_,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,_ -[ C H E E S E ' N ]- Ż```````````````Ż,,,,_ ___|text file # 010|___-[ C R A C K E R S ]-______________!___________________ * * Ż````````````````Ż _> * "poetry archive 1" |`. *______________________________________[ brian : 31st of October, 2002 c.e. ] * ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ * * i went back to my parent's house and copied my old files from my old computer onto a disc and uncovered some old poetry i wrote : Steal This Poem_________________ ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻFor Abbie Hoffman Never before had I met an orphan of Amerika, Glued to the idea of fixing his nation and All of its inhabitants, All of its problems, All of me. Here I am, a generation later, Another orphan of Amerika, seeking parentship. Dressed in your blue jeans, Button-up shirt of this country's flag, And a head band, You stepped forward. Anita, stop those tears, stop those tears from a-pouring. Gentle hands through frizzy hair, Cradling me like I was your own son, Let alone a person at all. I was on your shoulders When you marched into Lincoln Park, Your voice commanding the Yippies as though You were their leader, But you are no pig. I was one of your acid trips, Festering in your mind, your imagination, Dying forty-two times, But experiencing a rebirth after each demise. Jerry jaywalked, That Yippie gone Yuppie, And was fatally hit, The secret being: It was all predestined, anyhow. . . . . . Abbie's up to his old tricks again, eh? Anita, stop those tears, stop those tears from a-pouring. The system says, "Ten years for two joints." You say, "One problem, it ain't fucking workin'!" John, I spoke to Abbott, So don't worry, he's not upset about Your reluctance to play with MC5 Back in '68. "We all have our problems." "Burn, baby, burn," Barry Freed states, As a thesis, perhaps, and Reagan congratulates him for a Job well done. "Barry," he says, "thanks to you, I Can say that the '60s are over." Barry giggles; must be the new nose. Abbie explodes with triumph. Just another orphan of Amerika Taking on the world. Roses Are Red And Poets Are Gay ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ Poetry is for those faggots It's just a bunch of sad art gurus Upset over some chick that fucked their brother And broke their stupid little hearts It means nothing and The only way it will ever be good Is when it is in a kickass rock song By those real poets like Alice Cooper or Axl Rose They sang about real stuff Axl is a real man He knows how to treat an unloyal woman just fine But then you got those fags brooding In the gay district of downtown Parading around the sidewalks and Infesting all the coffeehouses With their bongos and espresso cock cups They need to get laid Those poets And just remember that life's a bitch Then you die There ain't nothing worth writing about, anyhow Because it ain't gonna do shit in the long run Not if you think about it Today Is My Day Of Dreaming ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ Flowers in the drip-drops of summer dew; Flood me until I suffocate On felicity fallen from fate's gentle threads; Lying dead, my corpse meaningless, Catching the drip-drops of carnage and bloodshed, Gasping for a dying man's breath: "Here we go again, Let me die, gentle soldiers, Let me die, my angel, My friends, my family, Let me die, God, for I am finally going home; My traveling is over." Phosphorescence in the drip-drops of winter waters; Surreptitiously, we crawl to the surface, Engulfed by the tiny worlds Of that which lies beneath, who're asking, "Why must thee be accursed by those In which thee does not understand?" In reply, I scream, thick seaweed trickling from my lips, "Every odious day we need that Little longing that links our souls together, And if it means to die, I admit I will make the sacrifice!" There I tumble, crimson and heather, Scraping the edifice, Realizing I convey to suffice. His Love Killed Him___________ ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ(via poetry) Screaming kids drown out my worries of the punk Standing in front of me. Anti-Flag. Anti-America? Naw, man, anti-what-the-flag-fuckin-stands-for. Freedom, man? Not this time. "Hey, buddy, you alright?" I ask the punk Standing in front of me, As his lifeless doll of a body Is hunched over the stage Resembling a priest worshipping a diety That I can't quite understand; Who was this freak? Standing, branded by these crazy cats, Demanding, commanding his friend to "Get [his] ass over here!" Now he's gone done himself canned, That punk kid, Gone done himself damned; What if I ran? I could forget this whole shit started, But this boy, man, this boy's passed out, Drooling from the mouth, And we need some help. I'd bet my concert ticket That this punk Standing