How many times
I lay awake thinking
of a friend from the past
of who's fate i've no inkling

I've left him behind
gone on, on my own
I've gone very far
but know i'm alone

What I wouldn't give to go back
to those days oh so few
The days when we played
Us, We, Them, Those two

Our parents look on us
as if they had gained
an extra child of thier own
and their love was not feined

It did not matter
what was mine was yours
we lived in different houses
did we ever knock on each others doors

we swam and we fished
all day and all night
upon the stars we wished
no end was in sight

We went our own ways
for many a year
occasionaly we met
and spoke of times dear

of our jobs and our wives
our children and debts
could it be oh so long
it would last some time yet

The call in the night
His parents in tears
my soul filled with fright
the grinding of gears

To your bed side I sped
your hand I did hold
I watched as your soul fled
your story full told

The words never spoken
or even thought of
between to grown men
Why can't we say love

Many think this the end
one half departed
he lives on in me
us, we, they, never parted

He was my friend and I loved him.

Life: The abridged Version

Stupidity is the savior
From all the worries of my life
Protects the innocent from the world
Blocks the evil from our sight
And in its sweet embrace
We may find peace

Peace is the comfort
For which we search
From our family and our friends
To keep us happy we seek it
Unattainable, out of reach
Of our small understanding

Understanding will always be sought
Within, without, it wont be found
The pursuit will last forever
Our frail human bodies
Must surrender to time
And so we die
Thank ye.

More Jelixian Nonsensical Poetry"
Electroencephalography,
Means not a single thing to me.
I use it to impress my friends,
Spelling it from end to end.
And yet I know not what it means,
Something with the brain it seems.
I suppose that I could go and see,
The meaning of electroencephalography.
But that, of course, would be no fun.
For it could be looked up by anyone.
But I've a different predilection:
To make up my own definition.

Electroencephalography,
The study of things beneath the sea.
Electroencephalography,
That little bump below my knee.
Electroencephalography,
What happens when you hug a tree.

Look it up now, if you feel the need,
Anyone can, if they can read.
The real meaning means nothing to me,
The reason is simple, don't you see?
Looking it up just would not be,
Electroencephalography.

It is with trepidation I enter here,
To this group I am new,
But this board is one of great merit,
Something that's long overdue.
But there's one thing that worries me,
For I have travelled far,
But nowhere do I see my oasis,
Is there a Bastard Bar?
In my truck I have many supplies,
Spirits and ale on tap,
So, can I have a corner to set up,
Or, is that idea merely cr -er - erroneous?

;)

Cheers

There are many kind of tears
and many faces one can weare

the tears of sorrow
linger the loss...

the tears of pain
linger the wound...

and rearly the tears of happiness
who come in lifes greatest moments...

but the rares of them all
the one to fear when it is called
that is the tear of hate
it have no mate
it come alone
one single tear leaves one eye
and as it fall
hate is born
and I would kill
any one in any way
just to make the tear of hate
go away

Elves

Little elves, little elves
Too many little elves
See the way they move,
See the way their ears point
See the torches they carry,
burning, burning, burning
Fire sets a loser ablaze,
He run around, screaming his ass off
And the elves laugh at him
Stupid elves, go away,
I don't wanna go before my time
So die, elves, die!
Cower before my uzi,
Spreading 9mm death all around.
Die, elves, die!
Go to hell, I don't wanna see your ugly mugs again
Just go to hell and die!

By Insomniac, the UV Insenstive Poem guy

And now, a Penisaur-inspired poem:"
"Berry Bog"
A stranger in the bog draws near,
trampling soft, wet ground.
Pushes aside obstructing leaves,
wary not to make a sound.
Tipping over every log,
looking for his prize,
he does not detect the gaze
of a pair of unseen eyes.
The snake in the shadows holds
what the man searches for,
the man looks but one more time,
on the cold bog floor.
The old man stands up straight,
and turns to walk astray,
"oh well, there are more berries,
at the market anyway".

Night Owl leered at the frightened class,
And took off his battered coat,
He surveyed them with hawkish intent,
Then ludly cleered his throat,
" Now class, sit right down,
And all you listen here,
Today I will be instructing you,
In the Art of Drinkin' Beer.
Firmly grasp the frosty glass,
Tip it on an angle,
Firmly pour the ale inside,
Do not let a drop dangle,
Gently clasp the glass's handle,
Stee your mind as well,
Tip the contents down your throat,
Then let out a mighty yell.
Leer lewdly across the room,
Pull out the verse of bards,
Inquire how you're going up to this,
And if a er ......
And if romance is on the cards.
That's how you consume your ale,
Now it's off to the bar,
For practice is what makes perfect,
And buying my drinks will get you far."
Down in the murky depths they plunged,
Inebriation looming near,
"Holy shit! Run away!
The principal;s found us here!"
"Relax, oh, you uninformed,
And grab us all a beer,
That Bastard may be the principal,
But right now he's just Ymir."
I appreciate your state of mind,
This point in your eventful life,
I can only imagine your pains,
Your anguish and your strife.
But piercing your flippin' tongue?
If it's what you wish to do,
You must be guided by your heart,
And also logic that is true.
You know the pain and side effects,
The health risks are also there,
But these seem to be a minority,
So about them you may not care.
I'm too conservative to call this one,
Other than ear-rings turn me green,
Let alone tongue or even eyebrow,
or through parts that can't be seen.
But as for me I'm in the negative,
Too boring and staid by far-
It's not what we see that describes us,
It's our actions that define who we are.

Love

When you are happy,
I am happy.
Knowing there is a smile
Upon your sweet lips
Draws a smile on my heart,
And I know this is love.
Silly how I feel sad
When you are sad.
It breaks me inside,
I want to crawl into you,
And warm that spot.
The sadness,
The dark colors,
Brighten them,
And make you smile.
And I know this is love.
When you want to talk
I want to listen,
And be there for you
A sounding board,
For all life’s frustrations,
Aggravations,
And as I listen to your soul,
As you listen to mine,
We know this is love.
k.a.Stryker ©June 27, 2001 10:45pm

Fire

Fire, fire everywhere
So lets all have a drink

Fire, fire everywhere
So lets burn some houses down

Fire, fire everywhere
So lets all make some hand grenades

Fire, fire everywhere
So lets all make some napalm

Fire, fire everywhere
So lets all have a drink

To You, My Love

I see the sun rising from the horizon, lighting up the morning sky.
I watch it all day as it passes over our world.
Finally I see it fall in the eternal cycle of twilight.
And through this, my love, I think of you.

I go swimming in the ocean -- I dive down into the deep.
I see the schools of fish eying me as I descend.
I reach the bottom to find the sparkling sands.
And in this, my love, I see you.

