're free
Walk away from me
Go now, you're free
I was so blind
Slow mind
Go now
Is this how it's ending?
That's all there was to say
Backed in a corner, give it a break
Not made of mercy
You get what you give
Misunderstanding how much I'd take
Go now, you're free,
Walk away from me
Go now, you're free,
I was so blind
Slow mind
Go now
"Smile...no one understands you."
ßÜ
ÜßÜÝÜßÜ
ßÜÞÜß Ü Ü Üß
Ü ÜßÜ ÝÜßÜß ÜßÜßÜ
ßÜßÜ ÜßÜßÞÜß ÜßÜ Ü ßÜÜßÜß
ßÜßÜÜß Ü ßÜßÜÝÜßÜß ÜßÜ ßÜ ßÜ ß
ßÜßÜß Üß Ü Ü ßÜÝÜß Üß ÜßÜ ßÜÜßÜßÜ
Üßßß Üß Û Ü ÜßßÜÞ ÜßÜß Ü ßÜßÜÜ ßÜß
Üß ßÜÜß Üß Ü ßßÜßÝßÜß ÜÜ ßÜßßÜ ß
Üß ÜßßÜÜß ÜßßÜ ßÝß ÜßÜ ßÜßßÜ ß
Üß ÜßßßÝÜß ÜÜßÜÞÜßÜß ÛÞßßÜ ß
ß ÜÜßÜßÜß ÜßÜÞÜß ÜßÜÝßÜÜß
Ü Üßßßß ßÜßÝÜßÜÜßÜß Ü Ü
Ü Ü ßÜ ßÜ ßÜßßßÜÜßÝÜÛßÜßÜÜß Üß Üß Üß
Ü ßÜßÜ ßÜÜßÜßÜßÜßÜßÜÜÛÛÛÜßßÜßÜßÜßßßÜÜß ÜßÜß
ßÜßÜßÜßÜßßÜ ßÜ ßÜßÜß ß Ý ß ßÜ ßÜßÜ ßÜßÜßÜßßÜ
ÜßßÜßÜ ßÜßÜ ßÜ ß Þ ß ß ß ß ß
Ý
Ý
Þ
ß ùtwiù
Legalize.
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
Submit your original literary works for Spilled Ink, [volume seven], to
Twilight via Internet e-mail:
twilight@mail.utexas.edu
ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù
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