One day there was a garden
After animals evolved and all
God, who had always been,
Created what He liked to call
Amen
So this new creation of God
Tended and named the animals
But became bored and started to nod
And the animals ran from their stalls
Amen
God had to keep him awake somehow
All the animals ran off to some wild place
Except for the Pig, Chicken, Horse, and Cow
Also the Sheep, which the Dog liked to chase
Amen
Thought that the Dog's name was best
Because he thought him like God
He was obviously better than all the rest
And was quicker to obey the rod
Amen
Would need something better than he had
So after an operation and some magic
God created something that wasn't too bad
She was hairless and soft, but this was a tragic
Amen
Soon learned his nodding days were through
She wanted to think up her own name
And wanted to separate church from state, too
The power went to her head, just the same
Amen
Was waiting for his woman, one night
After a long, hard day's work of planting seed
He knew not to worry, that she was all right
And the snake at the window, politely agreed
Amen
Listened as the snake said: "She's well
And seems to have grown quite fine
As for you, this day's the day you fell
What was once yours is mine."
Amen
Was silent, knowing he wasn't the president
The snake's wife entered, wearing a suit and tie
He was so embarrassed, that she was indecent
And curled up in a ball of flesh, wanting to die
Amen
Would have, too, if it hadn't been for the snake
Who told him, his wife would be his own
If he'd just take a bite of the banana cake
Than he would no longer be all alone
Amen
Knew that God would never like this
But he also knew that his wife would beat him
God or woman? Ignorance is bliss
So he took the woman's way out and all went dim
Amen
Can be found, wearing a sequence dress
Down on 48th street in a little pub
Up to this day he will never confess
Why he's working here instead of a nightclub
Amen
Will always envy the snake's wife
Who after the fall wouldn't take him back
Because she was living a different life
Under the presumed name of Jack
Adam the Banana-Cake
Dec. 6, 1994; 3:49 p.m. Tue.
Burning silence
never nothing shown
Turning by sense
of instinct alone
My mind's not mine
but is something grim
By bind's that twine
me to only him.
Adam the Talker in the Sleep
Oct. 4, 1994; 11:08 a.m. Thu.
Next time I won't
Show you
The many hues of blue
Somehow you can't
Take it
And my mind, you forget
I wish you weren't a poet
I wish
You were a human expression
I wish you weren't so big
Finish
Me faster than a poem
There's a human in here
Why must
You make me change
I would think better of myself
If there
Were more just like your friend
How could I ever bring myself to say
My way
Of thinking's better than all the rest
You have thought so much
But felt
So little within your heart
I can no longer judge you
As you
Have been judging me
Naming my feelings, weak
While I
Look on in with dried eyes
For I cannot cry before you
Because
Your own face is without expression
You will not share yourself
With me
Just because you think I'm weak
Isn't that the best kept secret
We are
All weak, beneath facade
How can we share so much
And share
So little with one another
Do you think I chose to be
This way
A man with no legs to stand
What kind of person
Are you
Who crumbles dreams
What kind of person can declare
That all
Weakness comes from lack of form
What could be wrong with
A head
Deflated and full of nothing
It's better than you're head
That is
Way further over mine
Like a corporate killer
You've made
You're way all the way there
You've reached the top
There is
No place to go
I see with my universal eye
That you
Are going down in a big way
That doesn't mean I'm happy
Light heart
Maybe-a reason to feel compassion
To know that what has wronged me
Will know
What it's like down here at the bottom
Adam the Online-Mind
June 23, 1995; 3:08am Fri.
"The horror. The horror."--Col. Kurtz (Marlon Brando) in Apocalypse Now
The horror of war
Is like a mind pushed too close to madness
Which is like a cliff
In which falling is for an eternity
And the only release is when you hit the bottom
And like small marbles rolling freely
Your bones crush and your skull's crushed
Leaving you without the eternal madness
The horror of having killed
Of having been killed with the possibility so close
And yet unrealistic
You're either a stone or a sponge
The stone can be thrown and never break at the bottom
But neither the sponge, which absorbs everything
--The blood, the sweat, the tears
All the fear and anxiety building up like a balloon
Which will break into the eternal madness
The horror of being alive
Knowing you're too good and not worth death
The separation of souls
Your soul flees from you with every
Poor soul that ends up dying when it should have been you
You know it and yet you'll never accept death
You won't accept that any second, any moment
Death could take over the eternal madness
The horror of knowing truth
Truth to present, in your face, screaming in your soul
That you shouldn't have done it
You shouldn't have killed, it's just not right
But what's right anymore? Truth can't be grasped anymore
It's too gray and ever-changing, slippery with blood
Truth can go only as far as you let it
But your mind knows no boundaries in the eternal madness
Adam the Apocalypse
March 14, 1995; 4:07 p.m. Tue.
i'm lying like a bastard
for a future so absurd
voices never heard
like a bastard, I'm alone
like a cur, I've no future
in a blur, I'm thrown
once envied, now a bastard
once loved, now left to tears
once a poet, now a nobody
what's coming clear
is I disappear
into a haze of fear
for when one has heart
but can't find a place to start
then his world's torn apart
just can't suffer like a bastard
for a future so absurd
voices never heard
i'm as the winds name me
depression, let me be!
happiness, hear my plea!
i want a love, that can hold
i want a person to be bold
i want a heart that isn't cold
i want a soul that's never sold
i want a story that's never told
i want a female, who'll never fold
isn't love like sparkling diamonds in my eyes?
isn't love the feminine way I walk?
isn't love the way I cross my legs?
isn't love the way I wish to hug?
isn't love the way I want myself?
isn't love the way I want her?
