thought issue one april one 1996 (c)1996 mindflow productions subscriptions, submissions, or any comments to: email : thought@www.woodford.k12.ky.us www : http://sac.uky.edu/~jrruih0/thought ---------------------- credit where credit is due... this is the .txt version of thought issue one. all complete issues including visual art (photography, ect) can be found on the web page cover photo by : sara compton cover photo of : lisa rippetoe creation : josh ruihley editing : melissa pike executable versions : keith shapiro graphics : tin hung lok, josh ruihley html : tin hung lok, josh ruihley submissions : josh ruihley ---------------------- content: prototype - a welcome to thought I dream I am a blimp pilot Micheal McNeilley Poem Straight from my SubConsiousness Antti Honkeys M.K. a thought... Aqua Let the Poem Be Charles Cooper A Tear in my Eye, And a Smile on my Face Bill Bauman In a Feeling of... Christopher Stolle fortunate. melissa pike In the Pink Danielle Stickler Impatience Sander Koyfman the sixty machines of mr. mills josh ruihley posthumous forgiveness Barry de Waal journey Keith Shapiro untitled Seven Winter Comes Jody Larsen passions of yesterday paul kell ---------------------- prototype: a welcome to thought the first step has been taken. the path seems a bit more clear. jump on. go where you wanna go. welcome to thought issue one. im not really into these 'editor telling you exactly what he thinks' pages, so i will keep this short. i do, though, want to say thanks to all who helped make this first issue possible. the first step has been taken, and it was the hardest step to take. its all good from here on out. i am pleased with the response to thought before the first issue was even released. so ive decided to not let anyone down. ive put much time and effort into making it all come together, and i am happy with the first issue. i hope you are diggin' this also. feel free to submit. this isnt an art review... its a place for all to come together and share their thoughts. okay... the 'editor telling you exactly what he thinks page' is now done. i'll let the pages speak for themselves. enjoy. j ---------------------- I dream I am a blimp pilot Micheal McNeilley I pilot my blimp my big black blimp down the river corridor down the shipping lanes where weather is predictable and navigation is a breeze it is night and I pass blimp hotels and bars clifftop moorings and treetop apartments with dim red porchlights and I pull into the Judy Bar which offers free parking for blimp jockeys and my heels spark on the metal gratings as I pass through those swinging doors everyone working in Judy's looks about the same female and male waitrons dressed alike it's a clone bar and one with copper hair and that intractable headache manner takes my order white spider with a twist and as she turns to go a motion in black denim I think of you walking away from me and then it all starts to make sense ---------------------- Poem Straight from my SubConsiousness. Antti Behind the mask of madness , just - just is the rule of time , as it will take away our mind . For what good could it be , if - if we little people could see , how feeble is this our try to be free . Great people of time , - people who rule their own mind . So driven and sane , motivated until the game , shall take away the pain . Pain that was born in flames , pain of need and pride , pain of years in dark . Losers and bums , we never wanted anything hard , we always could deal with the dark . if motivation is name , that lights this little game , where god signs his name , i think i wont see the end . ---------------------- Honkeys M.K. My parents take pictures on the first day of school. They smile while I scorn, and the pats-on-the-back are frequent. My parents like everything except real things, and nothing in between They brush their teeth together and toothpaste oozes out of their mouths as they smile. My parents are envious of childless couples and they are 911 morons My parents drive a Volvo and they buy CD's for our cassette player satisfying wishful thinking. My parents clean their bedroom on Saturdays and see a matinee if they are deserving. My parents are hopeful, but they are limited in achievements They have adjacent burial plots and labeled laundry baskets. My parents are virgins of the world. ---------------------- a thought... Aqua If we are all actors playing a part in the role of life, we should rehearse the bedroom scene more often. ---------------------- Let the poem be Charles Cooper Find a new way to say it Looking for something more Use a word that no one knows Sounds good Looks good It's meaningless. Meaning and understanding walking hand in hand One without the other may walk but not stand The poem must be understood to mean anything One-half page of footnotes is nice But it means little to me. Why write for a few intelligent snobs When the world awaits your words With your dreams caressing