ÚÄ Ü Ü Ü Ü Ä¿ Ûßß ÛßÛ ß Û Û Ûßß ÜÜÛ ß ÛÛÜ Û Ü ßßÛ ÛÜÛ Û Û Û Ûß Û Û Û Û Þ ÛÜß ÛÛÛ Û ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ ÛÛÛ Û Þ ÛßÛ ÀÄ ÄÙ Ä electronic literary 'zine Ä *ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ* ù ÄÄ´ volume nine ÃÄÄ ù *ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ* stop plagiarism - let out your soul Copyright 4/96 ú úùcompiled & edited by Twilightùú ú ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ * All literature presented herein is copyrighted by their respective authors * þ Table of Contents þ ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù 1. Adultery - Ray Heinrich 2. Amanda - Medea 3. And On The Second Day - Stephen Lush 4. Annoyed And Numb - Stephen Lush 5. Bitter Garland - C. Dianne Long 6. Blind Date - C. Dianne Long 7. Bottom - Tool 8. Bound - Twilight 9. Concrete - Ray Heinrich 10. Darkness - Renee Medeiros 11. Dyers Eve - James Hetfield 12. Event - Sylvia Plath 13. Flood - Tool 14. In A Darkened Room - Sebastian Bach, Rachel Bolan & Dave Sabo 15. Let Me Go - Twilight 16. Lucidity - LaceyL@aol.com 17. Maybe Solo - Stephen Lush 18. Mental Cases - Winfred Owen 19. My Black Shoe - Eu-Ming Lee 20. Overabundance - Autumn Silver 21. Passion - Zac Maloy 22. Please Come To Boston - D. A. Loggins 23. Psycho Love - Rachel Bolan 24. Quicksand Jesus - Rachel Bolan & Dave Sabo 25. Routine 1996 - Victor Saunders 26. Sober - Tool 27. Somber Locket - Medea & Hecate 28. Sweet Beyond - Zac Maloy 29. Sylvia Plath Is My Mother - Ray Heinrich 30. The Poet In Pain - Winfred Owen 31. Untitled - HappyMonk 32. Untitled - HappyMonk 33. Untitled - Molina 34. Untitled - Molina 35. Untitled - Quinn@adren.net 36. Untitled - Rob@adren.net 37. Untitled - Tempest 38. Untitled - Eddie Vedder 39. Wasted Time - Sebastian Bach, Rachel Bolan & Dave Sabo 40. When She Was Free - Quinn@adren.net þ Including Quotes From: Tori Amos, 'V. C. Andrews', 'Cliff Notes', Ralph Waldo Emerson, _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_, Dana Gould, Ray Heinrich, Jimi Hendrix, 'Mademoiselle', Mary McCarthy, Joyce Carol Oates, Winfred Owen, Anne Rice, Alix Kates Shulman, _The Simpsons_, and Oscar Wilde ÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ Adultery þ Ray Heinrich ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú your breasts were just the right size just the right brown for the light one window away balanced between the two parts of a day our love innocent but only to us and they could always be waiting outside but not in this room where two months rent was more than enough for eternal love for your breasts the right size of my hands your breasts that sucked firm in my mouth and the constant surprise of your thin sweet milk as his baby slept quietly beside us þùúùþ Ray is an ex-Texas technofreak and hippie-socialist wannabe. He writes poems for thrills and attention, likes dogs, and owns a blue fish. He published his first chapbook by secretly placing copies in local bookstores and libraries. His poems have appeared in CrossConnect, Morpo Review, So It Goes..., Sand River Journal, 33 Review, BiSexual Journal, billetdoux, Droplet Journal, Sub-UrbanTerrain, No Trace, Biopsy, his own "Word Biscuit E-letter" and elsewhere. An electronic edition of his chapbook: "lots more damn poems" (Word Biscuit Press) is available free via e-mail. Send e-mail/requests to: ray@vais.net "A poem is written first in its writer's language. When you read it, you are translating it into your own language. Which act requires more skill and creativity, depends on the individual writer or reader." Ä Ray Heinrich Amanda þ Medea ùúùúùúù Superstitous and on the prowl, blonder and blonder holds the black down. Kissing the universal nemesis, while we close our eyes, first and forever he was my garbage boy. Shut the door as I choke in his darkness, pretend not to hear him admiring my name. Lodged in your throat is the look of a whore. Sometime in candlelight I'll want to play, because first and forever he was my garbage boy. And On The Second Day þ Stephen Lush ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù today is the day to end all days with sinking blood and vertigo and hallucinations of what I thought of you rigor sets into what we know and flashing lighthouses boast the brightest noise crumbling shapelessly into the sea and pits of disease and death shriek in bastardized monotone, ominous thunderings they set us free into the night they thought we knew what was right chalices on a lace centerpiece nine levels of babylon, no one speaks the common thread I can't tell the live from the dead bury your friends in the sand (they'll be safe there) as glass was formed on a european beach somewhere near the heart of the world a gull cries dear to the end of my soul erosion shatters and shakes, sincere but slow when the one became two in heaven's rain i'll never know so i looked inside the curled shell i found something alive poked out and i let it go it cratered the wet grain and i saw it go colossus nightmares of large feet alone on windtorn spyres jagged ankles pointing into a forlorn sky commerce below in italy it rained in reykjavik it snowed colossus fell into the abyss the mistakes of the day are the fears of the night. Annoyed And Numb þ Stephen Lush ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú the day is laced with novocaine there are no stars from where I stand given up in such a short time maybe I should have talked with that girl some dreams aren't meant to come true I wonder where we are wondering if I is a plural stuck in the divots in the lawn wishing for my own song listening on where I don't belong creatures frolic in the newborn sound and I don't even know caterpillars and centipedes crawling around I built this lonely Friday night for you its worn to the ground like a soleless shoe if its such a success to live, why don't I fly? at least I have feeling but it's such a bowl of dust I could be blown apart by one gust I smoke like my father now it's only a matter of time it blends together and scoots along too fast sometimes I like bad music with the passion that never lasts the people have been set to shuffle the people have been set to shuffle london bridge is falling down and I'm never sure when things are supposed to be the same except with you my heart is anchored to your drying cement it would take so little to forget what I meant. "I'm the one who has to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live my life - the way I want to." Ä Jimi Hendrix Bitter Garland þ C. Dianne Long ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Don't look at me I said You won't see my beautiful dress. Hours of needle and thread Fingers pricked healed but scarred. You can't see what I've done The perfect hem underneath. Only the frills and lace show Not the seam sewn arrow straight. You'll only see The flowers and bows not the lining. You don't deserve to see Such a beautiful dress worn only on Sunday. The beauty is embedded In the fabric pressed neatly smooth. Don't look at my dress You won't see its beauty until crumpled on the floor. "I have never heard of an ex-feminist. Ex-Communists, ex-Moonie, ex-convicts, but no ex-feminists. Once that light goes on at whatever age, it remains on." Ä Alix Kates Shulman Blind Date þ C. Dianne Long ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Silver taped blowhole roped feet and hands broken glass swollen eye purple nose bloody thighs shiny watch still in place tissue ripping fingers gripping my own flesh was it the two drink minimum or my short skirt or the girl that stood him up either way I'm here its done and each night a part of me cracks open and dies wondering why As he continues to tip the waitresses. Bottom þ Tool ùúùúùú Impression is broken now. The wounds, they're erupting