From: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org (eda-thoughts-digest) To: eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Subject: eda-thoughts-digest V3 #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 Tuesday, May 23 2000 Volume 03 : 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 V3 #xxx or the like gives readers no clue * as to what your message is about. Today's Subjects: ----------------- ET: ~an e-mail encore~ [shivergirl ] ET: ~viva azteca~ [shivergirl ] ET: old poems ["Claudia" ] ET: Problems [JewelAng@aol.com] ET: An old man and his flower(poem) ["Seth D. Fulmer" ] ET: Useless(poem) ["Seth D. Fulmer" ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 22 May 2000 13:06:27 -0400 From: shivergirl Subject: ET: ~an e-mail encore~ once more, without the hypertext markup language... :) (thought i was still an online editor when i sent it la premiere temps.. ;) anyway, this poh-em is about three lil precious babies who died about three weeks ago in a city called barrie. they were playing hide and seek and hid in a hope chest that locked, and they couldn't get out, so they suffocated to death. :( ~barrie's babies~ an eight year old child crept up the stairs to the attic, quietly, but not soundlessly, serious-minded in his quest, but not stoic; and he crossed the room and spied the hope chest, but he didn't know then that it was all over, because he could never have guessed that children's games and playing, full of frolic and fun, would die a slow death over the weekend, that he would be the only one left in the end; he only knew as he pried open the never-before locked lid on the dusty old chest, that he had finally found the hidden, that he was king of the castle at last; but today is another school day, today is monday, and now the weekend of innocence is past, and he's sitting in a grief-designated room, and his three hide-and-seek friends are never coming back; surrounded by all the television trucks, microphones and flash, video cameras bigger than dad's that will suddenly disappear when the triple funeral fades fast; and then there will only be the silent footfalls of his friends that he can hear ringing in his ears, as he pulls out the yellowed picture in the paper he crookedly cut out, of three little pairs of empty shoes, lined up on the front step, solemn and sad, surrounded by wreaths of flowers and farewell crayoned cards, so lonely and full of longing, eternally incomplete because they are destined to be forever see-through. ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 22 May 2000 13:06:37 -0400 From: shivergirl Subject: ET: ~viva azteca~ + i can recommend the resort to my friends, but that does not mean it is a refuge to the people that work there; four stars hiding in a third-world sky, where winter never comes, but never-ending summer can become hell on earth in the eye of a hurricane called gilbert, twelve years ago, when the winds set the trees on fire, and all the money mysteriously dried up; but you can still pay the pedros in american dollars, senor, order cokes in glass bottles, drive an original beetle as you pass by the poverty; tossing a couple pesos out the car window that isn't there anymore, into the inbred outstretched hands of the poorest part of north america + brown girl, child with the ratty schoolbag, how much longer til formal education is finished, you leave childhood behind and turn eight, working and slaving, making in a month what i spend daily on lunch, eyes huge as you stare up at the tour bus, at all those faces that were forgot to be coloured in, staring back at you, looking down, fully cognizant, but not caring about what you could've been, when the comfort zone is north of the border and freedom is a fifties coca cola sign, a symbol of a heaven we've never even seen + designer sandals, see-through legs, rudolph nose without the seasonal snow, i go to the buffet table three times a day; before me is a selection of food prepared by wordless men in masks over half their faces, as if i might catch malaria from breathing the same air, nevermind drinking the water; and they stare at the cheesy bo derek braids as i help myself to a portion of french fries and keep my eyes downcast, hurrying past the nachos and quesadillas, all the while feeling like a big red, white, and green, but mostly human, fake; but their eyes do not look like they would complain, and it is an honest job, they are off the street; they are being paid, but somehow it is not enough, and i am feeling an invisible wrong going on here, watching an entire country sweat away its pain; and i am feeling uncomfortably hot, burning up, feeling the need to reapply some more sunscreen, all of a sudden, before i forget to put a pair of sunglasses between me