Night Lily

(Little boys, little boys
lay you in the dirt
close your eyes and dream of lilies
night lilies)

Lily combs her hair and waits
for you to come
home at 2 a.m.
tends her garden
in the dark of the snow

When Lily calls I turn
away, she knows
I know - you
wilt when I pull you inside
suckling child waits his turn

(Little boys, little boys
make you feel how it feels when you
close your eyes and dream of lilies
night lilies)

Lilies are wild and never come
in blue she smiles she says
in my kitchen she can smell you
suckling child
there's something familiar about you

When Lily bleeds I turn
away, you know
she knows
you wilt when I take you inside
suckling child your daddy's home

(Little boys, little boys
see what you're hiding girl
close your eyes and think of lilies
night lilies)

When Lily cries I turn
away, I know
you know
she wilts when I push you inside
suckling child your daddy's come

When Lily screams you turn
away, I know
you know
wild night lilies go
to Venus
suckling child your daddy's gone

(Big boys, big boys
cut you in the dark
close your eyes and dream of lilies
crimson lilies)

I comb my hair and watch
you go again
alone at 2 a.m.
tend my garden
in the dark of the snow

Lily sighs as you burst inside
she knows
I still feel you
suckling child your mommy's dry

(Little boys, little boys
lose their way in the dark
close your eyes and dream of lilies
night lilies
close your eyes
night Lily)

St. Theresa

A Childs Advice

Be silent though you're frightened,
lest they hear you and they come.
It's better to be quiet now,
go inward and grow numb.

The shadows that you see at times,
aren't merely here to play.
They creep into the shrouded rooms,
taking lifeless ones away.

If in your sleep you feel them,
lie still, don't make a sound.
It will all be over soon enough,
take your soul to Holy ground.

Methos
 

Hidden

The mirror reflects,
what most don't see.
My face, my body,
but not just me.

Each one is unique,
having something to share.
Without looking close,
you won't notice them there.

Small, timid and scared,
a child lends it's voice.
Peering out from the darkness,
yet hidden by choice.

In chimes another,
the game player, let's say.
Devil's advocate and charmer,
that keeps you at bay.

All that's left is but one,
the voice you hear most.
Peace-maker, protector,
but mainly the host.

No names do they have,
I call them all, We.
Just one human being,
that really is three.
 

Incomplete

Have you ever loved so deeply
For so long and so completely,
That without him you were part
With only half your heart?

Have you ever felt so lost inside
It was without warning, without pride
That you'd do anything to subside
The burning ache you try to hide

Has your emptiness so filled you
When you've tried to feel full?
Has the burden overwhelmed you
Of your lost and lonely soul?

While it traveled down the mainsteam,
But it missed the mark it sought.
When life isn't always what it seems
And that's always what you thought

Have you ever felt you'd find the lane
To the happiness you seek
Or is your search completely all in vein
And your outlook only bleak?

Allie
11/1/98
 

Needing Yet Never Wanting

2 am and I'm still awake
aching from a pain I cannot escape
needing yet never wanting
this agony to end
my thoughts drift once again
to a beautiful place
where pain neverending
and joy everlasting belong
needing yet never wanting
these rememberances to end.
 

Among the Shadows

I close my eyes
to the violence of man
Although I see it all too well
as a woman is being battered
I close my ears
to her cry of fear and shame
Although I hear it all too well
as she begs for her freedom
I close my door
to keep my sanity
Although I lost it all too long ago
among the shadows
created in this society.

by ZBK

LITTLE LINDA

(written as a healing exercise from a John Bradshaw book.  Written with
my non-dominant hand addressed to my inner child from her loving adult
friend).

You’re so gorgeous and wondrous and innocent too,
and I’d like you to know that I really love you!

I’ll be there for you through thick and through thin,
no matter what they put you through, YOU’VE committed no sin!

They abused you, I know the hurt and the pain,
I feel it too, but we don’t own the shame!
They stole your faith, your dignity and your trust,
and used you shamefully to satisfy their lust.
You weren’t to blame for anything they did,
they were the criminals, you were an innocent kid!

You have much to go through, you will grow and you’ll heal,
but your feelings you must listen to as part of the deal!
I’ll be here beside you throughout every day,
The journey’s so worth it, as you are in everyway!!

by Linda
 

Edna's Poem

 I have a spelling checker.
 It came with my PC.
 It plane lee marks four my revue
 Miss steaks aye can knot see.
                ----------------
 Eye ran this poem threw it.
 Your sure real glad two no.
 Its very polished in its weigh,
 My checker tolled me sew.
                ----------------
 A checker is a blessing.
 It freeze yew lodes of thyme.
 It helps me right awl stiles to reed,
 And aides me when eye rime.
                ----------------
 Each frays comes posed up an my screen
 Eye trussed too bee a joule.
 The checker pours o'er every word
 To cheque sum spelling rule.
                ----------------
 Bee fore a veiling checkers
 Hour spelling mite decline.
 And if we're laks oar have a laps,
 We wood be maid to wine.
                ----------------
 Butt now bee cause my spelling
 Is checked with such grate flare,
 There are know faults with in my cite,
 Of nun eye am a wear.
                ----------------
 Now spelling does not phase me,
 It does knot bring a tier.
 My pay purrs awl due glad den
 With wrapped words fare as hear.
                ----------------
 To rite with care is quite a feet
 Of witch won should be proud,
 And wee mussed dew the best wee can,
 Sew flaws are knot aloud.
                ----------------
 Sow  ewe can sea why aye dew prays
 Such soft wear four pea seas,
 And why eye brake in two averse
 Buy righting want too please.

