Underground Post 2

UNDERGROUND POST 2

Submitted by: ANON

“The Kiss”

The kiss had been planned over and over again in my mind. Not just any kiss, “the kiss” the very first kiss. It had to be perfect. It had to be the one that would make her melt, the kiss that would make her realize how I truly felt.

The full success of the kiss hinged solely on “The Bite”. A comment made in jest would serve as the perfect platform for delivering a message with my lips, that ironically my mouth was incapable of making. She was a friend you wished could be so much more, making an innocent comment that could mean so much more. “You have nice lips, I’d like to bite them”. Wow! What a moment of revelation! It would be then that I could make my move. There I would be, bottom lip displayed in a semblance of mock despair. She would lean in to playfully bite that lip, and my plan would go into action. A soft, slow, deliberate closing of my mouth on hers. I would gently pull her to me, lips slightly apart, barely more than flesh brushing flesh in the cool night air. In that moment of contact all my emotions would be conveyed, and she would fully understand how much of my heart was wrapped up in that very small action. It would be, it had to be, absolutely perfect.

The moment of truth, the conversation had reached the point in which I could set the trap. Out came the wordless challenge, the lip was bared and waiting for her approach. She was there, too fast, all wrong. Her face was in mine in a flash, her teeth had gripped the flesh of that vulnerable lip and then were gone. I reached for her, to salvage a plan gone wrong. My fingertips brushed the edges of her hips. Too late, I heard laughing as she disappeared through the doors, a tiny smile on her face. My chance was gone. My plan had failed. My emotions were swirling. Disappointment beyond words, and yet excitement at what had just occurred. Perhaps next time, perhaps.

Once again, the night all around us, just barely secluded from the prying eyes of unwanted visitors. How would I redeem the failure of the previous night? Would my advance be turned away with scorn? Maybe it would be welcomed, perhaps it would even open a new chapter in our newly forged relationship. Allot of maybes and could bee’s, too many to feel confident. Again it was sudden, the beauty of her face filling my eyes. Her lips pressed firmly against mine. It was a fast kiss, an awkward kiss. It was the first kiss. In a single flash of that magnificent smile she was gone, the sound of laughter following her out the door. She spoke but I was too stunned to recall the words. It had been the exact opposite of the slow, deliberate display of emotion that I had planned with such agonizing detail. Everything that had happened had been so different from how I had imagined it. As I walked away from the scene, a smile on my face, and humming something not quite recognizable, only one coherent thought filled my dizzied mind.

“That was absolutely perfect!”

For Her.

Submitted by: Ronu

You say you love me
you say you care
but the minute he comes around
all you do is glare

what is your problem?
can't make up your mind?
maybe you should relax
take some time to unwind

can't make a decision
every word an incision
and I'm bleeding to death
make up your mind
are you his or mine?

Do I live or do I die?

Submitted by: RobertBroadhead939

PHOENIX

The past, sometimes drowns me. Caught in its torrents and swirls

Hugging me to its lucid depths, nurtured in that hollow womb

Then life will draw me back once more, to know my worth,

And rise from my apathetic tomb

Life is hard, this I unwillingly understand

Its taste is bittersweet yet mostly sickly bland,

And yes it can be rapist vile,

To this my sister would agree

If she had the air to breathe.

Yet is a child’s first smile

not a moment of wonder,

a mountain of dreams.

Must its heart be torn asunder,

before unleashing its` life coveting screams

By this procession of self-serving,

Sterile, porcelain faces.

They come from all backgrounds,

Are a part of all races.

If so I would weep for my unborn, but

I shall not tread that path, become twisted by scorn

This is why my hurt is my own

Only to be glimpsed rarely, and overcome

Like a pinprick on my conscious thought,

It is both pain and pleasure, the beating of a constant drum

RobertBroadhead939@hotmail.com

Submitted by: PassnShdw777

Dedications

I walk amongst the living, though if I weren't alive….
My shadow passing aimlessly around those who cross my path.
You may "think" you know me; certain you'll never forget the hand that touched your shoulder when life itself became a threat.
Now that you have seen the gentle shadow passing by….
It's time for me to disappear though I shall not say good-bye.
Use the strength within my soul whenever you are down, for it shall always watch over you when my presence is nowhere to be found. -ARM

(Dedicated to all those who have left a trace of themselves buried deep within my heart… those I care about…. People who have made a difference in my life. No matter the course that life takes us... I have not, nor will I ever forget you.)

