NumberSevenFiftyOne dust dancing in the air we lay on my floor and discuss the shapes of wonder. I wonder at you. shapes of wonder; the shape of your body dancing. The patterns your hands make in the air. shapes on paper. your thoughts - I wonder at your ability to draw clarity with shapes which are nothing. you catch the light and keep it.
752 i wonder at how you make me feel so -real- how i can be feeling so very /down/ and one conversation with you changes my perspective its in the little things you say how i know you need me as much as i need you i know that i'm not satisfied with the way things are and i know that things aren't going to change so i try to be thankful that your here for me and continue to keep me sane because i don't know what i'd do if i didn't have you around. ~Jadzia Seven Five Six A guitar Just an instrument that I fumble with Just a wooden box that I try feebishly to put the human chemical responces we call 'Emotion' into some kind of tangilble form A string A pluck, a strum 4/4 melodies, another tune in 'E' With every stroke I prey they don't break and continue to keep me sane A lyric Thoughts turned into words Plugged into the musical rhelm Because I'm too afraid to call my feelings Poetry
NumberSevenFiftySeven I'm too afraid to call my feelings by their proper names. too scared to confront the horrible things inside of me. so i show off is that what you call those lines, bared on my soul(my arm) is the fact that i have been choking on my guilt enough to pardon my sins? i collect nicknames like i collect synonyms for my thoughts trying to find the one that fits. and i call it poetry. my way of skirting the issues making vague comments. cutting deep, but not deep enough. NumberSevenFiftyEight i call it poetry when the trees bounce in windy rhythm as you're walking down the street and the sidewalk cracks open like chasms anything could happen if you fell in. white rabitts could turn purple and you'd never be on time. saxophones sing poetry. snare drums catch it in their beat. my biggest disappoint in myself is that i don't dance. i think it's such a beautiful thing that i hate to mar the moves. but i call it poetry, sitting in a corner while colors flicker on their glazed faces and your arms hold up the ceiling, while your feet stamp in the floor. i call the way your body fragments like a perfect machine i call that beauty, i call that bliss, i call that poetry. NumberFiftySevenNine your arms hold up my shaking foundations. your voice soothes every quake inside of me. this is not a love poem. i just ...love you. (sheepishly, foolishy, sweetly) that's all. you help me. and you connect with me. and you don't begrudge me. you aren't ashamed of me. i don't love you. this is just a love poem. (akwardly, trippingly, blushingly) your arms hold my head up and my fingers hold you up against a cold world finding warmth in love poems that aren't love poems like this one. ---------------------------SevenSixZero too afraid to admit that the world is poetry and that clouds move across the sky faster than my breath. that tears dry up and leave sticky lines down my face, and while the colors melt into each other my hands quake. (but i won't let it spill.) --Mari SevenSixOne Too afraid to admit that it's impossible to take care of everyone and still look after yourself. Too afraid of being pushed away, shrugged off again, your words seeming to pass around their ears, rather than being heard. Too afraid of the pain that comes with being unseen, forgotten, unheard, one more time. Too afraid to trust when that's what you need to do most. Afraid of sinking back down to the deep pit of depression where you've lived for too long. Afraid that even with all your effort to make it come alive, this place will just leech away all energy, happiness, life, until nothing is left. 762 i'm too afraid of being pushed away to do what i want. i lived in the moment too much to pay attention to how it all would affect me now. now i'm here regretting everything i did and angry at myself. i know i won't forgive myself because this can't be put right i can't do this right and I'm the only one who wants it put back right so i'm here now and afraid. NumberSevenSixThree here now and afraid of feeling happy. i don't think that siezing the moment is enough. i think we have to look to our futures, not with despair, but expectancy and always live each moment with the thought of progressing, in mind. my life grows like a snowball gaining momentum and i am giddy with the thought of flying through the air. now here happy and afraid. NumberSevenSixFour Here Now and wishing for tomorrow and somewhere else wanting popcorn and fresh air and someone to tug on my braids wishing for yesterday then there. NumberSevenSixFive fresh air and someone here that would be perfection. my throat is closed, i am having problems breathing without you laying on my stomach. i am having problems breathing any air that isn't perfumed with the sound of guitar. there aren't enough words to fill the ache inside and not enough blankets to make up for the lack of warmth, that i felt even sleeping outside at 2am. i am frozen in my bed alone. Number SevenSixtySix I'll tell you what I miss most, it's the color of the creek I am jammed between two women's hips. I have maybe eight inches of my butt on the actual seat. I couldn't be happier. any air that isn't used up with our breathing is stifling hot - damn cars in summer, but this one is taking me home, so I pat her soothingly. I'll tell you what I miss most, it's the color of your hair (and the color it used to be) We pass through a small town having a parade right on the highway. We get out of the car, dance. As we leave, we kiss each other and howl at the looks we get. I'll tell you what I miss most, it's the color of love - you can see it there. Drawing near, we start recognizing bridges, towns, trees. Something in us holds its breath - it is after all possible that you all are not as great as we remember. We were right about that - you are better.