in front of me Has a love/hate relationship with his dad Hate 'em 'cause he makes you love 'em, Know what I mean? He doesn't get out much, this punk Standing in front of me, 'Cause he ain't a people person. "I'm gonna jump on that fuckin' stage and Take their fuckin' guitar!" He screams in my face. "Yeah, good luck, buddy," I wanna say, But I'm too hesitant, I try to avoid the skinheads. This boy, man, this boy is passed out on the stage, What happened to him? Joe, dude, you know what the fuck happened to him? "Hold on. . . Hey buddy, you alright?" No answer and Joe looks at me, I look at him, This kid needs some medical attention, This punk Standing in front of me, He needs some help. Get this boy some help, 'Cause he ain't standin' anymore, Not in front of me. Choose I The Universe ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ I'll pick me them stars way up high Like little copper fireflies in the pruned-up grass Of Tennessee Where I grew up Spittin' watermelon seeds and sneakin' into the drive-in Felt kinda dangerous, but it felt good, Like takin' some of mama's syrup On them Tuesday mornings when she was tendin' ta' Alex. I'll pick me that sun way up high Like lemons I used ta' snatch off Eddie's tree But he didn't know Lord, if he did, I just might as well be dead 'Cause he ain't really right Not since his daughter got drowned and all. I'll pick me that blackness way up high Like the quilt mama made me before she left With little blue ducks on it and twinklin' little frogs I use ta' tell her, "Mama, mama, I saw me a blue duck today!" And she'd tell me, "Bobby, you didn't see no blue duck." But, sure as a horse's hoof, I did see one It waddled past me and asked which way was the gas station. I'll pick me that moon way up high Like the baseball I used to throw at papa When we played catch We don't really do that no more and I want to tell you That's all fine and peaches with me 'Cept it ain't And some things we just can't have. Choose I The Universe__________ ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻVersion II I'd like to take everything I ever learned, Wrap it up in a blanket of dust, And devour it, Let it settle, Then jam my fingers down my throat And regurgitate it all over a red carpet with gold fringes. I'll pick it apart, piece by piece, And save only the valuable memories Like that time When I choked and nearly died Or that time when I went to France And had a conversation with an American pedophile; He was nice enough to invite me To pray with him right there on the bluffs In Biarritz, The sun stuck in the sky like a lemon, Squeezing its juice on the nape of our necks. Those valuable memories, I will hold in my hand, Shove them into my mouth, Swish them around a little, Chomp here, Chomp there, And spit them into the air, But not as a solid goo, Maybe more like a spray So that each particle will disintegrate into the ground And touch the feet of a young child That passes by today, Or tomorrow, Or after I die, And he, too, will learn that There are some things we just can't have But we learn to accept that And be content with a lovely sigh. Solar Eclipse Serenity ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ Sunshine, shine your light down on me, Take away my puddles and rain, Muddled pain and feelings-feigned, Sweep me off the floor and Soak me up with your golden rays And let me taste heaven—just one taste— So that I may live these happy days Under this sky of drawn-out haste. Sunshine, shine your light down on me, Take away my clouds of despair, Shrouded heart tear and afoullèd air, Burn away my mask and show within me This tucked-away affinity That keeps my sunshine shining her flare. Washed Ashore ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ I thought I knew you, Starfish-self-absorbance. Never mistake this Twice, But thrice it has Awaken my fondness Of scales, five-tips, And sea-side ice. Sugar-sweeten the bitter Flakes-- Starfish-self-absorbance, Release yourself to Duty calls deep within. Long night droll of The Starfish-self- Absorbance. You are taken in easily, Starfish-know-yourself. Whispers and jest, everything Else. Course of time, a whim Of innocence Lost through the eyes Of your reflection. I thought I knew you, Starfish-know-yourself. Never mistake this Thrice. I shudder; the Shapes continue Transformation. Paris Mourn ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ Every alley way looks the same, Reminding me of the reason For my absense. I'm left cold--O! How cold!