From: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org (eda-thoughts-digest) To: eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Subject: eda-thoughts-digest V2 #207 Reply-To: eda-thoughts@smoe.org Sender: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Errors-To: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Precedence: bulk eda-thoughts-digest Friday, July 16 1999 Volume 02 : Number 207 * If you ever wish to unsubscribe, send an email to * eda-thoughts-digest-request@smoe.org with ONLY * the word unsubscribe in the body of the email * . * PLEASE :) when you reply to this digest to send a post TO the list, * change the subject to reflect what your post is about. A subject * of Re: eda-thoughts-digest V2 #xxx or the like gives readers no clue * as to what your message is about. Today's Subjects: ----------------- ET: Concert Connection Project ["Brian H" ] ET: A Life Without You ["Brian H" ] ET: "poems" ["C. C. & S." ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Thu, 15 Jul 1999 13:31:57 CDT From: "Brian H" Subject: ET: Concert Connection Project Ok, I made it. The page with all of the people who are going to which concerts. If you haven't sent me a message I will still take them. I am hoping that this list will last through the other tours and stuff. I'm not sure what the exact link is. But go to my site and there is a link. http://get.to/lifeuncommon I know there is one mistake so far, I will fix that soon. But if anyones email address is wrong, or if I missed someone, please email me at lifeuncommon@hotmail.com. I will fix it as soon as possible. All of the info I got are posted, so if your name isn't up, then please resend your form. Here is the form now ***Concert Connection Project Form*** Concert Venue: Concert City: Seats: Name: Email: ************************************** Ok, be sure to check it out! ;o> ߮I@N "The Jelly Doughnut of an Angel" halaasb@hotmail.com <-- To contact me personally lifeuncommon@hotmail.com <-- Contact regarding Life Uncommon ICQ: 40694569 AIM: brianh5036 http://get.to/lifeuncommon ************************************ *"Oh, buttercup * *...Lives in a cup... * *She lost her scream * *In a Styrofoam dream * *And the white horse came * *To take her away * *But it stepped on her little toe * *...Thank you..." * ************************************ ******************************* *"There are plenty of people * *who pray for peace * *but if praying were enough * *we would have * *come to be" * ******************************* _______________________________________________________________ Get Free Email and Do More On The Web. Visit http://www.msn.com ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 15 Jul 1999 19:17:26 CDT From: "Brian H" Subject: ET: A Life Without You A Life Without You (A Poem for Katie) A life without you There'd be nothing to do No one to talk to No one to come to I don't know what I'd do Without you You've always been there You always care Though sometimes we're not Exactly best friends I Know we've always got A friendship that never ends A life without you Would be fishing without bait And soon you'll be leaving To Live Your new life Just know that I love you Just know that I care A Life without you A Life without air ~Brian Halaas This is one of my early poems. It isn't ver good. But I thought I would put it up anyway. hehe ;o> ߮I@N "The Jelly Doughnut of an Angel" halaasb@hotmail.com <-- To contact me personally lifeuncommon@hotmail.com <-- Contact regarding Life Uncommon ICQ: 40694569 AIM: brianh5036 http://get.to/lifeuncommon ************************************ *"Oh, buttercup * *...Lives in a cup... * *She lost her scream * *In a Styrofoam dream * *And the white horse came * *To take her away * *But it stepped on her little toe * *...Thank you..." * ************************************ ******************************* *"There are plenty of people * *who pray for peace * *but if praying were enough * *we would have * *come to be" * ******************************* _______________________________________________________________ Get Free Email and Do More On The Web. Visit http://www.msn.com ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 15 Jul 1999 18:14:49 -0700 From: "C. C. & S." Subject: ET: "poems" here are some poems...well i don't really like them but they're here all the same :) the headache creeps across me the ache of not having eaten the arrow of self torture the crush of drumming happenings the feeling of being naked & shot and the stab of nothing left *** it's hot and windy. the powder sky has succombed to watercolor clouds. the humid breeze sticks to my joints, my skin so gently touched by the tornado weather breeze that clinks the windchimes as though they know some secret. i can