I see the rain falling outside my basement window.
I go outside just for a dance.
A bolt of lightning streaks across the sky.
And with this, my love, I feel you.

I see you leave me as you sink into the earth.
A single tear runs down my face.
I cannot go on and I climb atop a building to end it.
As I fall, my love, I realize I need you.

And to you, my love, I give my final words.
You left me alone in this life and now I must seek you.
To wherever you may lie within the next world,
So is my wish to forever be with you.

Sanctuary

I lock the door at night
To be safe,
Only to find I have locked the monsters in,
And I now have no escape.
As they grin their evil grins
They surrounds me,
Surround me with my fears.
I scream,
But it comes out as a laugh
My neighbors only smile,
Taking my fear for joy.
And inside I cry
As I sink to the floor.

---------------------------------

Escape

Running
The sound of my feet
Bare feet on gravel
I can feel the stones beneath
Sharp, they dig into my flesh
Painful
I run.
Gasping for air
The sound of my breath
Loud in my ears
Lungs ache
Gasping
I run harder
Running
From my fear

k.a.stryker ©June 26, 2001

A Nonsense Poem by Xerxes.

Seated one night at the keyboard
I was lonely and ill at ease
When Sylvin wandered over
Proffering wond'rous teas

I knew not what I was typing
She glided by and then
I said a word
Which the Board Cops heard
And it wasn't a great "Amen"!

Coffins are comfortable
Or so a great man said
But Xerxes sought
An idle thought
"They're not worth being dead"

Paladin said
"To use such rhymes
Why 'tis a crime!
Why not write prose instead?"

Then yonder Ymir
He came over here
He looked at me, and said:

"Your terrible verse
Is right now getting worse
You should really have just stayed in bed!"

And then spake Jay
"There will be hell to pay
If ever this reaches the Board"

"They'll lynch you in a mob
A terrible job
And Sylvin will reach for her sword"

"You'll hang from a tree
By one rope or three
You would have been better off bored"

So now I'll depart
Leave you with my art
And hope that you don't dislike it
At once when you sight it
And run off before I am floored!

Her Eyes

Within her eyes, I remove all doubt that she was made for me.
A solid blue, tender in color, centered in a perfect white.
Within her eyes, I see a life bettered through mutual love.
And when they close, the feeling hits me, a perfect sunset in her face.
When they open, a new day is born and I rejoice in her splendor.
My perfect angel, true beauty and one desire.

The Bastards had a fierce hankering,
Bringing them to their knees,
For something of an oriental nature,
How 'bout some REAL Chinese?
So, they loaded up the '57,
That would be a Chevy of course,
And headed out to find some food,
Screaming poetry 'till they were hoarse.
They found a little place in Chinatown,
"Authentic Rural Dishes",
With beers both foreign and domestic,
It seemed to meet their wishes.
The menu was a study in heiroglyphics,
B.C. left his glasses at home,
No-one could read the menu anyway,
So they let their senses roam,
And trusted the power of the Force,
The one that Bastards use,
It seems to stand them in good stead,
But others it would confuse.
Between mutterings and some pointing,
Swilling beer and the odd water (some Bastards are minors),
The Bastards managed between all this,
To place a truly impressive order.
Then, talk turned to things poetic,
Debate getting rather heated,
About why haikus are just rubbish,
The words cannot be repeated.
The ale flowed like a waterfall,
The Bastards loving every minute,
The ambience was all powerful,
They were absorbed in it.
The food arrived to much rejoicing,
The Bastards diving in,
The waiter gave a subtle smile,
An almost demonic grin.
Night Owl gave the first indication,
That something may be wrong,
For in his dish of questionable origin,
He found a piece of thong.
Lerk, being the cultured one,
Ordered some rare snails,
Only to find in his garnish,
Were some finger nails.
SIE was soon perturbed,
Letting out a startled holler,
For he had discovered an intact,
Red coloured dog collar.
Alderach frowned and then turned green,
Set to instantly hurl,
For in his he found a hair,
That possessed a curl ......
But BC had the most concern,
Following other's frightened calls,
His dish was one of beef,
And in the shape of balls .....
The waiter came forth to explain,
With some florrid haste,
That this was a provincial restaurant,
Where nothing goes to waste.
All parts were used in cooking,
Be them human or be they beast,
So, the Bastards contained their anger -
They had good ale, at least.
So, beware the provincial establishments,
And if you cannot pass,
Go inside, by all means,
But take a magnifying glass.

I hear voices
they call my name
over and over again
I wonder what they want
so I listen

I hear these voices
who call my name
again and again
they call my name
so I listen

but these voices
who call for me
voices in the night
are they only in my head
I wonder

these voices in my head
they call on me from the dark
and I walk willing towards them

but as I come closert
another voice say
"walk away, walk away"

and as I turn away
I hear someone say
this is not your day
to die

Come Darkness
come darkness when the sun is gone

engulf me in your cold
and hide me from the light
for I shun the light and all that is stands for

today you turn..
my sun
and make room for the darkness
it have been gone to long
and it's time has come

in this day of ultimate light
I command you
BE GONE
HEAR MY CHANT

and the sun shall turn
it always does

the light have had it's time
and driven the darkness away
but this is a turning point
the darkness will prevail

come darkness
it is your time to rule
Come Darkness
I am your darkest tool

A personal ode to Fallout 2 (for those of you who played this - probably a lot)

I was hunting for geckos
when the elder called for me
she sent me to the temple
i only had my spear

In the temple i was sent
there i killed some ants
'till i reached the end
where i fought with my bare hands

I went back to the elder
to say i passed the test
she talked about a shelter
and sent me on a quest.

Then I went to Klamath
and after my arrival
i took down some rats
and paid a debt of a tribal

Sulik was his name ,
and he's good with a spear
now i feel some shame
because i tremble in fear.

To the Den i left
and i bought a gun
there is much theft
not really fun

So i quickly went on ,
onwards to modoc
En-route i found a head-stone
it gave me a special rock.

In modoc i found a cow
she was called betsy
but someone in town ,
made her into meat jerky !

On my way to redding ,
sulik got killed
i was the last guy standing
i'll bury him.

The sherriff has a bad leg
and everyone takes jet
but all in all
Redding ain't that bad.

I joined a caravan,
and went to new reno
i found a federation shuttle
containing a hypo

The crime families,
seemed as nice as my motha'
but don't make them enemies
or you'll die on Golgotha

So i went to vault city ,
and i entered a bar
there i picked up cassidy
but i want a car.

Next stop was broken hills
a real mutant town
but as i hated muties
i took everyone down

But another town already beckoned me.
In the NCR , i found tandi
i went to see her
she had a job for me

I accepted the job
and went to the squat
there i met darion
now he's as dead as a rat.

