From: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org (eda-thoughts-digest) To: eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Subject: eda-thoughts-digest V3 #22 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 Tuesday, January 18 2000 Volume 03 : Number 022 * 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 V3 #xxx or the like gives readers no clue * as to what your message is about. Today's Subjects: ----------------- Re: ET: Courtney... [Seth Fulmer ] ET: Re: eda-thoughts-digest V3 #20 [RedWoodenBeads@aol.com] Re: ET: Courtney... [courtney gordon ] ET: What heaven does love know?(poem) [Seth Fulmer ] Fwd: ET: Courtney... [DPS8315@aol.com] ET: Re: eda-thoughts-digest V3 #20 [RedWoodenBeads@aol.com] ET: feel so pale ["Ze Phoenix Princesa" ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2000 09:48:16 -0500 (EST) From: Seth Fulmer Subject: Re: ET: Courtney... On Mon, 17 Jan 2000 JewelAng@aol.com wrote: > Hi, > Do you guys remember this girl name Courtney who used to post to > the ET list EVERYDAY with poetry? I'm just wondering what happened to > her and when she'll be coming out of her shell. I loved reading her > poetry. Shell? Courtney lives in a shell? Does that mean that I'm one of those smart guys that knows how to get into shells? That means like my sperm will be like extra powerful too, huh? So um..Court, whatcha doin tonight? hee hee *j/k* Well, I'm done taking up each of your inboxes with junk. Take cares and Have a Great Day everyone :o) P.S. For those of you with no humor gland, nothing has ever, or is happening with us..it's just joking around :P Seth D. Fulmer mailto:kaosking@voicenet.com "How long till my soul gets it right?" - Indigo Girls, Galileo ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2000 10:08:10 EST From: RedWoodenBeads@aol.com Subject: ET: Re: eda-thoughts-digest V3 #20 In a message dated 1/16/00 9:03:42 PM Pacific Standard Time, owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org writes: << Date: Sun, 16 Jan 2000 14:42:56 EST From: DPS8315@aol.com Subject: ET: Crits WOOHOO! Dont all of you people love me? >> no, not really ;-) ~*Joe Drink the Wine & Open your Eyes ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2000 11:26:19 -0500 (EST) From: courtney gordon Subject: Re: ET: Courtney... Dear Everybody, I'm still here, just lurking at the moment. I've written like 2 poems in a month and I really don't like either one of them. I'm in the middle of a writer's block, so I'm not doing much. I don't really have anything to say, but seth, naomi, all of you, somebody email me, please?! :) I've got like 89 messages, and not one of them is directly to me. love and such Court the hocker dink shoots smack angel (if you don't know, don't ask, please.) :) ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2000 13:21:06 -0500 (EST) From: Seth Fulmer Subject: ET: What heaven does love know?(poem) Hi everyone, this is a poem I was thinking about Saturday night at a little before midnight. I was starting to get depressed about things. I think it was my pre-valentines day depression that I get because I never have anyone to dance with me during slow dances, which is one of my biggest passions. Last night I just found out, my "perfect woman"...yeah she may be perfect...but I'm quite imperfect *sigh* Oh well..such is life. Anyhow, if you don't wish to comment, question, flame(those are quite the fad these days!), etc. on this poem, just email me privately and if you don't want to receive any more, let me know as well. Take cares and Have a Great Day! :o) -Seth =========================================== What heaven does love know? by Seth D. Fulmer 1-15-00 What heaven does love know? It sits there in its shell watching boys and girls pass by and snickering in their shadows One day a boy decides for a girl Today I think I'll ask her Betty jean would you like to go for a sundae or even to the pool for a swim? Love just sits there idly by He snorts and the magic fails She says to the boy "get your own damn whore" and he gets his heart crushed to tears Why then is Love so cruel? Love feels no pain or glory When two people meet and kiss Love just says "Oh Goody" The ice cream truck pulls around the boy though has no money Another little girl however his age plus a few more pays for his ice cream and leaves Why I ask? It feels no pleasure! Love should just mind its own business For late in life when 2 people are married The Love should then remain and never flicker Seth D. Fulmer mailto:kaosking@voicenet.com "How long till my soul gets it right?" - Indigo Girls, Galileo ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2000 11:09:49 -0800 From: "Da Leetle Freench Grrrl" Subject: ET: some of mine ok, granted these are not that amazing-- but i haven't exactly been on a poetry binge lately. i have however