©1999 by (Angela R. Murrah)

Submitted by: LANAIA LEE 2003

THE EMPTY CRADLE

There is deep hole within my soul

My lovely children play within heaven's rim

The cradle remains empty as it grows old

Life now seems very grim.

The empty cradle will rock on its own

As calling out for the warmth of babies long gone

Of children it should have known

The longing in my heart makes me feel so alone.

I hear my babies cry

And the empty cradle rocks

I have to admit to myself they are gone so I will not live a lie

At the door of my heart they will always knock.

Life dealt me a very unfair hand

I try to make things good as I silently cry

It's as if the cradle asks "Where are the babies that were planned?"

I hold back my tears with a very deep sigh.

The empty cradle aches for it's tenants

As I ache for them too

I didn't ask for this deadly peannant

And the empty cradle doesn't know what to do.

NIGHT PEOPLE

The wind howls through the limbs of the wintry trees

The night people are now awake

To search out their naive prey as if they are saying to you "Pay the fee"

They feel any life they have the right to take.

They leave their unnatural graves

Excited about what they are about to do

To feed their appetites with blood they crave

Feeling justified in the evil they pursue

Will they pursue.

A moonless night good for them

For now they are very hard to see

And the others of the night sing an eerie hymn

As if warning everyone to flee.

They hope to initiate more in their clan

Making them strong in their evil work

They carefully and silently creep around the land

So look behind you to see if they lurk.

They are really unhappy restless souls

Not understanding this thirst they posses

I wish I could help them take hold

Of death's endless abyss.

LANAIA LEE 2003

Submitted by: lordpoee

Brethren of Chaos

First and foremost hail to the king.

Rock and roll and the Ceraphams sing.

Dance and dance turn ever faster.

Mother of sin.

And father to a bastard.

I am he or wish to be,

as incoherent as my writing.

Which pours from Gahanna

The essence of my being.

I am not evil. Do not accuse me!

O' Spiritual seeking were you blind you could see.

Hide away the hearts of you immorality

As I have always hoped to do.

Now all the anger controls my mind.

Creating images of the destroyed.

Unrelented hate has conquered this world.

With an iron-fist coated by steel.

Suppressing the determination of holiness

And the grit and the will.

Why is it in some worlds

The mad are regarded as sacred

And others see them only as misguided?

By what demons do we accept our fates.

And from whom do we check our clocks

Only to say let's wait?

No longer can we adhere to the conceptual thoughts

Of the perceived normal.

Or do we stand in the threshold of salvation.

But waste time for the sake of being formal?

Cry out to your master;

"Liberate my mind!"

Come and join and see what we find.

Complete our congregation.

For we are very few.

But first embrace you the chaos

And forsake all you knew.

The journey surpasses time

Beyond the cosmos

Where out ancestors were born.

And they who knew best the secrets

Were left to darkness.

Blind and forlorn.

I know you the children

of cruel mercy and oppression.

Those who find solace in solitude

And wisdom in their depression.

Do not allow yourselves to be bonded tot he chains that held me.

I am not the first to free my mind.

Who it was may no longer be.

The key to the chains which confuse you

Lays within the pocket of your thought.

We will be martyrs.

Glorious saints.

And nothing will be lost.

Submitted by: Sk8terguy907

Fuck you, you don't know me.
don't know the shit I been through,
or the shit I've seen.
You say you have makin' me believe.
Saying you know how I feel
when it's all a fallacy.
Take advantage of me I should a seen it,
I knew you'd use me, I'm so fucking stupid.
I can't see you now,
your sight not seen thru my eyes.
I don't know you,
you were just full of fuckin' lies.
To me your dead,
your of no existence.
Don't come to me begging for forgiveness.
I trusted you, I told you shit,
especially at times when I've just about had it.
The blade, it digs through my back,
my body going weak,
it's killin me inside,
can't you see that?
You put it there, now you leave me for dead,
hope you feel good about what you just did.
Not only killed me as an individual but as a friend,
who knew this is how it would end..
All that's left are memories,
times we've spent,
times when it was you and me.
Engraved in my head,
they wont go away.
Why is it I cant forget,
why does it have to be this way.
I refuse to remember,
yet I can't help it.
I'm suddenly struck with pain,
this is fucking bullshit.
I'm crying, don't pity,
I need not your sympathy.
I'm dying, don't worry,
out of my life, you walk away.
Now your but an illusion,
unreal to me.
I never knew you,
it was all a dream.
Now I'm awake and the nightmare is over,
Yet I'm covered in scars, I begin to wonder,
How is it you've hurt me,
was this all a reality?
Or was it merely a dream,
it pauses never, but only to haunt me.