Vault 13 was next
the sacred vault
but there were deathclaws there
i killed them, their own fault

So , with the geck in hand
i went back
to arroyo
with my dripping rucksack.

Arroyo was destroyed,
and i was pissed off
so i went to the enclave
and did on their door : knock knock

I said they killed my village
but they said it was a lie
they shot me down
and that's how i die...


i'm wearing a yellow shirt

So here we are
Out on patrol
In the wastes
Army fatigues
Camulage us from the enemy
Can't see us
We will win
In Tehran

The sunshine is shining on the water
as far as i can see,
i think about later
how can it be?

I remember her holding in my hand
sitting on the beach
lying in the sand,
kissing her on her cheek.

I look in the blue pool
and i see my own reflection
am i a fool
or was it just imagination?

Now i stand here ,
on my own
in my eye is a tear,
and it rolls all the way down.

I look up and see
a beautiful cloud
all over the sea
and in the sea i see a trout.

I'm carressing my cat
I named it Miria
she is my favorite pet
I called it after her

All I want right now is to know you,
Because I know you can get me through,
And everyone says that I should be glad to suffer,
Because it's going to make me tougher,
but right now I just want to fall in your arms.

Everyone tries to think of you as a person,
So their love for you won't worsen,
Some say you wear your sandals,
Some see you surrounded by candles,
But I see you as a man.

I know that I've stumbled,
Whenever my walls started to crumble,
But right now,
I'm asking you to show me how,
I can make it through.

You made the earth,
The universe you gave birth,
And we were created in your light,
And because of that we just might,
Give our all to you.

I need you now,
Because only you know how,
I can get back on my feet,
And maybe one day I can meet,
The wonder who you are.

I've done some things you tell us not to,
And still sometimes I'll do,
Those awful things,
But you can give me the wings,
I need to know you.

I'm tired of my life,
And through all of my strife,
I've just wanted to find a way to see,
And find a way to be.
But now I have you.

Thank you God.

I'm new to this scholarly place,
Everyone's be here longer,
My impression that divided we would fall,
United we shall conquer,
Seems to be a silly thing,
To some members of the staff,
Their nit picking types of analysis,
Make me want to barf.
The place was in a bit of a state,
The grounds were quite a mess,
I could not let them remain that way,
So, here I must confess,
That I trusted a few members,
That tend to the school grounds,
But it seems there was an established committee,
Boy! Did I let loose the hounds!
"How could you make the changes?
Why were we not consulted?
You have gone and made decisions,
We are quite revulted!"
"Sorry? What committee was that?
It's mention must have been fleeting?"
"Oh, you wouldn't know about it,
This year there's been no meeting."
...............
"I slowly simmered down from boil,
How the fruck would I know,
About a committe that has not met,
Since 18 months ago?
And why did the grounds staff not mention,
This hallowed form of power?
I saw fit to strangle these people,
So I calmed down for an hour.
Really, some people make me mad,
They like to trip me up,
But there's more than one trick to,
This innocent looking pup.
I can take this little insult,
For that is my noble way,
Assured in the knowledge that,
Every dog will have his day.

Cheers from the Land of Oz
grrrrrrr

Maybe I shouldn't listen to songs entitled "Devil Bunnies" whilst writing.    

Once, I would have embraced the rays of the sun...
Sadly now, the time has past and those days are done.
For I have forsaken the light and accepted the dark, you see.
To stay shrouded in shadow, wrapped in secrets, and cloaked in mystery.          

Biding my time, gathering knowlege, and gaining power,
Staying my hand and watching my steps, awaiting the final hour.
When all will be exposed for what it is, and all souls are laid bare.
Taking sure, proud strides, as the world awakens and becomes aware.          

When man realises that things can be settled with more than fists.
Wounds will have time to heal and rage dies in cool, swirling mists.
Acknowledging all they can be and reaching for the distant, shining stars.
Thinking no more of warring, killing, fighting, and making painful scars.  

Damien
June 23, 1998      

Tommorow is promised to no one
Neither is today
Yesterday was promised to someone
But words will fall away

With words we paint our lives,
A promise on the wall
Freedom for which everytone strives
A prison for us all

A guard is sleeping at the gate
A promise for a shiv
From our words we all escape
With words is how we live

Promises
Words

Shattered walls and empty cans

"We speak the way we beathe"

The Prison of the Realist

I don't believe in fate,
my world is physics.

See how beautifully,
the atoms are colliding.
See the electromagnetic fields,
causing my emotions.

See how I wither,
trapped in my intellect,
by succumbing my soul,
to the vacuum of space.

See how beautiful,
death can be,
when you look at it,
by forgetting yourself.

It's translated from Finnish, but I did try to keep a part of the original feeling in it... But the lack of quality in that poem is caused more by my lack of skill than the translation... But do tell me what you think.

*looks at collection of Keats's poems*
*sobs*

With mine own

 -------------------
I walk with my love
I hold her hand
I look into her eyes
And kick the motherfucker next to me
Staring down her shirt

Warning! Incoming Sad poem
My heart beat faster when I saw you
It thought that at last the lonliness was over
It sang to hear your voice and your sounds
Soaring for the first time in ages
But now it's done.
You don't feel that way about me
It's wings are gone
removed quickly and painfully
crashing to the ground,
My heart shatters once more
I'm so tired of putting it back together
I don't want to feel anymore
It always hurts.

And if I kneel down before you and accept all your lies as truth, quid pro quo?
Do I get to be ever faithful to you?
Do I get to follow behind you and watch every move you make?
Do I get to blindly see none of your faults?

I don’t want to be submissive to you.
I don’t want to be devoted to you.
And I don’t want to be any part of you.

You’re addictive, you’re enticing, demanding, destructive, poisonous.
Like a cigarette house that never burns down.

Our languid relationship doesn’t seem to be able to cope with you.

I’d sell my soul to be able to have things work out.
But will the devil accept an I.O.U.?

I’m finished, exhausted, disgusted, exploited and I’m GONE.

And when you open your eyes, you’ll realize that you were better off in the dream.

anyway

If you don’t ask, I won’t tell

Yeah, well how do I say all those things you already know?
And how do I explain to you these things that you don’t want to hear?

If you’re but one and I’m but two…
How can you ever understand?

Maybe it’s better off that you’re all alone.
Not cared for and unloved.
Maybe it’s better that you stay in the dark.

All those private conferences I held in my head
With those feelings unmuttered…
All those feelings would have stayed dead (like me).

But then I saw you and all those thoughts turned to mush.

I realize now that you were a helpful poison.
And I also realize that now: “you would never want to hurt me”.
It’s too bad I don’t feel the same way about you anymore.

You

I’m a monster!
And you say she is too.
You don’t know the half of it.

