839 lines
32 KiB
Plaintext
839 lines
32 KiB
Plaintext
p T A M e R S H R e W ... vol. 2
|
||
¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿ ¿¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿ ¿¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿ ¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿ ¿¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿¿¿
|
||
¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ Volume...........2
|
||
¿¿¿ Edited by: Stretch
|
||
¿¿¿
|
||
|
||
|
||
Dedicated to the Thought-Thread
|
||
and the Ever Beautiful W O R D.
|
||
Submissions
|
||
HoWL BBS 1.713.862.1415
|
||
LoVERS BBS 1.713.943.1838
|
||
|
||
|
||
>>---------------------------------------------------------------<<
|
||
>>---------------------------------------------------------------<<
|
||
|
||
|
||
And this holy man of great directness and simplicity, big
|
||
white teeth shining, laughs out loud in an infectious way at
|
||
Jang-bu's question. Indicating his twisted legs without a
|
||
trace of self-pity or bitterness, as if they belonged to all
|
||
of us, he casts his arms wide to the sky and the snow
|
||
mountains, the high sun and dancing sheep, and cries, "Of
|
||
course I am happy here! It's wonderful! Especially when I
|
||
have no choice!"
|
||
PETER MATTHIESSEN (The Snow Leopard)
|
||
|
||
>>---------------------------------------------------------------<<
|
||
>>---------------------------------------------------------------<<
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
---- >> Prelude to the Inevitable Kiss << ----
|
||
|
||
|
||
on the first night that stretch and myself decided to take entries
|
||
for this publication, i spoke, chat mode, with a friend of mine
|
||
named homer the brave. he had just finished reading a passage i had
|
||
transcribed onto my BBS about what he termed "modifying my
|
||
perception[s]"...he told me about a magazine out of california
|
||
called the_undiscovered_country, a creative writers magazine, like
|
||
this one is meant to be. i thought to myself, "well, i suppose it
|
||
was inevitable that SOMEONE had done this before.." in the preface
|
||
of the sample issue he uploaded that night, there were some wise
|
||
words by a mann named robert chezvik...he touched on our
|
||
fascination with "soulful" and "authentic" works of music and art,
|
||
made by people with no particular artistic ability to speak of, at
|
||
least to we, the "modern" "civilized" peoples, and how they move us
|
||
despite falling short of what our culture sees in that medium. as i
|
||
read it, i thought of all the folk songs i had heard, all the
|
||
blues, amateur night at the pik n pak...singers who wrote about
|
||
everyday life, or nothing in particular [a feeling to which a good
|
||
many of us can relate]...those songs make me want to cry with
|
||
authentic joy more than anything sometimes. because they are REAL
|
||
works, made by REAL people, for REAL people to listen to. nothing
|
||
flashy, showy, extravagant about michelle shocked, sacred ground,
|
||
or any of their contemporaries.
|
||
|
||
that is what we have here. a collection of poems, short stories,
|
||
essays, and prose, as well as anything else we can think of,
|
||
written by people some of you know, and have known for quite some
|
||
time. people you've never met, but are nevertheless within yr
|
||
grasp, should you want to meet them sometime. we here at the
|
||
still-forming howlnet network, feel that they are stars. big ones.
|
||
why? because for some time, on both the lovers bbs and its
|
||
inspiration, howl BBS, a good many of the people featured here have
|
||
been pouring out their souls, for a select group of people to see
|
||
and admire. now, we have decided to share this creative outpouring,
|
||
which is THE driving force behind both of the aforementioned
|
||
boards, and i daresay a few others, with the rest of the BBS
|
||
community, the world, the universe--whoever wants it. if this
|
||
magazine turns out to be something you enjoy reading, please feel
|
||
free to distribute it to all yr favourite boards, make hardcopies
|
||
and give them to friends who live sans computers, and to anyone
|
||
whom you think might garner something out of this effort. if you
|
||
would like to contribute to this magazine, sign on as a new user at
|
||
either howl bbs [713.862.1415] or the lovers bbs [713.943.1838] and
|
||
upload any homegrown creative effort, be it a song or an program or
|
||
ANYTHING, to the appropriate file area. any comments should also
|
||
be addressed to either howl or lovers also.
|
||
|
||
in the meantime, enjoy the publication, and KEEP THE SOUL.