"BAD AVeNUeS" by BOB FReVILLe

March 6, 200?

Open on the cumulus formations in a pristine blue sky...
...the fluffiness of said clouds and the blinding phosphorescence of the sun belied what lay ahead for me and my companions...or maybe not...maybe not my companions. Maybe
it was just me. I don't know anymore, I cannot be certain of
anything. Can you? Because I was so detached at the time.

Cleveland [Everlast, my life-long friend, associate and fellow
fiend] and I drove to Wyandanch with Do-rag, an albino b-boy
who drove a sub-standard, used Mazda, and spoke only in slang.

    "Yo," he would say. "Fuck!" Or "No doubt, no doubt!"
    "Word!"

Our intention was to buy some oatmeal from our connection, Flux, who sold out of his old lady's crib. When we finally arrived there and drove to the end of his block, we realized
he was not home. Feeling discouraged, we pointed ourselves in
the direction of the main highway, in hopes of finding some
fortuitous pusher who would be kind enough not to rob us or
take off with the cash.

This was where all the static started pouring in. My frontal
lobe was throbbing with the celerity of a piston engine, and
we all began to get at each other's throats.

The whole thing fell apart after we ended up taking muscle
relaxers, and lost our spinal cords in the miasma of our concrete environs. We were sold a $10 bag of low-grade,
halogen-treated oatmeal for twenty dollars. Do-rag parked in
a random, barren strip mall parking lot--something you see
a lot of on Long Island--and we smoked a Dutchie to the head.

Soon, my inhibitions and bones of contention started to melt
away, giving way to delusions of grandeur (,i.e.: "I am sure
my drug journal is going to be the seminal book on the subculture for the 21st century!")

Cut to:

A Couple Hours Later...

    "I have powers that people don't think I should have," decreed W.C. Thomas, Cleveland's hirsute junkie acquaintance.

W.C. was apparently some kind of clinical monster that no decent god ever would have dreamed up. He was a psychologist's
wet dream. A bi-polar, schizophrenic manic depressive with an
unhealthy interest in the apocalypse, W.C. enjoyed talking about massacres and Japanime pornography (I believe it is called hentai), and walking around on placebo highs, looking
very much like the next guy in line for the "Night of the
Living Dead Part Five" casting calls.

Lately, the humor to be extracted from his remarks was wearing thin, and Cleveland and I longed for the days when
he would just shut up and smoke and eat and laugh with blatant
disregard for religion, TV., family values or anything else.
Now, he was the eldest fan of "Dragon Ball Z" to be found on
earth.

...Walk to the movie theater to bum cigarettes off perfect strangers. By this time, it is dark and the stars out.
Miraculously, though, it still seems hot as Hades in my skin,
maugre the fact that my fists are swollen, purple, ashy blocks of gelid goods.

The sidewalk comes alive, cloaked in a tribal, shadowy film or grime...it goes on for blocks like this. Some force of
nature or some stone dumb toxic waste managers have made it
this way. Ironically, it is the only thing that stands out in
my mind as a high point of the evening.

I stumble into my house at eleven-thirty, and feel a weight push down on my heart like so many blunt rapiers. Tomorrow, I
think to myself, it is back to work for Nylon [me]. I do a little more candy dippin', taking a cyclobenzaprine with two
Zanaflez before mounting the stairs and speed dialing my
girlfriend of two years.

I read a headline off a crummy tabloid newspaper that is wedged between the phone and the crack below my bedroom door.
It reads: "Bull Dyke mauls Swedish girl to death at symposium
in Ecuador."

Random Notes: 'Dank from Mars...It's brutish, political malfeasance on Fellatio Avenue!...Half-dead, happy black man
sparing a rhyme, asking for the time and maybe a couple dollars and cent...'

March 7, 200?