Edna

WELL KNOWN STRANGER
by Estelle Sharrock Churchill

There have been some changes from within
many rearranges from inside
am I who I never knew
I am someone, but who's that someone
I look in the mirror, it is you
I see a face that I've grown in to
eyes that stare at mine
the blue and grey, the brightness
eyes that are dull yet shine
who is this person before me
whose is the face staring back
the face of a well known stranger
the body abused & weathered
misuse guilt & life
what shall I do to recapture
this person inside looking out
at the visage of the well known stranger
staring back.

THE COCKEREL, FLOWER & VINE
by Estelle Sharrock Churchill

Decaying grapes upon the vine
the flower that's too shy
a cockerel misses the dawn
before they know it the moment has gone
but there will be another day
just a short 24 hours away
an opportunity missed & the days get shorter
as days have a tendency to do
what shall become of the bashful flower
the timid cockerel with hesitant crow
can they afford another year without wine
or will they learn to live given time.

copyright (1998) remains with poet
 

Your skin reminds me of a flowers pedals
So soft, like the early morning dew
Your eyes filled with a sparkle like starlight
Your smile adds luster, to everything you do

Your wit so charming and spontaneous
Your laugh adds joy, to those you are around
The way you carry your feeling
So "Shy", yet not hard to be found

When I'm with you, your like a ray of sunshine
You bring happiness and joy to me again
Your so special in so many ways
You make me feel special, by being your friend

I hope that in the days ahead of us
We can get closer, as we start to talk
To find ourselves not trying to go to fast
But instead, take our time and learn as we walk

I look forward to the time we'll spend together
Learning more as each day goes by
Seeing you smile and saying something funny
Making me realize, that I'm "A Very Lucky Guy."

copyright (1997) TCB

Hi Hap,

First of all, I really like the name "Happy," my uncle's name was Happy. The way he got his name is a little strange but my father told the story of his brother. When they were little kids around 8 or 9, the use to get into there pappy's moon shine. One day while all the other brothers were out doing chores and working in the fields, Uncle Happy went back to the house where his daddy keep his mash. He crawled up into the closet with a jug and hours later the other boys wondered where he could possibly be. They didn't suspect him to be in his dad's mash cause he wasn't allowed to even be in the same room with it. So when they found him they thought that he was dead. He didn't move a muscle for hours. One strange thing was that he had a smile on his face and he never lost that smile his entire childhood. Stranger still, he had that smile for his entire life. So from the time he was a kid 'til the day he died he was know far and wide as Happy! He was a good hearted person with a heart of gold. Now then I wrote a poem called "By The Grace Of God". I hope you enjoy it.

"By The Grace Of God"

It's only by the "Grace Of God," that we make it through each day
Seeking to find it within ourselves to try and do it a better way
Relying on others,.....to help us in our quest
Knowing that between us all, we will do our very best

As we look at all the suffering, they are only faces without a name
We realize that it is up to us-to help ease them through the pain
If only for one moment, we can bring a smile upon their face
You realize how special you really are and no-one can take your place

To be blessed by God to help others through life's struggles
To give of yourself in a way that no other could do
Is a tribute to the way you handle yourself under pressure
It makes for a better person and also a stronger one too

Just remember that, "If you believe hard enough,- it might happen"
That's if you want it bad enough,-you'll have to work real hard
If you pray and ask for help,-your prayers may soon be answered
And the cleansing of the inner soul is done "By The Grace Of God."

 ©TCB (1997)

P.S.  One of your frequent visitors Mrs Russell, gave me your web sight  so that I could see some of the work that she has on your sight. Shedoes a column for a southern paper and she is fantastic. When she toldme about your sight I had to visit it to see for myself, and I'll have to admit it is a really neat sight for a lot of reasons. It has been apleasure talking with you and I'll do it again soon.

Your Cyber Friend,

topdog17

Dear topdog17,

Any friend of Lillian is a friend of mine! I loved your poem and can't wait for more of your inspirations. Your Uncle Happy sounded like a very special person and I have a sneaking suspicion that his "special" smile and kind hearted disposition had nothing to do with that jug of moonshine even though it's a great story! We need more kind hearts in the world like Uncle Happy. It sounds like I have met two of them in Lillian and yourself! Thank you for this and future contributions.

happy(kindheartedpeopleunite!)shrink

 

---

BUMPS

by Lillian Carol Russell

Life isn't always easy there are changes along the way,
some of the good times we leave behind to be lost with yesterday.
The clock of life keeps ticking changing all the while,
some days are filled with tears, some days you greet with a smile.

If I place my heart in a box to protect it from hurt and harm,
then it will grow cold and die for a heart must be kept warm.
The bumps in life are painful but I guess it should be known,
although they are rough we use them to climb
they teach us we must hold on.

---

Dear Happy Shrink,

I'm new on the web, just learning to spread my wings. I must say, your web
site is one of my favorites. I've sent you a dream (about the hair), an article about encouragement and a poem which has not yet been posted. I think it is great the way you dedicate yourself to helping others! I worry that you may be a bit of a party animal though, and party animals scare me. Looking through the gossamer veils of the Internet, I can see that you are a really nice guy. That is why I've written this poem just for you;

HAPPY (GOTTALOVETHATGUY) SHRINK

by Lillian Carol Russell

If you have a problem to solve and you can't seem to think,
just get on the net and ask Happy Shrink.
He is a compassionate and caring man,
if anyone can help you I'm sure he can.

He has a way of sharing,
that lets you know he is loving and caring.
When he needs to be he's as serious as a heart attack,
but he can really make you laugh when he's dealing with a quack.

He wrote of Davey Crockett and his coon skin cap,
the moral of the story was no load of crap.
He shared with us his grandma and she was such a dear,
I have to admit  it me shed a tear.

You just gotta love him,
that Happy Shrink.
You just gotta love him,
that's what I think.