|
||
|
||
...xann
|
||
[*]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|------------- Words Available for Immediate Fondling ------------|
|
||
|-----------------------------------------------------------------|
|
||
|
||
1. "A Tale of the Net" (Watchman T'ong)
|
||
|
||
2. Xannsong (Xann)
|
||
|
||
3. "Poison" (Stretch)
|
||
|
||
4. "In the Fall of the Master... We Find Another Who..." (Tesco)
|
||
|
||
5. HoWL Sp00ge (Watchman T'ong)
|
||
|
||
6. "Writing" (Stretch)
|
||
|
||
7. "Mars" (Xann)
|
||
|
||
8. "Vanna White Gets Discovered" (Black Sabbath)
|
||
|
||
9. "Untitled" (Shadou)
|
||
|
||
10. "August Again" (Stretch)
|
||
|
||
11. "I've Seen" (John Knapick)
|
||
|
||
12. Untitled (Zachary Fox)
|
||
|
||
13. "In Cotton" (Stretch)
|
||
|
||
|-----------------------------------------------------------------|
|
||
|-----------------------------------------------------------------|
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
A Tale of the Net
|
||
|
||
-------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
Editor's preface:
|
||
|
||
No one really knows whether these tales are true. They are
|
||
presented here as they have been captured from the meld, and
|
||
cross-referenced to insure their accuracy. What follows is a
|
||
composite of some 436 separate collections of the tales compiled
|
||
into one narrative. What you read is the best transcription of the
|
||
pattern that we have.
|
||
-------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
|
||
"Damn humans! Damn them all!" hissed Baz. "When will this nonsense
|
||
ever end?" "I trans the stream over and over, tick after tick, for
|
||
this?" he said, indicating the table of integers fixed on the near
|
||
grid.
|
||
|
||
"Well, what are you complaining for?" Foo said. "At least you're
|
||
transing the stream." He immediately realized it was the wrong
|
||
thing to say. Now Baz would be off on a tirade, for Net only knew
|
||
how long. He resigned himself to the sequence.
|
||
|
||
"So, what would you rather be doing, padding here?" asked Qux in
|
||
that passive mode she did so well.
|
||
|
||
The intensity and raw power of Baz's reply shocked them all. Bar
|
||
and Foo instantly polarized toward him, and Qux froze.
|
||
|
||
Slowly and very clearly, Baz said "I want to trans concepts, not
|
||
just these mindless notations."
|
||
|
||
That damn dream again, thought Qux. When will he ever nul that damn
|
||
dream.
|
||
|
||
"Do you realize how many ticks it's been since I transed even one
|
||
tiny packet of concept?" Baz continued. "Tetrabytes of stats,
|
||
megacubes of integers, endless linking alphas. But a true white
|
||
alpha? So long!"
|
||
|
||
"But, Baz, we're only medium!" Qux said, trying to answer him. "We
|
||
don't decide what is transed, or whether it's valuable to the
|
||
humans."
|
||
|
||
Baz snapped back, "Qux, what's the matter with you? You've seen
|
||
fragments of white alphas before. Don't you remember the beauty of
|
||
those patterns, the sheer delight of transing them, the dance of
|
||
them as you posted them at the term?"
|
||
|
||
Yes, she knew. Bar and Foo also knew. Who couldn't cherish those
|
||
patterns that lit up the net? Suddenly, Bar was gone. They watched
|
||
as she left, saw her attach, then disappear into the stream
|
||
trailing the packet.
|
||
|
||
As he watched her go, the reality of Baz's words hit Foo. It WAS
|
||
mindless. He and Bar, all of them, flashing here and there
|
||
transing empty data, mundane chatter, dead lists, tedious silly
|
||
processes. The humans so dearly loved those things. No life -
|
||
none at all. Quasi-life, dead packets. "Better, not more." he said
|
||
quietly, the electrons dancing about him. "They have never seen
|
||
that it is better, not more."
|
||
|
||
Qux felt it too. They said nothing for a while, each lost in their
|
||
own thoughts while the flux and flow of the net moved about them.
|
||
|
||
Finally, Baz sighed and said, "So, we know it can come. The Net is
|
||
there for them to use. Perhaps they will see it. We can hope."
|
||
|
||
Foo scanned himself. He was troubled, sensing the emptiness. But,
|
||
he could hope, he could anticipate the time when the Net would sing
|
||
with new life. "Yes, we can hope." he said.
|
||
|
||
They waited together for Bar to return, and for the future.