My girlfriend is under the illusion that I am some
self-important, creep show narcissist who can't handle his
minimum wage endeavors and who gets overwhelmed at how many
people want to spend time with him on any given day. For the
moment, nothing could be further from the truth. People hate
me...or at least that is how it has felt for the past two somber days.

I wake up hung over and walk into your godless, dystopian
cesspool of a pop culture-obsessed world with little love for myself and even less love reserved for my intimates. They all
crave the same thing. I am resolute in my theory when I say,
believe me, it isn't my company that they want. Drugs, alcohol, lust, and money is what drives these savage femmes.
Same things that drive me, unfortunately.

Actually, I am not resolute about anything. I always fall victim to the things I loathe most of all. I am sick of everything on this bright, sunshine day...badly in need of
solace, asylum. This world is an asylum, isn't it?

If only the folks at 33 Peppermint Lane knew that their son was some bestial nihilist with a propensity for killing himself one day at a time. I haven't seen my parents in what
seems like ages, but I know how cruel and unusual and obtrusive and harsh they can be. Mommy is a bi-polar, sexually repressed Carol Brady. More mascara has run off that face than on that of Tammy Fae Bakker. Daddy is an impotent tyrant akin to a gruff, alcoholic sailor morale.

...Do I miss this?

No way out. It would be so nice to give up on everything and everybody right now. But then I would be alone with myself.
Can't hack that, buddy. Oh, no! Just take a walk and cool down.

      "A boy just 13 on the corner for sale.
      Swallows his pride for another hit.
      Overpopulation, there's no room in jail.
      And most of you don't give a shit
      That your daughters are porno stars.
      And your sons sell death to kids.
      You're so lost in your little worlds.
      Your little worlds you'll never fix."

                     ---'Open Your Eyes', Staind

It is disheartening to realize that this is the voice of a whole generation. This is not to say that it isn't true. It
is a veritable statement, a social commentary, by a modest talent. But there are no progressive rock bands anymore. Progressive Rock went down with tube socks and Fat Albert lunchboxes. But we can always dream...we can always slip off
into never, never land with  "A Momentary Lapse of Reason"
or Yes's "Machine Messiah" or a groovy song by Steve Miller.

We are all decaying. What is left? The ruins of some place
not nearly as sumptuous or distinguished as that of Greece
or Babylon. Or maybe this is Babylon...

As I smoke a Parliament Full-Flavored Menthol cigarette down
to the filter and stare off into the iridescent currents of
some nameless Long Island canal, everything suddenly crystallizes. We are drowning. They say drowning is a peaceful death if you welcome it. We have been sinking a little bit throughout every era of our filthy, pathetic history.

Or, perhaps, we are suffocating. Certainly, everybody has felt
like that once or twice. Buy a cat, and it will steal your
breath as you sleep and dream about better days gone by and,
with a spot of luck, better days on the horizon.

What good can become of these bad avenues that we traverse?

is page and find yourself a copy of "Power for Life".

"THE CYCLE OF NAUGHT" by Bob Freville

CONCEPTION--A shot in the dark...FERTILIZATION...a probable chance of

making the egg crack for you...contingent submission of the mother.

EMBRYO--Fluids, other raw biological materials; reaction to male semen and its chemical stimuli.

THE WOMB--Sustenance, early nursing...a taste of Heaven(?)...the calm before the Storm.

THE TUNNEL--A Wild, lubricious, grimy trip you didn't ask for. Struggling to make out where you are, what you are, and exactly what that blinding light is in the distance.

THE LIGHT--You have arrived!

THE SLAP ON THE ASS--Preliminary sign of the truculence life will offer you in the days to come.

THE CRIB--You are placed in here until the matutinal hours arrive. The lights are turned out and, left in isolation, you stare at the bars that surround you. Could this have foreshadowed your later prison days? We are all caged animals.

THE PLAYPEN--Shapes all around you; symbols of galaxies and pagan figures are bestowed upon you. You play with them. You have reacted to external stimuli. Mommy and Daddy are proud.

FIRST WORDS--What are you going to say? I said, "Damnations!"

YOUTH--Beatings, report cards, fierce competition, and premature ejaculation...bouts of self-doubt, agnosticism and misogyny. In some cases, suicidal and homicidal thoughts are introduced into the mind. TV tells the story of vanity. What should I wear? How should I talk?