and the unpleasantness, buffered from the outside world, willingly blind to what lies within when you cease to be a guest + ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 22 May 2000 19:31:35 +0200 From: "Claudia" Subject: ET: old poems The Moon and the Sunflower is an old poem i have already posted on the list but about a month ago i wrote a sort of sequel to it that i've never posted. So here is the first poem i've aready posted and its sequel...any comment is more than welcome! Hugs Claudia The Moon and the Sunflower Big, bright, golden the Moon shone great that night and all the stars in the blue firmament were envious of his beauty. But in his heart there was just pain. The envious stars couldn't see the Moon's tears through the golden light. In every part of the world passionate lovers promise each other eternal love and kiss each other so sweet under the moonlight and don't know that the wonderful moon that shines upon the lake of their hearts is in love too and cries each night in silence. Yes, the Moon in love! He loved a little sunflower he once saw for 3 seconds during an eclipse when he and the sun were perfectly on the same direction. The little sunflower stared at the sun but the moon thought she was looking at him and fell in love with her. He loved her so much, he could not stop thinking about her, about her tender petals. She seemed so weak and he wished he could protect her from the strong wind that blew every night on the green fields. But he could not even see her because every night she lowered her head and he could not even see her face. And the Moon cried each night: "Oh little sunflower! Why don't you stare ar me in the same sweet way you stare at the sun? I would stop shining forever just to see your face again!" But the Sunflower still keeps on staring at the Sun, the hot Sun, the one she loves, the one she needs and still doesn't know that the Moon cries for her each night. The Moon and the Sunflower part 2 It's cold tonight. My petals are closed and i stare at the ground. My tears start to fall on the wet grass and i feel so lonely in this big field where all the other sunflowers are sleeping. I can't sleep because i'm thinking about you my love. You are up there in the sky, so big, so beautiful and every night you smile at me from the velvet sky. And even if i can't see your face i feel safe because i know you are watching over me and with your light you protect me from the darkness and you tenderly caress my head with your sweet rays of light. All i can see is the cold ground underneath me and i am envious of all those stars around you that can enjoy your immense beauty but i smile through my tears because i know something special will happen soon. An eternal eclipse will light up this field of our life and no darkness will ever fall on me again because i will finally see your smile and i can lose myself in your bright light and in the strength of our love. A miracle will make a dream come true: the little sunflower and the moon will always be together and neither day nor night could ever keep them apart because they are meant to be together and their love is beyond every limit of space and time. True Love belongs to Heaven. ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 22 May 2000 17:11:51 EDT From: JewelAng@aol.com Subject: ET: Problems I just deleted Paint Shop Pro because it ran out. Now, outside of AOL I can't open ANY of my pictures because it says I need PSP to open them. I never needed it before I had it. How can I go and change it, so I can open it like I had it before? Rebecca - -------------------------------- http://www.virtue.nu/rebecca Even the Angels http://www.envy.nu/ophelia Ophelia Spins http://nettrash.com/users/majesticramblings .majestic.ramblings. http://www.envy.nu/eee Europa (webring) http://www.angelfire.com/yt/horns My horns keep up my halo (webring) - ----------------------------------- "Paint me in warm tones of yellow, maybe then i'll finally get to know a colour other than blue" +Shivergirl+ ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 22 May 2000 18:32:27 -0400 From: "Seth D. Fulmer" Subject: ET: An old man and his flower(poem) Hi everyone, Well, I went to the counseling center today and they made an appointment for Wednesday. My luck though is that I'll feel better then and won't have anything to talk about, but I just wrote this walking back to my apartment. I hope this doesn't offend anyone. Anyhow, if you don't want my poems, just let me know. Take care and Have a Great Day hopefully. -Seth ======================================================== An old man and his flower by Seth D. Fulmer 5-22-00 A dieing man said to his dieing flower with a tone so rare You and I are both going to pass along, why don't we