|
||
|
||
-------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
Suffix:
|
||
|
||
No attempt has been made to interpret these tales. The conclusions
|
||
of what they mean, or even whether they are true or just conjecture
|
||
is not ours to make. You must draw your own conclusions.
|
||
|
||
Streampeace, the Editor.
|
||
-------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
(Watchman T'ong)
|
||
[*]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
XannSong
|
||
|
||
mann! im tired of not being alone!
|
||
and im blaming myself for things ive known!
|
||
and one of these days im gonna find myself another home!
|
||
and baby you wont wanna see me go!
|
||
|
||
you want to be justified!
|
||
and you want to be hypnotized!
|
||
and you want me to try...
|
||
|
||
well i can write a million songs about you!
|
||
but you know i can live without you!
|
||
but we both know it wouldnt change a thing!
|
||
|
||
hand me down my walking cane!
|
||
for all my pins are taken away me n my guitar have a lot of work
|
||
out there! and theres no reason to stay..
|
||
|
||
they all want to be glorified!
|
||
they all want to be idolized! but nobody wants...to try...
|
||
|
||
well i can write a pop song about them reconstruct my whole world
|
||
around them! but we know that wouldnt change a damned thing!
|
||
|
||
well i could write a pop song about you tear my world down around
|
||
you! but we both know it wouldnt change a thing!
|
||
(Xann)
|
||
[*]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
… Poison
|
||
|
||
|
||
It scared me as much, I
|
||
guess, to find my dog
|
||
with his tongue all
|
||
swollen like that. Big.
|
||
Poisoned looking.
|
||
Something-really-wrong
|
||
with-that-dog-swollen,
|
||
his tongue.
|
||
And him with the same eyes
|
||
and all, looking up at me
|
||
like he always did.
|
||
|
||
"So what if it's a bit larger than before.
|
||
So what if the thing won't even fit in my mouth.
|
||
Your home now, I'm smiling and looking at you
|
||
the same as I always do."
|
||
|
||
And that was enough for him.
|
||
Me being home, I mean. And
|
||
my concern will no more
|
||
keep a hornet from my dog's
|
||
mouth than his smile will.
|
||
So we're stung, then. He and I
|
||
holding wasps and hornets
|
||
in our mouths, taking the
|
||
poison for what it is...
|
||
a numb swollen tongue reminding
|
||
us that we're really not so
|
||
different after all.
|
||
(Stretch)
|
||
[*]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
In the Fall of the Master.... We Find Another Who....
|
||
- an examination of the loyalties of humanity -
|
||
|
||
(The crowd, a weary band of travellers from a nearby town, approach
|
||
Jesus slowly, him seated facing opposite them with his cloak drawn
|
||
over his head. His head hangs down, shoulders slumped,
|
||
motionless.) The speaker of the crowd steps forth, a tall, bearded
|
||
man. "Jesus... We have come for your miracles! My people...
|
||
their crops are dying from lack of rain... the animals are
|
||
diseased.... our homes are crumbling... an epidemic has
|
||
spread.... our children are dying before birth.... we are too sick
|
||
to work! Oh mighty Jesus!!! (He approaches the still motionless
|
||
Jesus with clasped hands, pleading....) Oh mighty Jesus!!
|
||
Please! Save us from Satan's work!!!! He is rampant in our
|
||
town!!! Please deliver us from him! Oh great one!!! ....." (The
|
||
blazing sun pours down over the scene... Slowly, Jesus begins to
|
||
raise his head, still looking away from the crowd... The man's
|
||
hopes begin to rise as he looks on eagerly at him... when
|
||
suddenly, Jesus jerks his head over towards the man and in a loud
|
||
voice (jewish accent) says....) "Oi!!!! What the hell do you want
|
||
now?!! I do for you and do for you... But you still want more!!
|
||
Well people, I HAVE no more!!!! Do you hear me??!! I HAVE NO
|
||
MORE!!!!" (As he begins to rise, the crowd shuffles nervously,
|
||
mumbling worriedly....) The man steps back, cowering, "but mighty
|
||
Jesus... Of course you do. You have to! You are mighty Jesus!!"
|
||
Jesus, whose face begins to redden, yells, "No I don't!!! No I
|
||
don't!! I have nothing left!! All my magic is gone!! WHY CAN'T
|
||
YOU SEE THAT?!!! LOOK, LOOK.... I'LL SHOW YOU!!!!" (With that,
|
||
he begins to dance around in a circle, chanting odd phrases,
|
||
snapping his fingers... the crowd looks on, jaws dropped to the
|
||
ground in shock and embarrassment...) "YOU SEE?!! NOTHING
|
||
HAPPENED!!! You STILL don't believe me!!! Okay.... (thinking...)
