i ditched the columns in deference to those of us who must suffer at low-res.
who wants dessert? - fall 1996
My family began to gather around the table, as Mom and Grandma began to carry in trays and platters of wonderful food. Yes, Thanksgiving had come around again, and as the wonder of the parade on television had dimmed (you can only see so many gigantic, air-filled, cartoon characters before you start having… ideas…), the wonderful smells rolling out of the kitchen began to take over the thoughts of everyone in the house. Absurd visions of plucked turkeys doing a sort of gruesome cabaret danced through our minds.
We began to take our traditional places around the table. I sat in my usual spot, between Grandma and Uncle Marty. There was a moment of amazement as Dad carved the turkey, his skilled craftsman’s hands making short work of our not-so-feathered-friend. The trays started going around, and everyone started loading up - sweet potatoes, corn-on-the-cob, peas, stuffing, light, fluffy, mashed potatoes, buttered dinner rolls, nut bread, banana bread, steamed carrots, black olives, pickles, steamed broccoli dripping with melted cheese, yellow summer squash, sautéed zucchini, great heaping mounds of tossed salad, and of course, turkey. The final item to make a lap around the table was the gravy boat. All eyes were on it as it passed from hand to hand, pouring forth a beautiful brown bounty. As it made its’ way back to Dad, you could feel the tension in the room. Finally, Mom handed the boat to Dad, who, after a quick glance around the table, set it down, with a decisive "thunk".
It was as if a starter’s pistol had been fired. We suspect Uncle Marty of jumping the gun - I could swear that I saw him inching towards a handful of dinner rolls before the boat hit the table. I was going like a madman - peas flying over my head as I shoveled them into my open mouth. Mom appeared to be choking on a carrot for a moment, until Dad backhanded her in the chest without ever taking his attention away from the stack of corn-on-the-cob that he was plowing through. Grandma and my brother were fighting over a drumstick, like two hyenas on the Serengeti.
Eventually, things calmed down. My brother was happily eating the olives that he had stuck on his fingers,while Mom nibbled thoughtfully on a slice of bread. Dad and Uncle Marty were looking pretty bloated, and letting loose horrific belches which solicited laughs from my brother and I, but earned them frowns from Grandma. I was picking lazily at my salad, when I heard the words that I had almost forgotten about.
"So, who wants dessert?" asked Mom. The table erupted with the pounding of fists tightly clutching forks and knives, accompanied by the chant "PUMP - KIN - PIE! PUMP - KIN - PIE! PUMP - KIN - PIE!". There was a look of fervor rivaled only by the criminally insane in our eyes as Mom went out to the kitchen, and brought out the pie. She set it on the table, and set to slicing it up - no easy task with it moving around the table, like an air hockey puck, due to the pounding. She eventually managed to divvy it up, and dole it out with a thick dollop of whipped cream on top. I have never seen anything vanish that quickly. Within 15 seconds, the only sign of the pie was a blob of whipped cream on my brother’s nose, and a smile on everyone’s face.
coal - spring 1994
i hope you're happy
you've been trying to suceed in this for what, 17 years?
broke my body.
broke my soul.
tried to break my mind, but it was a little too strong.
wasn't it?
maybe i should have thrown the game.
then maybe you would have left me
my heart.
but no.
you took the one thing i cherished most,
that i loved above all,
that i would have given anything f7or.
that made my life livable.
and you broke it.
why?
what did i do?
am i innocent, some kind of cosmic
PAWN?
like Job?
or does this amuse you?
ironic.
class clown, the divine joke.
i try so hard.
i beg and plead for sanity
for sanctuary
for something to hold on to
to cherish
ANYTHING
anything at all.
but you won't let me have
the smallest of gems
nothing but coal.
man - 28 apr 1997
man was sad
and confused
so he sat himself down
and he started thinking.
he thought to himself,
why am i so sad?
why has the world lost colour?
why don't i like waking up in the morning?
so he thinks for a while
and he comes to a realization
i'm so sad because of woman!
she's always so mad at me,
but i never know why.
she worries too much.
i just wish that she
would understand that
i love her, and want her,
and that is not going to change.
so he thinks for a while
and he comes to a realization
maybe if i could,
or maybe if i would,
show her how much i care,
then she wouldn't worry so much.
but what to do?
it's all been done before
my love is too strong
to use the same old ways.