just go together? The old flower agreed and sat there with him, sighing alon in rhythm The train came along, tooting its horn, making a loud noise to alert them Both of them sat there, not knowing their fate, or even able to care The old man lost his hearing, many years ago, the flower never had it at all Finally the old man said to the flower, "I'm so tired of waiting" and they both got up promptly from the train tracks mere seconds before the train would have hit them The man said to the flower, realizing their fate "Dammit we missed it, because we lacked patience. Now we gotta wait for the next one to come" So they waited and waited and another one did come, four days later in the future They sat there quite patiently, this time the man cried out, "Lord, why does it always have to end like this?!" "Little red flowers, and Humble old men, sitting here and waiting seeking to find a good reason to live happily, Why can't it just be so simple, you know what's simple is true!" Why couldn't I have found a woman early on and live happy ever after? rather than die an old single yuppy virgin, who is rich but yet unhappy? Sometimes I think I'd rather have been prom king, even queen, if poverty was a result. You suck, man you suck! All I wanted was happiness. Now I die an old man, trying to kill myself on the train tracks See now and see now forever, what your "kingdom" has done. ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 22 May 2000 20:53:41 -0400 (EDT) From: courtney gordon Subject: ET: poem I love you ~~~~~~~~~~ This is for every time you said you cared and every time you hurt me. For every time you said you loved me and no, you'd never desert me. This is for every time you said you'd call and we'll hang tomorrow at one. Then I show up, and course you're not there you're out with her having your fun. This is why I can't forget you and I'm jealous of what's her name. Even if I want you to be happy, I hate her just the same. It's for every time you made me cry and every time you lied. It's how you act and how you talk, this is how I feel inside. I hate everything about you and everything you do. But what I can't stand most about you is I'm still in love with you. ~~~~~~~~~~ He knows who this is for. Court ------------------------------ Date: Mon, 22 May 2000 21:41:12 -0400 From: "Seth D. Fulmer" Subject: ET: Useless(poem) Hey everyone, I dedicate this to my parents, grandparents and most of the rest of family because of the way I feel lately. Any comments, etc. are welcome if you want to give them. 2ndly, if you have an idea of a better title, Useless doesn't really fit in my opinion but it's the best I could think of. Also, if you don't want to receive my poems, just let me know, okey? :) Take care and Have a Great Day!! BTW...Playing the flute really helps improving one's mood. I just put my flute together to take a few notes at it and I just started laughing tons. Anyhow, here's the poem now :) -Seth ============================================================ Useless by Seth D. Fulmer 5-22-00 You think that I am perfect and that I can never wrong You tell me how to eat and not ever to drink or use salt You send me emails weekly, I have to call to hear your voice I feel as if I'm useless to you when I come home to see you clean You try to help me with my needs and buy me all the world You'd pay for all my food and drink but never an ounce of my loans I'm told that I'm going to die because something is wrong with my body but nothing ever killed me so small as high blood pressure I'm told by one person "Girls are bad" and by another "You need a girlfriend" Make up your freaking mind fools, I'm sick and tired of the conflict People tell me their petty problems every time I come home to stay Sometimes I just want to not be the only shrink in the family The flute is cool, but you think that it's me You don't really realize that I write poetry When I put it inside a nice Christmas card You tell me it's depressing and that I need a life In High School you thought that I loved to use computers I do but it's not just all that I like to do You thought I liked languages too and that I had fun I did have much fun, but I would have had more without them Life isn't so pretty every second all the time If it's ugly in one period, I'm not going to add flavoring I state things how they are, not how I'd like them to be and most of what I say is so beautiful, you just don't see it Give me some credit please, and admit when I'm not right I may want to be perfect, but I'm a long way from ever becoming it When I ask for help, that's exactly when I want it Helping me when I'm not needy, is just not going to work out ------------------------------ End of eda-thoughts-digest V3 #207 **********************************