767 Get out of the car, and dance for the sake of your voice, and the color it used to be once mine was pale as pale brown bread when I met you, you taught me how to sing in purple how to shout in red now, when I open my mouth a fire lily leaps out.
NumberSevenSixEight when i open my mouth a fire sparkles. except for tonight, because my eyes are the dampers closing and i am so tired. i'm trying to be my own flame not need you to burn brightly. except tonight i'm so tired i think i'll just fall asleep in the ashes. i want to burn as my own flame how can i go on? why do i go on? why should i go on? were should i go on? i wonder if you love me i wonder if you care i wonder if you need me i need to to know because i care i love you more then life i love you more then snow but i dont love myself i fallow uther people i do what they do i dont know why i live on i hve almost stoped my breath befor i have almost cut my writs i have almost comitted suicide i have, almost so i wonder how can you still love me how can you still care? i wonder if you still notice or think of me i know i think of you all i know is I still love YOU..... ~Thomas~ SevenSeventy dissolving all the need to know we swim into the light and the radiance which shattered us rebuilds our souls and the fears that strangled us only serve to make us more powerful and we become stronger and stronger and stronger till we are so strong that all that is left to us is to crack till we die. 771 I am longing for what used to be between me and you something strange i felt like a force field we created around ourselves when our eyes met or when we hugged. I remember it, so clear... but so far away. it was nothing that began and nothing that ended and the fears that strangled us or so I thought. it was just me that felt these things and I don't remember if it was you who comforted me when I cried or if it was myself simply clinging to you. 772 and I don't remember if it was you but there were nights that I drove with a charcoal sketch of beauty steering his car into my bones, straight through me "I don't believe in you anymore" says your skeleton in my dreams these days and I think it must have been you you who steered and slept silent holding me down and cracking my bones with me, the marionette, gluing it all back pretending the goodbyes were smoke floating up into silver stars floating away gluing you back into my life with poetry and pictures and dreams I make pretty but even in my dreams your eyes still scream when i see you and your skeleton is still saying "I don't believe in you anymore" over and over and over again -Summer NumberSevenSevenThree your skeleton is still saying that we'll talk when you visit. but you are a skeleton! your fingers break off when you try to type out meaningful conversations. you make my own bones rattle with the chill of your cold hugs. i miss the flesh and blood and skin the warmth of your body, your eyes sparkling sometimes i forget what you were like, before. SevenSevenFour sometimes i forget what you were like, before
did you look at me and did i feel loved?
i don't remember that part.
poetry is emptied out of me
old poems no longer apply.
i locked it all behind a door
exchanged my words for peace and content.
the logical part of me
the part that is writing this poem
how strange
is cynical
and doesn't believe my door is
iron or even locked.
i closed it softly without even looking and turned away.
when my thoughts tell me there is a door i
slap them away.
non-existant doors cannot be opened
even for the sake of
a poem that does not make me cringe.
NumberSevenSevenFive a poem that does not make me miss you. that's the goal. to write a poem that doesn't make me drift off into a fog of loneliness and regrets. my eyes are bright enough that i should never have to worry about clouds overhead. you shine through, even when i mix all the colors in my paints and instead of a masterpiece my paper turns muddy you're like lying on my back in the middle of a field wishing on sunbeams instead of stars. you're like green and yellow and flowers. you're a poem without words, already, you're like fresh air. you turn me inside out and let a little light shine inside the mess, you're like spring cleaning i just have to watch out for the nostalgia that comes with digging through the layers and i watch memories filter down like dust in the light you are a poem, a painting, and i try to keep the colors bright. 776 "Dirt roads" Where does that road go? Down by the gully What do these trees know? This land is holy. Where does my mind rest? When my feet move on How well have I guessed? When the moon is gone. Has your wind bewitched me? When I'm still grounded What do my feet see? When my eyes are pounding. How have I got here? I don't remember the reach And what am I near? Caves surrounding the beach. Why am I here living? Like grass against a rock face And what is this giving? I receive silence from this place.