now. Desire is broken now. Makes me feel ugly. I'm on my knees and burning; my fits and moans are human. I set my head on fire. Smell my soul, it's burning. Broken, lookin' up, I see the enemy. And I have swallowed the poison you bein' me But I survive on the poison of bein' me Guilt within. Hatred within. Weakness within. And it makes me feel ugly. I'm on my knees and burning, my fits and moans are human. I set my head on fire. I'm dead inside. Shit adds up at the bottom. If I let you, you would make me destroy myself. In order to survive you, I must first survive myself. I can sink no further, and I cannot forgive you. There's no choice but to confront you, to engage you, to erase you. I've gone to great lengths to expand my threshold of pain. I will use my mistakes against you. There is no other choice. Shameless now. Nameless now. Nothing now. No one now. But my soul must be iron 'cause my fear is naked. I'm naked and fearless, and my fear is naked. Dead inside... Nameless now. Shameless now. Nothing now. No one now. (Shit adds up) As you see me naked now. Fearless now. Naked now. Fearless now. (Shit adds up) It leaves me dead inside. Dead inside. Hatred keeps me alive. Hunger has kept me alive. Weakness keeps me alive. Guilt keeps me alive at the bottom. "I've got enough guilt to start my own religion." Ä Tori Amos Bound þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùú pierced gushy eyes - staring, pins outward, sharp points. running waterfalls - mixed clear and crimson, interweaving pink. dripping onto chestplate - seeping into heart, shaping funnels. velvet-red like a robin's breast - furiously bright, but tenderly sore. eager to rise - aflight with broken wings, but leaden down. punch through the alloy cage - from tarnished wire, to another light. "Eternally may sad waves wail his death, Choke in their grief 'mongst rocks where he has lain, Or heave in silence, yearning with hushed breath, While mournfully trail the slow-moved mists and rain, And softly the small drops slide from weeping trees, Quivering in anguish to the sobbing breeze." Ä Winfred Owen Concrete þ Ray Heinrich ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú a condominium on the 23rd floor one with a balcony is NOT the place for a poet or even someone who pretends to be a poet you see there is a sliding glass door to the balcony and you open it and walk six feet to the railing which is three feet high and look down 23 floors to pavement concrete with gravel that gives it a little texture makes it seem hospitable but from 23 floors up it is just as hard as life "We all enter this world in the same way: naked, screaming, soaked in blood. But if you live your life right, that kind of thing doesn't have to stop there." Ä Dana Gould Darkness þ Renee Medeiros ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú a man with broad shoulders huge eyes glowing a frightening shade of red, dressed in black. I see him walking with a light step. He floats, above a fog a black cloud. He reaches out His long, thin, pale hand, grasping for something, I will not give up. He speaks, with a whisper barely audible, yet able to shatter glass With a voice, sharp and cold, my name. We face, each solid brave. He smiles, a toothy grin, in a drawn face, lips scarlet his mouth a dark hole. He opens his arms, thin and long. I feel the fog at my feet. He pleads, for me to join him I am alone I am not afraid I do. We embrace becoming acquainted becoming friends. He offers to keep me company a companion another man to embrace to become a family. I smile, I am not alone, I know him too well to distrust. He turns calls forth his friend Death. Dyers Eve þ James Hetfield ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Dear Mother Dear Father What is this hell you have put me through Believer Deceiver Day in day out live my life through you Pushed onto me what's wrong or right Hidden from this thing that they call life Dear Mother Dear Father Every thought I'd think you'd disapprove Curator Dictator Always censoring my every move Children are seen but are not heard Tear out everything inspired Innocence Torn from me without your shelter Barred reality I'm living blindly Dear Mother Dear Father Time has frozen still what's left to be Hear nothing Say nothing Cannot face the fact I think for me No guarantee, it's life as is But damn you for not giving me my chance Dear Mother Dear Father You've clipped my wings before I learned to fly Unspoiled Unspoken I've outgrown that fucking lullaby Same thing I've always heard from you Do as I say not as I do Innocence Torn from me without your shelter Barred reality I'm living blindly I'm in hell without you Cannot cope without you two Shocked at the world that I see Innocent victim please rescue me Dear Mother Dear Father Hidden in your world you've made for me I'm seething I'm bleeding Ripping wounds in me that never heal Undying spite I feel for you Living out this hell you always knew Event þ Sylvia Plath ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú How the elements solidify! The moonlight, that chalk cliff In whose rift we lie Back to back. I hear an owl cry From its cold indigo. Intolerable vowels enter my heart. The child in the white crib revolves and sighs, Opens its mouth now, demanding. His little face is carved in pained, red wood. Then there are the stars - ineradicable, hard. One touch: it burns and sickens. I cannot see your eyes. Where apple bloom ices the night I walk in a ring, A groove of old faults, deep and bitter. Love cannot come here. A black gap discloses itself. On the opposite lip A small white soul is waving, a small white maggot. My limbs, also, have left me. Who has dismembered us? The dark is melting. We touch like cripples. Flood þ Tool ùúùúùú All I knew. All I believe. Crumbling images no longer comfort me. Scramble to reach higher ground. Order and sanity something to comfort me. I'll take what is mine, hold what is mine, Suffocate what is mine, bury what's mine. Soon the water will come and claim what is mine. I must leave it behind and climb to a new place now. This ground is not the rock I thought it would be. Thought I was high. Thought I was free. Thought I was there to find destiny. I was wrong. This changes everything. Running away, got me running away. Now I'm running away. I'll take what is mine, hold what is mine, Suffocate what is mine, bury what's mine. Soon the water will come and claim what is mine. I must leave it behind and climb to a new place. Water rises over me Said the water rises over me So will someone come deliver me But it seems they've come to punish me instead Die... Ground break down right under me. Cleanse and purge me in the water. In A Darkened Room þ Sebastian Bach, Rachel Bolan & Dave Sabo ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù In a darkened room Beyond the reach of God's faith Lies the wounded, the shattered remains of love betrayed And the innocence of a child is bought and sold In the name of the damned The rage of the angels left silent and cold Forgive me please for I know not what I do How can I keep inside the hurt I know is true Tell me when the kiss of love becomes a lie That bears the scar of sin too deep To hide behind this fear of running onto you Please let there be light In a darkened room All the precious times have been put to rest again And the smile of the dawn Brings tainted lust singing my requiem Can I face the day when I'm tortured in my trust And watch it crystalize While my salvation, it crumbles to dust Why can't I steer the ship before it hits the storm I've fallen to the sea but still I swim for shore Tell me when the kiss of love becomes a lie That bears the scar of sin too deep To hide behind this fear of running unto you Please let there be light In a darkened