-- Under the streets. Je ne me déteste pas, But I still sense each one of a flaw, Flowing through my veins, Begging me not to fall Below the society, And with the rain. Headhunter Of The Crimson Dawn ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ The slow-roasted turn of the flesh Left her with fun-filled games she Never thought imaginable. Once Locked up inside a fortress of Fear that can never--and will Never--be left with a Virgin Touch. "For why do you weep in this Garden of Enchantment, Young One?" the Cannibal statue said to His Daughter, who has yet to reach The sadistic age of her maturity. The glaze of the sky has fallen Upon the ground with a Crimson Mask belittling the Giants--small Giants!--and their land. "Cannibal, wherefore hast thou Vanished?" I squawk with my Diminishing cries, for the Cannibal Has been buried in the depths of A fire--a fire not just external-- For a mistaken face. The face of His daughter. The fault has been laid to rest Beneath my name-- Nothing more, Nothing less. Anna Never Knew ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ An evening star was born on a fearful morning, Where the light was shear--too shear. Lost perils leave the wee men sprouting, Lest one's confusion leaves him behind. 'Twas only five of us, Venturing into perils unbelievable by Two of us. Sacred doors stab at our spirit. An evening star was born on a fearful morning, Where the light was shear--but, not too shear. Insecurity shot through what we thought was An evening of peace. Naïve little boys fell inside of themselves, Realizing they left to no where. Congealed in a generation not lived. An evening star was born on a fearful morning, Where the light was shear--but, not shear enough. Shackled up in the pins of endearment. Lost by what she thought was happiness, She mistook it and laughed with clarity. We all knew. But, we never told. Fuck A Title ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ You spoiled this fun I used to thrive on. I need to water the plants, But, I don't feel like it tonight. Fuck that. You will whither away, old friend. You will die and, yes, My vengeance may lie awry, But, I will try whatever it takes Not to cry. Fuck you. I pray you will be shent. Not unlike the earth Where i wish you banished. You will be banished, old friend. Sent into exile like no other. If our paths meet once more, You will know what I swore. Confide In Me ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ The lands of one-thousand winds Presented to me a Gift from The Heavens upturned inside. Prosperous as I was, I yelled, "To my voice, You must come! To my voice, You must see! To my voice, You must pray!" Blessings blinded the youth As He came to my side and Told me to cease my ideas. They don't comply with Your's, Making You and I different. We never got along. Heaven ŻŻŻŻŻŻ Lightning strikes a rose, A delicate rose; Petals torn like paper, Charred leaves break apart. Like water on the rocks By an old house on the Beach. Children played on the field, And Rose caught up With her friends. The flower grew up, With obstacles, nonetheless. But, for a second, It felt the spotlight. I simply watched over The sky. I let those things Happen. People adapt To what they see. What they know. What they fear. Reflections ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ The camera plays... What it sees reflects On my emotions. You speak to me Without releasing One word from your Lips. Without one Breath. The camera plays... I lost myself in A line of bushes Amid the corn field. Named Pink Sky, The pale bird Sings to me. The camera plays... And I let it play. And I let it record. I never learned how To stop it. Sonnet Of The Dead Poet ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ Kiss the grey skies above thy empty heads; Feel the pressure of easy mind traps. Groping the ground, doth the see the loose threads? Going insane, thy can't help but relapse. Shackled by endless, internal burdens, Mercy will never see the light of day. Locked inside, draw the secretive curtains. Overcome the pressure: an easy slay. Thy oblvious thoughts will do not good. Ante off thee, risk thy fate in a duel. Touched by a Saint that drew His gothic hood, Thee cackled, and took his small, curséd tool. Scream like a hawk, thinking we must know it. Lay by his grave, thanking the dead poet. One Gemmed Day ŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻŻ Gentle days flow—as it is a river— Feasting on my serene breeze, Carrying with it my barriers. I see in her eyes safety, A frozen world that I want to Stand on top of and melt, Like boiling gold dripping, Crawling, down all degrees. I want to glow, Float, Fly up into the sky, Leaving paradise behind. Set me back in this river, Feeding love back to my mind, Knowing truly I will never die. naturally, there's plenty more where that came from, and i'll type up some more later, but honestly, how much archived poetry can one handle? _______________________________________________________________________________ http://www.bubblemonkey.org/cheesencrackers cnc-010.txt written by brian copyright (c) 2002, your mom.