Dear Lillian,

You are now on a select list of people that have actually made me blush!
And you did it without sharing an erotic fantasy! This is a wonderful gift and I thank you for it. When I tell people that I get back all that I put into this webpage, I can now refer them to this poem. Thank you so much again.

Happy(JustgottalovethatLillian)shrink

Once

  Once I could ponder a lullaby stream
  Trickle along on the crest of a dream
  And listen to beauty's sweet honeydrop flame
  Without need to question the name of the game.
  Once I'd remember the future so clear
  Beyond which the past flittered farther and near -
  I'd watch the ghosts teasing the doors of my mind
  Savouring tastes of all love gone behind.
  Of angels in demonskin, righteousness bold,
  Of tangled emotions, all mine to unfold;
  Sing hallelujah and humble-bee sting;
  Pumpkin-sized magical faery-tale ring;
  Majestical crocodiles' leathery smiles;
  Freedom in nonsense which reason defiles;
  Herovious, bravical deeds to be done -
  Once, in my purity, when I'll be young.
 

 Evadne

 Evadne how I've blossomed since the magic in your eyes
 Permeated my existence leaving me so hypnotised.
 If we'd always been together and I'd danced to your sweet tune,
 If we'd met before forever it would not have been too soon.
 May our friendship be true oneness,
 May this be a love to last,
 May our lifetimes last forever
 And may time not go too fast
 But for now let's just be certain we'll believe in us until
 On a moonlit night tomorrow we'll be even stronger still.
 

  Pinocchio's Strings

  How many compliments, how many lies,
  How many of your friends do you despise?
  Wisdom and silence, cruel to be kind
  But how much sincerity lies behind?
  Chattering, laughter, humility, shame
  But lose your temper and you're to blame!
  Advice and experience, shoulder a tear,
  Look back in anger and laugh at the fear.
  Confidence, faith, god-given release;
  The chosen ones, we dream to peace.
  Nation to nation, colour to creed,
  Purge upon purge, superior needs?
  Smile at the foolish one drift on his way -
  Deviate from the norm? You'll be sorry one day!
  Suffer the children, society's fault,
  A drop in the ocean but don't get caught.
  "Buzz buzz," say the busy ones,
  Hurry to live;
  Beware of the minute
  That doesn't forgive.
  Flights of fancy, a sunrise at dawn,
  To live in success street, a manicured lawn;
  Freedom in figures, a pocket that sings
  But rub him the wrong way and busy one stings..

  So who really pulls Pinocchio's Strings??

From a Nobody with a Grin.
 

PROGRESS

Trees tamed for the sake of wires and trucks,
land buried alive beneath man’s hardened rocks.
Boxed into conformity, live our lives to impress.
We are but prisoners and the sentence...PROGRESS!

Quarter acre expressions of our purpose filled lives.
Lawns manicured regularly as bees tend their hives.
Executives rush as labourers slog,
children expand their minds as we all turn the cog.
Doctors grease their revolving doors,
In the name of religion and politics we still fight for the cause!

Together we are responsible for this world that we keep,
without new awareness we’re just shepherds slaughtering sheep!
We’ve all come from wild stock and need only look back to see,
how much closer our ancestors were to peace and harmony!

We’re so lost in our separateness, too oppressed by  rules to see
how stressed we are to advance through this hierarchal society!
From our fenced off land to our tunnel visioned mind,
we’ve come to believe that we’re masters of thought and design.

So think about it, please and someone explain to me,
how did we get so bloody lost in conformity?
Is it really wise to take advantage of this game we call progress
will you really end with accolades or a heart attack from stress?

by Linda
 

I WANT TWO CATCH IT ALL BEFORE I DIE 

(nine part series)

I. I
Curiosity may have killed the cat; more likely the cat was just unlucky,
or else curious to see what death was like- having no cause to go on
licking paws or mothering litter upon litter of kittens predictably.
Nevertheless to be curious is dangerous enough. To distrust what is
said, what seems, to ask odd questions, interfere in dreams, leave home,
smell rats, have haunches, does not endear her to those doggy circles
where well smelt baskets, suitable men, good lunches are the order of
things and where prevails much wagging of incurious heads and tails.
Face it.  Curiosity does not cause her to die- only the lack of it
will.  Never to want to see the other side of the mountain or that
improbable country where living is an idol (although a probable hell)
would kill us all.  Only the curious have, if they live, a tale worth
telling at all.

Dogs say she loves too much, is irresponsible, is changeable, marries too
many men, chills all dinner tables with the tales of her nine lives.
Well, face it.  She is lucky.  Let her be nine-lived and contradictory,
curious enough to change, prepared to pay the cat price, which is to die
and die again and again each time with no less pain.  A cat minority of
one is all that can be counted on to tell the truth.  And what she has
to tell, on each return from hell, is this:  that dying is what the
living do, that dying is what the loving do, and that dead dogs are
those who do not know that hell is where to live they have to go.
(author forgotten, rewritten by me)
 

II.  WANT
I want to run like the lines of howl- run never ending praises into the
sun-  I want to hold a warm hand, lick the sweat off a naked shoulder,
and kiss a tear that isn't mine. I want to hear god whisper in the wind
and get a chill because I believe he might be there and hear a voice
that may be magic-  just a flash like lightning of hope.
 