room "Promises are like spiderwebs we weave to trap our own dreams, but dreams have a way of thinning out until you're left with nothing but the web." Ä 'V. C. Andrews' Let Me Go þ Twilight ùúùúùúùúùú why did you rush at me take away the gun from me it was so softly nestled in the fleshy pit of my temple why continue my ceaseless crying why pretend that you care with those falsely-lit pearly teeth lying through those teeth eyes glassed over in deceit but then why do they cry is it a lie why do you still want me here do you enjoy prolonging my suffering continuing this horrid thing that they - laughingly - call "life"? why did you grab my wrists wrap my wrists in gauze white they were so eagerly flowing in dark, peaceful crimson why bar my entrance to peace why pretend that you care with that selfish, sexual look eyes glazed over in lust carefully disguised as empathy is it a lie why do you still want me here do you enjoy prolonging my pain continuing this awful thing that they - jokingly - call "life"? why did you slap the bottle away why did you take my pills from me they were lovingly working wonders gently slowing down responses why continue this agony why even try to relate with that tongue that creates your own tragedies with make-believe tears cried, an actor's tears red and puffy from practiced plays is it a lie why do you still want me here do you enjoy prolonging my torture continuing this miserable thing that they - sardonically - call "life"? why did you run at me with the chair put the chair back underneath my toes i was dangling like a stringed puppet waiting for the curtains to close why won't you let me out of this dungeon why pretend that you don't have the key with that hand hid behind your back grinning unmercifully, playing keep-away from this monkey in the middle who only wants release from captivity is it a lie why do you still want me here do you enjoy prolonging my suffering continuing this masochistic thing that they - amusingly - call "life"? why can't you just let me go let me go in peace do you enjoy me in misery do you love the upper hand... or can it possibly be that you rush at me, grab at me, slap at me, run at me... because you actually love... me? "When someone says 'Have a nice day', tell them you have other plans." Lucidity þ LaceyL@aol.com ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Falling, blinking, through beauty and lost time Crystal clear and the words connect within Familiar emotion nightwalks a chime The faint sound hints to me it will begin God take me to this far off glitter land... Symbol of empathy lies in a letter Soul of a man is in peace with his band One day we will meet, rest, peace and be better But do those who read this know where I'm from? You laughing, saying, "Beautiful Loser" Thinking of his outer looks make you cum How can you not look inside? - a chooser But now take me away - green hills and sun Where love is the power and all is fun Maybe Solo þ Stephen Lush ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú maybe your social life is better than mine maybe it isn't maybe we can meet halfway maybe we can rule the world maybe we can rule our trailer home maybe we can conquer our fears maybe we can shrug them off and have fun maybe we can lose ourselves maybe we can find ourselves maybe you could give me your name maybe you shouldn't tell me maybe it wasn't meant to be maybe it's all too perfect maybe I'm paranoid maybe I'm saner than most maybe you're jealous maybe I'm egotistical maybe you could give me some food maybe I can give you something back maybe you're better than me maybe you're stronger maybe you've found the way that I can see no longer maybe I get too much attention maybe I deserve what I have maybe I should give it away the guilt of owning what isn't to be had maybe we're allowed pride maybe that's something for others to hide maybe we can have just one wish maybe you could give me another kiss maybe you'll be my last reason maybe you'll be my last hope maybe I shouldn't have left maybe I shouldn't mope sometimes I think you're for me sometimes I think I'm for you at times we are uncertain at times we are uncool look deep inside my maybe soul and cherish it with care god forbid I lose what I live for maybe I shouldn't dare. "Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes." Ä Oscar Wilde Mental Cases þ Winfred Owen ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight? Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows, Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish, Baring teeth that leer like skulls' teeth wicked? Stroke on stroke of pain, - but what slow panic, Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets? Ever from their hair and through their hands' palms Misery swelters. Surely we have perished Sleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish? - These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished. Memory fingers in their hair of murders, Multitudinous murders they once witnessed. Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander, Treading blood from lungs tat had loved laughter. Always they must see these thigns and hear them, Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles, Carnage incomparable, and human squander Rucked too thick for these men's extrication. Therefore still their eyeballs shrink tormented Back into their brains, because on their sense Sunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black; Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh. - Thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous, Awful falseness of set-smiling corpses. - Thus their hands are plucking at each other; Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging; Snatching after us who smote them, brother, Pawing us who dealt them war and madness. My Black Shoe þ Eu-Ming Lee ùúùúùúùúùúùúù My girl, I know you're chanting your mantra again. Though your thin lips are still, and your blue eyes unwavering, their tautness and dullness reveal the secret song you sing. Though you turn your back and your gaze casts through me, I know your soul yet: Taut tarnished brass harp string accidentally plucked by God's clumsy thumb-- buzzing and wailing in ugly disharmony. I hear you, my girl, it's true: That jangle-toothed saw clawing your soul--- you do not do, you do not do. Hear me out, my girl. My soul is noisy and rattles and wheezes like a sick horse, stomps around and lingers, that lame goat. Though more annoyance than music, you cannot deny our queer resonance. Listen, I don't want a mythic goddess, I just want my girl. For though the world may feast upon your words and noisy soul, forever--- It is I, alone--- who shall starve when no sensuous smile and no soft laughter shall sing--- with me anymore, black shoe. Overabundance þ Autumn Silver ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù morbid glistening tangled in my hair sliding off the curb in bloody puddles and the rain washing away the death to be replaced with pain tears burning through laughter smiling of death greet the reaper with a kiss and watch the blood flow white wrists with pink scars beneath anguished, dead eyes fingers idly stroking the gun hot metal warming cold hearts screaming inside my head until the explosion comes blood spattered on the walls screaming, screaming aloud laughter and sickness dead silence dead screaming morbid "Tragedy is the art form that revels in death as if death were a kind of transfiguring experience and not the portal to mere deadness." Ä Joyce Carol Oates Passion þ Zac Maloy ùúùúùúùúùúù He doesn't see her anymore, and yet she stands in front of him No communication, only empty words are spoken With a memory, she lingers on and on and on For a moment, she'll just close her eyes and drift away He doesn't see her