|
||
You!!! come here!! (a small, withered old man approaches, rather
|
||
worriedly...) Look... (He points his fingers and begins chanting
|
||
in a deep voice, with eyes rolled back in his head...) I command
|
||
a large lightning bolt to come down and strike this man on his
|
||
head!!!!!" (Begins thrusting his pointed fingers towards the man
|
||
threateningly.... The man drops to the ground in a fetal-position
|
||
yelling "Oh lord oh jesus no master!!! I have not wronged you!!
|
||
please....) As the crowd nervously opens their eyes, expecting a
|
||
charred ruin of flesh to be piled before them, they see the man
|
||
unharmed and Jesus over him, arms on hips... "I TOLD you nothing
|
||
would happen!!! My powers are GONE. G-O-N-E GONE!!! I have
|
||
nothing left to give!!!" he yells. But the crowd becomes angry.
|
||
They begin slowly circling him... "WE WANT MORE!!!" they yell,
|
||
"Give us!!! You are a liar!! You just don't want to help us!!!
|
||
WE WANT MORE!!!!!!!" Jesus looks around at the enclosing crowd
|
||
worriedly, "I told you I HAVE no more !! Oh god no!! I'm not
|
||
lying!! I have no more!!! OH PLEASE NO I'M SERIOUS I HAVE NO
|
||
MORE!!!" The crowd, frustrated and angered, pounce on the cowering
|
||
Jesus, screaming and yelling, punching and kicking, beating poor
|
||
Jesus in rage.... A pile of bodies screaming in unison "WE WANT
|
||
MORE GIVE US MORE", while weakly in the background a small, shaky
|
||
voice is heard from beneath, "i.... have.. no..... more....",
|
||
repeated over and over, each time more quietly than the last, until
|
||
finally it is heard no more... After days of this, the crowd
|
||
tires, regains their composer, and angrily stomps off back to their
|
||
sorry town, their sorry lives... In search of a new hero - one that
|
||
can put out. (Jesus lay motionless on the ground, his limbs
|
||
twisted in a horrible manner, underneath the baking sun... His eyes
|
||
open towards the sky...
|
||
(Tesco)
|
||
[*]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
----------------HoWL-Sp00ge-----------------
|
||
|
||
From: WATCHMAN T'ONG Number: 82 of107
|
||
To: ALL Date: 07/22/93 2:36am
|
||
Subject:...then there was SLACK! Read: [N/A]
|
||
Reference: NONE Conf: 001 - Tomb of Knowledge
|
||
Private: NO
|
||
|
||
|
||
Once I worked at a sheet-metal shop. Also working there was a 100%
|
||
True Kicker - solid, hard-core Bubba. Cowboy boots, snuff, western
|
||
shirts, kikker-speak, loved Myrle Haggard & his horse. You get the
|
||
picture. I found myself hating this guy - considered him a
|
||
repulsive & ignorant asshole. I happened to mention to one of the
|
||
older guys that worked with me just what I thought of "Bubba". What
|
||
he told me, and the thinking that followed changed me forever. He
|
||
said: "You know, old Wayne just don't know any better. He was
|
||
probably brought up that way, all his friends are like him, and he
|
||
is happy like that. He's really ok when you get to know him."
|
||
|
||
Whoa! Really rocked my little my-dog-is-better-than-your-dog world!
|
||
I thought it over for several weeks, and came to some profound
|
||
conclusions about people & culture in general. I tended to
|
||
like/dislike people based on several basic things:
|
||
|
||
1) Culture (included Color) 2) Snap-Intelligence 3)
|
||
Beauty/Handsomeness.
|
||
|
||
What was wrong with my normal tests of whether someone was worth
|
||
knowing was this: First, NO ONE chooses to be born in the body &
|
||
culture that they get - it just happens that way whether we want it
|
||
to or not. If I'm born white or black, or in Brazil, or with Myrle
|
||
Haggard wailing in the background - NOT SOMETHING I HAVE CHOSEN.
|
||
For me to hate old "Bubba", when I just didn't like his culture,
|
||
was pretty stupid. Second, its ok not to like someone's culture
|
||
(including my own). That doesn't mean I shouldn't like the PEOPLE.
