195 lines
6.2 KiB
Plaintext
195 lines
6.2 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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There are so many forms of expression, and this is Poetry's
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Venture. Venturing through the glimpses of the mind, heart,
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or spirit of the one that is writing, only to show a glimmer
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of something, or someone. Ways to express the things that
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may be oridinary that they see through an unordinary prespective,
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or maybe it's just the reality? A venture through a glimpse that
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is a glimmer of something, or someone ... to expand the vast
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plain that we find a place to call our own - the Venture
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of Poetry.
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Linda...
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Linda, lovely lady
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with long dark braids
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and flashing eyes.
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Working for a question mark
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in a grimy little dive,
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pushing beer and hugging
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drunks and wondering...
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Wondering why the one she
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loves doesn't and what happened
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in the years just past to change
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the place she thought
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she knew.
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And other thoughts exist there too..
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Lovely Linda, old at 30 and
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getting older. Feeling
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helpless in a life
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of lifelessness
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and seeking death
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to find her life.
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Nights upon the bar room
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floor when the moon is
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dark and the beer moves
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quickly.
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And Linda thinks back
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to last week or sometimes
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when its really bad to late
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last year when life was calm
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and pouring beer was just a way
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to make a buck.
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But now the drunks have said
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too much and stayed too long
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and anyway, there ain't nothing
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much worth going home for anyway
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so why not stay open just a bit longer
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and listen just a while more.
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And who knows, one night it might
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come true and a prince will
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claim her for his own.
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But the evening passes and
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the beer stops flowing and
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soon its time to call last call
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and see just who has stayed.
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Lovely Linda, seeking life
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and love and finding pain.
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She of the multitude and
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yet alone.
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FTF
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Untitled and Unfinished
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The echo of a thousand voices
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Thunders in our heads
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As the melodies there engendered
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Whispers of the fathomless mystery of the soul,
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Piercing us with these same passions
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That characterize our essence.
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We are the instruments. Our souls,
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The symphony of our desire.
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Like petals on the summer breeze,
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By this desperate cry we are animated,
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A marionette on astral strings
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As the bright moon wanes.
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Slipping into the darkling distance,
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It crystallizes into a single plaintive song
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Dimly wailing its message:
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We will die soon, you and I,
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And join the voices on the other side.
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Screamin' Lord Byron
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the silk black finger caressed the mesh of gold.
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the silver lining seemed far too green too far away.
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this blue night casts a red shadow on your brown door frame.
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and the woodwork finished with a tin of lead came from the yellow man
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sitting on top of the purple haze.
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never again will i buy such orange flavors from a man with only one
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tan hand.
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never again will the white streaming milk flow around his pink
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insides.
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rage
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an example of a bad poem
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would be that one by robert frost
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about the boys swinging
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on birch trees the one
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that is so long
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i know that it is supposed to evoke
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EMOTION and that i am supposed to
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LEARN something from it but instead i am
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sitting here with a mug of
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luke-warm chocolate
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writing this
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anticipating the new wrestling show tonight
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picking my nose
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hoping my package from that gaming store
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arrives in the mail today
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and not thinking much of anything else
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except that robert frost
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sucks the methane clear out of my
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fucking rectum
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which is maybe enough emotion
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and learning from one poem that
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i can take
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mr. frost has finally done
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something right for a change
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and he didn't
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even
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mean it
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styx thefedz@rad.edu
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No Particular Order
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unknown likeness in the distance
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mutual spirit close to heart
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never ending friendly surprise
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daily routine repressed the spark
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curiosity, maybe even destiny?
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always meant to be, in one form or another
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one with true concern
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silently provoking, such a tease
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never met, already known
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content with eternal comfort
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to find the solace of you
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kindred hate if nothing else
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four. that mean something to me.
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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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