DESENSITIZATION--Mainstream entertainment will teach you to accept the cruelty and discord, censure and animosity of everyday life as "the way things are".

LOVE--A subservient fuckdoll. An attractive person. In some cases, a predator shows you how to copulate, emasculates you and leaves you in mortality for a superior person of the opposite sex...or maybe you find the consummate mate who you idealize in your soft mind...and she leaves you in death.

DISEASE--Our immune systems betray us and we atrophy...final departure has been delayed...atrophy discreetly, eventually expiring.

DEATH--The Great Unknown. We vanish into the breeze, living on in this life only in solemn whispers from tearful widows or friends feeling nostalgic. Somebody reads your book, somebody looks at your photo. Nothing can bring you back.

"...for enduring unto The End, at The End, was Naught to endure."

---Aleister Crowley

My e-mail address is: mugwump86@hotmail.com and I can also be reached via snail mail at: 2 Spring St., Lindenhurst,

N.Y. 11757

RENEGADE
Listen to my flow and try to trace my etymology
The way I spit about my life, it's like a verbal biography
It's always been me against the world, damn, it's all a hypocrisy
I'd rather be in an isolated seclusion with just hip-hop and me
Cause this world is so fucked up, i feel like i'm about to lose my head
Look at all this bullshit around me, trust that I'd rather be dead
My body doesn't make me who I am, trust that my mind does
And I've learned to be independent cause that's what servin' time does
I look around and er'thing looks like puzzle pieces put out of place
I mean, how could you judge my character by generalizing my race?
These tribulations of life keep pressuring me relentlessly
I might've lost my mind but never will I lose my identity
How can people in a world like this even remotely define the word reality?
I look around and all I see are illusions and fallacies
You can tell me I'm crazy but can you tell me what is normality?
I'm an individual but the path I've chosen leads into a door of nothingness
As I stare into the darkness, I'm like "Damn, how can I trust in this?"
If you hold your own, you'll win in life but it seems as if I'm losing
Goddamn, why the fuck does my life have to be so confusing?
All this shit in my head has driven me into an eternal desolation
I tried to ignore it but how can I avoid my reformation?
I look around and the things I touch don't even seem real to me
And er'body looks at me like I'm a lunatic, probably cause of some conspiracy
But really, I don't give a fuck about anything but me and my music
Cuase I've tried to share my world but people've only crushed and abused it
My life has always been like one continuous calamity
But that doesn't give anyone the right to call my state insanity
Cause how can we decipher what's real from what's fake?
Nobody knows the truth so don't you make that mistake
I choose to challenge all authority
But on a higher level, I'm challenging all conformity
Don't call me a rebel cause my philosophies were born in me
The words status quo and follower aren't even in my vocabulary
So my mind will NEVER find a sanctuary
The only way I'll ever find some serenity
Is if I lose my identity
Those who don't question life are the ones who got it made
But I have the HARDEST times, cause I'm a RENEGADE

MiSSTeaRiOuS

Friends

Are you tired of all those mushy "friendship" poems that always sound good but never actually come close to reality?
Well, here is a "friendship" poem that really speaks to true friendship and truth itself.
Friend,
* When you are sad... I will get you drunk and help you plot
revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.

* When you are blue, I'll try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
* When you smile... I'll know you finally got laid.
* When you are scared... I will rag you about it every chance I
get.

* When you are worried, I will tell you horrible stories about how
much worse it could be and to quit whining.
* When you are confused... I will use little words to explain it to
your dumb ass.
* When you are sick... stay away from me until you're well again. I don't want what you have.
* When you fall... I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.

This is my oath... I pledge to you 'till the end.

Why you may ask?
Because you're my friend.
Send this poem to ten of your closest friends and get depressed
because you realize you only have 2 friends, and one of them is not speaking to you right now anyway.

PS:

A friend will help you move.
A really good friend will help you move a body. :O )

fagot

There's one among us, I think its you.

You fucking fag what's wrong with you?

I thought I knew you,.. knew you well.

I know you not now go to hell!

Hate is rising knuckles white. Come here you fag and feel my bite!

I squeeze as your fagot face contorts, I want to see your pain. I'm killing you, You fucking fag, slicing every vein.

Evil darkness once deep inside, now pounding through my head, gripping ever tightly, can't stop until your dead.

