Note: Followed links may open in a new browser window.
AutonomyBy: Charles Albano
I'd rather die a broken soul, Than live a life that isn't free It simply costs too much to yield The dearest side of dignity. I'd survive the loss of all I own, Material possession, Reserving only for myself, Autonomous expression.
Copyright © 1998 Charles Albano
Comments to author: CharlesAlbano@webtv.net
There is a chaos in my head I just squeezed the skull of a little angel And opened up to the root of all evil I won't meet you anymore `cause you're dead It's the view of living on the edge I'm cooler than Christ, more followers than Flynt I was submitted to the judgement of strangers And felt like I was living at the bottom of a bottle There's an ugly scratch across my brain My face completely cracked from crying I have taught myself to fight back While my heart got as big as a helium balloon And there's exhaustion from going down Blowing up in the face of little children Now I'm at the wheel of my own imagination And think about the thoughts that have dented me
Copyright © 1997 email@example.com
Personal Poetry Page Link: www.horseman.demon.nl
Confessions of a Computer JunkieBy: Twyla Turnbow Sorrells
I sit before this electronic window to the world Wondering what the hell I'm doing here? Smoke fills the room, encasing my brains (God, I've got to quit someday) Crickets call from through the open door to the verandah, There is romantic starlight dancing on the cool October air And breathable oxygen our there, But I am tethered to this nineteen nineties damnation By some invisible umbilicus wrapped around my neck Like a neonate striving for breath at birth I cleave to each breath, cringing at the unbearable brightness Of the fiery star glaring in my squinty face.
Copyright © 1997 Twyla Turnbow Sorrells
Contact the Author: Dawdy1@aol.com
The TruthBy: Kathryn Adair Mann
The truth is there's little you look forward to at fifty. You look at all your friends and they have little lines around their lips. The truth is we are cracked and cold and frightened. I could give to you the searing edge of youth and you would never take it in your hand. The truth is we are brittle and afraid to scorch our edges. Will you shatter when your cracks sink in? I'd rather burn.
Copyright © 1997 Kathryn Adair Mann
Contact the Author: firstname.lastname@example.org
Darkness FallsBy: C. Dale Little
Darkness falls, and really no warning at all. Chemistry they say to the dark dwellers, hoping for sunlight once again. Darkness falls, embracing the lonely hearts. Eclipsing sunlight, darkness envelope me again. Darkness falls, when will the sun ever shine. Why this madness, wrapping a gentle heart in black? Chemistry they say, molecules of the mind gone awry. The dark gene comes, to unsuspecting spirits alone. Darkness falls, once again blinding my way. Can only pray again, for brilliant sun to warm me. Darkness falls, why oh why no sunlight today.
Copyright © 1997 C. Dale Little
Contact the Author: email@example.com
Personal Home Page: C. Dale Little
The GalleryBy: Kristina Kimberlin-Dixon
Walking (lost) through the maze of silent faces, I stare back at them, as they pry my soul open with their omnipotent eyes, Discovering things that I usually don't deign to acknowledge. I admire the slope of her cheek and the tilt of his head. But unable to touch them with either my hands or my thoughts or my words, I grow frustrated. They have a lived a thousand lives I have not. They wear their knowing looks to mock me, surely, as my wonderment, my amazement humbly stumbles by them. They sit, vibrant with stillness. I search for the magic word, for the phrase, the slip of the tongue That will bring them to life, to motion, to unbound laughter so they can share their secrets and bronze my soul so that it is as beautiful as their faces.
Copyright © 1997 Kristina Kimberlin-Dixon
Contact the Author: firstname.lastname@example.org
Anna Minds the Books So WellBy: L.R. Powell
Never suffering the hand of a would be master, who at his will, and graced by law (the words of men) would ever claim his given right to command her Nothing so binding as a wedding ring adorns her as she shuns the offers of many would be lovers, She never bends to the petty will of others. She walks the path she's chosen, 'tho it jars her bones, packed hard as it is by the footfall of leagues of men before her. Only to herself, in total darkness, will she even dare the secret recognition of her longing for the touch of one more fair.
Copyright © 1997 L.R. Powell
Contact the Author: email@example.com
Just Fade AwayBy: Kathryn F. CarrollI never thought the day would come that the wrinkles and gray hair would appear, and senility so very near. I wake in so much pain, again to face another day. Before I could run and now I walk, but rarely do I ever talk. Afraid to speak because my mind is not the same, peoples names seem to fade away. Is this called old age, forgetfulness or senility, I can only guess. Makes no difference at my age what a mess! Oh the woes that come along with age, I wished to God that I could change. Those were the days when I could sing and dance, and remember how it was when I could romance. but now those days have disappeared, to be replaced with aching bones, hearing loss and wondering will I wake to see another day, or will I just fade away.
Copyright © 1997 Kathryn F. Carroll
Contact the Author: firstname.lastname@example.org
GOSSIP: AllegroBy: Dan McGarvey
alone is a room with a boy and a girl (their names you will learn, gentle reader, in time) and newspapers soak the abandon of coffee and chatter and loudspeakers sell us guitars and all is just talk and no one goes home together... is a storefront (like a mom&pop we-know-their-name place) and how could we ever think this old taste of Ourtown knows a thing not in the newspapers or discussed over coffee while upstairs flying cups break into shouts so Alone and Together sat down over coffee one midwinter evening where no one was talking Alone played guitar and sang about things not in the papers or discussed in Ourtown Together spoke softly and cradled a cup here in our storefront where cups never fly and all is just talk, the eversoanxious Together sits, soaks the abandon of chatter, the sing of guitar, forgets coffee, and cradles the thought of Alone, who is a loudspeaker if Ourroom could talk it would laugh at the knownothing newspaper that sits under neglected coffee drinking what's not on Together's mind (if you know what I mean, gentle reader, take care to alert not Alone, who breaks into shouts) home is a room that soaks the abandon of things sung about on guitars and loudspeakers the room knows the fate of our heroes (and we know their names) who live in Our(knownothing)town where no one really talks and all is newspaper alone is a room reeking of coffee where newspapers blissfully keep their mouths shut while upstairs mom&pop talk out loud on the phone to (you, gentle reader) the fact that Alone and Together went home and made Neveragain
Copyright © 1997 Dan McGarvey
Personal Poetry Page Link: Fried Green Thanatos
Not So Much Shady AsBy: Alan Reynolds
Don't bore me with repetition or check if I'm listening or drill me with facts or grade me on quizzes you concoct out of boredom or duty or sexual frustration, if you know what I mean, don't you? You do. And your eyes, greener on these days, unmask you, unman me. (They don't, just the opposite in fact.) The light here is perfect for painting bronzes.
Copyright © 1997 Alan Reynolds
Personal Poetry Page Link: Poetry by Alan Reynolds