anymore Somehow forgotten what it is he promised to be here for But there's something there, something left That keeps her by his side, close her eyes... She remembers the passion Doesn't feel her breath, her kiss, and yet she lies beside him No imagination, keeps two steps back - two steps back With a memory she lingers on and on and on For a moment she'll just close her eyes - remember when He doesn't see her anymore Somehow forgotten what it is he promised to be here for But there's something left, something there That keeps her by his side, close her eyes... She remembers. She remembers him, she remembers why she came here from far away to find her way through fairy tales... He doesn't see her anymore Somehow forgotten what he promised to be there for But there's something there, something left Keeps her by his side Something there, something strong that keeps her hanging on. Close her eyes and they remember why it is they promise to be here Close her eyes She remembers the passion Please Come To Boston þ D. A. Loggins ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Please come to Boston for the springtime I'm staying here with some friends and they've got lots of room You can sell your paintings on the sidewalk By a cafe where I hope to be working soon Please come to Boston She said "No, you come home to me." She said "Ramblin' boy, why don't ya settle down? Boston ain't your kind of town There ain't no gold and there ain't nobody like me I'm the number one fan of a man from Tennessee..." Please come to Denver where the snow falls We'll move up into the mountains so high that we can't be found Yell "I love you"s echoing down the canyon And we'll lie awake at night 'til they come back around Please come to Boston She said "No, you come home to me." She said "Ramblin' boy, won't ya settle down? Boston ain't your kinda town There ain't no gold and there ain't nobody like me I'm the number one fan of a man from Tennessee..." Please come to L.A., we'll live forever The California life alone is just too hard to bear We'll live in a house that looks out over the ocean And we'll see stars fall from the sky, livin' up on the hill Please come to Boston She said "No, you come home to me." She said "Ramblin' boy, won't ya settle down? Boston ain't your kinda town There ain't no gold and there ain't nobody like me I'm the number one fan of a man from Tennessee..." "Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it." Ä _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_ Psycho Love þ Rachel Bolan ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Check out Clementine Cleanin' needles in her wine Face down in her one-eyed world With her brain-dead valentine She'll be your zombie, your livin' dead Her sweet corruption It's gonna make you, gonna break you Ohh yeah, she said... Haunt my house of pain And feel my psycho love We'll shine and pray for rain To heal my psycho love Legs at ten and two Chain her down that's what you do King Tut and snake-eyed slut In the pink but screamin' blue I'll taste your crazy, you smell insane I'm just another ghost Inside your spirits hall of fame Haunt my house of pain And feel my psycho love We'll shine and pray for rain To heal my psycho love As the warm smooth soul Chases through the cold silence of a body A body of touch not feel One question, is she a stone in the devil's garden Or a speck in an angel's dust Ashes to ashes And lust to lust She'll teach you true love Watchin' you turn blue, love She'll wrap you in a chokehold And suck your spirit dry "Sex without meaning is like sleep without dreaming." Quicksand Jesus þ Rachel Bolan & Dave Sabo ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú She caught the melting sky It burned, but still the winter passes by and by To the other side A slow parade of wind That blows through threes That wilted with the season's children Are we saved by the words of bastard saints Do we live in fear or faith Tell me now who's behind the rain A maze of tangled grace The symptoms of 'for real' are crumbling from embrace But still we chase...the shadows of belief And new relgion clouds our visions of the roots of our souls Are we ashamed of our own fate Or play the fool for our own sake Tell me who's behind the rain What do we need where do we go When we get where we don't know Why should we doubt the virgin white of fallen snow When faith's our shelter from the cold Quicksand Jesus, I'm so far away without you Quicksand Jesus, I'm so far away without you Quicksand Jesus, I'm so far away without you Quicksand Jesus, I need you Quicksand Jesus, I believe you Quicksand Jesus, I'm so far away "God offers to every mind its choice between truth and repose. Take which you please; you can never have both." Ä Ralph Waldo Emerson Routine 1996 þ Victor Saunders ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Why have ya come to my confession box? Because you want to be absolved of your sins. I see. Before ya begin, I don't want no half-truths. I expect all your sins ta come a pourin out. What's that? I don't sound like a killer. How does a killer sound then? You don't know. What, like in the same way you don't know if I'm training a gun at your head from behind this partition. How do I know you're not doin the same? Because if you was, this conversation wouldn't be happenin. Know what I'm sayin. What do you mean it disgusts you that I use the holy order as a front to cover up my murderous lifestyle? Well ain't that just too bad. Anyway, let's stop fuckin around and get to the real reason you came here today. Oh be real, you've come here for something more than a confession my friend so don't lay that bullshit on me. You've come to me because you want someone killed. Yes, you're absolutely right, you don't have ta take this kind of talk from me. You can walk right out of here and get yourself another killer. But ya won't do that cause you know I'm the best there is. Do I enjoy putting you through this humiliation? No. There's not one thing about you I enjoy. If you want the truth, I'm indifferent to your existence. Within my life you're represented as a bundle of notes. To come here and imagine you are anything else is a mistake. Just a little question before we begin. Do you have any problems with duality? What kinda question is that? Well it's a relevant question of course. For my information you don't have any problems with duality. That surprises me, cause when I met you and your bodyguards earlier, I could've sworn you were rude to me. You don't remember meeting me? Then perhaps you should cast your mind back to the guy who asked you why you were harassing the beggar sleeping in your office doorway. Ah, you remember now. You thought I was going to attack you. Is that why you had your bodyguards rough me up? It wasn't personal? What, so if I came round the other side of this partition and dished you out a beatin, you wouldn't think of it as an assault on your person? How would I like it if I found a guy sleeping in my front porch and the next minute, another guy steps up behind me? To be perfectly honest, I wouldn't mind. A man has to sleep somewhere. As for steppin up. The only person who was doin that was you and ya bodyguards. What do ya mean I don't arrive at my office every day with roaches beggin out front? What the fuck are you if ya ain't a roach? I should be careful in case a description of me falls on a homicide cop's desk. Well ain't that somethin, a big old gangster like yaself threatenin me with the pigs. Don't surprise me though, pig or gangster, you're all the same ta me. Anyway, if ya so friendly with the cops, how come ya don't get one of them ta do the hit for ya? It's none of my business. No, you're right, it is none of my business. Though it becomes my business when ya get your guards ta