Sorrow
I lye here on the couch,
staring at the ceiling,
the ceiling is black as night,
black as my heart feels.
What does black feel like?
Cold, hard, unforgiving, angry.
What does black look like?
Stone cold stare, rigid body,
downcast eyes, pursed lips.
I imagine the worst.
What is that old saying?
"The monster under the bed is always
bigger in your imagination."
I have never met her, my enemy, my opponent.
I know who she is, I know he protects her.
She knows nothing of me because that would hurt her,
He says she's not "strong" like I am.
She couldn't take "the truth".
Who's the clown here? Me.
Who has been naïve? Me.
Who fell in love? Me.
Who got hurt? Me.
Please Stop me, ask me to stay! Ask me to live for someone other than myself! Wake me from this nightmare!
Is this good-bye to what could have been?
Good-bye to dreams never realized - goodbye.
Authors name withheld by request: Copyright 1997
Crying in the Rain
By Group 2
Will you be my friend?
Because I cry a little almost everyday.
"It takes a long time to become young!"
The rest is just sand and
you get whipped playing chess.
Sometimes you sink your teeth into a steak and
they stay there.
And the little gray haired lady you helped across
the street is your child
You label me "strange, weird, cries in the rain"
I dial long distance
Ineffective daily
Freedom to choose
My junkie wife Fluid silver
Was this your slight inappreciation
has there been a change that was not to your discression
A light changed the advance
And advance so sudden
the birds seemed to move in segreted patterns while the ice clinked inside my glass
freezing and melting all at once
you see, this pattern greed and the consorting of parody
laughing together and filling minds with hope
sounded like sweat dripping
sutures filing away the secret wound
Was this not to the foundation liking of the coffee drinking adult
I see before me
You child like appirition of sweet grace and tea reading movement
For then as I stood on the verge of rasping my last breath
I tipped the scales of race and incestious ignorance
I ran twards the climax
The shore of this great ocean and I dipped into wehat we say is not there
Into what we sneak by everyday
the countanence of a hello and a gesture of crossing the boundries of content
I go there without any preference
I go there with death on my breath and the savior of great ideas abounding heavy on my breast
Andyginous sexless
And there, as my melting condensation relayed to meet the azure table before me
I sought to leave this coffee house of false findings to reach out to the one thing I saw
houses passed me as I ran
As I ran losing touch with the street I fought against my human form
bright as the sun
Clear as the sky
fly with me i said
I became like fire
licking the bloody wounds we have created as restraints
Setting my mind free of the straight jacket you created
So then your slightness and unappreciation had no influence for me
but to fuel my flame
I will reach the ocean spread before me
dipping into what is there
spitting on the floating suit you confine yourself in
Having nothing to hold me
I am alone here
spinning with the infinate
Sabrena Bryce
Fairing Heights and 451's
In the fire Quad, a dorm was set up for the dreamers
men mad about ending living to see a fictional resolve.
Two officials, one short, went to the second story rotundra,
to see if a light had shown through the quarters.
A kind of useless act, that left most undeniably resistant.
Serious doubts were sown, spiteful complexes of the face.
Closing on a single word which brought monotone to lips.
Cautious closings charged with business-like receipt.
An Anglican, scornfull believer and usurper of soldiers;
held high tones, banishing all to traitorous frets.
This was the song, sung among the chapters.
Strained, tight hands perusing soiled Bibles.
White food, and sanguine fruit of the cornucopias.
Rusted displays explaining heart murmurs and breath.
Silence...like a long dead crossing of a broken pass.
Mimicing the hearth that stood idle by the dawn.
Warriors of Kevlon fiber rested, ready to the bone.
Aware of the horror, the officiating, the calming heat.
We all sat persuaded by the parade, the mix of comic-tragedy
Acting as goblins and gargoyles descending into exile.
A blinding halo drifted into the vermillion, into the sky.
And bodies were motion, draining the yells into cries.
What is this? What came about? A house of what?
And a child's words scrolled on a platinum sheen.
Angled a hand and a summarizing glance as it touched
suit of an unidentified commanders spleen,
upon which one spoke:
"With great heed take yourself to the mistress...and
tell her at once we accidentally read a book..."
Philip Mosbergen
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