SevenSeventySeven What do these trees know? They have been here for so long.. What have these trees seen? More summers than I can count, more winters than /I/ have known.. The leaves have fallen and come back, year after year, The children have grown older and forgotten they once climbed the high branches and that they once were small and looked up at the trees, with such awe...and now they walk past the trees without a second glance, but one day, they will..they will remember the excitement of the rope swing, the merriment of the climbing, the frightended children they were during a thunder storm.. they will remember the brisk autumn days, when the leaves had all fallen off, and the piles they made, and then jumped in with a yell! Oh yes, they will remember, the child hood that was so long ago... ~Heather Sheldon~ NumberSevenSeventyEight frightened children. i am just a scared child i'm just a kid who's shaking at the knees afraid of being hurt. i'm at the top of the diving board cold and shivering and there's no place to go. no one to help. no hand to hold. i'm here because i love the feel of water all around me, i love the effortless way of moving but this this is different. this is frightening, this is stepping off the edge of comfort and plunging into something unknown. we all know that this is a metaphor. i'm thinking of diving off the edge of something much more drastic, but maybe i'm just an adult now, finding more thrills in the deeper side of the pool. the deeper side of the pool is where rainbow sharks lay waiting for me there is that question of beautiful fears: if i let the rainbow teeth swallow me, will i survive as beautiful as colorful as that or will i just be swallowed up, whole and screaming? rainbow sharks and medusas and leeches and rejection are waiting and they are all the most beautiful things, capable of spitting out painted rivers of divine knowledge, and they are all the most horrible things and i am so, so scared i ask my sharks how to write poetry, if they can just write it for me and i'm gone swallowed indefinitely and i can't write anything and please someone forgive me for not listening i ask my sharks to forgive me and i know that some night soon they will and i will slide from them and from all my fears and be free. -Summer NumberSevenEighty Smooth lips stretch back across rainbow teeth and lick with a blue tongue - I know it never really happened, the way I see the glitzy powder candy slide across your gum ridge, which of course falls so easily into lack of candy and lots of me and my tongue instead. ~Maggie ; ) SevenEightyOne Funny how One little word can change your life One glance can do what smiles only dream of I can remember the day and the time I can remember the way it happened I would like to scream. I can remember remember, remember but do i have to, again? Recall the day recall the desire recall the way you took me so by surprise recall the reprise again and again before and before shaman and grandam Please show me the door I want out I want to remember It differently I know it never really happened. javien. NumberSevenEightyTwo please show me the door give me blank space to collage a wall to paint, give me a bed to quilt. i'm sitting here with twitches taking permanent residence in my fingers my attention span is so short these days. i can barely concentrate on finishing a poem. my eye jumps from color to color my ears just hear the first five seconds of a song without you nothing holds me. NumberSevenEightyThree taking permanent residence in my fingers,
your syllables sit,
collecting new meanings
every second
every new line of
poetry, your words
are given a new
light
and that is what and
why i write,
i am trying so hard
to paint you:
particularly your voice
so late,
seeping under and
into me
your voice and
your hands are my
new poetry,
and suddenly
your
syllables
sit waiting to
spring from my fingernails and
i am trying so hard,
always,
to paint them up the way they deserve, but they
will never be as bright
as when they slid
from you to me those nights almost
sleeping
-Summer
SevenEightFour and i am trying so hard was trying so hard and the man in the spoon said give up but you never quit and so neither will I and i try and i try and i try. so we waited for dawn to renown all our arms and we got up to do it again no the way we were born we just couldn't unform so we stayed in our own molded grins people who don't change and they never look back and they never look up or around they just sit on the bench with their hands on their heads and their feet firmly set in the ground. we are all living in fear tell me what would you do dear if i should once set you free? don't stare at my shoes, nothing's gone if you lose and babe someone once said that to me. SevenEightFive but you never quit and so neither will i i go on day after day following in your footsteps damn perfect footsteps i know in my mind that your not perfect and that things would never work between us but try telling my heart that 'cause it doesn't want to listen and everytime i'm near you rational thoughts fly away... i know your not perfect but i can't find any flaws no matter how closely i examine you in my eyes you are perfect there's not a thing i would change about you and it kills me to see you day after day oblivious to my feelings i'm jealous of girls who hold your attention even for a moment i hate being jealous i want to be satisfied with how things are but i'm not. will i ever be? how long? when? why are things always one sided? for once, dammit i want mutual feelings is that so much to ask? ~Jadzia