Tag: 1991

  • 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.