I cannot accept myself as my responsibility
I cannot accept myself as my responsibility
I cannot accept myself as my responsibility
I've already tried that, and ran into a wall
I've already tried that and taken the fall
I've already tried that and can no longer call
all i want's the love i never feel
all i want's the love i want to steel
all i want's the love i have appeal
now, i know not why my mind's numb
now, i know not why my diction's dumb
now, i know not why I'm a clean bum
answer the questions you never hear
try to take my mind as you see it appear
take you're tongue and lick away my tear
for my tongue is tucked away
and to extend it one day
and speak the words I long to say
would be the death of every one
i'm only a moon, no longer a sun
because what the past has done
Adam the CoverAlls
or the commitments
May 26, 1995; 11:16 p.m. Fri.
"I wept not, so to stone within I grew." --Dante Alighieri, The
Divine Comedy, "The Inferno."
Even at the speed
My mind flies
I still have a need
For my eyes
My eyes must be the interpreter
So they must be opened wide
And know what's for sure and unsure
Nothing seen must be denied
Everything must poor into them
So it may empty into my soul
For my soul must see who he condemns
And where I am to dig a hole
They must give nothing away
Not my intentions, mind, or heart
Even if they start to go astray
I mustn't let them end before they start
What is bold and defiant
Is what they shall speak of
Ungiving and self-reliant
Because these eyes lost love
To see tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
As to protect my youthful life
From the unending times of strife
Where we-my eyes and me-give tears to sorrow
Adam the Dried-Eyed
but Heaven knows I tried
April 3, 1995; 11:42 p.m. Mon.
I am a figment,
a fragment of an unwritten story.
I am a tree,
with no branches for a body.
I am a dandelion,
a weed that is now sunny.
I am dirt,
never clean, made a man.
Adam the First & Last Man
Feb. 16, 1995; 7:10 p.m. Thu.
The fleeting thought was nice
Until I thought of how it was lost
And how unreasonable the cost
Direct communication shared
Back then, I know He cared
But now it's like a rain cloud floating
Above, while passerbyers are only gloating
Why do I have to be the one?
What could I have ever done
To deserve such a fate?
If Heaven waits, I'll wait,
But if it perhaps-passes away
I'll have nothing left to say.
The worst thing's no one'll have dismay
And my darkness'll make brighter their day.
The sunny-smile made it's decent-down
And it looked upon me with a frown
Paradise, my First Descendant, once took
I know the truth-I read the Book
Once had the inheritance of a god
Now have only my face's facade
Adam the Son-of-Adam
April 19, 1995; 11:21 p.m. Wed.
A broken picture
Of people-pulling through
A way of living life
Without it being true
A building-being-built
Along Whipple Street
A clockwork, patchwork quilt
When you haven't-heat
A house with a pool
For people when they're hot
Sequoia High school
Where you ne'er learn a lot
Adam the Senior
with school-spirit
May 3, 1995; 1:26 p.m. Wed.
There's another truth that's coming clear
There's nothing in knowledge to fear
But the knowledge that comes with pain
With an umbrella in the rain
Your soul stops what it can gain
There's another truth that's coming clear
There's absolutely no pain in here
Yet I'm a real callused bastard
Who thinks everything's absurd
And loves to think that he's cured
There's another truth that's coming clear
There's not many times I've felt a tear
Just at the times that a mother's lost
And the child's innocence the cost
That's when tears can only be tossed
There's another truth that's coming clear
There's something wrong with me or the mirror
Because my face is like a beautiful skull
Impressioned to be something drab, dark, and dull
With a brain immune to pain
Which for everyone else is an unobserved-obstacle
Once again the truth is plain
Adam the Beautiful-Skull
March 19, 1995; 1:57 a.m. Sun.
There's an ocean
Of erosion
Where the fish-float to the top
Where the pollution will never stop
Where the oil's an inch thick
Where the animal's are either dead or sick
Where the water stinks
Where the ship-sinks
Where the lighthouse gives no light
Where the sky is always night
Where the life preserver doesn't float
Where the storm-swallows the boat
Where the buoy never rings
Where the ray always stings
Where the river never empties into
Where the ocean is black and never blue
If you're lost and looking for me
Go to the ocean, that's where I'll be
Adam the Beach-Bum
April 14, 1995; 2:46 p.m. Fri.
Why do daffodils die?
Wind, what will you send?
Heart, when will you start?
Mind, when is the time?
Sun, when will you come?
Dune, why hide the moon?
War, what is in store?
Peace, please never cease.
Day, why won't you stay?
Night, when is there sight?
Sea, please let me free.
Land, please let me stand.
Fight, what gives you the right?
Friend, why is there an end?
Light, why are you so bright?
Darkness, why hide my starkness?
Love, who are you thinking of?
Hate, can't you think straight?
Eyes, what's the big surprise?
Hands, what are your plans?
Ears, what are your fears?
Nose, my how it grows.
Caring, why be so daring?
First, she gave me the thirst.
Dry, she left me to die.
Try to live? Why must I?
Adam the Withered
Nov. 10, 1994; 10:53 p.m. Thu.
Next Part: Plain
Tall, Dark, & Plain by Adam S.
Huntington
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