written endless diary pages :) love samara ** i don't give a shit about blonde boys who cling to their love-everyone attitude like horny infants. in their makeup punk-goth so sexy and slinky and their lips that are just so... so...like you could kiss them cuz they're just sitting there. And their probing eyes that look like they're circled in eyeliner, cuz they can read your mind as if you were cut open, and you wish you truly were cut open. Of course, there are a zillion little shits out there, running around loving everyone and making you-making me- feel so special and so loved and yet so foolish. and they date your friends and screw you- screw over you-and so you think, great, and leak out while you're leaking in. i don't give a shit about love or dreams, because i've been squashed since i'm like foam and more screwed up than "peanuts", and dreams about love make me red and sliced across my arms. so i don't like blonde boys who play guitars and talkin raspy voices and smiiiiile a lot. they screw and make me puke and pour silent hot tears. i don't give a shit about blonde boys. so young in their age and so cruel in their bullshit. ** she's like a little lost soul wants someone to keep her warm and he is like the man she left the man who left only, he is a boy, not a man i haven't been without him for days but all he could think about was her she never stops to think if it's wrong, or if it hurts her, me, or him cause i know it hurts me and i know it will keep hurting me and i know it hurts her because she's imagining he's someone else and i know it will hurt him because she doesn't really love him i always find i end up wishing happiness for everyone else i know it hurts me because i might die from it since i don't have a desire to quit cutting my skin, my mind, my ties to remaining hope *** i don't hate you, i'm not mad i just think sometimes anger covers me when i'm sad, and people misinterpret me into an angry girl an angry bitch, a snob but i don't hate you, as usual i can't as usual you made me smile and i can't possibly be livid and i can't help thinking of how innocent you are so much like a little child in the simplest turmoil i can't help being hurt of things i want, things i will not get people i'll never get, such as you you draw me to you and i should be satisfied, but i'm not. so oh well to that. i can only sigh and wish you would not avoid me, *sigh* and feel like a hopeless fool when i cry *** morningtime, i wish it would rain sun gleams through blinds but it doesn't warm me i hurt myself to keep from going insane cause if i didn't then i couldn't stand the pain, and so i don't know what's better by myself in here or lonely watching them sleep near but fast far gone i wind up thinking that no one really should care about me i mean if i scraped out my insides that's frustration they never see self torture is becoming my specialty and if i decide to go away they'd find me eventually what's the best way, entirely alone or entirely alone i can't figure out why i hate myself so, it's a cold cold feeling to want to die but it's more torture to die while living cause if you live you have to cry and when i cry, i don't know why only that i soak up touch cause i need it, affection & love are what i live and thrive on and the discard pile, where i usually end up lying, has none people say i'm a melodrama but i think maybe to feel a thing you'd have to be dramatic when all i ever wanted was someone to keep me near hold me and then i wouldn't have to fear this fear lips are options but arms and hands i need to feed me since i'm starving for anything someone to heat me up since my hands are always cold my heart must be on fire there's always a prettier girl who i adore who has more problems and whos enrapturing and as stunning as they come and i always end up laughing through tears, because i guess she needs it more than i do, she's blissfully confused while i'm still here we always want the same guy i always get warmed and then turned away but i'd never deny them anything because the people that i know deserve love more than i do call it self pity but i'd call it truth it gets later and later and i'm alone sunny, no rain i hurt myself to keep from going insane *** the firelight warms a blackest night and my feet are cold so they don't feel the searing heat from the metal as i put them on the grate a misarranged circle of faces, each lit and each darkened caverns of shadows my skin tingles but i take the guitar - -i say i'm afraid but i know i'm not- i feel like i'm rather simple but when i start playing it overtakes me in a mellow mood, or maybe what took me more were the faces, as i watched and barely listened to how i sang, because i think guitar fire nighttime music was one place that all their inhibitions burned away and so now they listened and i