III.  TWO
Where are you invisible love? I'm getting rather tired & bored in this
plastic town.  I try to make it better in crowds alone or getting stoned
so high that all I want to do is fuck or sleep-  I hear his balls slap
my- but at least pain is better than numbness-
He pounds and pounds like the bull- the bull in Saturday morning
cartoons- I see him and me on yellowed background TV - ring in his
nose, tiny waist, and huge chest groans- I whisper "please stop it back
there" but the bull holds me securely, till he's finished- and I am dead.
Dear invisible love, I need you so bad- Come swim naked at night in the
Pacific with me- let's run through the woods- oak, maple, and pine-
let’s run and get cut in blackberry briars, but they will be happy
wounds I think- I want to see the moon reflect off your skin- kiss your
closed eyes- your mouth- your chest- We'll find something interesting in
this mindless city- or at least we can laugh together at their
stupidity- I don't want to walk alone anymore through crowds of smog &
smoke- the darkness seeps into my lungs you see, and it's turning me
black.  I really need you invisible love- please come- let me love you-
and make me cry and feel.

IV.  CATCH
God is in the wind- you can only hear it when you listen carefully- you
can feel it only when you close your eyes and breathe- it's a spirit- a
life- a purpose - that makes so few- so when you hear it, close your
eyes and feel the breath that's life- - but you say NO-
you don't want to feel threatened- threatened to change-
So you watch as he runs- he stays- he flies- he falls.
So you right all along- Right?  Do you feel empty? sad?
jealous?

V.   IT
You drink ice water so cold it burns your teeth
I freeze in your ice block cell
Let me outside and I'll sweat so hard
Try to sweat you out of my soul
Maybe it's the ice you drink that makes you so cold
and you are slowly pulling my brain out of my ear and
feeding me ice water I DON'T WANT TO DRINK.
(ode to OJ Town)

VI.  ALL
I see you from behind
long black hair tickling the wind
and you are my muse, whispering in my ear
my Pan with your flute, my Zeus and my God.
For one night, deer in the snow between thick brush fir
may see the stars, under the stars, in my eyes spin
and my mind dances, twirls...
around and around, dizzy, so dizzy...
and i want to make love to you, right now
and not because i want to, because you
are whispering... yes...yes...Hmmm....
and killing me touching me in the slippery high
but because i see your soul.
and it is hard soft hot fast sticky wet swamp heat
your tongue is sweet and bees patchouli sandalwood crown your head
i see the wilderness inside
And that is what i want.
Please come inside now...
touch me please
Oh God No
yes... yes... yes...

VII.  BEFORE
-Hamilton's Mythology P. 146 Psyche's Story
Butterfly slept drank ate in a medium sized house
-pink- no kidding- about a mile from the country club and
twenty from the projects with her mother and sister.
Buffy Bitsy and Butterfly.
Sound like a fairietale? It is. She had seen 23476 suns and 23477 moons
approximately and they all were the same
day night day night daylight darkness.
Everyone smiles in this house- this happy contented home, but butterfly
and doesn't know why- and so she prayed to God.
That night her little green room bloomed magic
She heard a voice say "Come to my field- make love in my jungle."
He kissed her closed eyes, the nape of her neck,
and she swam in the dream that called itself Truth.
The next morning the sun rose like the first day for she was born that
night.  She packed her pink suitcase and said, "Mother, I've found
Life-  I'm moving to the field, forest, jungle,
Look, my tickets- my flight leaves at six."
"Child Dearest, you're crazy".
And they put her in Brice for recovery.
In darkness she said, "They don't believe me, my love.
They tell me you are Satan- they say we fornicate and I'm going to hell-
I'm a crazy disturbed soul. I love you."
"Shhhhh...Shhhh.... heaven is here in our invisible light."
The next day they gave her a Kodak disc camera- flash intact-
and she said- "No I can't" and pointed to page 149, Hamilton's
mythology- Cupid & Psyche- “I can't"
But fate can't be redetermined, like love can't be controlled
and she lit his body with the push of a button.
She gasped at white wings- beauty- soul- truth-
Saw the tears in his eyes as he vanished and was gone.
 

VIII.  I
Children's tales, fairie tales
what light sugar coated candy talk
and butterflies and kittens
lightning bugs and trees- Pan music with spoons
puppies orange juice- Oz... Highway 40-
the yellow brick road- she just got back
Wanderlust or suffocation led her there
to find her heart, courage, a brain.
All she found was a hitchhiker
who told her there's no place like home
So now she's back Under Auntie Em's wing
with orange juice and cookies
and waits for courage to leave for another Oz.
 

IX.  DIE
"Rage, rage, against the dying of the light."
(Dylan Thomas)
 

NATURAL DISASTERS

What do we search for as we venture out there;
when we flee our proud cities and explore nature without care?

Is it peace, simplicity, relaxation or time,
perhaps sanity or solitude or maybe it’s just the vistas we pine?

We record its beauty in paintings and song,
in poems and stories our souls express and long---
for nature abundant with ourselves in the midst---
of this magical world we so truly do miss!

So let’s look at ourselves and reflect on the mess---
we’ve made of this planet in our race to progress.
Is it really an improvement what we’ve done to this earth?
Or are we just a lost generation out of touch with it’s worth?

by Linda
 

EMOTION

As a race, we’ve collectively lost our emotion;
In our quest to impress and power on!

We’ve all really got so much to share,
If we’d only look within and start to care!

Let’s peel off our masks and start to feel,
the numbness would go and we’d start to heal!

It’s so important, we could actually rediscover our souls,
we could feel love and empathy, become healthy and whole!

