From: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org (eda-thoughts-digest) To: eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Subject: eda-thoughts-digest V3 #65 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, February 22 2000 Volume 03 : Number 065 * 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: She had dreams once... [JADED022@aol.com] ET: The subway as a metaphor of existence - poem ["Claudia" ] ET: Agreement and Words ["Sam Plant" ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 21 Feb 2000 04:39:08 EST From: JADED022@aol.com Subject: ET: She had dreams once... I saw a girl on the streets tonight...and My heart just about broke. I really take things for granted! I write this for her... ~Jade~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She had dreams once... Late night loves await in the shadows Dirty and blonde, Useless to themselves, So they leave it up to others to be used by Blank heart and shameful She really has no choice but this She had dreams once...of being something great But none of them really worked out right...Given up Wandering on the streets Selling her soul at late night specials She cries after they're gone Hungering for meaning in anything she does That last man... He probably went home to his wife After he was done with her "Id like to be someone"...She dreams ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 21 Feb 2000 19:57:04 +0100 From: "Claudia" Subject: ET: The subway as a metaphor of existence - poem Any comment is more than welcome! The subway as a metaphor of existence (i know this title sucks...i didn't have enough time to think of a more appropriate title...if anyone has any suggestion for a better title it's more than welcome! Thank you!) I hold my breath as i sink into a world of darkness. A special routine, a daily enigma, a million faces i will never see again in my life. Like a sponge i absorb everything around me: colors, noises, voices, french scents, aftershave lotions, smiles, tears. I like to feel the ground moving under my feet i like to imagine this train is taking me to another dimension. Like in a banal methaphor of existence everybody waits for their stop and i can only lose myself in this grey mass of colorful individualities. Everybody with their own lives, their daily little joys, their old wounds that keep bleeding under a fake mask of indifference, their eternal disappointment, their hidden hopes. They are all perfect strangers to me but during these few minutes every morning i realize we are all the same, we are all waiting not only for the next stop, but for what will finally give our life a sense or even just a reason to smile today. How many times, looking at those faces i silently cried out for someone to save me but no one has ever heard my voiceless prayers, no one has ever seen my inner tears. I finally found my savior but he doesn't belong to this dark limbo, he always has the sun in his eyes, he takes me to a world where there's no wait, no stops and he reminds me that there's another world outside. In fact as i re-emerge from this in-between reality a cool breeze kisses my skin and the blue sky reminds me i do have a reason to smile today. ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 21 Feb 2000 16:28:33 -0500 From: shivergirl Subject: ET: ~the upside-down head-hangin-off-the-bed feeling~ mes anges (and i use that term quite loverly loosely and close-nit tightly ;) here's a few poison-tipped emotions i've got to purge poh-etically. (not to imply they're all born from malice or anything libelous like that ;) i just want to second or fifth the feeling that sam spoke about, how you guys and your magic-werds and support make me feel so happy i came back to this list (after i inadvertently hyped it too much--opening the doors to members i wasn't ready to deal with in print). thank youse for being so fantabulous. and with all this talk of golden oldies, i hope youse younguns don't feel overly left out (like meself!), so i just wanna recognize annie, the r-girl (i'm sorry i never get your name straight, you just answered one of seth's poh-ems), chris, robert, holly, niki, nicole, claudia. k, enough of this mutual admiration society (er...maybe that's not exactly accurate ;), but you guys kick ass. :) now, on to the point of this messagie.. + the hum of the computer/makes me wanna pull/ an elvis/fast/but all i've got/in my hand/is a used toothbrush/with absolutely no cavities/to contend/ with + i don't like you/hijacking my poetry/this way/ you know/the content/was just latent/contact/ waiting to happen/but then you felt/my frisson/ and you understand now/how your indelible imprint/cannot be/washed off/just negotiated with/how i have to barter/with myself/again/ to get her back/amidst the fuzz/of being one + i loved him because/he claimed intellectual rights/to everything/including me/and i thought/ the market/couldn't be cornered/by divergent/ streams of thought/that cornering was somehow/ on par/with winning/when it was only me/ ostracized and gloating/facing the wall/ ordered to sit sad/and small/pondering all/ i had done/wrong/but i couldn't come/ up/with a single damn thing/interestingly/ enough/honey/that you did right + wouldn't you like to/walk around/ with a halo-veil/made up of/ softly-falling snow/cascading down/ your back/and around the front/ invisible/like a supernatural golden/ glow/so nobody would know/ which faith/you profess/to love/ up above/i would + is a collection of poetry/considered/ a single entry/no/just one poem/ is way too heavy/it seems/it weighs/ down/the load/of literature/picking verbose/fragments/of self-indulgence/ the equivalent/of nostaglic/melodramatic blood-red roses/or perhaps poppies/ swaying and sleeping/disturbing and waking/the dead/row on row/whispering militant vulgarities/foe to foe + ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 21 Feb 2000 19:30:21 EST From: JewelAng@aol.com Subject: ET: (untitled) Ahhh needs a title. Help wanted. We both knew that one day, this day would come. I tried to fly away once, but they where only quilted wings; they did not hold. Now I am taking my silver sings and leaving the haven of your bruised arms. ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 21 Feb 2000 19:38:18 EST From: JewelAng@aol.com Subject: ET: (untitled...needs a title) I look over at you. Your black eyes are glassy, and I cannot comprehend your thoughts. Your heart seems so fay away but your face is right next to me. I am in your arms but I cannot feel them. The safety is gone. The once joy has floated away. Goodbye love. ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 21 Feb 2000 23:34:08 -0500 From: shivergirl Subject: ET: do we really need titles?? just curious-spurred on by rebecca's request for titles... do you guys generally agree that we need em? what is it for? to put the piece in context, give the main point in the first line, the sum of all the words--or what? i always think it's kind of funnee when i read old ancient poh-etry such as sonnets and it's just the first line repeated... i know it helps to make them more well-known or recognizable, but sometimes i struggle so much and it's like makin up a nickname for a person, sometimes it just doesn't come, sometimes they don't have one you can think of (at least if you set your mind to it). i think that's why i just christen sessions, as i said recently to ben (i think!) any other thoughts? and i really don't like robbie williams' angels song. faerie blessings+shit, shiv* ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 21 Feb 2000 20:53:29 PST From: "Sam Plant" Subject: ET: Agreement and Words I agree with Shivergirl. It is not worth reading if one really needs a title to beable to understand the currents and interpretations of a poem. After all, a poem is a mirror of the soul, filtered by some form of stain glass or other. A poem is what YOU the reader makes of it, not what the writer writes it for. Ok, here are some more words. I was floundering And she pulled me up Strengthof giants Whose back a tiny straw will break. Tearing down my walls To let light into my soul. Disturbance on the waters Of a mind without a thought Caution blows the winds of change Rebellion rules the night. Peacefull lake of beauty With depth of mind throughout Turbulent dreams and hopes Leaves destiny dry alone. The betrayer's mark of fury Hurts the most from one you love. Its everlasting sting conceals The context of its pain. No longer does peace exist When Confidant non confidant Turns betrayer. Once in a silent life The wind stirs the chimes Offering change to a dull world Once in a quiet mind Someone comes along Offering help to a wounded soul. Sleep well, and dream better. Sam Indefatigable, yet not unconquerable. ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ------------------------------ End of eda-thoughts-digest V3 #65 *********************************