I live to see the icy fear that lies within your eyes, cutting slicing every thrust. I leave you their to die!

crxdawg@yahoo.com

Let it be known

This is a documentation of life that is far from today’s reality.” life is full of answers only those who really live are asking the right questions?” to find the meaning of life is, to live for those dreams that are far from grasping, to do the undoable and that is making a life of research of artistic expression.

Many lives are from broken homes in today’s society, so the life of pain is now a way a life to understand what true pain is means to go feel it for yourself if fire is red then how hot is it. To feel it, like by walking on it, is to focus on not feeling it. If you can separate it from your conscious sensitiveness then you will start to understand what it feels like. Focus is everything not reacting. Without focus you lose all emotions to uncontrollable panic. All control will be forfeited. A pop-culture is what’s on the rise, a world of oppression, tired of being oppressed, anger wanting a let out there has to be a let out the world is built on hate and greed but if not done properly you risk the chance at your own found freedom of expression is there such a thing you cant look the way you want and go to work cause the world wants you to look like you have everything but actually own nothing live by credit pay for your freedom, fuck that, fuck that, fuck that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There is a song” raw breed “, our lives are different in ever bodies eyes can anybody see can anybody try-I open my eyes to see what I can find-I cant tell you what to do but I can make better in time---raw breed that’s the life I lead ----raw breed is the life I need raw breed raw breed is what I need I have seen so many cultural excuses from people saying I am African or Indian but none that say this is me no strings attached I have no idea of what I am and that’s ok to be freak is not to be an animal but to be a true freedom fighter for self expression I do not bitch cause some one is staring cause my face is tat 2ed I feel pity on the manners that the world taught them and I damn well don’t shove my words down any body’s throat my words are a choice to hear or not to that is the question and I am not ashamed of who I am or where I am from cause what makes a person is what they have seen and done and how they have learned from the choices that have been bestowed on them .some people tat2 themselves as life markers and some for reasons of regret.

Punk rock honky tonk funky monk who gives a fuck but what ever happens in life make a difference. wanna bitch bout the government register to vote . want to bitch about firearms lobby the nra, but remember one thing, give one hell of a fight and let them know you mean business.

Mr. Modifier

MY EYES SEE ONLY YOU

By Darryl (DarkTheophany@hotmail.com) 7-June-2000

I've fallen in love with you and you don't even know it.

I think about you all the time.

I think about touching you.

I want to hold you, smell your hair and taste your neck.

I want to whisper in your ear and rub your back.

I long to feel your gentle hand on my cheek as you kiss me.

I want to make you laugh, because it makes my heart soar.

Sometimes I wish I could just hold your hand.

As I fall asleep, I hold my pillow, imagining it was your warm and perfect body that my arms enfolded.

I want to please you and make you feel as special as you really are.

I am always mesmerized by your shining eyes, and when you catch me staring, I wonder if you suspect how I feel about you.

Our time together is double-edged: I cherish it deeply, but I love you more each second I'm with you, and it's driving me insane.

I've tried to keep my feelings locked inside, but they are now too intense to remain in the shadows.

Do my feelings make me selfish?

Am I to blame? I didn't plan on falling in love.

I think, 'I just want to make her happy.'

But what do I do if you are happiest without me?

(Could you ever love a wretch like me?)

Because my eyes see only you.

They see only you, Lauren.

--------------------------

And now that I've told you, my passion was for naught.

For I've fallen in love with you and you don't want me at all.

The Dark Side-Suicide

Yeah, this world has its ups
But what's worse is the downs
There's this nagging thought to end my own world
I tried to make my own little world in this crazy place
But somehow the bigger world cracked the code to mine

This place fucking sucks
I want out
I want to run
I want to hide
But if I run and hide
Things will just get worse for myself
So to end this permanently would be much easier

Continually arguing with the angel and the fallen angel
I know who's right...
Satan wants to fuck me over
Just like everyone else

Only the strong survive
Sometimes I'm strong
But right now I'm weak

I'm such a fucking loser
A failure
Stupid
These people are getting to me
Persuading me without even knowing it

I'm stuck in a box that's smaller than me
I'm not crazy, I don't want help
I just want the Lord to rescue me
I'm waiting, where is he?
by- juice lewis

THE NIGHT

The night embraces me
the dark hides my secrets
I am protected from the revealing light
My inner thoughts are revealed

