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Archive for March, 2010

To Know Her Like I Do

"If You Knew Her Like I Do"
By Thomas Kelley

If you knew her like I do
You used to say all the time
You would actually like her
You would say and then add
Not love her like I do
You say all I see Is
A blanket of negativity
Surround the girl you love
I tried to tell you once
What it was I don’t like about her
You BLEW UP shouting I was wrong
Then you tried to point out
Every reason why you love her
That is when I just dropped it
For I knew anything I’d say
Would actually go nowhere
So, now I pretend
To know her like you do
As you said,
I need to know her like you do

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Ah, Ambition

I started out to write about the dark demons of my soul,
and I guess I did. Just wasn’t the demon I was expecting
for dinner. Well you know demons. Tricky little devils.


Sow dark desires
to cast in critical fires,
to wither in heated scorn.
Cindered corpses, unborn.

Crave lightning muse
in place of dark refuse,
in lue of whimsy lost.
Scry renter’s cost
of soul and mind unsound.
Steal, hallowed ground.
Ground holding thought
human mind has wrought.

Plant a mortal sign.
Deface deathly time.

Pewter Pot
5 Aug 98

Mikel Potts

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In the dust before a wattled hut,
A nascent Einstein squats,
Inscribing careful lines;
The interlocking curves and points
Ensnare the universe.
His small black hand
Lightly manipulates
The dried twig,
Precisely piercing suns
And herding galaxies
To march in rhythm to his melody.
Then, with silent sigh,
On sore, bespeckled limbs
And knobby joints
He stumbles back into the dark
To die for some benighted idiot
With tastes for caviar and cadillacs.

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The Prisoner!

It has taken me prisoner
It will not let me go
No more will my eyes look at will
I can only see what it wants me to see
No more will I breath, move, and
act with the freedom I once had.
It, will do all these things for me.
I am a prisoner.
It has taken my mind,
My freedom of thought
Behind the prison, I see the world revolve around me
Like a carousel,
Spinning and spinning in my head
But I am not part of this world
No one hears my desperate cries
No one even knows I exist.
And others laugh
And others cry
And others love
And others hate
Most importantly, others feel.
But I cannot do this
For it has also taken my emotions
My will to just live.
I want to run away but it is impossible.
I want to break free and live again
But the prison I am in has no doors to knock down,
No walls to climb over
And no floors to dug out from.
It has taken me prisoner
It will not let me go.

               -Euterpe- :*8

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Missing Love

I wrote this about a girl i let slip through my fingers…e-mail me and tell me
that you think.

"Missing Love"
You mean so much to me
I think about you all the time
I lay awake at night thinking about you
Then i look into the sky
And there’s your beautiful face
I hear your name in the wind
Everywhere i look i see you
The clouds slowly mold into your face
All i can think of is having you near me
I miss your face, your eyes
and your comforting words just when i needed them
I miss your kisses most of all
they always made me feel better
It hurts me to see you with other guys
I wish it was me in their place
Theres something about you i cannot put in words
That makes me feel like the luckiest guy in the world
But without you i feel empty
You are like candy that overcomes me with sweet bliss
I miss your smell, that beautiful smell
I miss your hand unintentionally finding mine
I miss the way we fit perfectly into each others arms
I miss every part of you but especially your love
You are my sun, moon, and stars
I would give any thing i could to have every part of you back
Just to have one more kiss and an "I love you"
I just hope you can see
How much i do love you
And how incomplete my life is without you
I just want you to be with me
So i hope you consider what our future could be
If you would only give me a chance
I would do my best to meet you every heart’s desire
But most of all i would give you the only thing that really matters
My love.

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E-MAIL THEM AT psycodr…@aol.com

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pa – comments appreciated, Word version, HTML to follow – pa.doc (0/1)

I’d put this here in text form, but the line width of the poem is greater
than 75 characters, and it’s thematic structure is destroyed if presented
in any other way than in the original Word document file.  I’ll post a HTML
version for those with newfangled newsreaders.

