From: owner-eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org (eda-thoughts-digest) To: eda-thoughts-digest@smoe.org Subject: eda-thoughts-digest V4 #47 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 Saturday, March 31 2001 Volume 04 : Number 047 * 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: poetree from me [Tudegirl08@aol.com] ET: New to the list ["Brown" ] ET: 11/9/2000 ["Brown" ] ET: 11/10/2000 ["Brown" ] ET: 11/14/2000 ["Brown" ] ET: first poem for jewel ["Brown" ] ET: Election 2000 funny stuff [Mike Connell ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Fri, 30 Mar 2001 01:08:31 EST From: Tudegirl08@aol.com Subject: ET: poetree from me you asked if we could talk and so graciously at that for some strange reason tonight I've decided to fight back you're this inatimate object no feelings do you posses just an incomplete puzzle missing pieces, nothing's left you're just passing time with me until she calls you back facing what you feel what's so hard about that run away, you're getting too close I almost felt you need me if I blow out the flame and wish will this disappear completely ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 30 Mar 2001 05:15:57 -0600 From: "Brown" Subject: ET: New to the list Hi there EDAs... I've never posted here before. I tried to sign up for this list a long time ago and never received a reply. Then one day I suddenly started receiving postings for the list... so here I am! I'm a newer Jewel fan, yet obsessed none the less... she's so beautiful in every aspect of her being.... I've been swept away. My name's mike brown and I live in Owatonna, MN. So I'm going to end this introduction sharing thing to post some poetry... mike ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 30 Mar 2001 05:23:02 -0600 From: "Brown" Subject: ET: 11/9/2000 11/9/2000 A small town carries the essence of chains to the past. My mind is crippled cowering in a corner the child hides from his sledge hammer wrapped in reality. Flowing in a dreampool life is slow, soft, and carried out to the fields glowing in vivid shades of yellow, green, and gold. Follow the chase within I'm back home in my nostalgia. The oak stands tall in power yet twists in knots confusion distraught, bring forth truth without distinction who could foresee the paradoxical winds of flight, growth, change unbroken becomes a pattern recognized in similarity. Jeremy came outside for a smoke. "It's just a rut." he said. Life stops as an integral movement. What can be said... really? All meaning lost concrete ideas follow slip from out under around we see; see nothing it's all there is. All, nothing, pain, love, hate lose me lost dream a fantasy to dream of you in life beautiful so sad the beauty I cry my tears' excretion flows to carry the stream of existence contradictory connection. When the snow begins to fall can't stop drop deep recluse hermit alive in death all around to bear children lost, sad, dancing circles, arms to the sky rejoice in carefree laughter the lunatic at the centre bore his rotting yellow grin... grim laughter foreboding the future unnamed. ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 30 Mar 2001 05:24:45 -0600 From: "Brown" Subject: ET: 11/10/2000 11/10/2000 Life is very large... through infinite intertwining existence patchworks of flashes too small to carry existence or reality; they are nothing... absences... Our streams of memory being our mental visual domain play-land, this seemingly concrete image memory existence can be broken down to the point of nonexistence as if being alive is fragmented as a filmstrip missing many of the frames on our walls carry an impossibility in tangible packages of reality. Fleeting away the panels of our fabrication separate and spread out in the darkness continuous memories and transient paintings of what was, what is... pulsing with emotional coloring with many grays... Come the demons with faces imposed within my skull; come to torment the naked, methodically rocking back and forth in trances of complete collapse. Complexities in one instant of experience are beyond man's capabilities to conceive and these instances are beyond infinite in spacial depth within time-frames of no time has the chance to exist yet. overload... over head... in head... of head... beyond... ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 30 Mar 2001 05:25:48 -0600 From: "Brown" Subject: ET: 11/14/2000 11/14/2000 Deep as a puddle on a dry, hot day my love follows the seasons of my train of thought through mountainous terrain. A famine black heart burnt solid brittle disperse in the winds of the dead calm carries no clouds of rain to nourish dying soil. She lay on the table scrutiny my scalpel has its own mind mine. I separate pieces of her personality and dispose of the dead gray flesh leaving disdain and emptiness. With paint brush in hand I color in the elements lost... the paint vaporizes as I apply pressure. "All in a day's work..." Yet I keep painting my eyes to avoid the loss crushing her newfound identity. Living in storybook dreams is how peasants pretend it's all all right in the process of the ends and means covered. Secrets are the answer; they are the disease as well as the penicillin. Empty halls wear framed delusions to carry us through in our dying sincerity. Empty words I comfort in struggling denial love frustration lust cold hold on to the past to push it in the now I live there where we've left behind not to accept today I keep my happiness in a bloody knarl fisted in my brain skull-fuck and flowers grow wilting fighting spreading clouding out the sun, spores carry me through forest neural fields. ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 30 Mar 2001 05:29:51 -0600 From: "Brown" Subject: ET: first poem for jewel This is the first work I'd written for Jewel... The woman's body is soft. Smooth dramatic curves; shapes of ecstasy calling silently, moist smiles labia dreams. Light passing the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. Delicate fingers branch fragile hands touching souls. Her eyes stare deeply melting all evil with dreams of love. So soothing her playful voice flowing with self-divination calms the voices of knives in my brain. Wash away in mental consummation; a cell with soft padded walls is my new home... I dissipate in dreams of spirit jewels. ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 30 Mar 2001 22:09:06 -0500 From: Mike Connell Subject: ET: Election 2000 funny stuff if you have a sound card, turn up the speakers and get ready to laugh like crazy. http://www.nationallampoon.com/MoDstyles/newsflash/main/nf_supreme.asp This is the funniest thing I've seen on Election 2000 thus far. Mike :-) WARNING: it's a video cartoon with sound in Monty Python style. The video and sound are OK...no worries. At the end of the sound, some text scrolls up from the bottom. The first set of text is OK, as is the second set., however the third and fourth sets are a little risque, so you might wanna kill the page after the second set of text scrolls up. ------------------------------ End of eda-thoughts-digest V4 #47 *********************************