I'm sorry people, i stuck this poem in here and something took it off and I haven't got around to putting it back up till now, so it can just sit here numberless I could never love you again, It hurts too much I reached out and touched you, and you reached for me. The world was perfection But then i saw you reach for someone else, and she reached back. I cryed, sad and bitter tears of defeat, Why are things always so one sided? You didn't love me, you never have and you never will. I knew then that I could never love you again. Next when you reached for me, for a toy to fulfil your own pleasure, I did not reach back, I pulled away From now on, I'll be strong, I'll keep my distance. ~erynne NumberSevenEightSix try telling my heart not to love. try it, go ahead, try to tell a little child that mommy's never coming back. try telling my eyes not to sparkle telling my mouth that i can't laugh telling my lips that i don't want to kiss or my throat not to ache my stomach not to turn. you tell me the sweetest things the nicest things, kindest things and you trust me with myself, never telling me to do something different. no one has ever seen me like this; my colors may clash but you see them beautifully you've told me that i shouldn't love you but you've never asked my eyes not to sparkle my stomach not to leap my fingers not to tremble or my heart not to love. seveneightseven the neck is sore the head is down the feet are cool and white the eyes are pained the hands are still the voice hushed in the night the day is spent without pretence of purpose, thought or form the evening breeze allows the bees to hurry to their home where art thou? and why art thou? and when will you return my eyes are dim with waiting and my heart has ceased to burn doing naught never hurt so much actions ne'er did seem so futile i sit and wait, you sow and reap rain floods the windowsill i cannot live a silent statue am not a beauteous lass i never said no questions but indeed, you've never asked. SevenEightEight my eyes are dim with waiting for this time to pass hit reload, refresh only refers to the page You're there, but neither of us are paying attention we didn't know we should, and this is just so hard, this filling in your inflections and laughter myself it's not like coloring in a coloring book it's like trying to finish a Degas or the Mona Lisa with a wide roller and a bucket of bright red paint seveneightnine and we didn't know we should we could have should have didn't the time came the time left the time stood still we smiled and stepped aside let it pass and we didn't know we didn't fucking have a clue and though now it is painfully clear now the time is yet spent. our song is left unsung the time came the time left the time stood still. javien. SevenNineO we smiled and stepped aside dodging your smiling perfectly made-up blows and inside we cursed you and -ohmygoodness- you wouldn't believe the things you were called you wouldn't believe the wrong you did me you wouldn't believe the hurt you had no right my anger's fiery, is consuming me and all I need to breathe live around me it feeds on itself, damning me for spending so much as a thought on you if you were here right now i'd punch your teeth in without so much as another thought sevenninetyone so much as another thought will pay i will take so much as another breath will cost i will pay so much as another glance will break my will to love i will break the will, take the glance, pay the breath, take the thought, if it means i can live one day freer i have killed my dreams to put the freedom back into life i will trap moonbeams to put the dreams back into life SevenNinetyToo i have killed my dreams i don't know where to turn to next what to grasp to keep from falling what to trust to save me and what to pile all my hopes and expectations on now naturally there's some way out something that will bring the world to my feet find it go west gotta be somewhere ...no? shit. another empty life. SevenNinetyTooToo i have i have i have walked so many miles, spoken so many words, written so much poetry, lived too many lives, i have killed my dreams, to stop from shaking, i have held moonbeams, in the shape of your hands, i have heard sprite's voices, in the disguise of a child's, i have done and done and done, and tried and tried and tried and the world just keeps coming and coming bring the world to my feet! cry the slave to kneel at it's mistress! it obliges, for a moment, for a joke moment spent. the world walks on. in the shape of your hands i see the potential in your legs i see the speed of your mind in your arms i see your embrace in your neck i see the concentration in your cheek i see wind and weather in your shoulder blades i see your wingspan in your lips i see words unsaid in your eyes i see the divine sevenninefive in the shadow of the sun in the corner of the moon light is coming i wait. as the dawn breaks as the night flies love is coming in your eyes looking forward in time i see your embrace SevenNineSix light is coming no wait it's already here been here for some time now having crept up on me again i can see it through my window in the gaps between the blinds the sun light of the still newish morning softer and kinder (for the time being anyway) than the artifical beams from the lamp on the dresser from the bulb hot to the touch and yet cold to the heart my eyes go in and out of focus yep, it's one of those days (or is it nights?) hmph. neither one nothing so clean cut and organized as that time passes from waking to sleeping from consciousness to unconsciousness at the most