mobs. Do you want your writing to be like God? condemning us all to death for worship, So we can worship with honesty truth Do not! He deserves nothing and so shall you. It is left for us only to be better then God to rise above the standards set for us. To give the poem meaning, to whisper words of truth To know that all that read the words walk with understanding In their hearts and claim to all the wisdom that is ours to impart For us to be the selfless ones For a poem to mean more then content and words For the poem to live our hopes and dreams. For if we truly crave meaning in life And our satisfaction came from learning to write From learning to rhyme and give the words time We may not be omnipotent omniscient creators We shall live and then may die But we shall be Gods. ---------------------- A Tear In My Eye, And A Smile On My Face Bill Bauman There's no definition For the way that I feel I don't understand This can't be real I feel so sad Yet filled with joy Life's not that bad When I hear your voice You break me down You pick me up You reverse my frown And fill my cup With so many emotions I can't sort them out What's this commotion That I can't hear aloud From where did it come And where did it go It's left me in shock And forced me to grow To face what's inside And confront my pain Where my thoughts reside And my feelings remain Within my soul The hatred that sleeps His story is old As he sits and weeps Not due to loss And without hurt He weeps cause he's happy Just thinking of her Her voice is enough To drown out his pain She's calling his bluff It's the end of his reign No more secrets My heart is exposed Don't feel bad And accept this rose This isn't the end I've a long way to go It's only the beginning On a dead-end road Some day I will realize This is getting me nowhere I'll see things through her eyes And I'll know why she cares With a tear in my eye And a smile on my face I'll sleep soundly tonight Now that I've found my place ---------------------- In a Feeling of... Christopher Stolle if a dream came true should I be happy or should I question it? should I pray to what I cannot see or imagine it does exist? and can I whisper a story into your innocent ears so you can laugh? for if I should die a flower will be planted that I will never see grow. so I cry. ---------------------- fortunate. melissa pike he looks up when he thinks as if looking to God for the answers, and he talks in chopped language, taking small breaths every few words. large mysterious man, casting his knowledgable gaze over the class, constantly questioning their learning, re-explaining, watching for understanding in the faces to which he cannot yet attach names. they are as mysterious to him as he to them, because it's only the 2nd class for many, and it's late in the day The darkness outside relaxes the mood of the room, and diversifies the class. Their busy, talkative days come to a halt as they sit those 2 nights a week, trying to get where they need to go in life, one piece at a time. does the strange man realize his part in each of the tiny lives to which he is so unfamiliar? perhaps. yet they all go on. as if nothing is out of the ordinary. ---------------------- In The Pink Danielle Stickler Chubby pink children In chubby pink shorts slurping cherry shaved ice Trotting along after Hurried teenyboppers who slam their knapsacks into me And splash Coke Onto my sunburn. I hate them. Tall, lean, graceful My companion smiles at me Amused by these sticky children And their Appalachian mothers With too-big hair. His green eyes shine. I smile at him His blacks, whites, greys So tiresome a moment ago Now offer welcome relief From hideous pastels. "Damn! Scuze yew." Yet another backwoods inbreed Runs into me Dropping her Taco Bell On her red-faced child. I have mild sauce on my shoes. He is laughing now So hard he cannot speak As he reaches over to Hug me. I glow. And when the next Tubby redneck child Gets her lollipop Stuck in my hair... I don't mind so much. ---------------------- Impatience Sander Koyfman Impatience is arbrosia for mistakes of personal and more generic nature. Impatient bird ends up all dead and cold, Impatient friend is often lonely, Impatient lover loses sight of love, Impatient poet seeks the inspiration. Impatiently. And all of them are me and are in me, they bug me all the time instead of letting be, They rob me of mistakes of being slow, absorbent for a change and laying low. Instead of making waves make no sound. I wish I could... but Like Brooklyn bound train, I am impatience bound. ---------------------- the sixty machines of mr. mills josh ruihley make up your mind mr mills youve a choice of sixty or more you know whats in store so make up your mind mr mills walk down the street mr mills take it all in dechipher within doesnt it give you the chills? to walk down the street mr mills? yeah... all sixty of them. they seem after you, dont they? they seem to know