watched them open up they softened his eyes stared into mine and then searched the sky giving the show to the night and when i was quiet, they had been captured and then released a magic of beautiful reality more than i could ever sing but a truth hovered above the flames in the air, their lit faces and my feet began...feet begin to burn so i gasp and pull them away it was always hot but i hadn't felt it before *** - --- "i am watching your chest rise and fall like the tides of my life, and the rest of it all and your bones have been my bedframe and your flesh has been my pillow i am waiting for sleep to offer up the deep with both hands" ---ani difranco--- get your free gURLmAIL at http://www.gURLmAIL.com ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2000 19:34:38 EST From: DPS8315@aol.com Subject: Fwd: ET: Courtney... - --part1_cb.fa2760.25b50f1e_boundary Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit - --part1_cb.fa2760.25b50f1e_boundary Content-Type: message/rfc822 Content-Disposition: inline Return-path: DPS8315@aol.com From: DPS8315@aol.com Full-name: DPS8315 Message-ID: <73.79fc5e.25b50f0e@aol.com> Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2000 19:34:22 EST Subject: Re: ET: Courtney... To: cmgordon2@juno.com MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Mailer: AOL 4.0 for Windows 95 sub 38 In a message dated 1/17/00 11:28:12 AM US Eastern Standard Time, cmgordon2@juno.com writes: > I'm in the middle of a > writer's block, so I'm not doing much. hey my suggestion, to everyone, including the beloved and recently much talked about courtney, ...get some craft paper. Like the big rolls of brown paper that you buy to wrap some packages in, cut out a big square meter piece of paper, and use double sided tape (a roll is about as much as duct tape) to mount it to your wall...preferably above your bed somewhere, and write on it. write write write, let things develop inside of you, and come spilling out one line at a time..... it's a great idea, a half original thought of mine, but I have a feeling that I half stole it from somewhere too.. anyway that's my effort at providing help to everyone in the lands of creativity - --part1_cb.fa2760.25b50f1e_boundary-- ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2000 21:21:12 EST From: RedWoodenBeads@aol.com Subject: ET: Re: eda-thoughts-digest V3 #20 THE BOOK OF DEAMS In my book of dreams I took your urgent whisper Stole the arc of a white wing Rode like foam on the river of pity Turned its tide to strength Healed the hole that wripped in living In my book of dreams The spine is bound to last a life Tough enough to take the pounding Pages made of days of open hand In my book of dreams Number every page in silver Underline in magic marker Take the name of every prisoner Yours is theirs my word of honor I took your urgent whisper Stole the arc of a white wing Rode like foam on the river of pity Healed the hole that wripped in living In my book of deams ~*Joe I took your urgent whisper Stole the arc of a white wing http://www.chickpages. com/musicmania/joepages ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2000 18:58:06 -0800 From: "Ze Phoenix Princesa" Subject: ET: feel so pale Feel So Pale you make me feel so pale like a transparent runaway feel like i'm wispy and fading and made of glass, so please don't break whenever there's a hurricane i'm always in the eye and i see myself tumble off and i didn't get to say goodbye cause when you told me "honey, all things must change and all your colors will fade because nothing stays the same" you imagine change is negative and that it never turns out okay your changes make you dizzy and you get uptight and turn away you imagine i don't know that you think i'm just like you and you make me feel so pale as if there's nothing i can do you think no one can take control maybe cause you never tried you say "you're crazy", i say "baby i think you need to cry" and who said i can't live every moment you did, but you're unaware i can thrive and do as i please and love or hate it when i'm there i just don't want to be trapped like you in your cloudy sky cause you make me feel so pale and i think it's time we said goodbye so next time you're wallowing in your grief at your fiction remember i've escaped from your toned-down living addiction i'm done with feeling so pale as if i might disappear so i think it's time i had my life and no longer lived in fear you made me feel so pale... feel so pale... feel so pale - --- "art is why I get up in the morning but my definition ends there and it doesn't seem fair that I'm living for something I can't even define there you are right there in the meantime" -ani get your free gURLmAIL at http://www.gURLmAIL.com ------------------------------ End of eda-thoughts-digest V3 #22 *********************************