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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"It is difficult to get the news from poems yet men die
miserably every day for lack of what is found there."
- William Carlos Williams
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ode zu allen Frauen, die ich habe, liebte
jene Frauen haben nie meine Liebe zurUckgebracht
i stood like a cold statue
glaring out across the field of snow
i could feel the heat of my pounding heart
warming my body in the sub zero temperature
i could feel the anticipation of the moment
i could feel the desire
i could feel love
and longing
there is so much i want to do
so much to say
so much to experience
but i stood like patience on a monument
unmoving as my desires built like a fiery storm within me
i so wanted to run into the snow
like the child i once was
and be marry in my ways
when i knew nothing of this torture called love
i wanted to explode with energy
sprout my wings and fly the skies
as fast and furious as mortally possible
i wanted to escape with loud music
pounding against my ears
i wanted to drink from the burning fuel
i wanted to eat the madness
but i stood there
shaking in my silence
letting the cold air pound against my chest
i began to breath heavily
i began to erupt with passion inside myself
i could not stand to stand any longer
if i did not act upon my emotions
i would surely die
of the one thing i have never truly had
my legs twitched
i could feel it coming
the moment i have lived for
was this it
is this the time worth living for
is this what i have come so far for
allowing no more control of my body
i began to run
i ran through the field of snow like a bull in the run
i ran with passion as fire leapt out from behind me
i ran with desire as the angels came up to watch
i ran until the final moment fell upon me
i leapt into the air and tried to fly
to escape
and reality crashed down around me
as i feel hard to the ground
and i cracked the earth with that motion
as i laid there
i could feel the realization of why i have never achieved my goal
...
i have never tried hard enough
...
i never made that final action to obtain it
i never tried long enough
i never tried at all
one of the angels stood over my broken form
he unleashed his understanding against me
and then he unleashed pain
his elements struck hard against my skin
they tore their way into my chest
he looked down at my boiling heart
and began to reach for it
he didn't expect what i had for him
no one expects what i have for them
they never do
as his hand met my heart
an explosion occurred
he was thrown back
and all the other angels turned away
as the light blinded them
i stood up and walked over to the fallen angel
i stared hard upon his smoldering body
i looked at his burning wings
and i looked into his face
and he was crying
i closed my chest
put back on my dusty black coat
and with an expression of distinct void
i walked away
and they let me go
to this i wondered of myself
if my love is strong enough to make the angels cry
why isn't it strong enough for the mortals
why am i so cold
why am i so hard
is my love unmatched in this existence
or have i just not found it's return yet
alas
i am all out of tears
and have no where else to go
so i shall stand here
looking out across the field of snow
remembering the one time i acted upon my emotions
the one time i let passion rule my mind
i will see you again soon
and when you look into my eyes
past my soul
and into my heart
will you see a picture of yourself
hanging in my torture chamber
the only place left that lets me feel
- rage-303
TEMPO FOR TEARS (IN STEREO)
i think this will change my foot-groove view -
fear surprised my by tapping my shoulder
too many times in this ballroom decade;
an experience to photograph for my children -
to dance across new horizons and bridges
with success leaning into my upbeat body.
flesh covers my body, but I cannot sing -
radio stations tucked me into bed each night
while cold shivers forsake my physical needs;
another emotional melody to sway with -
rhythm in my words destroyed by shy situations
in attempts to waltz away from solo pain.
nothing too fast for this awkward dreamer -
stars point for my feet to settle onto the ground
instead of trying to fly from rejection faces;
there are goddesses and mermaids calling -
arrangements must not be scripted or recorded,
but i cannot improvise dreams for public performance.
Indiana Poet Jan. 7, 1998
LIFE
Shedders naive where the building
Clothes dresses up on heart
Draws the picture of his future
Keeps the paper close at hand
Back system into a suitcase
Suffers terror on a train
And he wants to start some movement
Cause he's indestructible
Destructable
Destructable
Destructable
Destructable
Destructable
Destructable
Destructable
Destructable
Destructable
Destructable
Destructable
Destructable
Destructable
Destructable
Destructable
Cause he's in
And you know they'll have appointments
And they'll live us alone
And if we just keep on talking
Then we'll stare make its own
There's commotion and promotions
Now they dunk it anymore
Selling pictures to a paper
Now that everyone must know
Trading satelites for substance
Let spectators pave the way
We'll invade the travy fountain
Now that everyone must pay
Trading satelites for substance
Let spectators pave the way
We'll invade the travy fountain
Now that everyone must pay
Mama's babies
Mothers, tragedy
Babies, mothers, tragedy
Babies, mothers, tragedy
Terrifies again.........
If you can understand the song you get the message
- satanhell
King of Wishful Thinking
Wishing what was said, was real
Planning ahead for what you do not know,
and reaching for things you think you want.
Wishing on stars, out of sight,
for things that are or never were,
you find yourself King.
Trying to find that one,
not to ever seal with a kiss,
but to just touch and feel.
Wishing on stars, out of sight,
if only you knew what I held this night.
For then things would be different,
and you would find yourself a happy King.
Instead you are a King with no Queen.
And, the truth should never be seen.
For the stars outshine the dim light,
that you wish upon this very night.
Things so sacred, you would never -
yet, you still find yourself wishing.
Only to be a King of Wishful Thinking.
-Kamira January 18th, 1998
First poem of the year.
[email protected]
Erotica (or dedication to Shane)
Sheltered innocence is sexual appeal
emotional turmoil an unfounded desire
twisted soul, scarred psyche, raging conflict...
desire to share pain, desire to be the
missing element. desire
Is it comprehension of pain?
empathy of internal struggle?
or lacking in oneself, and need for pain from another?
Doesn't matter. Come mind fuck me.
Please?
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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
