From: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org (eda-thoughts-digest) To: eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Subject: eda-thoughts-digest V3 #60 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, February 18 2000 Volume 03 : Number 060 * 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: ----------------- ET: In the time between Heartbreaks(poem) ["Seth D. Fulmer" ] ET: The secret answer -poem ["Claudia" ] ET: poems (what else?) ["BigBlueJr  " ] Re: ET: poems (what else?) [JewelAng@aol.com] ET: ~a tubbie tribute~ [shivergirl ] ET: Anorexic Moon [Annie ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Fri, 18 Feb 2000 00:09:56 -0500 From: "Seth D. Fulmer" Subject: ET: In the time between Heartbreaks(poem) Well, I asked Mary Kay(that girl I told you about...but couldn't tell because someone was on my list I was sending my poems to that knew her. She's off now cuz she asked me so I can mention it) and well the long and the short of it is that I gathered she recently broke up with her boyfriend but this weekend is bad cuz she's going home...BLEH! I just was like "cool..have fun" If you want the long drawn out story, let me know but I doubt it lol :) But like I was walking back afterwards to my apartment and I had this poem all drawn out. This is a bit different, but not much from the original I wrote while walking home. Comments, questions, flames, and suggestions are welcome but not necessary :o) If you don't wanna receive my poetry, let me know. Take cares and Enjoy :) -Seth "Have you ever loved somebody so much it makes you cry?" - Brandy ======================= In the time between Heartbreaks 2-17-00 by Seth D. Fulmer In the time and space between heartbreaks A Hope it's shell it breaks It comes on out into the world It breathes. It sighs. It faints Upon seeing another of its very own kind It rushes on over to greet her with style Without waiting for another minute to pass She takes out a bat, and she beats up his ass The hope there lies, in agony, in defeat It does the only thing that it can foresee It rushes on over to the nearest heart it finds and then it proceeds to break it, until it can die. ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 18 Feb 2000 02:12:00 EST From: RJonthego@aol.com Subject: ET: -fragments- - -rant- She looks like a munchkin A slightly larger version, and much more irate. - -bimbette- Your shoulders are so small, your whole body is just so thin. I think your makeup is more deep than your thoughts. What is it like to have the wind blow through you? - -criminal- She said the magic words Dark magic, in a not-so-magical Fairy land And the room fell silent So that's what it looks like when someone is wrestling a personal demon. - -both- he is the dark you are the light fear comes to me in the dark, but I am loneliest during the day. - -zolt- Take a hint from the baby. He knows what he wants and is cute enough that he'll get it. - -hero- there is a man in my class who looks like the hero in that movie. But he always looks like the scene when you find out that he is human (and despite ourselves, we are dissapointed.) - -3 men- he is loud and red and brown beard stubble and beer commercials who inspires loyalty with imposing attitude and heavy boots black with dust and dirt on them so different from the other with rectangular glasses and part of a beard blue jeans and flat shoes who steps quickly not like the drawl of your walk around the room following the prettiest on your wheel with a scarf thrown over your shoulders that you massage so gentle he is not as he stomps he darts he strolls. ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 17 Feb 2000 21:15:11 PST From: "Sam Plant" Subject: ET: Today I went to the bookstore. Heyas, I went to the bookstore today. One has to love being around gazilions of books. Well, anywho, here are some of my latest words. Enjoy, and if you don't, please send me a long flame mail describing why I suck so that I can jump off a cliff with my poetry book. Just kidding :) What a day, I had a good day. But hey, besides school, most days would be good eh? Oh, yah, here are the words. I volunteer my soul So many see but don't comprehend. They dump their problems Like fine jems covered in mud Onto my mind. The wind blows hot Over soring towers Midnight strikes The stars burn the firmament Cinders fall with crashing glory Those on high fall to blazing fury from below. (oh boy what was I thinking in the poem above! AYE!) Scent of paper retaining knowledge Air of inteligence surrounds Quiet information rises like mountains Peacfull whispers from long dead men. For a moment I wish the world could see The pain which they inflict. Innocent men and women spin Their lives inside a shell. It isn't a matter of choice Or rebellion in any form. Its done before begining And tempered in one's birth. Accept the life your given Charish the heart of life. Accept your rightfull psychy And be who you wish to be. What innocence Not knowing who she plays with. She, he, it all means the same. Not everyone can see beyond innocence. Light swirled tumultuously on the rocks on the bottom of the pond. Light from above and beyond the world that exists above and beyond the world of the pond. Perspective denies hope when one tries to consider just how powerful the light must be to penetrate the depths of a pond. What truth lies in the basins of reality that hide from light, from truth, or rather, from discovery? The truth, the painful substance of fact is what humanity seeks for, but in finding it, turns its collective head away in disgust and disbelief. Hate of change, anger of substance, form the unity that drives out all intelligent though from the minds of the people. Anger at nothing, anger at everything. What drives a though to completion? Is not curiosity the root of all existence? Why then is it that when curiosity is quenched, we so utterly loathe what we find. Why is it that when we loathe something, we let it fester in our loathing until it becomes rotten? Would it not make more sense for us to cherish all that we find? Would it also not make more sense for us to take good care of artifacts dug from the recesses of the closet of someone's life? With effort, and effrontery, this world strives to remain the same in a different world. So many say that the world must change, but little do they know that it is themselves that must change. Good night, thank you for reading my words. Sleep well, and dream better. Sam Indefatigable, yet not unconquerable. ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 18 Feb 2000 19:25:13 +0100 From: "Claudia" Subject: ET: The secret answer -poem Any comment is more than welcome! The secret answer The twilight is falling over me, wounding the evening breeze round me like a light shawl. The heavy black clouds are floating in the sky showing me how precious my little existence is. Where are they going? Where is the wind leading them? I wish the trees could whisper the secret answer in my ear. The secret answer. Everybody's looking for it, this is the truth. Stop pretending your only worry is your new haircut, stop telling everybody money is all you have on your mind, stop wondering who's the next victim you're going to dump when things get too hard or too clear. It's so easy to ignore what we don't like to see, it's so easy to build a cage of false certainties, it's so easy to give ourselves away and pretend our conscience is just a boring stranger. It takes so much courage and strenght to face reality and fight against people's blindness. It takes so much pain and frustration to cling to your dignity and faith when nobody does. But when you get to be proud of yourself not because of what people tell you but because of the love and understanding you are giving to the ones you love, you'll know your life has a meaning. Maybe you will never have the secret answer but you'll still know your actions and efforts won't fade away like footprints on the sand. ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 18 Feb 2000 15:03:10 CST From: "BigBlueJr  " Subject: ET: poems (what else?) hey everyone. I had a real "creative breakthrough" I guess they say. I have a bunch of poems I wrote. Some are serious, some are incredibly pointless, but whatever. Incase you forgot, you dont really know me. :) But yeah, so if you do know who this is, dont say it on the list. I'm waiting for someone to guess that I didn't tell. Ok, that's it. Enjoy! And please send comments! PLEASE!! Part I I hate screaming but that night I did plenty of it I dont even know what we were fighting about my anger was becoming to mch so I walked out to my car .......... the lights were blinding and I couldn't tell if it was the car ahead of me or the world above me... the wind took the breath out of me as I closed my eyes forever Part II I hate myself for it they keep telling me that it's not my fault but what do they know? they weren't there they know nothing ........ how I wish I could take it back but it's too late everything is to late - --------------------------------------------- How can I Believe? dedicated to B. Lynn how can I believe in you? you have done nothing for me except bring me here and what good has that done me so far? you are said to contain the ability of miracles but doctors fight everyday against you and win you try to take lives but you lose to life-support how can I believe in this false world you've created? how can I believe in anything but myself? - --------------------------------------------- don't cry please as good as it feels don't cry - --------------------------------------------- someday whenever it will be you will be able to smile and mean it someday - --------------------------------------------- meet like love leave hate hurt repeat - --------------------------------------------- numbers numbers fall from the sky numbers numbers O! how they fly numbers numbers i want them to die - --------------------------------------------- This next one is a song, so it's kinda written wierd. - --------------------------------------------- it's been so long now since the last time that i've actually been happy they say that it is nothing they dont know anything when will things change? when will things change? All I can do is hope now there's not much else to do but hope for the best please say there's something new... ...in my life ...in my life ...in my life it's been so long now since the last time that I've actually been happy - --------------------------------------------- another song.... - --------------------------------------------- someday...... I can see deep inside of you I see what there is to you I know that Chorus: someday things will get better someday things will get better someday I can see through your frown and deep inside of you I know that Chorus There is a time in your near future when I will be able to look at you and know.... today things have got better today things have got better today but today will never come without tomorrow - --------------------------------------------- ok, I really didn't like that song, way to cheesy. - --------------------------------------------- To Sea I scribble a message on a piece of paper stuff it in a bottle and through it out to sea It floats on top the waves searching for it's destination even though the destination is the sea itself Though the words on the paper are simple they carry the most important message from the creator and the sea does not realize it's trying to be told something - --------------------------------------------- A Flower A flower stands alone in a field surrounded by the minds of others it stands confined by emptiness with nobody to comfort such an unfortunate soul it grows from cracked dry, hard soil It's said to have beauty but there is nobody to see it That's all! Enjoy! ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 18 Feb 2000 16:14:21 EST From: JewelAng@aol.com Subject: Re: ET: poems (what else?) Do I know this kid? Who the hell is this guy? hehe *devilish smile* Rebecca ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 18 Feb 2000 18:06:40 -0500 From: shivergirl Subject: ET: ~a tubbie tribute~ so my sister just woke up from dreaming of ani, cept she was really unfortunately british, but k did make sure to ask her just how her name was pronounced, cuz i get sticky with her about that... :) just a clarification (read: that means *you* boy-sam! :), those were not my poh-ems last night, no matter how much i wish they were.. but these ones are. love&cyber-kisses, shiv* + + + do they have sex in heaven? are you a boy there? if i could, would i perceive you as being trans-gender here? sometimes i wonder if you miss our mother. if you've waited hundreds of billions of years to be a big brother. (because i know i've never felt like the oldest child.) and on that sweltering day on the sidewalk to the hospital, did you feel any of the pain of being confined in a tube-- instead of a womb? do you feel cheated that the only home you've ever known-- is heaven? and when they told daddy to come into a closed- door room, that they had some serious news for him, could you hear the fear for his wife's life, (and belated concern for you next) in his shocked silence? although it came in a distant second, you were always the first to lose. and i hope you know he made a conscious decision to want girls after you left, in order to survive the thought that he'd never have a son. and all the love he felt for you, he gave to me. and kelly. and all the babies since that we've been lucky to look after inside god's temporary arrangement. but i'm sad you never got to come to pass more than that. that 'for long' has come to mean 'so long.' that the only clear image i have of you is contained within a foetal teardrop in a video by massive attack. because i dream about you, you know. and i feel you sitting next to me in that chronic empty chair at dinner. or when we're offering up a prayer. (your interdimensional presence ever-near.) and i wonder what it's like to have your not-yet-fully-formed body explode (or was it implode?) into a billion bits of tissue and blood. eye-averting yet recognizable, our mother only remembers that her baby was flushed down the toilet like discarded waste. (an everyday usual occurrence.) but things were different in those days, she says. and we didn't go on oprah to complain. so there goes four months of love and planning and name books, down the secular drain. but please don't think this is all you are to us, now. that your long-gone remains are the sum of what i recall. oh no, dear brother, the love i never got to know, i feel when you creep in between the candles of consciousness; and though i may not be fully cognizant of right and wrong, i love my tiny angels, bald babies and unborn faeries just so i can feel strong. and i like that, (that they all remind me of you.) and right now, down here, without you physically near, it's the closest i can get to you. + + + the monsters are on the shelves nestled between carboard-folded sweaters, and she wants me to unlock the fitting-room door for her. and after she opens them wide and locks us inside, she beckons me to sit on the little bench, beside her. close the door, don't let those crazy monsters in! she grins. so i oblige, the whole time keeping an eye on the floor where her mother roams, selecting clothes. (cuz she's my boss.) but i hear a woman rustling with frustration, so i unlock the door and go out to let her in a retail cave of her own. and my little partner in playin hooky crime puts a number sign i give to her on the handle of the door (of the lady). and she follows me outside to get another (smaller) size, trailing behind like a human puppy i'd like to go on walks with every morning. but then she utters in toddler- gibberish whispers that her mummy's callin and she's got to find her quick, shouting without any self-consciousness whatsoever, she traipses off without her coat. and i am left a little less aimless, but definitely more vacant than before. for the fun's all been had, and i really don't want to feel grown-up sad, but i can't help it, and it's quite simple: i measure the day's success by how many little people i've come into contact with. + + + do you gots any wormies? do you have enough seatbelts for all your babies in your carriages? and how do they sheep with one eye open and one eye closed? (do you know?) what exactly is it like to be a miniature person in an oversized world? + + + you kept calling me sarah and i really didn't mind because my name isn't really conducive to baby-babble-time so just keep shooting all the monsters sweetie, and i fer-sure promise you: everything'll be topsy-turvy fine ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 18 Feb 2000 18:53:46 -0500 From: Annie Subject: ET: Anorexic Moon Anorexic Moon I used to think of ways to kill you In my head, in my bed I'd imagine you cut in two I'm a violent bipolar mess Your eyes are some kind of nicotine And when you say I'm a sugar-lolli lass I know what your rosy tongue really means The gestapo of our floral language Undoing buttons bordered by lace Too much beauty all strangled Too beautiful for this place Why are there weeds in my garden? Did my hands forget to tend? I've lost a hue of holy color The sort I cannot mend Here beneath the anorexic moonshine, No amount of squirming sets me free "Sugar-lolli, I'll make you mine," Your hands forgot to ask me If God only knew how hard it is to be a woman He would have made us out of something stronger than a rib Marrow of man not enough to endure perpetual oppression Hips losing shape after they become a belly-crib - -Annie ------------------------------ End of eda-thoughts-digest V3 #60 *********************************