push me around while ya big up yaself in my face. It was a mistake? Keep makin em, man. No, that's not a threat. It's called good advice. You don't take advice from suckers like me. I commend your boldness, seein as none of your guards are around. For my information, they are around. You had three of them stake out the church in case anything went wrong? Yea, I guess you're right, my voice has gone all quaky - but then so would yours if someone reminded you that earlier you shot dead those same three guards. You don't believe me. Here, take a look at these; then tell me I'm lyin. Hey, you're shakin all of a sudden. See, I knew ya had a problem with duality. And there was you, all shy ta tell me, as if I was some kinda insensitive type who'd take advantage of a man who no longer had the luxury of three heavily armed friends to do his fightin for him. Hold back the tears for the minute, my friend, and savor the cozy scene. Ah, almost brings a tear to my own eye. Hey, man, I know us two bein alone in here in my humble church is a beautiful moment, but there's really no need for so much tears. Oops, silly me. For a second I thought you was cryin cause ya felt the beauty of our moment together. I should have realized you were cryin cause you think I'm gonna blow ya away. Sorry, I'm a little insensitive ta some vibes. Ya know, they just don't get through. Anyway, ya can rest yaself, cause I ain't gonna shoot ya - well, not yet anyway. See, when I destroy, I create. Why ya lookin so down, man, you're in the presence of an artist who takes great pride in his work. Shit, when was the last time ya was in such company? Speak up, man, you're all mumblin on me. You've wet your crotch! Oh fa christ sakes, why didn't ya use the toilet like everyone else? Why are ya passin me the collection box? Are ya makin a donation to the church restoration fund? Or are ya just hopin this little bribe will make me forget this morning's events? It's a gift. Thanks very much; I love gifts - except when they're not really gifts at all, but a bribe from a sad little sucker like yaself. No, please, there's really no need ta explain; I understand clear as crystal. See, I've had the misfortune to breathe the same air as the likes of you all my life. The greedy sucker who thinks he can solve any problem with a fat bundle of crisp notes. Sadly, my friend, I'm very flush on the cash front so I can't be bought. Though seein as you've given me this tidy sum, I'll see it goes to the charity of my choice - may even give it to the guy you kicked outta ya doorway this mornin. Hey, why are ya runnin ta the door? Don't ya know churches are always locked nowadays. Ya know, theft, vandalism. A defenseless priest like myself just can't be too careful. What's this ya throwin at me? Well lookie here. It's a fatter, crisper bundle of notes? Well thanks again. What is it for this time? New Year spirit, you say. How commendable. We can be friends? What ever gave ya that idea? Oh, of course, it's New Year's Eve, I forgot. Here, pull up a chair and join me in celebration. Oh, for christsake, stop fiddlin with the door and come and sit down. There, that's better. Sit yaself right down and ree-lax. So what was ya wishin for in the new year? Optimism and cheer, you say. Let's just clear the air with a little bit of reality. When you're celebratin and slappin each other on the back and shouting Hap-pey newoo ye-aragh and tellin everyone how ya gonna win the lottery and gonna get ridda the car and buy a bike and ride ta work and get fit and stop smokin and save more money and drink less and earn more and buy a bigger house and move to a better area and... And you'll do none of these things. You'll still be a fat, nicotine loaded, scared, confused, spiritually impoverished sucker. Though that wasn't the point I was goin ta make; that was just a little aside - ya know, somethin I had ta get outta my system. Anyway, what I was gonna say was this. When all you guys are havin a great time sayin all that ha-ppey new ye-ar stuff, there'll be: women bein raped, kids bein molested, people bein stabbed, people bein shot, people bein dumped by their family/friends/ themselves, people livin in hell. Hey, I'm sorry, have I put you on a downer? Here, have some holy water. Oh shit, I'm really sorry, man, someone must have put acid in the water receptacle by mistake. Wait til I see my assistant. Here use this cloth ta wipe ya face. Sorry, could ya say that again. What, with ya screamin and everything, I can't hear what ya sayin. Oh right, ya sayin ya need a hosp and not a cloth. What the fuck is a hosp? Look, if ya don't calm down, I won't be able ta hear ya, and if I can't hear ya, I can't help ya, can I. Now run it past me again. This time a little slower. Hosp? I ain't gettin ya man. Whatever it is ya tryna tell me, it's just a passin me by. Ya know flo...in right over my head. Anyway, let's get back to the murder ya want me ta commit. Er, hallo, is anybody in? Ah, for christsakes, what is it now? Ya want me ta take you where? Look, stop screamin and flayin ya limbs around and tell me what it is ya want. Ya want me ta take ya to a hosp. Look man I don't wanna sound repetitive, but I thought we'd both agreed that hosp means very little ta me. Hosp? What is it, a word ya made up, like ya own kinda slang or somethin? Are you listenin ta me? Or are ya thinkin of a way to communicate hosp to me. Ah, whatever. The deal! Christ, I almost forgot about the murder you want me to commit on your behalf. Now go through the details slowly, an I'll repeat them back to ya. The ac-id h-as bur, burn, burn-t ya ska-in and ya ner-eed ta ger-oo to tha hos, hosp, hospit. The hospital! Christ, why didn't ya just say - aggh, I get it now, when you said hosp you meant hospital. Jesus, I'm so dumb sometimes. I should have realized acid burns flesh. Look, man, I'm really sorry. Ya not gonna hold it against me, are ya? I mean anyone can forget that if ya throw acid inta someone's face, it'll really fuck up their complexion. I mean you must have known. Why didn't you say something - oh shit, there I go again, forgettin myself. The receptacles they were - well, ya know what happened. Hey, look, I, er, take full er responsibility for what's, er, happened here today. I promise I'll, er, compensate you so to, er, speak. How's the acid coming along. Um, looks a bit sore. Does it hurt? Ha ha ha - just a little joke. Ha ha ha. Come on, lighten up, it's New Year after all. That's better. Here, sit back down; let's have a chat. How ya soul shapin up? I hope it's clean, cause God don't like dirty souls. What's that? You'll give me anything I want if I let ya go. Anything I want. Umm that's quite a proposition. Tell ya what. How bout me and you havin a little talk about God, souls and the afterlife. You think that's a good idea? Great, then fire away. Am I gonna kill ya? Are ya askin that question in relation to, er, God and the, er, afterlife? Was that a yes? It was - good. Now I want ta ask ya a very serious question. Are ya ready. OK. When ya dead do ya think ya have ta accept God's judgment? You wouldn't claim ta know what happens when ya die. Well that's unusually modest of you. The way you go on, I thought you had a direct line with the Almighty. Don't defame the word of God? Why not? After all, that's what he wants ya ta do. He wants ya ta make your own decisions. Ya know, be responsible for your own actions. Then again, you don't have ta do anything at all if ya don't wanna. Man, that's when all this God stuff gets real scary. Ya know, like when ya realize how ya think and how ya act is up ta you. Hey, I don't know how that makes ya feel, but it scares the shit outta me. I mean, most people think life's gonna be explained in some kinda post-death college. Though don't getta thinkin we're