-Ryan                                        http://www.lionking.org/~ryan/
r…@lionking.org        ICQ: 1953628        PGP key ID: 0x3EDDA6CA

    "The greatest barrier to communication is the delusion that
                    it has already occurred."
                        (Peter Cummings)

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pa – HTML version — Please comment



You don’t know nuthin’ son, pa<BR>
said wrinkled in his rickety rocker.  Thing’s a changed, but<BR>
they ain’t changed one bit, one -bit- son, an’ no matter<BR>
what we’ve done or been doin’, ain’ nothin’ really real<BR>
gonna change, ah I</P>

<P>remember back when I was a boy an’ I used to want<BR>
to go an’ sit down with all the other boys and men <BR>
down with them <BR>
there at Gus’s old café, the old one mind you, not that new <BR>
place they put up ‘crost town, an’ I’d wanna be<BR>
in there sittin’ down and smokin’ and talkin’, all the same<BR>
and that was before<BR>
I learned</P>

<P>that of course I was black and couldn’t go in there.  Sounds kinda
now but back then it seemed perfectly normal and something<BR>
normal is usually gonna seem like right, though that ain’t necessarily
the case.  Back then I couldn’t go in there.  I spent a long time tryin’ to
get in<BR>
there, gave up too, though so much’a it wan’ the fact that I couldn’ get
in, but the feel, the feel <BR>
son, the feel uh bein’ trapped into somethin’ that seemed normal but hurt
like hell<BR>
and really wasn’t right a’tall.  An’ that feelin’, twas all around, never
more so now<BR>
that they’d all started gettin up and saying normal wasn’t right.  I
remember then</P>

<P>I was older, maybe in my 20’s, and I was all with them, hell, thought
I’d change<BR>
something for the better.  I r’member when the Reverend came<BR>
to our town, son, and spoke to me, to -me- son, because<BR>
back then people still spoke to one another and<BR>
not to the cameras with the little computers on top telling them what to
say and<BR>
He looked to me, or at us, which then really seemed like all <BR>
the same thing, and said, son, "I have a dream".  And he did</P>


<P>a dream.  We all did.  I did.  That’s why we were there son, we were<BR>
young, we had dreams, we still believed in something<BR>
something not really all that clear or understood but<BR>
something all the same.  And I really believed in that son, whatever it
and what I did felt like it was doin’.   Then I grew up into</P>

<P>the real world son, because ain’ nothin’ I ever done ‘mounted to
anything <BR>
worth any<BR>
in the eyes of the world.  I went down to Gus’s last week again because<BR>
I figured that I was old now and goddamnit I was gonna have my cup <BR>
of coffee in Gus’s before I died.  Burnt to the ground, years ago I’m told,
ain’t nothin left<BR>
but a big bent steel frame and some bricks all on the ground and</P>

<P>some crackheads in there shootin’ up son, your friends all in there <BR>
shootin up with crack and gettin’ aids.  Nigger<BR>
this nigger that, they say it all now like it’s goddamn’ short for "you".
I remember <BR>
when we fought and bled and died son, all because we believed, we had a
that one day we’d all sit down in Gus’s and get normal stamped on our
and be able to live our lives like they was<BR>
worth some<BR>
and we burned that building son, burned it cause they wouldn’t let us
and now we moved in and it’s ours but it’s just a shell and noone wants it
so not much really changed.  That’s what I mean to say, son.</P>

<P>I have a dream, I had a dream son,  I had a dream</P>

and with that, pa closed his eyes</P>

<P>© 1998 by Ryan McGinnis</P>


-Ryan                                        http://www.lionking.org/~ryan/
r…@lionking.org        ICQ: 1953628        PGP key ID: 0x3EDDA6CA

    "The greatest barrier to communication is the delusion that
                    it has already occurred."
                        (Peter Cummings)

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Standing naked fore the mirror
  In the morning light –
I gaze into the polished glass:
  Behold amazing sight!

A fountain for emotions here,
  A splash of reason there;
A selfish fellow looks at me
  Pretending that he cares.

Knows not that place that he came from,
  Or even why he’s here;
Tomorrow is just a dream for him –
  Image all that fear!

The things he sees the things he hears;
  He believes them to be true.
What should I call this creature here:
  Genius, Liar, Fool?

One day he reaches for the stars;
  The next, he’s lying down.
Don’t want the things he needs the most –
  I quickly turn around.

Danny Pogue
Copyright 1996

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"Angels. . ." – Comments, Please!

This one. fairly obviously, is about my mother, her death, and her fears.
I’d appreciate any comments.


Was it angels or devils
sitting on the wings
which made mother
frightened of flying?

Air disasters were malicious:
they watched, waiting for you
to make the decision to fly,
then dived out of the blue
and you were gone.

Those were our disasters.
Other people’s air crashes
were warnings: be careful,
this might happen to you.
Mother believed might was right.

All this applied to the rest of the family,
she was only thinking of our welfare.
Mum never considered she might die,
until the hour before she did.



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