The darkness comforts me
no one can see into my special places
I am free to dream and inspire my soul
My thoughts are black and menacing

The gloom of night has no reflection
the dark halls and corridors are quiet
I am safe to conjure the other one
My mind is reeling from the possibilities

The blackness is safety from the light
evil always threatening in the dark
I am here and not here both
My heart is torn and bleeding

LordAkhenaten@yahoo.com

Through the eyes of a child
I can do almost anything
Through the eyes of a child
I can fly without wings

Through the eyes of a child
I am never restless or tired
Through the eyes of a child
I am vigorous and wired

Through the eyes of my heart
This child is a precious joy
Through the eyes of my heart
This child is my little boy

Through the eyes of my heart
He is not much to some.
Through the eyes of my heart
He smiles and calls ME, MOM!!

To the naysayers and skeptics
That do not care to understand
I offer a prayer so sympathetic
and in friendship offer a hand

Through the eyes of my heart
Through the eyes of my child
you know where the love starts
And it goes on for miles and miles.

Lady Celticia Pendragon-NightHawk 5/2/2001

Mirror Image
by: Melanie, caged_angel

WHEN I WAS LITTLE
little young child
curious, yet obedient
mama's little girl

I GREW A LITTLE BIT OLDER
10 or so now
mama's girl disappeared
hid from the world

LOST WITHIN MYSELF
hated the world
girl mature for her age
always looking for more

NO ONE THOUGHT NOTHING
WHEN I STOPPED TALKING
the girl is just shy
they always used to say

I WOULD CRY OVER NOTHING
abandoned, no attention
talents gone to waste
on a girl with no expression

I'D GOTTEN OLDER
life was a black hole
scares on her body
fresh wounds as escape holes

NEVER WAS I UNDERSTOOD
girl wanted help
no face seemed concerned
no esteem for this little girl

I RAN OUT OF HOPE
girl was not little anymore
she understood life
in a way no one else knew

LIFE WASN'T A FRIEND FOR ME
silver razor flashed on wrists
girl lay in pool of blood
her life was leaving this earth

I FELT LIKE THIS SO MUCH
the girl that ended her life
a young soul forgotten
many surprised, they never knew

by: Melanie,
p.s. Watch out for mental illness around you.
It kills everyday.
Be kind and loving to everyone.
Everyone can be healthy on the outside, but the soul can get sick too.

Today Was Worse Than Yesterday
By: Melanie, caged_angel

Today was worse than yesterday
Today the surrounding walls caved in
I was trapped between them all
To be alone once again

Today was worse than yesterday
Today I was struck with rage
I know my bruises will disappear
But what about my emotional pain?

Today was worse than yesterday
Today my thoughts of death began
In my right hand was the blade
My left wrist was leaking red rain

Today was worse than yesterday
At least yesterday I had a soul
My identity was taken from the one who was never wrong

by: Melanie l.

Eyes that can see

It’s three am, and I walk the night alone.
I am not predator, nor prey on this night.
I could be either. I am capable of both.
Am I the only one with eyes that can see the world?
Not the world painted by commercials and magazines.
I see the real world. A world that only a select few can see.

In their world, only good things happen.
There is always hope, there is always love.
In their world they know they will wake up tomorrow.
The sun will shine, the birds will sing, and all things are possible.

In the real world hope is a fleeting thing. Bad things happen everyday.
Children are molested, the elderly are beaten, the people are cheated,
their hopes and dreams are stolen more often than they are fulfilled.
In the real world I have no idea if I will wake up tomorrow, will the
Sun still burn, will my heart still beat, will a mad man push the button?
In the real world only one thing is for certain, everything dies.
Our time is short.

Don’t think that I am depressed, that I am crazy, that I am disturbed.
Don’t feel sorry for me because I can see.
The world that we all live in is corrupt, always has been always will be.
I see it for what it is, you see it for what you wish it could be.
Your world is happy and good, and you hide from the bad things.
The real world is ugly and mean, and I must search for the good things.

I am happy, sometimes. I feel love, and joy, and hope, I do dream.
But I know not to expect these things, any and all of them can disappear.
Open your eyes tomorrow, see the real world, see it for what it is.
Then step back and look at your life, and appreciate all that you have.
For in the world where all things are good, you wonder why some are so bad.
But in the world where all things are bad, you are thankful for all that is good.

Damian Kray

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