unusual hours in a far more chaotic and creative way than the silly concept of darkness spent dreaming and daylight spent scheming can allow 1440 minutes does not necessarily a cycle make vision blurs around the edges there's a dullness behind my eyes as thing's go in and out of focus i've come to realize that maybe there's some truth in this that I can theorize maybe what i'm seeing in this altered state of mind is a hint, a mirror, a symbol of how life really passes by the things we've felt and seen, and heard the roads we've walked on the people we've met the experiences had the lessons learned the pains endured the wonders enjoyed the pasts of years and a second ago the memories of seasons... they all sharpen and fade and are skewed and redefined blurred around the edges (and in the center too) over and over again in a variety of ways as perception shifts as the world shifts as we shift (like the ever shifting room seen through the eyes of the sleep deprived) we lose sight of things (sometimes everything) cuz we move too fast for them to keep up what's right in front of us can be hazed over and obscured cuz we work too slow to grasp what was there all along (and suddenly, for a moment, clarity arrives) maybe what i'm seeing is the passing of time itself revealed unto the tired fool who's mind is too weary to deny it the present blurs into the used to be which flows into the land of far away and long ago i see the vibrations the flux of reality as it's reimagined, recreated and reinstated by every thought, every whisper, every action, every movement of everyone and everything i see the distortion of the slow quickness with which it all moves the effects of the changes settling in maybe what i'm seeing is science and the life force and the universe in action or maybe my body's just telling me to fucking go to sleep Jauss SevenNinetySeven My eyes go in and out of focus, Never staying on one thing I see your face, and I can't see anything else I hear your voice and nothing else is heard. My thoughts are ones of hope and love Yet you can't hear them, you can't see them My love for you is not noticed, It is ignored, You never see me for who I am, You never see me at all. You say you love, but you don't
You say I matter, but I don't
What can I do? What can I say?
Nothing.
Nothing.
For what I say or what I do, does not matter to you at all
You care not for my feelings and You never will
I love you and can't stop that no matter what.
Now it's your turn to love me.
~Snow~
SevenNinetyEight I can't see anything else besides this computer screen, looking over my rapidly moving hands and flickering candle My hands move so fast, knowing where they're going now moving, pauseing, moving again hitting the backspace key again and again... and knowing there is no backspace key for my legs and tongue I stop, hesitate, look for some pattern on a keyboard of ideas with no markings touch typing from habit, in the dark of a flickering candle I lit this candle for peace, for justice, for mourning for symbolism and for light and to tell the truth I enjoy the half-dark touch typing backspacing movement of the night I sink into it and feel beauty in the pain burning paper cranes, dying flowers, slow drops of blood symbolism I cling to reminding me it's all the same, all happened before... every poem written over again... every pain lived again... This moment is a poem, and the moment has no end but the poem does and I must find it fingers flying, where to I do not know but they always get there-- maybe after half hour breaks, maybe spinning and settling directly on target but poems always end and so do moments.
I lit this candle for peace for the frays of perfection that we have to come into something we can hold instead of being fragments that no one can touch or see. We need more things that we can gather in our arms and love need more arms. The world is being tossed around and it's hard to center yourself and breathe and say "it's okay" because it isn't okay and it never will be "okay" and I know I should stop trying to belive it and stop trying to put it in words and have it come out wrong. We should come together and watch this candle burn like my anger has burned these last few weeks like my anger burned when I pulled myself off the bus seat and realized I had written no poetry in a week and realized it didn't matter because the faces in a circle on the floor gathered around the newspaper what that created in my heart was more than words could ever be what happened when the pages were all turned and no one was moving and no one was talking, even to swear or cry out was more than poetry when our circle was broken and we went our seperate ways my heart was still there in the amtrak station I left it by the newspaper left on the floor by 17 teenagers whoes world was suddenly changed and they didn't know where to run. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ We can hold onto being in love And we can hold on to how we felt Or we can find something new And we can forget what we were It's easier that way I always thought that I'd never give up on love But recently I've found that Somtimes it makes you happier And I don't know why I'm not sad I held on a little to long I won't forget how I felt But now I can find something new And I can forget why you were everything You're not so important now It's even hard for me to believe But I just don't love you anymore NickH(please don't laugh, even if it sucks)NBTSWikiWiki | Recent Changes Edited 4 times, last edited on October 10, 2001 by ::ffff:216.66.162.28. © 2000 NBTSC Webmasters |