I can see your papers turning to ash.
And I can see your new black dots which were already there.

Now that I’m awake I can see too much.
And that: “too much” is not enough to keep me here.

Total ambivalence.
You disgust me, and you revolt me.
You attract me, and you control me.

If I knew how to run, I would.

But you have me pleasantly locked {in your fatal charm}.

If I knew how to scream, I would.

My disappointment inside never lets me down.

Accept dichotomy

So if we’re such monsters plagued by individualism.
Cure us.

Help us understand why you can be the saviour of the whole goddamned planet, when all we want is a storyteller.

I’ve tried hanging in your shadows, because they are the lightest part of you.
I thought I could understand you, and become like you.
I guess you thought you could do the same.

Don’t assume anything.

You created your own reality, and you’ve stolen mine too.
But how’s it going to help you if I’m not around anymore?

And what about the people who say: “you have too much going for you”.
Where is all that stuff?
Did I lose it all when I lost you?

You’d think I couldn’t do it.
It wouldn’t take much.
Why would anyone cry?
It’s a rapturous slice…in my opinion.

Think of an intense collection of silliness,
Housed in people strange,
People wandering around without direction,
Some would say deranged.
Posts dripping with good humour,
Views expressed so free,
The odd selection of excellent prose,
And a smattering of poetry.
A few tales of woe are aired,
As well as calls for advice,
You'll find everyone to be very supportive,
Even the Bastards can be nice. (except for Night Owl :) )
The group is quite restrained though,
We've been spammed much in the past,
But the community has morality,
The losers never last.
So, welcome to our humble home,
May your stay here be pleasant,
You'll find that we can become quite addictive,
Well that's what happened to this peasant.

Cheers from the Land of Oz

The Headlong

How long can you walk along the train tracks
before you get hit?

It’s inevitable that the train will come,
and hit you like a galvanized slap on the wrist
and leave you falling towards that unknown familiarity.

Left searching hopelessly for the trail?
No more.

Your love is the train; slowing down to offer me last call.
You jump out of the driver’s seat…”It’s now or never Dan”

The entire world fades away except for you, the train, and me; the privacy is welcome.

I know the train will take me to the only place I want to be…in your arms, tonight.

Poem: The Saga of the Six Woobies.

Pipboy made a mighty posting
He was on a hum'rous track
"Woobie woobie woobie woobie
(With lots more woobies out the back)"

But some of the other Unwashed
Thought that Pipboy's post was cack
"This is spam", they said, "or something"
"Like you get from tin or pack"

Doleful Pipboy did an edit
So his post was not intact
But many of the other Unwashed
Wanted their six Woobies back

Then said Unwashed said to Turjan
"We think Pip's on the right track"
"Turjan, Turjan, Admin Turjan,
Give our six Woobies back!"

"For we like his sense of humour
And it's loss would be a lack"
"Turjan, Turjan, Admin Turjan,
Give our six Woobies back!"

Then noble Turjan, feeling peaky
Drank a mighty pot of ink
"Was it Woob they said, or Woobie?
I could manage both, I think"

Turjan sat upon the table
Stirring porridge with his toe
"How shall I solve this mighty problem,
And why am I the last to know?"

Then came Xerxes up to Turjan
"Decent chap, take my advice"
"Why not just allow the Woobies?
Then the post will be all right"

"For these nonsense posts are hum'rous
All of them are just in fun.
Why censor that which enlivens
And never injured anyone?"

So here there is the pointed question
Let's hope it doesn't earn me a whack
Noble Unwashed all assembled,
Will we get our Woobies back?"

Through all my sleepless nights
And endless bouts of misery
I see light at the end of the tunnel
But I can't tell if the flicker is you
Or the ceiling collapsing in on me

How My NPCs Died

Oh how could this be?
Why did this happen to thee?
Poor Ian, what happened to you?
Oh why did that rocket that hit you blew?
Oh poor loving Katja
Why did that mutant flame ya?
My friend Dogmeat,
Caught on fire standing on your own four feet.
Tycho, you shot me in the back with a shotgun,
I'll bet getting punched with spiked knuckles wasn't much fun.
You all helped me in times of need,
Now on your carcasses the Deathclaws feed.

aids patient

i am alone on this plane of existance
it requires all of my resistance

no one

the process of natural selection
is disease by all reflection

no time

as nature hits us where we breed
she has us all by our greed

no place

in the bonds of casual sex
who is to know if one is next

no where

and in forgetful blissful desire
we are thrown upon the pire

slow burn

i wrote this for a freind who passed from this world to hopefully a better place

flying

this poem is for Sylvin flying
i celebrate life every day
i know no other way

i suppose i am an optomist
i could have been a botonist

i love to watch society grow
i think it mostly gets the flow

i know we have a lot to learn
i think we will, unless we burn

as we enjoy what we have wrought
always remember your happy thought

for with out it we cant fly
how else to touch the sky

lost ?
i have lost the womb that was my birth
this i embrace as a growing joy
and accept my lot with grace and mirth
the earth is but a great big toy

i have lost the innosence that was my youth
with blissful joy i did surrender
to do less than this would be uncouth
its very pleasent to remember

i have lost my solitude to be another
souls have joined to be in the mix
hello to you, my new brother
a simple hug a powerful fix

I'm thinking of laying a vengeful trap,
For the Noodle Napper,
Something to make their stomach turn,
And send them to the crapper.
Like the scene in "American Pie",
The white stuff in the beer, (you know ....)
Something to send them heaving,
From both mouth and their rear.
Perhaps dry up some garden worms,
And put them in the pack,
Or add some chili powder,
They'll choke until they're black.
Or get quite nasty now,
Get back in a snap,
Carefully put the packet away,
Including a mouse trap.

Cheers from the land of Oz

Touching

What do you need to know?
I can't give you all I have.
Not this time.
Not anytime, any more.

How can I trust you, when you disgust me?
I want mine.
It's not yours, you can't have it.
You don't deserve me, you can't hold it.

Try and take it away, you'll get burned.

Reformat, retry, reformat, reboot, reset, restart, retry

EGO

Grab me, Control me,
throw me into your world,
Spiraling towards something stubborn.

Built up with all the waste, in all your haste.
Your love trying to let me through.

Leave me, or live me.

So you say you can help me?
Erase it, and make something better?
Please! By all means scrape me off.

Feed it to your next. The other one and only.
He'll be better than me anyway

Go-Go-Ghoul

The End of the London Company

In such a beautiful way, it is so distant from me.
Reaching out to touch it, you cower from me.

In my hut of passive denial, I’ll sit and sigh.
It’s not you, it’s me.
It’s not me, it’s them.
Blast me with the truth.
Shatter lives, pervert yourself.

All for the game.
That name, that you’ll wear, for eternity.