So let us close our eyes and start to see,
just how much better life really could be!

by Linda
 

Above One Life

It's hard to reach depth
be awake breathe deep when contemplating death
Sometimes, when alive
we see the truth so clearly
that we want to die
Romeo & Juliet
Idealistic youth depressed at the state of society
We go to sleep-catch the disease of nihilism
Forget the beauty of Gods
All I want to is to remember being in love with god
Walking down the street under falling cherry petals in nirvana
No pain & suffering- Heaven is on earth if we find it
We only live once & the best is to enjoy all the years
Like the old man in the city of watermills in Kurasaua's Dreams
He lived a good life
But God has a plan
God is alive
God is and everything happens for a reason
Saints are born & sometimes die martyrs
Life is short & sometimes it's a tragedy
But if it's a tragedy, make the best of it
And try to earn forgiveness
He killed me
I killed myself to sleep with an agent
contemplating aids
 

Bad poem written after stricken w/ creative block:

West L.A. to Venice - What I see now after 5 years here w/ no vacation
(written last night- 6/15/98)

yellow gray air dyed blue
snow capped mountains hidden by smog
concrete rivers, graffiti oceans
spurting dildos: green brown palms
Gestapo cops circling for prey
slaves in prisons,
lying producers, coke snort agents,
gold's gym torsos, big bosom legs,
limo driver Johns asking for whores
Coffee counter girls, the smell of expresso
Mexican hot dog boys 99 cents
genius receptionists crying of boredom
television heroes, OJ gods, floating in money,
countless homeless,
sleeping in cardboard on the steps
of the church where "Jesus the Dog" slept
before he died.

Five Years Ago

While breathing- a realization came last night-
another manifestation of last fall's
apple bite- the fruit is still digesting
roots grow in this brain and have pierced another
hole through this soul- another lance in the bull-
I inhale and exhale in my unused bed- unused for
its favorite purpose- and count my heartbeats-
the time bomb in my chest-
but I kissed last week- a kiss like the first kiss
and it was rebirth for a day- I breathed him in and
every cell- every cilli in these lungs danced like the first rain
after desert's drought- all the animals splashed in the pool and my soul
grew a rainbow- a field of daisies- the sun-
But like Life, rainbows fade, and the drought has returned.
I exhale desert breath
In desperation, fear, and hope
I hiked to the mountaintop
as close to God as the Earth will take me alone
and found that each inhale below blue sky
above the city- were bird cries, blowing dead leaves,
insatiable, sweet, wind- a false prophet.
The air I need to restore this soul is love unfortunately.
and alone on the mountaintop I pound tight white fists
to thick green glass- Now I understand the Bell Jar.

Written Eight Years Ago

I see a scabbed blonde child running naked in the sun
she carries an empty applesauce jar filled with azalea blossoms
and glass thumping bees- she opens the jar- a stale sweet spirals
to her nose and six flower hugging bees rise to the sun-
At night she sees ghosts and isn't afraid
she floats above her bed and watches dreams in her mind-
sees the spinning colors- floating objects dart by-
an eye- a shoe- a green and blue ball
but then the evil one moves in and she says "Out of my head
Satan".  He wants the purists souls most.
The girl is dressed now. And she is old and angry and sad.
They clothed her, beat her with the book " How to handle
a strong-willed child" and broke her-
tamed her into unhappy submission like the 70 year old
black men dressed in overalls melting on benches in Tuscalossa,
Alabama. They don't smile when they look at you.
And they sent her to etiquette school- this is how you walk, this is how
you sit, this is how you descend stairs- this is how you smile- plastic-
My wings were growing when I was young, but I never thought of flying-
at least consciously- I flew at night-
But You Miss Long Red Claws- Mrs. Desert Cunt Loveless Bitch-
hit my soft brain- and clipped these growing wings with condescending
eyes. You country club women- I have become one of you-
halfway- and I hate your half- because it is ice-
And when I leave, when I leave, I'll pray that these
stumps on back of shoulder blades will heal, and free my soul
like the bees- to the sun.
 

The Steel God

Rays of broken light fall,
   darkness crumbles and begins to fade.
Where is my steel god now?
   How has this trap been laid?

Soft earth moves beneath me,
   I step quietly over the edge of death.
Where is my blood red moon now?
   I am numb and have no breath.

Now comes thunder fierce and hard,
   My throat has been severed with a careless motion.
Where is the cruel blade now?
   My words wash silently into an ocean.

Open, soaring in blackness,
   I search for the key to my prison of stone.
Where is the secret kept now?
   This vision is mine alone.

Movement then, softly padding along,
   On paws made from white light and hope from above.
Where are the cold bricks now?
   I sense the warmth of love.

I blindly seek the soft light,
   it caresses my cheek with fingers of lace.
Where are the hard shackles now?
   I feel it's warmth upon my face.

Wings beating and flapping loudly,
  lifting me into a nova which explodes in time.
Where are the stars now?
  eternity seems grounded and yet sublime.

The smooth trap lays broken,
   Light has infiltrated the mortar and eroded the lair.
Where is my steel god now?
   A distant memory of which I am not aware.

Anonymous
 

The Wind & The Rain

When I met the handsome boy,
 Hey, ho, with the wind and the rain,
Love was nothing but a toy,
 For the rain it rainth everyday.

I ignor'd my 'motion for a spell,
 Hey, ho, with the wind and the rain,
The truth then dawn'd, in his arms I melt,
 For the rain it rainth everyday.

Our love's as mad as hurricane,
 Hey, ho, with the wind and the rain,
'Twas joyous, bitter, and full of pain,
 For the rain it rainth everyday.

Pain had lost and love had won,
 Hey, ho, with the wind and the rain,
We united our heart as one,
 We are happier by the days!

By Kerry F/12
 

Warrior

I am a warrior
battling you with my heart
made cold by the pain
that has been given me
by so many ruinous souls
with intentions to defeat
and destroy all that
makes me able to feel
the gentleness of your touch
and the sincerity of your words.
I am a warrior now
by my necessity to
protect my cold heart.
 