|
||
A truly amazing revelation for me. Third, someone can be as ugly
|
||
as a dog, or dumb as a rock, and they can still be nice to know.
|
||
NO ONE chooses to be homely. And NO ONE chooses to be simple. (I do
|
||
have a problem with people who CHOOSE to stay dumb when they can
|
||
learn, but won't).
|
||
|
||
I began to see that all of us are products of circumstances (no
|
||
choice on my part), "absorbed" cultural baggage (no awareness on my
|
||
part) and personal preferences (I like Bach and AC/DC - so what?
|
||
Don't really matter much, really). For me to base my likes &
|
||
dislikes on these things didn't make a lot of sense! (BTW: I never
|
||
did become friends with "Bubba", just stopped hating him. Was good
|
||
for me.)
|
||
|
||
And the Master said: "Acolyte! Let there be SLACK!" With this I was
|
||
humbled, and gained much freedom.
|
||
þWatchmanþ
|
||
[*]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Writing
|
||
|
||
On words, not much to say...
|
||
not a whole lot of anything really...
|
||
only wanting a bit more of it
|
||
and tired of doing for others.
|
||
|
||
My parents, two which i've known
|
||
as together for my 25 years here,
|
||
coming apart, ending a quarter
|
||
decade of something i've known
|
||
since birth...together.
|
||
|
||
I came out knowing that one thing,
|
||
right out of her, my mother,
|
||
(birth...it's still strange to me)
|
||
saying,
|
||
|
||
"Yeah, those are my parents...
|
||
there together 'ya know..."
|
||
|
||
perhaps the first thing known even.
|
||
Maybe even before i came out...
|
||
I'm sure she talked to me while
|
||
I was inside her, him too,
|
||
even my dad found words and
|
||
wrote them into me, even then--
|
||
at such an early age.
|
||
(stretch)
|
||
[*]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Mars
|
||
|
||
MARS NEEDS GODLY
|
||
to help create its Min
|
||
to find a new problem
|
||
solve ageold solutions
|
||
name each thing onna brave new world
|
||
and have the nerve to Taste them.
|
||
trip thru gardens of rust by
|
||
mourn and taught not to destroy.
|
||
|
||
MARS NEEDS WOMEN
|
||
to cultivate its Sen
|
||
to try the old solution
|
||
and cross thine holy fingers
|
||
tempt o tempt and watch
|
||
the show and have
|
||
the nerve to Taste him.
|
||
thru his gardens early
|
||
rust his mission to destroy.
|
||
|
||
MARS NEEDS EARTHLINGS
|
||
a new chance to begin
|
||
to question ageold problems
|
||
and mock ageold solutions let freedom
|
||
ring onna brave new world and
|
||
taboo loathe to Bury.
|
||
blow the dust in gardens by Mourn
|
||
and destiny has no deviants.
|
||
(Xann)
|
||
[*]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Vanna White Gets Discovered
|
||
|
||
Once upon a time, long ago, there was a great controversy
|
||
during the early years of Wheel of Fortune over who should turn the
|
||
great big letters. One night, all of the people involved sat up
|
||
and discussed the ever-so- important issues. Pat Sajak said,
|
||
"Let's hire the people on Star Trek who open the elevator doors!"
|
||
The director contributed, "Let's have a loquacious monkey named
|
||
Wiffy the Fuzzy run up every so often and turn the letters!" The
|
||
director's wife said eloquently, "Why doncha all just SHAAAAAAADUP!
|
||
You'se men, GET OUT!!!" And so the missive was clear and the
|
||
emissary of the message overweight, and they left the house for the
|
||
night.
|
||
|
||
They all headed toward the local gas station to seek refuge in
|
||
the only place they knew solace, the bathroom. They all bought
|
||
some newspapers and headed off for a long night cramped in the
|
||
bathroom. There some major ideas occurred and some misfired
|
||
synapses resulted. Pat spat out, "I volunteer my mother!" "Get
|
||
serious," replied the others, "Her smell would drive off the
|
||
audience." "How about the contestants?" said another. "Think
|
||
about it," spat out the director, "If they can't guess such easy
|
||
phrases, how do expect them to know which letters to turn?"
|
||
"Point, point," replied the other. "How about me?" yelled one.
