Feral

3/4/91

Five million die for

Good,

We could all be lost

for Ideology.

For Gods to subtle to

Comprehend,

But too real to ignore.

Paranoia

Paranoia, Paranoia,

rushing through my veins

through my brain

Paranoia, Paranoia,

daughter of infamy.

Prerequisite to insanity.

Is someone watching

over me?

The voice, the voice

from my throat

cannot be mine,

I know make,

shadow see me, till

the end of time.

Spider decided that it was as

good a time as any to make

a run for it,

Hesitantly, he scurried

out onto the thick carpet,

at first thinking that he

had evaded notice, but he

realized that he was

wrong as the human stood up.

Spider ran for the dark

under the desk. The

human grabbed the Tensor

lamp, and flicked it on, light

as lurid as death to the spider.

Spider tried to escape into

the crack under the desk

leg, but it was too late.

The human squashed spider

with his book.

98er

There’s a voice in my

throat,

But it is not mine,

Crying out painful, alien

an whole day.

She is there, but not

there, she is with

me but not,

The voice cries out

but cannot speak

for:

She is only in my

mind

and I cannot touch

her.

Jack

Jack be nimble

Jack be quick,

Jack jump over

the candlestick.

And if you get

your butt burned

Jack,

Don’t you cry, cause

Be sad,

Its all part of

Life.

3/27/91

I completely understand it

now, there has never been

much respect for the spoken

word. Abbie Hoffman was

pushed off the stage at

Woodstock, when he tried

to tell people about a friend

who had been put in jail for 10

years for a few seeds.

People would read more

now than ever before, but

they don’t, because the

masses have little patience.

You don’t have to digest

a song, it doesn’t take

any thought, unless you

analyze it as a musician.

The average person can

just absorb it. But, if

someone is reading poetry

or prose, they are forced

to digest this thing, and

most people are too lazy

and apathetic to want to do

it. So, they respond to the

poet with violence or at

best, indifference.

3/27/91

You can tell the future

from the whisper of

the water drops in

a thunderstorm.