You are a lover
warming me with your caress
and gentle soul that you
give selflessly.  You are
steadfast in enduring
the battle of the
warrior.  How could
you?  offer yourself to
the one with a cold
heart such as I.
You are a lover now
because my cold heart
is responding to your touch.

  by cheri_
 

THE POET

The riddle of the Sphynx restated
summoned forth from ancient time
To be nurtured or be hated,
this paradox of nonsense rhyme

And if it truly talent be
then I am doubly blessed
For I can scarcely speak a line
(Though often done in jest)

Without looking at what came before
and what best follows next
For mismatched metre I abhor,
and free-form prose leaves me perplexed!

And if it be the Poet's lot
as those who know so oft insist
that suffering, usually all for naught
be theirs, then add me to the list

For suffering is my normal state
Though not from thirst or hunger,
but rather zeal to recreate
that rhyme which runs asunder!

DES
 

"Think Child?"

I am shackled, held in bondage,
By ideals of generations past.
With their hypocritical theology,
"Think for yourself child!
As long as it's no different than I."

I find myself drowning,
In their river of mediocratey,
Struggling to keep my breath,
Above the waters of uniformity.

To be swept along in the current of indifference,
And dashed upon the rocks below,
Like all the others.
        or
I can break the shackles,
And form my own ideals,
Turn my back on what's always been,
Rise out of the main stream,
To stand alone.

Think for yourself child?
If you were to attempt to enter my mind,
It would surely mean your destruction,
         for.................
I am not a child.,
I am not your inferior.
Do not presume to patronize me.

I have traveled paths most cannot dream.
I have learned from every pebble turned.
Do not pretend to identify with me.

My faces are many,
My colors like that of a chameleon.
Do not attempt to fit me in your box.

My anger will burst forth,
I will fill the expanse of your sky.
I will encompass you.

I will become the very air you breath..........
Or the weight that will crush you.
     Therefore.................
Do not presume,
To think me a child.
                                     Irish
 
 

My Love and Yours

My love for you is endless
I can no longer play your game
I will never again feel your pleasure
But I will always have the pain

My love for you was clear and strong
But yours was made of hay
My love would last forever long
But yours was for just the day

My love could make your heart soar free
High above the earth's blue sky
But the only thing your love gave me
Were lies and questions why

Why I poured forth a soul so deep
To someone who didn't care
Why I promised you my life to keep
And now my heart and soul - stand bare.

Allie
8-10-97
 

Walking In Silence The Walk

It seems like it was yesterday... I can remember walking
with you in silence, down the railroad tracks.
Just the two of us.

It was a five mile walk to the bridge and back...
saying nothing.. just walking.

How many times did we go there in our silence saying nothing
doing nothing..?  We would get to the bridge and look at each
other and turn and go back in silence.

What was being said was all around us.  It was the breeze
that brushed my hair and the sun that kissed my cheek.
and it was your silence that caressed me and brought me to
a dream.  The only thing you ever said was "you want to go for
a walk..?" and we would walk in silence.

Look at us now, the walks we've taken, the dreams we've shared and
the bridges we've  crossed.  Some have been painful and a few nearly
broke us.

But today we stand strong and are still walking on in the same way
we did back then..in sweet silence and what is being said is still
all around us..a breeze and your hand in mine, the sun and your kiss
on my lips, in silence the caress of your arms around me.  I can see a
smile in your eyes.  The silence of a walk that we both chose to walk
together.

Shining Brightly

On Waking

Why fleetest thou oh pleasant dream
when conscious thoughts regain my soul
and force the stretch of memory
from parts to reconstruct the whole

For such divine intrigue to know
could not in waking house be
And so must come with blessed sleep
the pleasures that I'll never see

So render me once more I pray
into the arms of Morpheus who
knows of what I conscious seek
but cannot find,
though try to do

And in whose bosom, safe, reveal
what secret wants my heart must hide
And bring the love I covet so,
which while I wake, must be denied

DES
 

LIES

Lies abound and suck you in
You're not sure the end or where you begin
You make them up as time passes by
You make up more lies and don't even know why

Your guilt and your jealousy are tight in your heart
You tell so many lies you can't tell them apart
Then one day they come crashing down on you
And you have absolutely no clue what to do

So you make up more lies to cover the one
And your life unravels and comes undone
Did it end up like you wanted it to be?
Because I know that you don't deserve me.

Allie
6/21/97

I Met Him by the Water

I Met him by the water
In a bar called "By the Sea"
I was looking for magic
it was him, it was easy to see

We went walking through the park
and I gave him a little squeeze
He said "come on baby"
"lets do what ever you please"

So I kiss him
and I loved him
and I held him tight
it elf so right
all through the night
it felt right

Chocolate Kiss and apple pie
is not suppose to be
but please don't tell my heart that
Cause it refuses to see

He left me standing there
when he walked off with his friends
I was left to wondering
how would I ever pretend

That I loved him
that I kissed him
I held him tight
it felt so right
all through the night
It wasn't right

by Sunshine
 

Dear happy shrink,

Did you ever pass an old empty house and feel a little sad and just a bit
curious about it? Each time I see old barns or houses that have been left
to decay, a little feeling of sadness stirs within my soul. More than once
I have been inspired to set pen to paper after these encounters, thus the
following poem;

PARALLEL

 Why do I notice the empty house silent as the grave,
weeds stand tall in beds now where flowers once stood tall and brave.
 No family behind the windows bare,
to clean and polish with loving care.
 No laughter ringing in the halls,
no paintings hang upon the walls.

Once she sheltered with loving care,
the family that had placed her there.
 As it must time marched on,
until all who lived and laughed within were gone.
Old houses are tombstones of time,
saying once there was a reason once there was a rhyme.