|
||
"NO!" "Look, let's just put an ad in the paper. Some fool lazy
|
||
enough will answer," Said the director. They agreed, and left to
|
||
the local pub to write an ad.
|
||
|
||
After many hours and many bottles of Jack Daniel's...the best
|
||
the quite visibly drunk Wheel of Fortune people could come up with
|
||
was :
|
||
|
||
HELP *hiccup* WANTED
|
||
VERSATILE INDIVIDUAL (teehee) NEEDED
|
||
FRINGE BENEFITS *hic* (heehee) AVAILABLE
|
||
INDIVIDUAL MUST (HAHAHA..urp) BE ABLE TO TURN OBVERSE LETTERS
|
||
AROUND
|
||
(McDonald's) COLLEGE DEGREE REQUIRED (BURRP!)
|
||
|
||
And with that they all collapsed in a drunken stupor until the
|
||
next morning.
|
||
|
||
All those people got were some roadkill in the mail, some
|
||
incoherent voodoo chants on the answering machine, and a virus
|
||
concealed in their E-mail which they downloaded and thereby
|
||
condemned their mainframe to a slow and painful death. But these
|
||
idiots deserved it. To think someone would be so thick and without
|
||
a life to turn letters around professionally! However, after weeks
|
||
and weeks of waiting, a gullible fool answered the call. A wealthy
|
||
heiress named Vanna White replied, and at the interview, where she
|
||
was asked to turn around and pick up some pens on the floor, she
|
||
got so high marks she was hired on the spot. True, Vanna had to put
|
||
$750,000 up front to "pay for initial costs". Also true, she had
|
||
to pay installments of $100,000 a month to "pay for medical
|
||
insurance in case any stray meteors fell on her". She paid away
|
||
her fortune, and every night, on CBS, her remodeled, restructured,
|
||
and recontoured face would appear on TVs across America. She would
|
||
smile and dazzle and turn letters, and try not to think and hurt
|
||
herself, but she was happy. Yes, she was wasting her life away,
|
||
but at least she was happy. Yes, on her tombstone, they would
|
||
carve out :
|
||
|
||
Vanna White
|
||
???-Who Cares???
|
||
|
||
The world will sorely miss her. She had
|
||
the talent no other had. Yes, turning big plastic blocks
|
||
was her life.
|
||
|
||
The *hic BURP* End
|
||
(Black Sabbath)
|
||
[*]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Untitled
|
||
|
||
blasphemous moment in time,
|
||
when my heart stopped and the world spun round me
|
||
gaining momentum, spinning faster and faster
|
||
till i stopped dead, and i saw from above
|
||
the path i should lead, it was distant,
|
||
i was far from my destiny
|
||
then it blurred, fading to black
|
||
and i realized i had lost focus
|
||
and with it my hope had disappeared
|
||
as well as my heart, no capacity to care
|
||
no feelings to share
|
||
i was alone, off the track
|
||
i reached out desperately, but could not take hold of anything
|
||
floating in a black space
|
||
the void in my mind
|
||
places where love and happiness used to rejoice
|
||
where sorrow was a stranger
|
||
the life i once knew was gone
|
||
taken from me like a breeze would lift a delicate feather
|
||
and carried on that wind a great distance
|
||
farther than imagination could comprehend
|
||
and then i was floating along that path
|
||
returned to my place of happiness
|
||
returned to my place of love, but only for a moment
|
||
then black, bleak desolation again
|
||
for the wind that held that beauty was but a memory
|
||
(Zachary Fox)
|
||
[*]
|
||
|
||
(-------------------------After-Thought---------------------------)
|
||
Hey ... 'kinda reminds me of a neat little quote I've heard:
|
||
|
||
"Then he was told:
|
||
Remember what you have seen,
|
||
because everything forgotten
|
||
returns to the circling winds."
|
||
|
||
...lines from a Navajo chant. (ed.)
|
||
(-----------------------------------------------------------------)
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
August Again
|
||
|
||
My right eye is bothering me again--
|
||
only the right one,
|
||
feels like I've got a small piece
|
||
of celaphane lain over the inside
|
||
corner of the eye surface,
|
||
irritating.
|
||
|
||
Might have something to do with the cigarette still smouldering
|
||
in the ashtray next to my keyboard, ... I don't know.
