March 23rd 2002 in a Poetry Marathon (see CheckIn for details on this day) #1 I am a secret catfish An air-born toad I crawl through lazy hazy winter sky I travel the road No good for a mode of a cross-country travelling I told the secret of my fish slime toes & nobody knows I once made a rat cry A rat so nasty it made cream pies It tasted like butter & coffee flavored books It turned its nasty face Told me to get out of it's Place & I told it to eat my Stinky Socks. #2 In the dust I turned to... Well, dust. So I travelled across the great American tundra of swizzle sticks & corporate malls & because every other food is chemical filled bimboshaped high heel stomping bullet holes through license plates when driving in Montana & forest fires turning cops into stone I ate my chopsticks & drank my camera grease & made my Pappy proud. march 15th Across the blue horizon you thought you'd find some peace But you found instead just Another, & another desert to cross, More empty horizons stretching like Hope itself, Always leading you on, & on until all you could say was Let me rest & in depair you gave up your Dreams, & you said They'll never come true & you said Why bother & i had to watch behind the curtain as you let Go of that star you'd been clutching, & i watched as it floated back to the Heavens, & i saw as you collapsed, like the star had been the only thing holding You up. You clenched your fists, & you let Life have its way with you, & i, I was there to watch you as you said It's inevitable i might as well Stop fighting now. I had to watch, knowing the whole time of what you were capable. I felt your bones slipping to the surface everytime i hugged you, it was more & more Like hugging a skeleton. You'll never know, love, just how much i believed in you, & you probably don't even know how much i Love you. March 14th '02 i have wierd dreams. they're amazing dreams, filled with odd details, & vivid people, & carvings on stones & hot summer nights. lots of blood, & hate, & fear too. my dreams seem to be taking on this middle eastern twist. i dream about indian princesses, arabic buildings, & wierd cruise ships going through thailand. i try to figure out what they mean but i just go around in circles. it's like trying to do a tarot reading for yourself. i love dreams, but i can never figure them out. a friend of mine says that he thinks dreams are tapping into another reality, but that scares me because the dreams i have are usually of realities i don't want. i mean, they're beautiful, but they're creepy. sometimes i hear music in my dreams. what does that mean? songs i've never heard before, but when i wake up, they're gone. anyway. i think about dreams alot.
March 6th 2002 Feb 24 02 http://www.nbtsc.org/nowhere/boink.html
trepidation \Trep`i*da"tion\, n. [F. tr['e]pidation, L. trepidatio, fr. trepidare to hurry with alarm, to tremble, from trepidus agitated, disturbed, alarmed; cf. trepit he turns, Gr. ? to turn, E. torture.] 1. An involuntary trembling, sometimes an effect of paralysis, but usually caused by terror or fear; quaking; quivering. 2. Hence, a state of terror or alarm; fear; confusion; fright; as, the men were in great trepidation. 3. (Anc. Astron.) A libration of the starry sphere in the Ptolemaic system; a motion ascribed to the firmament, to account for certain small changes in the position of the ecliptic and of the stars. Syn: Tremor; agitation; disturbance; fear. February 22nd 2002 he stepped out of the doorway & into the rain. it scattered over him, & he breathed it in, the way the raindrops felt as they splashed against his face. he wanted it to cleanse him, wash away everything that came before, everything he'd ever done wrong. truth from the heavens, that was what he wanted, he wanted purity, he wanted light. every thought that came into his mind he gave to the rain. he gave himself to the water streaming down his body, through his hair like a soft caress; it made him ache, the gentleness. he spread his arms & willed himself free, free of this body, this prison that held him in, held him back, nothing real, nothing fake. he tried to become the water, he tried to lose himself in it, & he tasted salt on his lips as he cried saline rain. the rain seemed to dissolve his clothes, washing through them onto his skin, then it dissolved his skin, through it into him. it filled him until he could only breath in gasps, forcing himself to choke in the air as something in his chest threatened to break free. more than anything he wanted to scream, to scream as loudly as he could, lose himself to water & sound & air. every horrible thing he had done or thought in the past 10 years pressed him down until the pain was forcing him to his knees, whimpering & sobbing, begging forgiveness, begging clarity, begging to be free with every breathe. the rain drove into him, ruthlessly beating him down, like grinding salt into an open wound. & when the rain stopped, he was still sobbing, sobbing into his hands, his back, shoulders, neck, everything curved around his heart, protecting it, & imprisoning it. his breath ran ragged & he tried to find one reason one reason just one. nothing came, & nothing came, & then it hit him, it hit him so hard he felt it in the very core of his being, like a promise. & his heart pounded, throwing itself against the walls of its prison, again & again & again, until finally it slowed, slowing until he thought it would stop, no, he prayed it would stop, but it kept beating, incessantly. he lifted his head to the sky, & he opened his eyes, really opened them like he hadn't for years, & as he did, the sun broke through the layer of clouds, & warmed his skin, falling upon him like a blessing, like a gentle blanket, like a kiss. NBTSWikiWiki | Recent Changes Edited 18 times, last edited on March 24, 2002 by 205.187.203.131. © 2000 NBTSC Webmasters |
this utterly pointless blather brought to you by your's truly, wierd dream person.