Once a family lived within she had a heartbeat and a soul,
but time has left her lonely, sad and old.
I feel the ache of the empty house it is parallel to me,
time's caught hold and fleeting and it will not let me be.

by; Lillian Carol Russell
Top of the page

I went to a party, mom, I remembered what you said.
You told me not to drink, mom, so I drank soda instead.
I really felt proud inside, mom, the way you a said I would.
I didn't drink and drive, mom, even though the others said I should.
I know I did the right thing, mom, I now that you are always right.
Now the party is finally ending, mom, as everyone is drinking out of sight.

As I got into my car, mom, I knew I'd get home in one piece.
Because of the way you raised me, so responsible and sweet.
I started to drive away, mom, but pulled out into the road,
the other car didn't see me, mom, and hit me like a load.
As I lay there on the pavement, mom, I hear the policemen say,
the other guy is drunk, mom, and now I'm the one who will pay.

I'm laying here dying, mom..  I wish you'd get here soon.
How could this happen to me, mom? My life just burst like a balloon.
There is blood all around me, mom, and most of it is mine.
I hear the Medic say, mom, I'll die in a short time.
I just wanted to tell you, mom, I swear I didn't drink.
It was the others, mom. The others didn't think.

He was probably at the same party as I.
The only difference is, he drank and I will die.
Why do people drink, mom? It can ruin your whole life.
I'm feeling sharp pains now. Pains just like a knife.
The guy who hit me is walking, mom, and I don't think it's fair.
I'm lying here dying and all he can do is stare.

Tell my brother not to cry, mom. Tell Daddy to be brave.
And when I go to heaven, mom, put "Daddy's girl" on my  grave.
Someone should have told him, mom, not to drink and drive.
If only they had told him, mom, I would still be alive.

My breath is getting shorter, mom.  I'm becoming very scared.
Please don't cry for me, mom. When I needed you, you were always there.
I have one last question, mom, before I say good-bye.
I didn't drink and drive, so why am I the one to die?

Someone took the effort to write this poem. So please forward this to as many people as you can. And see if we can get a chain to go around the world that will make people understand that drinking and driving don't  mix.

Sorrow

Why does it feel 
    Like a slash of a knife
Causing misery and pain
    And the taknig of life?

Is it really so bad
   Living life day to day
Just living with love
   Never having to pay?

I guess it is not
  Because I am still here
Fighting this poem
  And drowning in tears. 

The one whom I love
  Has brought me gloom
And with this sensation
  Came my doom.

As I level the gun
   I pull back the hammer
And once again
   I find the answer. 

"I love him," I cry
   Why couldn't love wait
'Til I was out of this hole
  And could really relate?

But the arrow still struck me
   And in doing so, I cried
And rose above all humanity
   To watch myself die. 

To be reborn
   Is a glorious thing
But with this rebirth
Memories it did bring.

And what they brought
   Was continuing sorrow
And deep down hate
Of the coming 'morrow. 

Contributed by SUSD's Annonymous Poet

I found this poem in a card - since it wasn't a Hallmark and I didn't care "to sendthe very best" I bought it anyway and plan on mailing it off this week. Thought you and the SUSD gang would get a kick out of it. Now picture this very romantic card full of red and hearts.... you get the drift.

RU4-69-2NITE

Gifts
                               
When we met,
The gift you had given -
Friendship, and I was won.

And after we grew,
The gift you have given - 
Love, and we were one.

But of all the gift
You have given -
Nothing can be outdone by the...
Talent of your tongue.

Hope you all enjoyed this one as much as I did. For some reason, I want to
think a man actually wrote this poem. 

Well I liked the poem RU and for some strange reason I'm hoping that a woman wrote it!

happy(amanofmanytalents)shrink

LRP1 contributes a poem from:
    
                               Allen Ginsberg, "Is About" (1996)
 

NOTE: This poem was published in the October 21/28, 1996 "election" double issue of THE NEW YORKER magazine. Everything published in this issue -reviews, cartoons, etc. - pertains in some way to American electoral
politics, election rhetoric, etc. Ginsberg's poem, "Is About," is no
exception.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                   "Is About"

Dylan is about the Individual against the whole creation
Beethoven is about one man's fist in the lightning clouds
The Pope is about abortion & the spirits of the dead...
Television is about people sitting in their living room looking at their things
America is about being a big Country full of Cowboys Indians Jews Negroes & Americans Orientals Chicanos Factories skyscrapers Niagara Falls Steel Mills radios homeless Conservatives, don't forget
Russia is about Czars Stalin Poetry Secret Police Communism barefoot in the snow But that's not really Russia it's a concept
A concept is about how to look at the earth from the moon without ever
getting there. 
The moon is about love & Werewolves, also Poe
Poe is about looking at the moon from the sun or else the graveyard
Everything is about something if you're a thin movie producer chain-smoking muggles
The world is about overpopulation, Imperial invasions, Biocide Genocide,
Fratricidal Wars, Starvation, Holocaust, mass injury & murder, high
technology
Super science, atom Nuclear Neutron Hydrogen detritus, Radiation Compassion Buddha, Alchemy
Communication is about monopoly television radio movie newspaper spin on Earth, i.e. planetary censorship.
Universe is about Universe.
Allen Ginsberg is about confused mind writing down newspaper headlines from Mars--
The audience is about salvation, the listeners are ABOUT SEX, Spiritual
gymnastics, nostalgia for the Steam Engine & Pony Express
Hitler Stalin Roosevelt & Churchill are about arithmetic & Quadrilateral
equations, above all chemistry physics & chaos theory--
Who cares what it's all about?
I do! Edgar Allen Poe cares! Shelly cares! Beethoven & Dylan care.
Do you care? What are you about
or are you a human being with 10 fingers and two eyes?

Lrp1! Let's get Mr. Ginsberg on internet chat!! He'll fit right in!

This was sent to me by a dear friend who lives nearby me. We have been
hanging out together because we are going through the same thing. 
Thought others might enjoy it!

