Destructive, Dogged Dogmatic.
Sit, thinking you're not society's slave
So sunken, so unatuned to the sick.
No wonder the world's just a deep cave
I can see in, but you can't see out
So I'll leave you alone in your doubt
Corruptive, Complaining Competitor
Run, winking your life into a blender
Really undone, really rain's all that's in store
You were gone, flowers you send her
But don't you think you spilled the truth
You're no man, but monster without cooth
Broken, Bumbling Beggar
Stumble through life like a blind man
No cane or a dagger
Defenseless and unable to make a stand
The robbers, they know about your discourse
They'll follow and get you weak with force
Arisen, Artistic UnAverage American
Look to the ashes that once was your past
You see you can see and can't accept a hand
So free you feel and know you're the last
But the last shall be first, you now believe
Your heart and mind--your only reprieve
Adam the Born-Anew
from the old ASHes
Oct. 14, 1994; 12:47 a.m. Sat.
I'm the stone
Lying there
Pick me up and throw me
Use me to stone a person
Use me to take a life
I'm a tool
I'm a fool
For I'm alone
Without care
And wish for a face I see
While I continue cursin'
Every time I feel strife
I'm a river
Running across
Into the ocean
Put up a dam to stop my flow
Put up a dam to deny my life
I'm a tool
I'm a fool
For being a giver
Of water lost
Without emotion
I'm a person that'll never grow
Because of all my strife
Planted where I stand
Uproot me for your pleasure
Build me into a home
Build me into a life
I'm a tool
I'm a fool
For am ne'er free
But embedded in the land
And soak up all earth's treasure
Yet stand all alone
With only my own strife
So give it to me
Like a stone
Hard in the yard
Like a river
Soft along the bank
Like a tree
Firm within the ground
My eyes already see
Finally, please just use me
You don't have to amuse me
You wouldn't dare abuse me
Just as long as you choose me
So you can set yourself free
Adam the Fool
for not being cool
especially at school
April 4, 1995; 12:17 p.m. Tue.
My words are like broken arrows
That'll never fly
I know that I try
To pull back the string
Like plucking a harp
Launching the broken thing
Which falls to the ground
And I know that what's found
Will always be lost
Because I'm lost
And no one will find me
When my name across the arrow
Is broken completely
In half-never to be healed
I wish someday I'd be healed
Someone would come along
Pick up what is broken in two
Bind me together, make me strong
May my flight someday be true
So my head can be planted into a tree
And just maybe, life might begin for me
But I know that what's pulling me down
Are my broken words
Which scream silently and without sound
And that's what breaks me
Is the idea of only being a part of one part
Always making amends in mind and heart
But what is truly wrong is solitary
Alone-a person no one knows
Suffering is quite a burden to carry
Especially when it continually grows
And I know it has manifested in me
A long piece of wood, that cannot be
That's why I'm broken
Because I'm too far ahead and too far behind
Ignored what's spoken
Rather wanting to be dead, than knowing my own mind
Therefore I'm separated--no one'll fix
Lost in the green grass, a pile of sticks
Adam the Arrow-Into-the-Sparrow
March 25, 1995; 11:54 p.m. Sat.
Freud swinging from his ankles
Baby's touching soft minds
Choosing doorways of darkness
in the conscience-the mind itself
Fingers coming for a grate
trying to break free-while night's day
"Know yourself" has become big business
Standing at Ford Madison,
waiting for the lights to change
Adam the Theory
Sometime in the Fall of '94
9:30 a.m. Fri.
If I had the energy
to be me
I'd live happily
in the afternoon
Instead it's simply
to be me
When I can see
the magnificent moon
Adam the Mooner
Jan. 16, 1995; 12:26 a.m. Mon.
Can't you see
My poetry
Simply
Says what I should be
I love and hate with the same fervor
Just as I can love her and don't-deserve her
I could only take her as mine if I knew balance
Always the discipline of the tongue
Whether my mind is spoken or sung
I should tell it when to speak
And tell it when to be silent
I have control
Over my soul
I know it better than most people know themselves
Their mind is like a clutter of books without shelves
I know all the books and some of the places they belong
And I'm always sure that I'm right, and seldom feel I'm wrong
What hurts is the truth and I know it--
The world has no place for a poet
So the only voice I have is as useless as the words they never speak
Adam the Poet
April 25, 1995; 2:09 a.m. Tue.
I was rearranging pillows
On the upper bunk
When alas the drawing fell
It was a fallen-flower
It hung in the air weightless
It's petals were wings
That glided her down to the bed
I know what it all means
The picture made of pencil
Picked the perfect time to be revealed
Had played in my mind
Since I first felt the paper in my hand
Now I knew why everything
In this world never stood for anything
And that the mind's key
Came simply as my mind was thoughtless
All it took was the gradual decent
Of a flower falling, only to be caught by-a-bed
It happened just today, only recent
I've found my calling, tomorrow the thought will be dead
Adam the Fallen-Flower
April 30, 1995; 1:31 a.m. Sun.