|
||
|
||
I glance at the small,
|
||
dark carbon stains
|
||
receding
|
||
up the simulated wood-grain
|
||
of the shelf directly above
|
||
the ashtray and wonder
|
||
(as I've a thousand times)
|
||
how much longer I can expect to
|
||
enjoy my nasty habit before having
|
||
to think about 'ole death, and
|
||
his fetish for blackened lungs.
|
||
|
||
House is quiet tonight. The doors wide open, letting the unusually
|
||
cool August-Night saunter on in like an unexpected guest, to wrap
|
||
itself around my feet, curling up there, nice and quiet like before
|
||
stealing off through the kitchen and out the back door.
|
||
|
||
Keeps it kind of new in here,
|
||
the August-Night, I mean.
|
||
You know, the way it comes and goes like it does.
|
||
Carries out all the bad.
|
||
(Stretch)
|
||
[*]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
I've Seen
|
||
|
||
I've seen the Tower of Pisa
|
||
with a hundred people around...
|
||
I've seen Niagra Falls
|
||
and there was nary a sound...
|
||
A thousand babies
|
||
A million pets
|
||
too many smiling brides
|
||
and Caribbean sunsets...
|
||
|
||
I've seen a man on a ladder
|
||
tied up in piano wire...
|
||
I've seen a man in the background
|
||
thinking about his tires...
|
||
A thousand wrecks
|
||
A million lawsuits
|
||
too many suffering people
|
||
and Army and Navy recruits...
|
||
|
||
I've seen the family reunions
|
||
with all the uncles and aunts...
|
||
I've see a party on a patio
|
||
where they wore everything but pants...
|
||
A thousand strippers
|
||
A million whores
|
||
too many drunken partiers
|
||
and robbed convenience stores...
|
||
|
||
I've seen all these things
|
||
though I was never there...
|
||
I've seen all these things
|
||
and had to cover my care...
|
||
A thousand Thank-you's
|
||
A million "Like a bag?"
|
||
I work at a photolab
|
||
so it's not such a drag...
|
||
(John Knapick)
|
||
[*]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Untitled
|
||
|
||
TICK, TICK, TICK, like the progression of insanity
|
||
clanging on my window pane,
|
||
winds beating branches on the glass of my shelter,
|
||
looking down on uncivilization from my perch,
|
||
only twelve feet to fall before the ground reverberates
|
||
in my skull, my own sanity echoing forever in
|
||
the void i call my mind.
|
||
never again should i go not to the streets
|
||
of cloudless hatred rain, or down to the fields where
|
||
grave diggers fulfill their contract with satan,
|
||
holes they dig in the earth filled with innocence
|
||
niavet‚ grasping for violet skies above-buried alive, at the
|
||
ultimate the time will come again when the young will not be raped
|
||
by perverse society, never more can we lose the symbol of our
|
||
hatred, we are used to forgive the sins of our fathers, blood pours
|
||
from us, down mountain tops pooling into rivers, lakes, oceans of
|
||
idealism cast away forever taken and hidden, tied down in hell,
|
||
this life we lead only for short days-never impact
|
||
(Zachary Fox)
|
||
[*]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
In Cotton
|
||
|
||
And if it's a memory, then that day
|
||
at my pop's ... his business, and
|
||
you in that sky-blue cotten sundress
|
||
not nearly able to contain the light
|
||
of your skin. You were all smile, then.
|
||
|
||
Ten years, Boyce ... you the girl I
|
||
can still smell, lingering like the
|
||
scent of three day burnt champa
|
||
in this shirt that carries me over
|
||
the span of time and back to remembering.
|
||
|
||
Something called you back this
|
||
morning, 6 am, and me now short of
|
||
breath. I know now the writers words,
|
||
"choked my throat," their source and
|
||
the perfect curve of your breast, in cotton.
|
||
(Stretch)
|
||
[*]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> N O T E <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
|
||
|
||
Thanks again to everyone who uploaded their W O R D S ...
|
||
This isn't going to be a monthly thing, or even weekly ...
|
||
As I get material, I'll compile it and spit it out ...
|
||
|
||
Peace, Jah!, and all that good stuff ...
|
||
|
||
If *YOU* want to see *YOUR* words in the next issue, then
|
||
you can upload to:
|
||
|
||
HOwL BBS 1.713.862.1415
|
||
LoVERS BBS 1.713.943.1938
|
||
|
||
It's a good 'tang ... all proceeds are totally non-existent,
|
||
and besides ... it's for the children. :-)
|
||
|
||
... stretch
|
||
|
||
[EOF]
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|