RU4-69-2NITE

After awhile you learn the subtle difference
   Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And love doesn't mean leaning
   And company doesn't mean security.
And you begin to learn kisses aren't contracts
   And presents aren't promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
   With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of an adult, not the defeat of a child,
   And you learn to build all your roads for today
Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans
   And futures have a way of falling down mid-flight.
After awhile you learn
   That even sunshine burns if you get too much
So you plant your garden and decorate your soul,
   Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers. 
And you learn you really can endure...
   That you are really strong
And you really do have worth...
   And you learn and learn...
With every good-bye you learn.

Soft as a shadow 
   Like mist on the heather, 
Come into my dreams 
   And stay there forever.  

When I'm not in your arms 
   Come dwell in my soul, 
Dispelling my loneliness, 
   Making me whole.  

If I can't touch your lips 
   You can still touch my heart, 
And out spirits will meet 
   Though miles keep us apart. 

When the silver stars blaze, 
   When the pale moonlight 
            streams, 
When a world stands between us, 
   Come into my dreams. 

You have a lucky friend anonymous!

Here's my poem :

Natures first green is gold  
her hardest hue to hold  
her early leaf's a flower  
but only so an hour  
then leaf subsides to leaf  
so Eden sank to grief 
so dawn goes down to day   
nothing gold can stay  

-author unknown

I knew you as noxious weed,
but yet, I let you spread;
watched you sow your demon seed
across my garden bed.

Your beauty like no other;
your fragrance seeping sweet,
and I your garden mother,
a child at my feet.

You draped your vines upon me.
I buckled at the feel.
Damn You!  Soft, yet so thorny!
That nibbling at my heel;

that swaying of the trees !!
I cursed the sun above you
and fell down to my knees,
my hands bared, bleeding too.

You promised tea of rose hips;
at night, the morning's dew,
and your nectar at my lips;
each daybreak, Spring anew.

My fingers worked around your roots.
I gave you room to grow
I watched as all your sturdy shoots
emerged in one long row.

I stopped.  Reeled. I weakly stood.  
Brushed off the dirt and found,
my early annual brood
had withered to the ground.

And so I grasped your rootstock,
and pulled and tugged and toiled,
and rued the day I let you mock
the garden which you spoiled.

Your venom seared my skin,
your thorns, they drew my blood.
Against all spade cuts, you would win,
withstanding drought and flood.

Until Fall's ominous chill,
when finally you withdrew,
and died, like lovers will,
as the sun's rays sadly do,

and left my bed a barren field,
of stone cold rock and earth,
snow covered, frozen shield 
against a soul's rebirth,

til April.  When finally I kneel
on Nature's naked ground.
After green thumbs heal.
When morning doves sound.

Until I'll bless that sun above,
and work the soil there 
and find in mud your faded love.
Your scent still fills the air!

©1997 St. Theresa (higher than the moon)

LdyHawke
~*~*~*~*

Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary,
System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor,
Longing for the warmth of bed sheets, still I sat there doing spreadsheets.
Having reached the bottom line I took a floppy from the drawer,
I then invoked the SAVE command and waited for the disk to store,
Only this and nothing more.

Deep into the monitor peering, long I sat there wond'ring, fearing, Doubting, while the disk kept churning, turning yet to churn some more. But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token. "Save!" I said, "You cursed mother!  Save my data from before!" One thing did the phosphors answer, only this and nothing more, Just, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

Was this some occult illusion, some maniacal intrusion?
These were choices undesired, ones I'd never faced before.
Carefully I weighed the choices as the disk made impish noises.
The cursor flashed, insistent, waiting, baiting me to type some more.

Clearly I must press a key, choosing one and nothing more, >From "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

With fingers pale and trembling, slowly toward the keyboard bending,
Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored,
Praying for some guarantee, timidly, I pressed a key.
But on the screen there still persisted words appearing as before.
Ghastly grim they blinked and taunted, haunted, as my patience wore,

Saying "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

I tried to catch the chips off guard, and pressed again, but twice as hard.
I pleaded with the cursed machine: I begged and cried and then I swore.
Now in mighty desperation, trying random combinations,
Still there came the incantation, just as senseless as before.
Cursor blinking, angrily winking, blinking nonsense as before.
Reading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

There I sat, distraught, exhausted, by my own machine accosted.
Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor.
And then I saw a dreadful sight: a lightning bolt cut through the night.
A gasp of horror overtook me, shook me to my very core.
The lightning zapped my previous data, lost and gone forevermore.
Not even, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

To this day I do not know the place to which lost data go.
What demonic nether world us wrought where lost data will be stored,
Beyond the reach of mortal souls, beyond the ether, into black holes?
But sure as there's C, Pascal, Lotus, Ashton-Tate and more,
You will be one day be left to wander, lost on some Plutonian shore,
Pleading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

Who needs Longfellow!!!

If you post this Shrink, you might want to mention this is a copyrighted
poem and owned exclusively by one of your "mental patients" who has been
published on many occasions, but did not want to claim ownership to this
crap amongst friends. 

Thinking of you,                                         
   Is all I can do.                                         
Better to be alone                                     
  Then to be with you.                                       

I'll laugh and perhaps                                
   I'll even cry.                                             
But I'll go on...                                        
   And wipe my eyes dry.    
                          
I thought you loved,
  I thought you cared.
Listened to the lies,
  Assuming you'd be there.

I guess it's time
  To pack away my memories
Forget about the love, 
  That used to be. 

                                         I Sing the Body Electric
                                             by Walt Whitman
                                                          1
                                        I sing the body electric
                The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,
                  They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
and discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul.
Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves?
And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead?
And if the body does not do fully as much as the soul?

                                   I Started Early -- Took My Dog
  &