Archive for August 16, 1993

Drive to Suicide

Posted: August 16, 1993 in Poetry
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why do I have to walk around
with the anvil of potential suicide
balanced on my head?

some people ask themselves
why aren’t I normal? or
why aren’t I like the rest of them?
well, this is not normal.
the human being would not have evolved
as far as it has if it had a normal drive to suicide.

I honestly think about it most all of the time
and once in a while
it is more than a shadow;
isometimes the whole damn monster
comes out of the closet
and crouches, towering over me, whispering
about the unseen benefits of suicide.

how many years will I stick around,
waiting for things to get “better”,
always listening with half an ear
to the crack of the closet door?

Hardship Friendship

Posted: August 16, 1993 in Poetry
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As you go
I don’t know
where we stand
or how close you feel
to what I feel for you.
Sometimes this stands me still
wherever I am,
especially playing the piano.
I will suddenly think of you
and your mind,
then I wonder if I’m ever going to see you again.
If I’ll be able to touch your face,
hold your hand,
and be able to tell you I love you with my eyes.
I wonder how cold time can be
to the single struggles of a sometimes hardship friendship…

Thee First-Born

Posted: August 16, 1993 in Poetry
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Twisted is thee way to what you seek.
Labyrinthine; swathed in thee shrouds of the Dead.
Thee sparks and shrapnel ov conflicting Faiths
Burns holes in thee very fabrick ov thee World.
What was undone has done again.
Thee Trees have spoken ov their Fear.
Shackles lay empty but intact
On a cold Stone floor, in thee Darkness.
Thee depths ov Silence murmur:
Thee sound heard in dry riverbeds
When it is raining in the nearby hills.
Take heed ov thee Guidance of the Divine;
Take steel to clothe and to cleanse;
Take care that your deeds suit your words.
Yea, even as your thoughts are actions.
Thee olde First-Born comes as Fire,
With tentacled flames ov despair.