206 lines
6.9 KiB
Plaintext
206 lines
6.9 KiB
Plaintext
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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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Today is the fifth anniversary of the zine. The poetry
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side has been around for a couple months now. I curse
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myself.. why did I wait so long to start this? Freedom
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of expression in any form was one of the goals, and I
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managed to overlook this form. It is remedied now.
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Flippant!
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This quiet night,
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wind parting summer's slumbered loneliness.
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Shadows of light,
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simple is the sorrow of days once had.
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Laughing nor crying, taste salty bitterness;
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sadness employs this heart of a madman.
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Does this, then that, question reality today;
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aggressing the fortune of history, of tales untrue!
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Does develop this division;
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forces sacrifice and delusion!
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Clearest path - thou holiest markedness now jagged,
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found still, mind's pounding.
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Greet sorrow with freedom;
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stay severed, simple comfort.
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Be proud like lion, non resolving;
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into my heart - this mind, non resolving.
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Of days which darkness severs the temptress,
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of closeness forbidding and evils enduring.
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Does shadows remove with time, take comfort;
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neither him nor thou may stake such preference.
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Has this portrait faded, or been tainted,
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by time; for true enemies does create,
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or the love once binding now unfounded,
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dissolve as time does work upon colours.
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Quick encounters, liquid eyes - tears inducing.
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For fear, for heart, for LOVE!
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make conversation, severed temptress
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shadows removed are until then not coming.
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Myself excused, but time does not;
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this slow stabbing takes from me my life!
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Exhausting, everlasting tournament;
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desperate days turn to memories faded.
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Quick is the path of diversion;
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hearts parting and memories diluting.
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Awaiting unreality, in reality awaiting perfection.
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Seems in another lifetime exists our togetherness.
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Retrieve from me my blood,
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which upon my sleeve does stain.
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And bring forward to me my love,
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Pour la peur, pour le coeur, pour l'AMOUR!
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Dodger Finished 13.12.97
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KEYBOARD LOVERS
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"Hey" a voice called out one night
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while the moon was dark and the
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stars had nearly disappeared,
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"Ya gonna stand all night long?"
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"Or ya gonna say something back?"
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it sneered and then began to laugh.
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And later, the voice began a song,
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hidden there among the night and lit
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up by the lights only he could see.
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And the song was oh so familiar
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and the words all seems so real
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and yet I'd heard them not before
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and yet I wasn't sure.
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"And now I have a lover"
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started out the song,
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and now I am alone.
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And now I have keyboard
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that sends no songs aloud.
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But the world stands outside
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my door and pays to hear
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the silence and applauds afterwards.
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And so by their one-hand claps
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I must be successful
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and I guess I guess I am
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cause I have a lover and
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a keyboard.
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And later the song sung
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so long ago came back
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to haunt me just a little more.
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Sitting there within
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the safety of the crowd
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and listening to the screams
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that came from high above,
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the words had a kind of
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surrealism that hid away
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the hurt and the anger
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of the song.
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"Don't dream it!
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Be it!!" he cried
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and we all applauded
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at the wisdom of his words.
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And at that he finally
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turned away, in despair
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and in confusion.
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And as the crowd found
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their way from the stage,
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only a dimly heard voice
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could be heard crying.
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Looking back upon that night
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and wondering 'bout the song,
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it seemed so very real to me
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and oh so very good.
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But the audience didn't
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want to hear and none
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of us were all
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we might have been.
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We listened to the words
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he sang and mixed it with
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a drink of gin...
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But still the song has
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stayed with me
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and oft times plays
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at night.
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What ever happened to
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that man? And why
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did we not care
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about his words?
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Or did we, without
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listening, sing a
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soft refrain and
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never heard the song?
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So the future then
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is now the past
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and he is gone somewhere
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not here.
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And yet I still remain,
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second row, left,
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listening to the song
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of life and love
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and pain and never
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wanting to go home
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to the keyboard that
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doesn't sing and the
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lover that isn't and
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reality.
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- FTF
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FINGERTIP CHORDS
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feelings fill the throat
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to try to form words
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but after being trounced
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by the larynx mafia
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they shoot out fingertips
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- Indiana Poet Dec. 27, 1997
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748.2153
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seven days a week, we were one
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four eyes saw the purity between
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eight months we shared our souls
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two times a day, we shared our bodies
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one bad night to bring it down
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five cuts remembering the pain
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three years to rid myself of your memory
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dis
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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
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jericho@dimensional.com with "subscribe poetry". if
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you do not have FTP access and would like back issues,
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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:
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AnonFTP: FTP.DIMENSIONAL.COM/users/jericho/FUCK/POETRY
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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
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