A Spanish painter
--A poet of his trade
Sits at the painting
that he made
It looks to be
something strange
All the colors seem
to have no range
You get the feeling
that you're there
In the ring with a bull
you dare
But you know
you're only human
And you know
the statues stand
Three bare-chested
flaming-females
The dots of shade
can only be males
Following their
waste down
You notice
their gown
And you notice
how the gowns seem
Now you've noticed
now begins the dream
Where the cloth
turns to a shirt
Where the shade
falls upon the dirt
And you notice
the shadow is your own
Because you're there
and your not all alone
There are people
that are there
You look at
what you wear
You notice that you
wear a face
You stumble as you
find your place
And you notice
that you're more than one
And you notice
you're bright as the sun
While the other
looks shady and pale
And than the other
looks grim from a tale
That he can't
ever understand
But you know
you're really a man
A child grown
up from the three
Not alone
someone sets you free
A Spanish painter
with a magical mind
Or some statue
who's more than kind
Adam the Healugenic Teador
Nov. 15, 1994; 3:19 p.m. Tue.
Life is a flower that withers
A baby-a bud
A child-a closed flower
A young adult-a bloomed flower
An adult-a flower with falling petals
An old person-a withered flower
Adam the Blooming
Nov. 26, 1994; 2:39 p.m. Sat.
No one's real
Everyone's phony
I wish people were real
But when they're real they're nothing
They need pain to be real
Pain's a reality
And
Laughter's an illusion
Adam the Illusion
March 26, 1995; 2:10 p.m. Sun.
Two tigers paced
within their cage
Hardly unable
to stop their rage
Wanted something more
than just their meat
Just couldn't contain
thirst from the heat
It tasted too familiar
like the African sun
Handlers couldn't see
what was going on
They ran about
unable to think what to do
One loaded a gun
another said it was just a flu
But the latter
wasn't listened to
And the gunner
shot both the tigers through
Go to this part
of this now quiet park
Nothing to see
when all is always dark
Adam the Cage-Cleaner
Nov. 16, 1994; 3:36 p.m. Wed.
For every eye in our head
There is a dimension
There is what is and what could be
And both of them I'm able to see
Like violet I see them-red and blue
What's worse is the contrast of the two
In reality, the pain has been very real
In fantasy, the pain I can't even feel
The pain in reality only worsens from my view
Of this other dimension that I'm able to see into
Because what I see is me
Without shackles, for I'm free
Free to be me
Free not to see
All the pain within myself and all my friends
A friendship that grows closer and never ends
Love becoming more than something felt alone
But shared and never hidden-is always shown
No such world do I live in
But I would easily give in
Just to make this fantasy realistic
If it's going to happen, it better quick
Because reality is making me sick
And the clock's nearing it's final tick
Adam the Two-Eyed-Man
Who'd Sooner Lose One
To Keep the Right One
April 1, 1995; 9:55 p.m. Sat.
A man is someone who can accept reality and knows that when it kicks,
it kicks hard
A man is someone who can just as easily cry as laugh
A man is someone who treats women as goddesses
A man is someone who accepts everything and believes nothing
A man is someone who sees the world something too vast to ever comprehend
A man is someone who lets God be something bigger than anything he can ever
understand
A man is someone who gives his whole mind up to the kind
A man is someone who is loves unconditionally to those who have taken him
away
A man is someone who either loves or hates, but never in between
A man is someone who sits silent and absorbs everything and hates everything
A man is someone who slowly fades because the lack of love received
A man is someone who can stand when others fall
A man is someone who falls while others fly
A man is someone who is tall and anyone can lean against
A man is someone who is dark and plain
A man is someone who is made of many men
A man is someone who holds his woman-side as something-special
A man is someone who prays for the innocent and damns the criminals
A man is someone who smiles for nothing, but what he loves
A man is someone who accepts hugs from the heart and kisses from the mind
A man is someone who loves too much and takes too little
A man is someone who can't get enough of who he loves
A man is someone who is never established and always inching, walking,
and running
A man is someone who never lets go of the past
A man is someone who never lets go of those who left him
A man is someone who never loses what someone gave him
A man is someone who grows weary in the day and alive in the night
A man is someone who is silent to the sun, but reflects it
A man is someone who is a moon and reflects the sun, silently
A man is someone who is passionate
A man is someone who lets passion rule him, but never shows it and never
prevents it
A man is someone who will always love what will never love him
A man is someone who desires to embrace what will never love him
A man is someone who lets a cheek slip from his cheek, unfelt
A man is someone who never stops thinking how life might have been
A man is someone who accepts his life as his destiny
A man is someone who cries in all his blue-sorrow
A man is someone who tries to get to tomorrow
Adam the Man
Nov. 16, 1994; 3:18 p.m. Wed.
Next Part: Dark
Tall, Dark, & Plain by Adam S.
Huntington
Take Me back to the Poetry
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