in anyway special now. Oh no, we're no more special than the roach ya rush from ya room. Hey, get up of the floor, man. What do ya think this is, some kinda chillout bar? This is a church, and a church ain't no place ta lay around on tha floor. Sorry, I missed that, could you speak up. The pain from the acid made you faint. Oh, I really wish I could do something ta help ya. Prayer! Yea, I'll get on my knees and give ya some prayer. What do ya mean, ya don't want prayers, ya want a hospital. What a thing ta say to a man of the cloth. What are ya belly achin about now? So I'm not a man of the cloth, I'm a what? A dirty fuckin killer. Swearin and a cursin my church is very rude. How can I say that when I've murdered so many people within this modest chapel? I haven't murdered people. I've murdered arseholes. The location of their deaths is irrelevant. What do ya mean a church is a holy place? A church is just another buildin, and you, my friend, are just another arsehole. Does that mean I'm gonna kill ya? Well, of course it does. Christ, man, why do ya have ta do all that gibberin shit? I thought you was a big time gangster who feared nothing and nobody. Your family will hunt me down for the rest of my life. I see. Well you'd better give them this ticket so they'll know their place in the queue. At the moment, they're the 87th family in the 'hunt me down for the rest of my life party'. Shame you won't be there. Please don't shoot ya. I have no intention of doin anythin of tha sort. I'm an artist, remember, and you, my latest masterpiece. Shoot you. Oh you are funny sometimes. Anyway, you should realize how I feel with you bein an artist yaself. Oh, come on, don't give me that puzzled look. Or perhaps it's modesty. Whatever it is, I know deep down you're an artist. Here, let me illustrate what I mean so there's no confusion. Remember the time ya had ya guys carve up that young woman who borrowed a little of your small change so she could feed her kid? Man, that was pure art the way your guys bust into the bed, sit and cut out the defenseless woman's heart and stuffed it in the kid's mouth. Pure art. Then there was the time you rigged the guy to the scolding radiator and the time ya handed a guy a wood plane and told him ta plane his shin down ta an acceptable standard - pure genius. I could go on all day, but I need a little time ta match ya artistic endowment. Obviously I'll never be able ta match ya for such huge extravaganzas like the nail bomb that killed 120 people, or the way your guys filled up the local swimmin pool with acid and threw in a hundred or so tenants of a block ya wanted ta convert inta offices. Though I'll attempt to balance the lack of quantity by fillin my work with quality and invention. Wow wow, ya have a gun. Where did ya get that? Put my hands up and walk out front so you can shoot me in my face. Now that's not a very nice way ta talk to a priest, is it. After all I've done for ya, I - okay, man, relax; I'm comin out. There, now ya can see me. I'd advise ya not ta pull the trigger. Am I sayin that cause I'm scared of dying? No, not at all; I'm tellin ya cause I've rigged it ta backfire and shower ya with tiny shards of glass. Bullshit, you say, then fire away. Cut out that agonized screamin shit, man. I just warned ya what would happen, and ya chose to ignore me. Yea, I know it hurts when hundreds of tiny shards of glass stick in ya hands and face. Looks good though. The way the light filters through the stained glass and drifts across the glistening sores created by the acid. It really is a wonder to behold. Aghh. Trust you ta spoil my work with a pain-filled grimace. Here, grimace some more. Oh, christ, I meant ta throw the water in your face. It was supposed ta be a joke. Hey, man, lighten up. Anyone can mistake acid for water. I mean, the acid's bright yellow, and the water, a kinda grey transparent color, er, if ya know what I mean. Anyway, ya won't have ta worry about screamin for much longer, cause I intend ta shoot ya pretty soon. Stop beggin, it was only a joke. Hey, come and sit round here. I wanna tell ya somethin. Er, excuse me, Mister. I'd prefer it if ya stopped all that pukin - it's, er, messin up tha floor. That's better. Now listen up and listen hard. I'm a killer, plain and simple. Why beat around the bush and pretend I wash cars or sell insurance? Lies are for the weak. I should know, I spend my time killing them. I, the killer of the liar and the traitor. What a moral job. When I get ta heaven, God himself will thank me personally for my contribution to cleaning away the scum. And who is the latest piece of filth ta be annihilated? Well, it's you, of course. Though not yet. Hey, you're right, eyes lookin really red and sore. I think ya should see a doctor. Shall I call one? Yes per-leeeze. I suppose that's a yes. It is - too bad I've already pulled the trigger. How many more of these suckers will I torture and kill before I am tortured and killed? No time ta speculate, next confession'll be along in five minutes. Better dispose of the body. Into the furnace. One, two, three, up! A smokin, my furnace is a smokin with the flesh of another bad boy sucker. Dah, dah, dah-oh yea. Maybe the inside of this confession box could do with a lick of paint. I'll give it some thought later; here comes the latest guilt-loaded loser from a long line of guilt loaded losers. Why have ya come to my confession box? Because you want to be absolved of your sins. I see. Oh, and before ya begin, I don't want no half-truths. I expect all your sins ta come a pourin out... "In violence, we forget who we are." Ä Mary McCarthy Sober þ Tool ùúùúùú There's a shadow just behind me. Shrouding every step I take. Making every promise empty. Pointing every finger at me. Waiting like a stalking butler, who upon the finger rests. Murder now the path "must we", just because the sun has come. Jesus, won't you fucking whistle Something more that's past and done Jesus, won't you fucking whistle Something more that's past and done Why can't we not be sober? I just want to start this over. Why can't we drink forever? I just want to start this over. I am just a worthless liar. I am just an imbecile. I will only complicate you. Trust in me and fall as well. I will find a center in you. I will chew it up and leave. I will work to elevate you, just enough to bring you down. Mother Mary, won't you whisper Something more that's past and done Mother Mary, won't you whisper Something more that's past and done Why can't we not be sober? I just want to start this over. Why can't we sleep forever? I just want to start this over. I am just a worthless liar. I am just an imbecile. I will only complicate you. Trust in me and fall as well. I will find a center in you. I will chew it up and leave. Trust me... Why can't we not be sober. I just want to start things over. Why can't we sleep forever. I just want to start this over. I want what I want... "The blues isn't about feeling better... it's about making other people feel worse." Ä 'Bleeding Gums Murphy', _The Simpsons_ Somber Locket þ Medea & Hecate ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú On the chest of the dark girl sits the blonde one braiding firefly bellies into bracelets. They seek the deepest understanding that can never be found. Even white suggests impurity if it's your brother's hands beneath the fabric. The silver moon is glinting its reflection of reality. Somewhere beside them all you can aquire the foulest desire to be amongst the dead. The only sins are committed before dawn. "You've got to let go of innocence or it will take you down with it when it sinks like some old rotted shrimp boat on the canal." Ä 'V. C. Andrews' Sweet Beyond þ Zac Maloy ùúùúùúùúùúùú In the end...I lay the flowers, I lay the flowers down I have bent my rules I have laid before me Falling deeper still than I ever thought I would and I would again As we begin this journey, put your soul with Connected from this moment throughout life and death and time I would show you the deepness - if there was a sea forever I would give you the planets - if there was a way. In the End... If your life I should fail to save... I'll lay the flowers on your grave. As the years surround us, this will stay beautiful Through the change of appearance, love remains I would show you the vastness if there was a sky neverending I would give you the sunlight if there was a way. In the End...