And without further ado (wait, was there any ado in the first place? whatever...) the Ballad of Samuel Jack:

Gather 'round, and hear the sound,
of this me incredible tale.
Gather 'round by my feet, and share of the heat
of my fire and sip of my ale.

I tell a tale of a man like a whale,
not a virtue did this great soul lack.
He was born to be free, but was bound to the sea,
this man we call Samuel Jack.

We open our tail of a man and a gail,
with eyes so distant and black (the man, not the storm)
a ship tossed about, its fate in great doubt,
and that man of the sea, that Samuel Jack.

At the helm he did sit, the sea in a fit,
a rage not easily quenchable.
In the anger of night, the men gave good fright,
the waves were not easily trenchable (a seafaring term, I couldn't possibly explain...)

And up on the deck, a cold breeze on his neck,
his face as set as steel,
Captain Jack stood alone, his features like stone,
expressionless as he grappled the wheel.

From the safe cabin warmth, the 1st mate called forth (it ryhmes, dammit!)
"Oh captain, there's something amiss!
Inside you must come, before you succumb,
to the coldness of deaths icy kiss!"

"That dark angle is near, I can feel him here,
upon my neck I feel his icy breath!
Oh Captain- arret! for the further we get (the first mate is obviously French, no?)
in the storm, the closer your death!"

"Promise me Jack, your pride you will crack,
when the frost forms a beard on your chin!
When your fingers turn black, you must turn your back!
Promise then you'll come in!"

And thus promised Jack, to get off his back,
the first mate that he told to go in.
And back he would come, when the cold bit his thumb,
and the frost formed a beard on his chin.

But as the first mate went in, he turned back again,
and spoke as if heaving a sigh,
"If in the n ight you should chance see a light,
then tonight is the night that we die."

Jack dismissed with a laugh this preposterous gaff,
and sent him back into his room.
"The sea is my friend, it can't make my end.
An ally cannot mean your doom."

So he gritted his teeth, the frost underneath
his chin he did wipe away.
For he was quite made, like a foundation laid,
that he would not die today.

So the ship kept on tossing whilst Jack kept on bossing
the whell and kept them afloat.
With a righteous right hand by the wheel Jack did stand
keeping the lay of his boat. (more sea-talk)

And when frost formed a beard, as the 1st mate had feared,
with ice as a natural plume,
Jack gave quite a chuckle, for he wouldn't buckle!
An ally cannot mean your doom.

And on in the night did Jack press without fright,
His hands soon froze to the wheel.
He glance at his thumb, which had long since gone numb,
and found nought but a blackened heel.

He laughed in spite at insidious fright,
his chuckle a cackling boom.
For tho' danger was near, he was not afeared,
for an ally cannot mean your doom.

The sails were a whipping, the wheel was a flipping,
the sea had a grim grip indeed.
waves pummeled the skiff, and acted as if
their gaping mouths he would feed.

Waves pummled the hull sounds pummeled Jacks skull,
he lunged at the sight of the moon.
The light led the way, he would live today!
An ally cannot mean your doom!

The ship and its crew, as well as Jack too,
all share a watery tomb.
for though the sea is a friend, it can make your end,
and an ally can mean your doom!

Er, this poem is weird... it came to me at about 1:30 in the morning on the plane... I had to disturb every passenger on the flight as I struggled to get my book without popping my shoulder out of the socket, and by the time I'd found it all the thoughts had disappeared! I had to sit and wait for them to come back again, it was a long, painful process, mostly because I knew the thoughts I got were second hand and that the first ones were better. So if you think this poem's mediocre, just think how good the original one was! I need something that automatically records my thoughts... huh, maybe that'd be a bad idea... I'm not sure the world has enough paper...

The Turtle Moves

Swirling madness overtakes me,
wraps around with thick tendrils,
grasping tightly and sucking me down
into the spiral,
whirling my heart and head into a spin
so tight I can't see
can't tell which direction
is which,
can't breathe as the air whips past
too fast for me to catch,
I am the Shatterer
caught within my own battlefield
terrors, frightened by prospects
long supressed, held fast against the darkness
of the night, hoping they would just go away,
I destroy myself, I must, or I will cease,
I kill myself, I must, or I will cease,
I re-invent myself, I must, for I will cease,
I remake myself, I must, for I will cease,
soon, the end creeps ever on my back,
whispers harshly, rasping it's fetid breath
against my skin
who are you? No-one
what are you? nothing
what good are you? none
why do you exist? you don't
why don't you try? you're a waste
It barrages me, constant in it's monotony
eating away my flesh,
never abating, I get no rest,
it pressures unrelenting,
it pounds away, hounds my day,
whispers like the wind
pulverizes my brain
until I give up, until I give in
until I sleep, until I want to sleep forever,
until I wake and face the whirlwind
again, walking through the bloodied clearing,
the warzone, bodies stacked, fallen haphazardly,
limbs cracked, broken, exposed shafts of bone
protruding to the sky, blood falls with the rain,
moans pervade the air like fingernails on slate,
bodies skewered on implements of death,
spears, pikes, swords, axes,
the ground runs thick with blood, a red sticky paste
mixed in with the mud, I slip, fall, the bloody mud
soaks me to the bone, drenched, dragged down,
wallowed in the mire, mired in the wallow,
helpless because I won't help myself,
the sword. I must find the sword!
the king. I must find my king!
Are you my king? Have you seen the sword?
Help me find them! I must find them...
Then I stumble, fall into a deep puddle
sink to the bottom, the mud seeping into my eyes,
mouth, nose, clogging off my breath, choking life
from me, until I hit bottom, motion arrested,
though the weight of the mud still presses down
wanting to shove me through the earth...
then I notice something.
though my eyes clench tight against the muck,
I see a light, a brightening of the darkness
and I reach out through the viscous fluid
touching upon a searing hot pain,
I wrap both hands tightly around as they burn
the flesh of my fingers melting away
as I touch the sword
it flashes through my eyes,
while dragging it to the surface
my heart leaves, expelled as my lungs fill with air
I collapse at the edge of the lake,
the sword burning brightly...
There is no king. The king is dead.
Avalon weeps.

The Unwashed gathered for a party,
It was that time of year,
But all had to vomit when,
Ymir's butt was on the beer.
It was his ploy to keep it,
For his greedy self,
The party was dying because,
There were no spirits on the shelf.
But the funk was short lived,
Toe's used her pretty head,
They left the ale to Ymir,
And hit the wine instead.