so he thinks for a while
she - 5 may 1997
she doesn't wear much makeup
she doesn't have to
she doesn't ask me for much
she just wants my touch
she makes me feel like i'm cool
she makes me laugh
she makes me glad that i exist
she has too many merits to list
she shames any work of art
she shames angels
she shames the splendor of the nile
she can melt my heart with but a smile
like spoons - 2 june 1997
every graceful curve
the work of an artist
not a sculptor
something this beautiful
could only have been sung into existence
but what choir could create
such beauty, such grace?
what divine instrument
could replicate the harmony,
the melody inherrent?
the beauty outside
matching the beauty within
a soul so perfect, so detailed
with another reason to love her
around every corner, every twist
the rhythm of her being
keeps me cohesive
holds me together
shuts up my fears
and makes me want to dance.
dysfunction - 14 may 1997
spending another
with no other
staring at the ceiling
to share my feeling
begging for sleep
i'll just keep
or an end to hurt
digging up dirt
expounding my flaws
with no good cause
and hating myself
my heart on a shelf
i hate my weakness
to curse is to bless
i just want to feel
it's so unreal
i want to be understood
but don't you dare try
i want to be loved
but don't you dare try
i want to be
but don't you
insomnia - 16 may 1997
stayed up late again
with my friends
mr. thoughts, mr. cigarettes,
and mr. words of friends too long away.
walking in the dark streets
of the back-alleys of my mind
and it's way past your bedtime,
young man.
the only fear i have left
is that maybe i don't fear
anymore because i'm not human
that something snapped inside.
some critical fuse burned out
burned out like i will be tomorrow
as i trudge through my day unshaven
with tell-tale circles under my eyes.
scars - 13 june 1997
right eyebrow
fell from a chair
lower lip
ran into a sheet of plywood
knuckle of left middle finger
hot glue gun
right elbow
bicycle accident
pride
little leauge
soul
bought the big 'god' lie
right wrist
skateboard accident
heart
used by a woman
back of left hand
friend fooling around
please - 14 may 1997
please understand
i never meant any harm
please believe
i thought i was doing right
please understand
i mean what i say
please believe
i love you
please understand
i'm empty alone
please believe
i want you to fill me
please understand
please believe
brown sugar - 16 june 1997
like a narcotic
like an intoxicant
sweet nectar
sweet sweet sweet
the honey that drips
from your lips
like liquid love
sweet sweet sweet
not the refined
and falsely praised
not china white
sweet sweet sweet
my brown sugar baby
with the body of a goddess
lips like petals
sweet sweet sweet
isweet
just
wantsweet
one
tastesweet
now i know - 28 may 1997
i'd smash myself
into the rocks below
if i was clueless
if i did not know
i'd drown myself
in the deep blue sea
or in a bottle
if i couldn't see
that she loves me
and needs me
and wants me
and cares for me like no other
if not for her
i'd be lost
alone in the dark
wet and wind-toss'd
i'd lose myself
in the pages of a book
or lyrics of a song
an emotional crook
wanting to feel
what these writers had
wanting to see
what these artists had
but now i know
and there is nothing else
in this world
that compares
moth - 10 aug 1997
the striving of the spirit
against the winds of life
the friction caused by it
the cause of pain and strife
i am different from others
and because of this, i am the same
i see different from my brothers
i do not seek to fly nor fear the flame
so many people, so much time
spent in attempts to ascend
above this place and time
and if they fail, they pretend
can they not find the peace i have?
can they not see
that to be free
all you need do
is to join the dust
untitled - fall 1996
the murky tendrils
reach for me sometimes
sniksnaking up from
inside the dark spots
in my own soul
my biggest fear is a dead friend
the inky darkness that sometimes faces me
with its cold stickiness
is my fear
of failure, of lonliness, of obscurity
of uncertainty.
trickster - fall 1996
this is not amusing
o loki
thou scalliwag
hast heard my pleads
and cruelly,
answered them
for now
i have my diamond
all to myself, without flaw
but it is no good like this
and will not be for
one-tenth of my life
and i tell you this:
if that day comes
and she is gone
even then i will not surrender.
power - 16 october 1997
like a snare
at 180 bpm
like an engine
at 6000 rpm
the noise my heart makes
when i think of her
the noise my heart makes
when i'm with her
the rumble of the bass
and the grind of the guitar
the pulse of the synth
and crash of a hi-hat
she makes my soul sing
and not quietly
she makes my soul blaze
like the very sun
no solar furnace
can match her heat.
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