(I will be here) If your life I should fail to save... I'll lay the flowers on your grave. I have felt what I never conceived From here through sweeter beyond Impossible for words to bring you understanding I will be the one you see In the End ... (I will be here) If your life I should fail to save In the End ... (I will be here) If before me you should leave this place I'll lay the flowers on your grave. Sylvia Plath Is My Mother þ Ray Heinrich ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù sylvia plath is my mother i practiced cutting my finger like her a few weeks ago it was exactly as she said she is perfect the perfect poet risking everything and losing it and gaining it at the same time i look at her picture posted just to the right of my computer just beside gary snyder and the one smoothly lives and the other roughly dies but looking at the words left behind for all i know they sit side by side maybe even kiss me in my love for them mirror images reflecting paths down which any of us can go "Q: A friend makes tiny cuts on her arms with a razor. Why does she do this and how can I help her stop? A: It sounds as though your friend is exhibiting what's called self-mutilating behavior. Some people - an estimated 7/1,000 (most of them women) - seem able to relieve stress only by injuring some part of their bodies. Most use razors or knives; some burn their skin or bang parts of their bodies against walls. A few hide their cuts and scars, but many hurt themselves in obvious places, perhaps as a cry for help. There are many theories about why this happens. Some women may inflict injury in an attempt to relive the emotional pain of childhood abuse. Others might do so to prove they have control over their bodies. The behavior is especially common amoung women with anorexia and bulimia. Your friend's cuts may not be life threatening, but you're right to be concerned. Urge her to get help; treatment usually involves a combination of psychotherapy and medication. For more information, call (800) DONT CUT, a help line run by the University Hospital of Chicago's S.A.F.E. (Self Abuse Finally Ends) Alternatives program." Ä 'Mademoiselle' The Poet in Pain þ Winfred Owen ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú Some men sing songs of Pain and scarcely guess Their import, for they never knew her stress. And there be other souls that ever lie Begnawed by seven devils, silent. Aye, Whose hearts have wept out blood, who not once spake Of tears. If therefore my remorseless ache Be needful to proof-test upon my flesh The thoughts I think, and in words bleeding-fresh Teach me for speechless sufferers to plain*, I would not quench it. Rather be my part To write of health with shaking hands, bone-pale, Of pleasure, having hell in every vein, Than chant of care from out a careless heart, To music of the world's eternal wail. *plain: mourn, complain Untitled þ HappyMonk ùúùúùúùúùúù she told me all she knew in a dream, so softly i thought i knew her but whispers never stay i told her all i meant promises made i thought i knew myself but whispers never stay and now i've given up hope crumbled to sand going to that cold desert where whispers never stay Untitled þ HappyMonk ùúùúùúùúùúù you lead me through a barren sky and follow my trail of blood i've been here once before alone again that's where i'll go they can all see how i feel of course you can as well inside out, forward's back still i endure this hell you're just as lost as i am pretend as though you aren't still i know you'll find it and know that you were wrong need to love the one who hates me only hate the one who loves me time to change my pain erase me open hole through comes the bleeding clouds down rain up window closed always not me you must know window through my blood i throw empty hand i show my soul "Trust brought such a relief to one, such a feeling of being connected, and that is how you let down your guard, and you can be destroyed." Ä Anne Rice Untitled þ Molina ùúùúùúùú Boredom comsumes my every thought Attention span ran out long ago Thoughts digress to other things Faded memories take control Close my eyes to block them out The beautiful black and streaks of crimson Set into a clash of piano and guitar My mind sinks back to a world I don't control Seduction, lies, and happiness Submission, faith, and despair Swirling backwards and losing control Blindfolded to pain and sadness Falling down bruised and broken Attempting to pick myself up I stumble Shining brightly in my face I notice the light growing closer Eyes now open I look Trapped inside my head I try to get out...escape Pounding on the flesh, screaming for freedom Lying alone in the corner Crying, given up on all hopes My will disappears as the dust settles Aching with pain that should have passed The crying stopped long ago But still it tries to emerge My hateful heart ignores it all Wishing for personal destruction Turning instead to mental relief Chewing away the temporal world An array of colors and memory loss I settle back into my own existance Smiling, laughing, eyes open wide Time passes slowly but no longer hurts Temporary relief from life's frustrations A short time later I come back down Turning my back once again Longing for that freedom Stuck in darkness, silence, it consumes me Shivering, I relish in my pain Soak it in, enjoy the sensation Dancing to the beat of a different tune Now I feel somewhat better Pick myself up and dust off the grime Learning how to walk again For the first time seeing things as they are A sense of happiness washes over me I step outside for a breath Not realizing I've escaped my cage Untitled þ Molina ùúùúùúùú Held the flower out.examined it.the soft petals tickled the palm of my hand.a droplet of dew escaped and ran down my flesh.so tender.so precious.I savored the smell.breathed it in deeply.such a sweet fragrance.reminded me of you.so i ate it.taking out my tensions.chewed on its sugar sweet innocence.i hated it.so delicate.so soft.i made it ugly.i wanted to ruin it.spit it out.such a sour taste in my mouth.like you.so much like you. Untitled þ Quinn@adren.net ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù whisper softly your voice will carry rescue me from the shadows you can pull me back from the depths I've thrown myself in call my name I will hear you take me out of this darkness you can save me and maybe finally we both can win losing sight why do i give up is it worth the fight drifting into endless sleep it's painful to wake stay away it's just so much easier this way darkness all around me seeps into my very soul I hear you calling but it's too late I've lost control just let me go Untitled þ Rob@adren.net ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù you've got no reasons for the things you said but you can't keep your feelings to yourself and i can't find an answer to this emptiness no i can't find an answer and i wish that i was dead i never dreamt i'd hear your echo pounding in my head and though the tears have dried i'm ripped inside i'll say i'm feeling fine but what's the use when nothing could be further from the truth oh where will i find comfort and strength