almost smell the air. it's sure to rain at any moment; it feels like the tropics, thunderclouds blown in from hot dry winds to cool our impatient fingers. an almost unfelt droplet of moisture travels occasionally on the winds. somehow, it soothes my soul. it promises refreshment, impermanent, moving on after it has drenched our petals and the birds have drunk in the humid pools of peacefulness. tall stocks bend their lanky flower heads, all the trees brush their leaves together in anticipation Time does not exist here. everything waits. the onset brings freedom, as if the changing sky has proven that i can sidestep and enter this enormous place, so full of mystery and delicious newness. the umbrella flutters, sways. an orange ball rests in a stem brush capped with dried daisies, where it has been thrown, still. it is the only quiet in a flowing movement of flowers, trees, wind and sky; i can smell the rain as the orange sharp sun peers through a tiny far away gap in the soft cloak of clouds. an airplane thunder fades in and out. the wind dances, its warmth radiating a calming coolness, a deep breath and sense of living. it sweeps from across oceans and plains, long and open places speaking space & movement. it lifts me onto its currents, and frees me in its power of its own freedom. *** woman IV a truly happy smile, unlike most, whose smug smear was in the image of plastic surgery. she wears a long clingy rippling dress that wavers and looks like smoke and ash waves. her peanut oil tan comes out from under comfortable hair, bleached by an expensive Irvine stylist. but though she fits into the cracks of sea-crawling Mercedes and fashion Islands well, she holds a seperateness that glows,--I am the only one here who is really satisfied. *** why is the baby in the registration chair? she was before slung over a neon stroller, head flung back as if unconscious. now her hair is matted. her gauzy pink princess dress softens under her sleepy inquisitive eyes. I wonder what is in her mind. Her unreadable face is so small. I almost wish I could scoop her up and carry her out from this place. Her tag sticks out. She mourns "no..." as she groggily holds tight to her mother's back. mom's questioning look peers up at the father. The girl's ceaseless cry of no continues as rage flickers on her face and she hits her unmoving father. They barely reprimand. Something keeps them calm as she clings to them, pink under black hair and smooth baby skin. They lift her out and carry her away around and down the hall, smiling. *** she leans on a counter 3 feet from her hip, one leg crossed exaggerated over her lightpost leg that stands like a tree rooted to the compacted gray carpet that holds flecks of slickly colors. Her purse is big and leather brown- she grins and her skin sags. *** a blue TV is always playing in the empty top corner over droning minds and magazines left sprawled on blue chairs where left in a cast off hurry *** she looks like a plastic barbie, peach painted face, that blots out her youth drawn on lips, perfectly curled bangs under smooth sand hair on a nothingness of a black clothed body her mouth moves only to command never to rejoice *** judging laughing eyes from under a mop of dark ringlets turn to scrutinize the orange mass of her skiddish brother behind her. II seen again, she clasps a bright pink Disney book in her arm and peers youthfully around her as she follows the orange. sunglasses perched on her curly hair don't erase the way she falls onto the chair, one leg collapsing childishly under her and taking the candy she's handed. she coughs, looks afraid, and then is distracted when her book falls. she looks 19. no, 12. her flowered shorts travel with her on stumbling legs. she smiles simply. i can feel that i could never really connect to her, as she eats peanuts. i wish i could. she shoves one toward her brother's face; and he pulls away. her eyes are roaming. *** hawaiian woman pushing pink cart of flowers. pink, pink is everywhere *** a woman holding a green potted plant wheels out, then in. sunflower balloon. her face is patient, and tense. everyone has plants, as if to remind them of life. so that at least something will continue to live. II her scared face grows angry. the man who pushes her holds tears with a terrified wrinkled forehead. *** staring. daydreaming, at the ward. a poster leaps out a yellow helmet. Chapel, reads the room. rows of chairs look like a theater. the walls are blue and crimson glass. i notice the old men reading papers. my eyes focus on brown wheelchairs, and as i focus, i see they read Cancer Center. a chill runs down my arms. *** love always sam the ? angel ------------------------------ End of eda-thoughts-digest V2 #207 **********************************