Cheers from the land of OzI

Time passed by,
He stopped when he saw me,
“Hello” he said, very polite.
“I see you need a rest, sit back for a stretch.”
I sat in a chair that time provided,
He lay a hand across my brow,
“Rest for but a moment.”
I closed my eyes, just a moment,
A blink.
I looked around,
Time had moved on,
I was left behind,
I thought that he would wait.
But I suppose I never really
Expected it.
It just now seems so unfair
After all, all I did was blink.

k.a.stryker ©June 13, 2001

Evening Star"

Behold my sunlit dream ascending
To the sky's embrace
No more darkness and pretending
The grave's a lonely place

Every night I wept, lamenting
I couldn't reach that far
I always lived each day depending
On you, my evening star

And with this dark, foreboding liar
Comes a heart grown cold
A man who knows his own desire
One he's afraid to hold

So bury me inside your thoughts
And let me fade away
Forget me, and remember naught
Of my last earthly days

And maybe in the next life after
This journey is done
The fields will echo with our laughter
Our hearts at last as one

The Boogeyman

Well, here's some. Not really silly or light-hearted, but its all I have right now...
The Boogeyman
On a stretch of midnight
sidewalk in a jungle
of street-light shadows,

We meet, and my edges
blur until only the outline
remains, of
an old stone-savage shuffling now,

a husk of brutish energy, fixed
on your scent;
dark violence and feral lust,
bloated on your terror.

As we pass, my gaze drops
to the ground, and
the fear in your own
strikes my cheek like a blow.

I hate the way
your mirrored eyes see me.

Love

 It’s a funny thing,
Like when he smiles at me,
That certain smile,
And I know just what he means.
But I always ask,
It’s a game we play.
He knows I already know,
And he knew that I would ask.
“Why are you smiling?”
He laughs,
“Because I love you.”
It’s a funny thing.

k.a.stryker ©June 12, 2001

There once was a PB named Ymir
Who loved to spout in his Ybeer.
That the haikus he detested
Were never requested
But instead shoved up his Yrear.

See? Now wouldn't you rather have a (an?) haiku?

Loveless companion,
Conditional friend.

The black hair that I adored does not stir to my touch
And in silence I make my 'goodbye'.
Cold steel, poisoned steel, has ended your life
At my command.

My order,
My responsibility,
My right.

Out of fear you had struck an innocent.
Out of duty and love I returned the blow.
Defenseless, ignorant, my baby lives on.
The scratch will heal, but my Duncan is gone.

My right,
My responsibility,
My order.

Stainless steel table,
Sympathetic attendant,
Silent veterinarian.

Red leather I'll keep.
Your favoured things I'll share
Amongst others of a different fortune.
So strange how you do not stir to my touch.

Loveless companion,
Conditional friend.

.

.

There's more, I think, but it won't gel into something that I can use, yet. Anyway, thanks for reading.

Cheerio,

Memories

Water rolls down my back, reminding me of feathers on a goose, and a down blanket we once shared. And this reminds me of your love. The tears fall from my eyes, blurring all I see. I don’t know what is real, or where I am, so I stretch out my hand, and nothing is there, but the walls of the shower stall, as water rolls down my back.
k.a.Stryker © June 11, 2001

The darkness creeping, sneaking, closing in
The tendrils arise, grabbing, choking, pulling me down
Down, down into the endless abyss, a bottomless pit
An infinite amount of nothing at all
A world of pain, a world of rapture
Because the pain is my pleasure
And it will be yours
Join me, it's where you belong.
An eternity of all and nothing.
Heaven and hell
So let the tendrils entwine, engulf you, embrace you
And ride the wave of the downward spiral.

I do'nt konw why I wrote this. I guess I was tired a couple days ago when I did.... it doesn't seem to make any sense to me now. :)

I am a shuffling oldie,
Long on this board,
It seems forever that I,
Have been with this grubby horde.
And though I'm old and hoary,
There's one thing that I need,
It's the injection of new talent,
A refreshing of the breed.
Newbies are more than welcome,
We treat them with some care,
So join me in the Bastard Bar,
Here, have this chair.
Like any group we have rules,
That's what a group's about,
Abide by the rules and prosper,
If not get the hell out.
So, bring forth your wisdom,
Pull your humour off the shelf,
But most the most thing of all,
Relax and be yourself.

Cheers from the Land of Oz

Ode to the Dead Turtle

Shelly, Shelly, Shelly boy,
What good did it do for you?
All that’s left of perseverance,
Is tire tracks and rotting goo.

"Slow and steady wins the race, boy.
Keep on trying," is what they said.
You listened and you followed blindly,
Where’d it get you? Now you’re dead.

Thickest shell to keep the world out,
Worked like crazy, teeth were gnashed,
But in the end you’re like the possum,
Both of you are dead and mashed.

He stumbled blindly ‘cross the pavement,
Clueless what hit him, clueless how
He died, but why does it really matter?
Both of you are roadkill now.

You had a goal, determination,
That you might cross and beat the hare,
Your dripping, splattered carcass tells us,
You’re not winning...

...but all is fair!
The rabbit, who was racing faster,
Crossed the road a while back,
Dodged a truck, and darn the luck,
Died of fear and heart attack.

It's a happy ending! Really!
Robo-Mutt, the Unwashed Robotic Animal Repairman, inpired while brushing his teeth to remember a certain chapter from _The_Grapes_of_Wrath_ and write a poem about it.

Forbidden Path

Gaping chest wound

Dark unending void

Remnant of distrot scattered pieces

A symbolized love that once warmed

My mind uneasy

A tangled web of disorientation

Like an enormous wave of pain

The thought hollers once more

Lingering

Like a shadowed butterfly

It lures me

To once more consider sin

I concur with an unkept thought

A sharp piercing yellow blast

Reality dissolves into nothingness

Remorse, regret, relief, a decided fate

All pitted deep with in

A single led pellet

Summer Days

 Summer days

The light is not long

Running, climbing, hiding

What to do, where to go

The friendship

It was everlasting

The unsettled arguments had no meaning

As though we were kin

It felt as though we traveled the world

In a single afternoon

But for so long, as though forever

We didn't leave your stoop

The street lamps click on

With a soft buzz, it warms

Yet chills

The day will and soon

And not unlike the cry of a mother wolf

Our mothers bade us indoors

To rest and retire for the evening

For our summer days have ended

Untitled

In and out of a bewildered dementia

They're afraid for him

The thought is not unnoticed

Instead, pushed back into a mess of sub conscious booby-traps

A purchased destiny at the " Five & Dime "

A hate felt with in his soul

A looming empty box for trinkets

Now full with nothing but self pity and grief

Throbbing temples

Technicolor whirls of disorientation and artificial joy

A designated note to " Boodah "

A final decision stemmed from uncontrolled contemplation

A mind destroyed by a double barreled wonder

The room wallpapered with soft red undertones

Three days of unknown misfortune

A semi-god is lost to all

It was so long ago, every time I remember I can feel again
The pain, the anguish, the misery of then.

If I can feel it now, then it must still be then.
If that is true, then will never end.

Because I will always remember,
I can never forget

I don't wish that I could, i need to know how I failed.
Because it was my fault, and now I'm Jailed

Prisoner of my memories is what I am
And I can never escape them.

Because I will always remember
I can never forget...

Because they will always control me.
And my sentence is from then until I can see.

So from here to eternity, my soul is bound
Never to be set free, until it is found.

Inner peace is what I must find.
But I'll never find it, because I am blind.

Thursday, June 9, 2005

People trust me, respect me, turn to me for help
They count on my friendship knowing I'll be there for them
I'd do anything for any one of them for nothing in return
And some would do the same, for which I am blessed
But it seems thats all I can be, all I'm good for and nothing more
Most seem to only value me for what I can do for them
Never, it seems, do they want me just for being me
Sometimes I want something more, to share more than just friendship
To know what it would be like to be cared for, and more than just a "How's it going"
I feel like all I am is second string, I'm stuck in the background below notice
I'm like the stray dog everybody will play with but won't take home
It's like my feelings are brushed aside, like they aren't important
Or worse, a bother, something to be loathed and avoided
I want to feel something more, I want to be more than just a friend
To be needed for who I am, just for a chance to be happy
I sit here, waiting, always alone even when I'm surrounded
'Cause I'm just a friend, maybe a best friend
And that's all I'm ever let to be...

felt like writing this for Dooms. Its not the best piece of poetry in the world, but it came from what I feel and I just had to write it. I also suggest the other poetry bastards give a crack at this.
=huggles Doomsie=
This is for you. Best of luck. We owe you.

==================================================================
The light that burns through my mind
The fire that spreads through my heart
The feeling that fills my soul
The you that completes me.

The joy you bring when you're close
The sorrow when you are gone
The love I feel always.
The love you will never have.

The feelings won't go away
The feelings I can't control
The feelings feel so good
The feelings feel so bad.

The feelings that I have
The feelings that control me
The feelings that console me
The feelings that let me down

The feelings that hurt me
The feelings that kill me
The feelings that fill me
The feelings you don't have.

With the Olympics soon in Sydeny,
I have decided to rebel,
I'm convening the Fat Bastard Games,
Those fit people can go to Hell.
Events will not be necessary,
We'll decide them on the day,
Let's not get hung up on excercise,
Let the Fat Bastards have their way.
But medals will be plentiful,
Given out now and then,
Bugger the gold, silver, bronze,
Let's award down to ten.
Tenth will be the colour grey,
But not signifying last,
It is to signify athlete proportions,
And the shadows that they cast.
Ninth is signified by red,
A colour you can't disguise,
It pays homage to late night footy,
And the colour it makes your eyes
Eight is recognised with yellow,
A colour sure to please,
It reminds us of last nights pizza,
Covered in mozzarella cheese.
Seventh is a hue of green,
Taking pride of place,
It displays the six packs of last night,
And the current colour of your face.
Sixth is the purest kind of white,
The athlete's in good stead,
It recognises the effect of aspirin,
On a hung-over head.
Fifth is a beautiful beige,
Sure to make you smile,
The colour of the athlete's cushions,
When they are Unwashed for a while.
Fourth is shimmering brown cordouroy (?),
Making all feel fine,
To recognise the colour of the lounge,
Upon which most athletes recline.
Third is a wonderous tattered black,
The recipient can justly prance,
To symbolise the athlete's attire,
Of raggedy Nike track pants.
Second is holy lettered black,
To the winners circle to float,
It mirrors the holy athlete's baton,
Of the cable TV remote.
First is the most excellent amber,
It's allure shall never fail,
The colour is to remind us all,
Of our favourite ale.
Now the prizes are all organised,
I let out a stifled groan,
Fat Bastards will not compete -
We rarely leave our home.

Down which hill did a small child roll?

Might it be the one,
littered with broken branches
and smelling of the dung of troll?

Or perhaps the one,
whose grass is disturbed
by the brown mounds of the mole?

Though possibly the one,
covered with ruts
left by sleds in the snow?

Can't be the one,
overgrown with trees
littered with leaves ever so old?

'Tisn't this one,
all full of brambles
he'd be scratched full of holes!

Nor here this one,
strewn with boulders
she'd likely fall down a hole!

No, 'tis this very hill,
all smooth and well-aimed,
straight toward the stream
with ajoining swimming hole,
this is the hill
down which a small child rolls.

Hrm. So I'm a little rusty. Oh well.

Surreal, becomming
what you
make it
nothing more
nothing less
than that
which is
needed

Remember the Good Old Days When....

A computer was something on TV
> From a science fiction show
A window was something you hated to clean....
And ram was the cousin of a goat.....

Meg was the name of my girlfriend
And gig was your middle finger upright
Now they all mean different things
And that really mega bytes

An application was for employment
A program was a TV show
A cursor used profanity
A keyboard was a piano

Memory was something that you lost with age
A CD was a bank account
And if you had a 3 1/2" floppy
You hoped nobody found out

Compress was something you did to the garbage
Not something you did to a file
And if you unzipped anything in public
You'd be in jail for a while

Log on was adding wood to the fire
Hard drive was a long trip on the road
A mouse pad was where a mouse lived
And a backup happened to your commode

Cut you did with a pocket knife
Paste you did with glue
A web was a spider's home
And a virus was the flu

I guess I'll stick to my pad and paper
And the memory in my head
I hear nobody's been killed in a computer crash
But when it happens they wish they were dead.

Eternity I do sleep,
A silence broken only by a computerized beep.
A tin can, flying alone.
High above that blue ball.
It's my home.
And I hear it's call.

For three millenia, I've not seen day,
Cause flight control passed away.
Naw my home town has dissappeared.
The vegitation reclaimed my home.
Long ago the dust of war cleared,
But still I sleep all alone.

My computer crys out to a dead master,
As we are hurled from Venus.
She starts the engines to send us faster,
As I am curled up like a fetus.
She's had enough, we're going home!
As I sleep all alone.

We hit the atmosphere like a titanium stone,
A red hot streak in the nights sky.
As she works all alone,
Making calculations on the fly.
And I sleep on my way home.
We may not make it, but we have to try.

A wandering tribe praises my ship,
As in my sleep I do moan.
I bring a smile to the mississippi king's lips,
As I get my first glimpse of my ruined home.
My ship lands, ending my celestial trip.
And I awake from my sleep, truely alone.

The darkness creeping, sneaking, closing in
The tendrils arise, grabbing, choking, pulling me down
Down, down into the endless abyss, a bottomless pit
An infinite amount of nothing at all
A world of pain, a world of rapture
Because the pain is my pleasure
And it will be yours
Join me, it's where you belong.
An eternity of all and nothing.
Heaven and hell
So let the tendrils entwine, engulf you, embrace you
And ride the wave of the downward spiral.

I do'nt konw why I wrote this. I guess I was tired a couple days ago when I did.... it doesn't seem to make any sense to me now. :)

Ode to the Dead Turtle

Shelly, Shelly, Shelly boy,
What good did it do for you?
All that’s left of perseverance,
Is tire tracks and rotting goo.

"Slow and steady wins the race, boy.
Keep on trying," is what they said.
You listened and you followed blindly,
Where’d it get you? Now you’re dead.

Thickest shell to keep the world out,
Worked like crazy, teeth were gnashed,
But in the end you’re like the possum,
Both of you are dead and mashed.

He stumbled blindly ‘cross the pavement,
Clueless what hit him, clueless how
He died, but why does it really matter?
Both of you are roadkill now.

You had a goal, determination,
That you might cross and beat the hare,
Your dripping, splattered carcass tells us,
You’re not winning...

...but all is fair!
The rabbit, who was racing faster,
Crossed the road a while back,
Dodged a truck, and darn the luck,
Died of fear and heart attack.

It's a happy ending! Really!
Robo-Mutt, the Unwashed Robotic Animal Repairman, inpired while brushing his teeth to remember a certain chapter from _The_Grapes_of_Wrath_ and write a poem about it.

<< This is a work in progress - I'm not sure I like it yet, but I wanted to share :-) . . . >>
Have you ever noticed how there's a certain rhythm to the way a baby (in this case, Erg) throws her dinner all over the house?
Squish! Squish! Squish! Yummy banana.
Squish! Squish! Squish! Now its on the kitchen floor.
Squish! Squish! Squish! Between my fingers.
Squish! Squish! Squish! Oh, there isn't any more.

Suck. Suck. Suck. Its on my fingers!
Smear. Smear. Smear. Now its on my table too.
Rub it through my hair. Try getting that out Mummy!
Spread it round the house. Yummy banana goo.

Cheerio,

I hear the ocean calling
The sea-longing that all my kin share
I see them, my kin, and they beckon to me
"Too long with the second born you have taried"
"Thier world is not meant for you"
"They rush about, cramming all they can"
"In that brief life of thiers"
"You will only get hurt again if you stay"
"No virus or infirmaty of old age will slay you"
"But sorrow can"
"You must come home, board the white ship"
"And leave thier world to them"
"Dying of sorrow is worse than any sword"
"Come home, lost one, come home"
I see the sails of the white ship,
And I weep
For I know in my heart they are right
I must leave before I fade
But I can not move.
My heart is breaking
And my tears mingle with the waves that reach the shore
And are lost
As I am.

Wind blowing from far and near
Moon watching from the sky
Watches as you shed a tear
I hold you close as you start to cry

The times will certainly be hard
But I believe we can make it
To see our child playing in the yard
It will all be worth it

Yes, right now things seem bad
But we will persevere
Because I know someday, we'll both be glad
But right now, I share your tears

Eight months left, it's going to be a while
It seems like it will be forever
But when we walk that final mile
We'll being doing it together

*Yawn* 2am now. Time for bed.

I look all around me and all i see is you

I thought i was in love maybe im just a fool

I'm sick of people saying that they care

but when im feeling down their never there

I've Made up my mind and im through

Im giving up on them and especially on you

I have my air thats all i need to life

thats everything i need, everything i have to give

If you need me ill be here not thinking of you

Im sick of playing the part of the dumb little fool

i dont know i dont really think its great but it fits the situation its written about any way tell me what you think and how i can make this little ditti better

so i think i might go to bed,
but still I'm smiling on ahead,
Things all work out in the end,
so nothings going to drive me round the bend
I'll stand tall and face the world,
and ignore all the abuse, thats gets hurled!

Paladin here! still A1, on-line and up to speed. how is everyone? I'm still very happy!

An Ode to my Noodles

An Ode to my Noodles

or

The Not Quite So Thermidorian Reaction

Early in the afternoon
when spring was springing near,
a shadow fell across the land,
that of a Great Noodlish Fear!
The Parliment of Noodles
had been called away,
the 3rd estate of sodium,
would recognize today.
The noodles came from far and wide,
with assaignats long and dry,
to the palace of the saddened poet,
The grandious "Verse-sigh".
The Ramin and the Cup-o,
with their riboflavin hands,
demanded noodle constitution,
for each and all the lands.
Then came the time I paniced,
and closed the noodles doors,
I hoped that they would go away,
sweat seeping from my pores.
And now I hear they've taken
some oath upon a court.
and stolen some large bass,
or something of the sort.
So my noodles are not stolen, friends,
though many have forsooth,
they merely have revolted,
and that's the gosh-darned truth!

The Turtle Moves

Many years ago now, I wrote my first poem...and it was very bad...but, as a first, I fell in love with the making of poetry...

I have gone through many journals since that day. But, when I start a new one I always write this poem at the start...it is a piece of who I was.

Oddness
Lightness
Rightness
Wrongness

Moving rounding
Rounding upness

Stairs and ladders
Ladders , stairs

Always going
Always there

Silence

 I hate that I never know what to say.
Standing here in silence,
Seemingly silent,
But the words are inside.
I don’t know what to say.

When you look at me that way,
I know what you mean,
Words are not needed.
As I look into your eyes,
I feel what you feel.

If I surrender to this feeling,
Will I be lost?
Or will I be found?
I am scared,
It is all so unknown,
And I don’t know what to say.

K.A.Stryker © 10:30 a.m., June 1, 2001

I love
he loves

I cry
He comforts

I laugh
He laughs

I Dream
He brings forth

I live
He lives

I lash out
He understands

You ever get a song in your head? The same song goes around and around over and over...It's enough to drive a person bonkers at times. Well, I have found the only way to get a song out of my head it to listen to it.

Words are the same with me, one word over and over again. The only way I have found to stop the word, is to put it in a poem.

The word today has been Newbie...I seem to have read it alot today...So, I will try a poem here for you...

Please remember, a poem is not always how I personaly feel, it's just how the words want to lay on the page... :o)

I am a newbie in your halls
I've not been here long.
It seems, througout my time
That's always going on.

No place to call my own
No friends to call my kin.
I stand amid your circle
Wishing to be let in.

I know I may not fit
For sometimes that's the truth.
But please give me a chance
to sit beneath your roof.

I have a lot to give
humor and wisdoms too.
So please, if you allow
I'd like to talk with you.

Just open up your circle
and let this wee girl in.
You may just discover
your very next best friend.

hmmm...not bad, for off that cuff...as you say...but now , I am free of the word...thanks.. :o)

*Aimlessly aimless*