just a little bit more than you do. well, actually, they don't 'seem' to know more... they just 'do' know more. and they are after you. always have been. yeah... they're after me too. its funny though. i stop, they stop. they never actually catch me. i dont think they would catch you either. in fact, they've never caught anyone before. they have just let that person run and run until he died. they laughed. happy little guys, aren't they? you run and run and miss everything around you. they know so much more than you. you think they do. but they dont. you created them. you can take them away. ---------------------- Posthumous Forgiveness Barry de Waal frightening situation seems unsolvable acted sympathy brings more sorrow opening up to the stranger always a promise to be there tomorrow no message or letter goes to show real adversity they don't know no special wish to touch the horizon just a simple plea to unfocussed ears no frantic desire to sense belonging just someone out there to catch my tears closing in on me, the edge is calling virtual sympathy got me falling ghostrider on the highway of life just past the final turning martyr forced to smile at the gallow tied to the torch that keeps on burning saw your features in my final confusion the roaring I heard was just an illusion ---------------------- journey keith shapiro walking on eggshells with cracks down the side looking for someone who's uttered a cry some eggs are strong and bear my large mass but others are weaker won't allow me to pass the landscape i wander most beautiful of all must watch my step closely can't slip or fall the mountains in front as steep as behind wondering, wondering who am i to find the shell-splintered land gives way to a maze opening on caverns with fires ablaze before the games start i look at the land over years filled with caution of holding of hands and then to the catacomb long-crumbled walls once open pathways blocked by rockfall winding and twisting and many dead ends corpses with ferry-fare show what folly portends past spiked pits and deadfalls for weeks i forge through always with care though not to hurt you and then to the center most wondrous of all a beautiful rose garden ringed by a wall in the middle of eden your garden of life a beautiful fountain spared from the knife with toes in the water a beautiful girl hiding from rainbows a head-hidden turtle her eyes open wider the nearer i come her wiry frame tenses readies to run i stop in my tracks and drop apprehensions the fear in my eyes must import my intentions caring and hope from eons of longing finally at pinnacle a sense of belonging the beautiful maiden rises from waterside finally awakened a true hope realized a smile long forgotten dusted and cobwebs swept returned and then answered by what happened next hands clasped with fervor the walls tumbled down i reached to my pack pulled forth the crown the beautiful mountains crimson and red watching the sunset the crown on her head the eggshell field of thousands of cracks finally nurtured and ready to hatch she looked on with awe and i looked on with love at the shells all sprung open the rainbow above ---------------------- untitled Seven my talents flit away i don't know who i am i spend all this time searching hunting, trying to find what is inside dying there unused ---------------------- Winter Comes Jody Larsen "The leaves are falling," whispers wind, "I have seen it, where I've been, Winter dances, winter weaves, Cold is falling, like the leaves." "The plants are browning," whispers wind, "I have seen it, where I've been, Summer prances, summer leaves, Leaves are falling, in the breeze." "Flower's dying," say the bees, We have seen it, soon we'll freeze, Coldness turns, coldness comes, Summer dances, summer runs, "Clover's gone," whisper bees, We have seen it, soon we'll leave, The wind is crying, the grass is dying, Winter's gliding, we're all flying. ---------------------- passions of yesterday paul kell though it's almost been two years i still think of you all the time your face a picture in my heart an offering to my mind and i now that you've gone on with life found your true love so you say i still can't seem to free my life from the passions of days when we would walk hand in hand and make our future plans and talk of how our lives would be together without this maze of school and parents and other things that were always in the way and how we'd love no other now and how we'd be today and i know it all seems foolish now and i should be like you but of all the things i told you one thing still stands true i said that i would love you with my body, soul, and mind forever to be faithful and new love never find and though i never thought it would be over quite like this and fate would deal an empty hand and leave me you to miss i often still can find myself reaching back in time to grasp the days with you and me our passions undefined. ----------------------*