to live again? if there's a God above then show me how the story ends if there's a God above then how could me desert a friend? because i feel so tired and ripped inside you'll ache for me when your hands are tied you'll wish you lived in another time and if you're thinking the pain subsides there's no place to hide when you're ripped inside there is no meaning in the things you did and you might still go round denying it if you could live that hour again would you resist or was i just another victim innocently picked? was i carefully selected or the next one on the list? to be cut down to size and ripped inside "There's no hate such as that born out of a love betrayed." Ä 'V. C. Andrews' Untitled þ Tempest ùúùúùúùúù It rained once. It rained once, it was quite cold then. Sometimes, when she is clear of mind, She can remember it all. All the play in the rain. The water, the mud, the bodies in the sun, Unfamiliar feelings. And not all displeasing. It was warm once. It was warm, the children played, In the water, in the sun, Warm and running...free... Once. You were there once. She knew you, she knows you, You were her, once. She's everything you want to be, Everything you wanted to be, Everything you could be. You were everything she was. She'll always be in you. She had power once. She had strength, courage, To hold us all up. It's all still there, and if you find her, You'll see it again. She was lost once. She was lost, alone, How it was meant to be. You were not to live in her, Consumed by her, caught between walls. Once upon a time, she could dance, Between your mind, between your life, Untouched. But she was brought down, Once. She had it all once. She was safe, until the walls, The solid walls, not without purpose, Melted under mortal fingers. Hands invaded the muddy walls, Brushing her... To death. All the hands, the hands, the hands... Reaching for her... Only wish to be there, But it could never happen. But they kept trying. There was irony once. She was the constant. She is the constant. But the variable hands reach, grab, chew... The silver star was dying. How could she let this happen? She was in control. Even at the end. Fires raged once. Fires raged and reached for the sky. Flames choked and gasped, And cried for the heavens. Get to close to the fading life, The searing soul, and you'll be burned. She lived once. She dance and twirled 'til the stars fell at her command. The elements raced around her in innocent play. Flowers bloomed at her touch. Birds sang. People laughed. But no one was supposed to know it was her... She tried to breathe life into the dying flame. And she was burned. People were happy once. People were happy together. People laughed, loved, enjoyed. Their pain was none of their troubles... It was her burden. And when she fell, Nations fell, Lovers died. She was beloved once. Beloved of all... Her care, her love, her kind heart, Had touched mortal souls. Oh, if they knew, To love her back is to murder her. And so she fell. The elements ruled once. The rain, the wind, the flame, the heart, The family, the love, the compassion All converged for a brief moment. In that moment, all was possible. Mortals saw themselves for who they were. Some cried. Some died. I was a poet once. I've been a poet since the dawn of the age. I saw what I could not see, what I was not to see. I lived inside of her, as you do. She reads at this very moment, The words too sacred to write. You see through her eyes, one she's touched you. We are immortal. She was burned. You live inside us. All converge. We have it all, you and I. The power, the binding love. And we reminisce... When we held each other tight, When we played in the sun, When we loved like no other, When the words would flow from the quill... I was King once. I was Queen once. I was a dreamer once. I wished once. I was her once. I loved once. And I love you. Untitled þ Eddie Vedder ùúùúùúùúùúùúùú She laid alone during her best days as a work of art reading naked on the bed spent some of her best days cleaning carpet from her hair spent her worst days owing you the pleasure of taking blame... spent her whole life disbelieving in her worst fears. A work of art... A work of art. "There is a special kind of tension that comes with being misunderstood. On one hand, one is determined to prove society wrong and to show people who you really are. On the other hand, there is always a tendency to accept another person's judgment, and, in doing so, become the very person you are seen to be." Ä 'Cliff Notes' Wasted Time þ Sebastian Bach, Rachel Bolan & Dave Sabo ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùú You and I together in our lives Sacred ties would never fray Then why can I let myself tell lies And watch you die every day I think back to the times When dreams were what mattered Tough-talking youth na‹vete You said you never let me down But the horse stampedes and rages In the name of desperation Is it all just wasted time Can you look at yourself When you think of what You left behind Is it all just wasted time Can you live with yourself When you think of what You left behind Paranoid delusions they haunt you Where's my friend I used to know He's all alone He's buried deep within a carcass Searching for a soul Can you feel me inside your heart As it's bleeding Why can't you believe you can't be loved I hear you scream in agony And the horse stampedes and rages In the name of desperation Is it all just wasted time Can you look at yourself When you think of what You left behind Is it all just wasted time Can you live with yourself When you think of what You left behind The sun will rise again The earth will turn to sand Creation's colors seem to fade to grey And you'll see the sickly hands of time Will write your final rhyme And end a memory I never thought you'd let it get this far, boy "People want you to be a crazy, out-of-control teen brat. They want you miserable, just like them. They don't want heroes; what they want is to see you fall." - Leonardo DiCaprio When She Was Free þ Quinn@adren.net ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù she tries to pay attention her concentration weak her mind closed in by walls she'll try to use this as an excuse but don't let her fool you the walls are made of cardboard she says she is chained in but did she fail to mention the chains are made of paper she complains of locks, but they're locks she chose herself to keep herself in to keep others out she remembers a time when she was free when she had no fears to overcome, no precautions, no hesitations when she was hurt, when she felt pain, then she crawled away, curled up she'll show you the scars the wounds that will never quite heal, but that's okay she'll say with a small smile for no longer can I feel ADVOCATE DISCERNMENT REPRESENT TRUTH Say NO to deceptive alien entities. For FREE stickers and info send self-addressed stamped envelope to: V2, Box 911, Stanwood, WA 98292 USA (if addressee is out of the USA please include International Reply Coupon for 2oz. letter) Fear Not. Spread the Word. ßÜ ÜßÜÝÜßÜ ßÜÞÜß Ü Ü Üß Ü ÜßÜ ÝÜßÜß ÜßÜßÜ ßÜßÜ ÜßÜßÞÜß ÜßÜ Ü ßÜÜßÜß ßÜßÜÜß Ü ßÜßÜÝÜßÜß ÜßÜ ßÜ ßÜ ß ßÜßÜß Üß Ü Ü ßÜÝÜß Üß ÜßÜ ßÜÜßÜßÜ Üßßß Üß Û Ü ÜßßÜÞ ÜßÜß Ü ßÜßÜÜ ßÜß Üß ßÜÜß Üß Ü ßßÜßÝßÜß ÜÜ ßÜßßÜ ß Üß ÜßßÜÜß ÜßßÜ ßÝß ÜßÜ ßÜßßÜ ß Üß ÜßßßÝÜß ÜÜßÜÞÜßÜß ÛÞßßÜ ß ß ÜÜßÜßÜß ÜßÜÞÜß ÜßÜÝßÜÜß Ü Üßßßß ßÜßÝÜßÜÜßÜß Ü Ü Ü Ü ßÜ ßÜ ßÜßßßÜÜßÝÜÛßÜßÜÜß Üß Üß Üß Ü ßÜßÜ ßÜÜßÜßÜßÜßÜßÜÜÛÛÛÜßßÜßÜßÜßßßÜÜß ÜßÜß ßÜßÜßÜßÜßßÜ ßÜ ßÜßÜß ß Ý ß ßÜ ßÜßÜ ßÜßÜßÜßßÜ ÜßßÜßÜ ßÜßÜ ßÜ ß Þ ß ß ß ß ß Ý Ý Þ ß ùtwiù Legalize. ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù Submit your original literary works for Spilled Ink, [volume ten], to Twilight via Internet e-mail: twilight@mail.utexas.edu ùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúùúù