From: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org (eda-thoughts-digest) To: eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Subject: eda-thoughts-digest V3 #391 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 Thursday, November 30 2000 Volume 03 : Number 391 * 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: Coffee and Cigarettes [PoE ] ET: Christmas Spirit Spell(poem) ["Seth D. Fulmer" Subject: ET: Coffee and Cigarettes I believe it was Jewel who said that poetry is raw emotion that you feel from inside of you. Here our my insides. /////////////////////////// A broken heart talked about over cigarettes and coffee 1 creamer 3 sugars how she screwed up met the wrong guy and had 2 children with him and never passed her 10th grade my best friend sits next to me talking of how she will never meet the man she loves I just agree and know I too will never meet him /////////////////////////////// imaginary love what a sweet thing someone who holds you kisses you tells you you are beautiful and you never have to dress to impress. ///////////////////////// ===== "Very funny, Scotty. Now beam up my clothes." "The sex was so good that even the neighbors had a cigarette." "The gene pool could use a little chlorine." "My kid had sex with your honor student." Yahoo! Shopping - Thousands of Stores. Millions of Products. http://shopping.yahoo.com/ ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 29 Nov 2000 07:27:25 -0500 From: "Seth D. Fulmer" Subject: ET: Christmas Spirit Spell(poem) Hey there, This is the first of several poems. I wrote this Saturday morning/afternoon because my dad was being such a grinch/scrooge about Christmas. If you don't want my poems, let me know and any questions/comments, etc are welcome but not required. Talk to ya all later :) -Seth ============================================================ Christmas Spirit Spell By Seth D. Fulmer 11/25/00 A nasty little spell I will cast here The one who helped to Give birth to me Will fall asleep shortly And think of his life And there will be mistletoe And candy canes this night Some grape little jellybeans And gummy bears and cookies Chocolate chip, butterscotch Oatmeal raisin and more He will be happier Than sin is forever The angels of heaven Will sing Hallelujah Santa will come and Give him every dream The sports car he wanted That girl in the playboy More money than any man Knows what to do with A loving wife, a son and daughter And three angelic grandchildren His son will be a great success With corporations in a dozen countries His daughter will be an awesome teacher And housewife and a great mother He will be made proud this night And will feel very strong With the wings of great seraphim Like Michael and Gabriel This dream will get better yet As the night gets even better He dons a cape of Super powers And melt from seeing his body Giving his son a sense of honor And others that flare of magnificence He'll think he is the best of them all And this dream is the best he's had ever When he awakes He will have Christmas spirit He will give everyone gifts And wish everyone a compliment Many presents, many dreams May the whole world now see Joyful love be in the air So be it if it be fair ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 29 Nov 2000 22:44:10 EST From: RJonthego@aol.com Subject: ET: a million and three poems by roya - -tenay- i don't think that i ever considered that the only time you laughed was on the phone - i thought that must be what you were always like and now i'm reading what you're thinking when i'm not there to chatter and i don't know how i could have missed the dark parts that are in all of us we are so good at laughing i'm not as good at watching you cry or scream or shatter and even if i am giggling the next time i talk to you, know that i'm really listening, understanding, inside. * I sat and waited for happier times in the ring of a phone I was scared Things change my back hurt and I was just a little too eager to answer before the machine I was scared too shivering with energy nervous and otherwise afraid you would have nothing to say to me terrified all I wanted was to hear your voice. * The envelope opens and I hear Tori again singing like she'd never stopped little earthquakes here to make me crumble like I haven't been strong for so long soft light, piano thundering and melting rip us into pieces it's been a long time since I've gotten a letter from ghosts and kisses ghosts that go through it doesn't hurt anymore But give me pain, and myself again To read your letters it was worth the papercuts. * Boy you have a skinny butt how do you manage hanging on to your pants with one hand the other your sunglasses perching on your head and you suck a lollipop you have earrings too, curly hair. Do you let your mama kiss you each morning? You must have been a cuddle baby before you learned how to make yourself hard. Why do you walk like you are breathing sex. When did you forget how to give big innocent eyes. Your mama would be shocked to see what makes your eyes widen now Do you let her in your thoughts anymore? Did you replace her with who likes your earrings and your shades your candy how you run holding your pants in one hand, watching your skinny butt. * my stomach growling teacher going on and on wake me when he's done * Santa Barbara welcome me with open arms I'm looking for love * Ate away my breath my heart caved in dismissal eating my mind again finding good in loneliness help m i lost my love just blinked and killed the signal letting go of that much of my life needs some getting used to open wounds painful questions remembering too much sickness, tearing unbelieving venting hurting waiting examining every scar yelping in pain, living like a zombie. * Late at night my eyes Open Needles, safety pins Easy way out, Letting me scream, cry Yell quietly for help. * Help me teach me I want to learn it all and more watch me rule the world. * The space of the mirror locks onto my eyes and all i can think of is i hope other people like dimples but i like the way my eyes can grin or threaten i like the way my eyebrows express the true essence of a pickup line i like that the space between the mirror can't show faltering heartbeats. And only when i let it does the fear show through. * I will feel his chest through his shirt and his hands on my back and i will feel his ear against my cheek but i won't feel his heart beating. i won't feel my feet either and he won't feel my breath on his neck because i will have gone numb. and i will have stopped breathing. and he won't notice because his heart stopped long ago. * - -Confessions of the Truly ill- They'd never touch me if they knew how contagious I am. I would never get a hug if they found out that I'm catching. Diagnosis: manic with a touch of dyslexia But worse than that I'm obsessive and more than a little expressive begging for touch and a hug even though I know it might hurt them. (and if they get sick then I won't be the special one anymore) * I don't believe in yesterday I can barely remember it can't even remember that in writing you are always supposed to explain what "it" is I'm having a hard time finding someone to believe in It's just me, and a pen, which runs out of ink before I run out of words to say yesterday is sitting on a balconey somewhere, eating rumballs and ignoring the ache in it's chest. When yesterday remembers world's shake and I shake when yesterday thinks of what he could be doing today I believe in rumballs but I don't recall before, and I'm almost positive that I've never met tomorrow. * You Need Me Because (a list of why i love you) because i don't like change you frighten me with your willingness to forget and start over and ignore And all my faltering little pieces kind of shiver, dreading your latest decree be it Today You Are Okay or Something Needs To Change. You give me everything except a poem set in stone and leave me with disjointed lists that never do what i set out to do and still no clarification as to how i love you, and why don't you need me? * - -Catch 22- To reach is to fall i suppose i was told that before i jumped because i am immortal and no matter how many spills i will stand up and i will live forever reaching for forever the rainbow gold, the long lost love the beginning of a poem hovering over a cliff disastrous as it may be, and as many told you so's that are waiting i have to reach because otherwise i lose the reason to why i am living. * - -coming of age- leave me a note signed in blood, and i will buy you a banana split to celebrate the chasm between girlhood and WOMAN no matter that it will make your stomach hurt Today you are different you are leaving the time when one month could bleed into the other because you will bleed into every month and even curse your mother for not explaining all of this over that banana split. * let go of my hand and see how long before the baby cries and demands more of your attention. i want to walk on my own if it means cameras and praise but when it starts to mean going places by my lonesome i think i would like to stay a faltering baby forever. holding your hand and grinning with my baby dimples. * the way to a woman's heart is not through her stomach but her heart was what she wanted to purge, those nights in front of the toilet. and her heart stayed, solid as stone, when her stomach was pumped of poisons. but it was scarred, like her finger and her throat. she tried to reject her heart like she rejected food but it would not be moved. her heart was bleeding like her body but it stayed warm and kept her alive, when no one else could help. it was stronger than she was, which was why she tried to destroy it. if only she could realize that she makes live what her heart gives life. * it's hard not to have something to talk about it's hard to stop the words from forming before i'm ready. once i get cold i can't get warm and you have chilled me so many times i think i am growing a forced fondness for cool winds. it's you again, i fall back on you when there is no new him, because it is hard for me to get warm again, and hard for me to hear your silences where there used to be words. * the fire wasn't all bad, it kept her warm but sometimes she thinks, when she's staring at the stars that burning down her Everything was kind of a high price to pay. but the view is good she's never made so many wishes and she knows now how to warm herself. it's just that sometimes she wishes for a bed, and someone to curl up next to her, just like everyone else. * still dirty from your touch i feel contaminated my ears need to be cleaned because i heard your voice. but it is my heart that is stained with the mottled colors of confusion. my memories don't align with the picture you are showing me. you make me feel diseased but i remember catching this cold from you. * it looks like i'm bleeding ink from the purplest of purple markers here to help me mark my territory but i didn't realize how badly it would sting and it looks like this could be the end; the pen is running out of blood. * dark days from dark suns watching the last of the tear-bright night fade away, half a sky at a time 9 colors spotted, and 9 songs sung 3 of us, but still the division doesn't turn out even she has the sunrise and he is the man on the moon but i am wandering from star to cloud wondering when i will shine like they do. * leaving me alone with just a poem a burn and a ring lost in the sand. i am terrified because they all have the sweetest voices to drown me. i am alone and he will not sing me to sleep one last time. i am disgusted with my ability to let one night turn my heart and my head. i am alone. sad and scared. searching for much more than my voice and a bit of silver shining in the sand. * maybe i should write more stop spending so much time staring off into space or into your eyes your soul of your pictures maybe i should put my words to music stop singing what other people write start doing something productive for a change maybe i should stop writing start reading more, or learn about the Greats throw names around like they weigh nothing but feathers learn how to appreciate a good painting and strong black coffee learn how to put a phone line in maybe i should talk less or say something more interesting maybe i should go to the doctor to find out what's really wrong maybe i should admit those fears maybe i should keep them quiet maybe i should ignore them and stop staring into space when i could be writing maybe i haven't written what needs to be writting. but i will. * you'll go crazy if you are alone too much which is why i sleep in the company of the TV, now. so i will fall asleep with the whole family and not curl up, cold in my bed by myself. if i go crazy will you shoot me, like a horse with something broken? to be crazy alone in my head is the scariest thought of all. * I am the only one watching my heart laying still on the floor my mouth opens my lips turn blue and shiver but i am the only one who sees the way shells get crushed by roaring waves she rushes to great the water, and he changes like the tides but i am lying cold, drowning my heart has stopped i am the only one who sees, but my eyes are closing... * will i find him in himself ever again? he is yielding no results wielding weapons sharp at night, lying close, he cutes me and i tear out my hair hoping to find truth and honesty bald and naked, reconciled to a night of loneliness helping me hold my breath, walking with me to the sunrise where i look to him for myself again. * Too close for comfort my letters overlap each other and i am not giving anyone proper breathing room so sorry that i doodle in the margins and talk in all the silences but there is always the danger of falling like a star into the ocean bright, burning and then nothing. let me cram my life story into hello if it will make you remember me. * i am afraid that they will go too far out to sea and space and look back and not recognize the land that i'm standing on bewildered wondering how they swam that far laughing so hard i am afraid that i will go too far when i am jealous. * i glanced out of the window of the moving train and my eyes scared me. they looked bright like i had a fever, and my face was so white and still around them, and my lip had a mark where i'd bitten it so hard. it was dark outside and the train was lit from the inside and goblin like people lurched down the aisle. they were ugly and i was lonely because they were not you. i have a whole week left to feel left behind. * your eyelashes were closed bars of steel and iron preventing me from climbing through the window of your soul and making myself at home. i don't know why you locked those doors i would have protected you to my death never let another hurt you you saw the mess behind my eyes and hide the key where i couldn't find it. then closed your eyes and i was hurt one more time waking up with sore muscles from trying to bend bars of steel. * ------------------------------ End of eda-thoughts-digest V3 #391 **********************************