Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Bumbershoot

Hey, Im just writing you to say that your show on the 30th at Bumbershoot was unbelievably amazing.

I knew it had to be spectacular with a name like Fuck Off and Die: Tales in Teen Angst Poetry, but yeah. Possibly the best show of Bumbershoot this year.

I was also wondering if, by chance, at some point in the future you would be coming back this way to Seattle. Because if you are I would really really like to know, cause Ive been spreadin' the word and people 'round here definitly want to see your show now. Well, yup. What's needed to be said has been said.

FUCK THE FLAVA CREW!

Nick Jones from MySpace

-Sadly Nick I am in the UK for at least a year. Check out www.SaraBynoe.com for all of my upcoming performance dates and locals... as of now there are none. :(

-Sara

Sunday, September 21, 2008

My blackheads

These blackheads on my skin forcing themself deeper
i am a thick tar of unholy thoughts,
my mind is savage and twisted i think of death and destruction,
although my passive side is of a clownish figure
i cant put it any otherway i live to please others.

My blackheads slowly grow and pulsate,
My dark thoughts race,
my mind used to be filled with suicide and hatred,
all i can see now, myself is hurting you,the unsightly scum
who are currently populating this filthy fucking earth.

my body is now smothered in these filthy black spots
school friends are the worst,they make you try to feel like shit
even though many people dont realise.
haha your so fucking hilarious,
i didnt realise what you were till now

the boils of pulsating blackness,
i can no longer breathe without nearly crying
i scream i cry but nothing improves.
my knuckles crack into your skull as i sit there;
happily among the fairys,in this pointless class

Hot white putrid is now pouring all around.
i scream,shout,cry all in one
i cant take no more you stupid sack of shit!
maybe if you opened your eyes you would've seen
all that i've seen
over these past 4 years...

By: William Johns

the "B" word

No one told me the "B" word, I learned in on my own
No- it isn't bitch, I thought I was alone
Until one day I heard it on the radio
So did my dad from me, on the patio
B-I sex-u-al, the like of both sexes
And soon everyone found out, even all my exes
That I was a bisexual living a double life out there
Not like there were many to care
That at night I dreamed of this one girl
Enough to make my father hurl
But I liked that guy from science too
And my people were a diein few
We grouped together, reached out
And then the names came about
We aren't dikes or fags
Or criminals or hags
We are normal people you see
Happy and normal as can be
So how do you like that Bush?
Stick that in your juice box and suck it.
Like Clinton did to Lewinski

by K. Hill

I kissed you first

I kissed you first
But you kissed back
We closed our eyes
The world turned black
The people teased
Said, 'Get a room!'
Never watered our love
A flower that needed to bloom
So you'll hold her hand
And I'll hold his
Leave behind what was
And accept what is.


By: Alison Ferrera (1983)

Note:
I'd just broken up with my first boyfriend, a shy guy that I'd liked for ages, and as soon as it was out that we were over, a friend of mine asked him out and a friend of his asked me out, and we both said yes. I didn't really like my new boyfriend, and I was certain he didn't like her. He couldn't possibly be over me, right?

Forbidden Fruit

You partake of my forbidden fruit
my innocent sweet juices you drink

Dialated eyes
burn like cyanide
lips rough
brush against mine
your poison kisses
all over me
calested hands
hold onto me
tormenting grip
long gritty nails
dig in
released with my bloody flesh

your engraved in me
in my skin
in my mind
you gave me your disease
your sick obsession
poured your dirty filth all over me
covering me
filling me with emptiness
debasing me

you evaporate into my skin
soak through my veins
flow through my blood
intoxicating me with your sick fascination
infecting my mind with your twisted nature.

By: kaili mills

She sits in a room

She sits in a room full of
Shattered records with
Lost keys twisted and
Knotted in her hair.
Spiders crawl over her eyes
And her hands are full of
Crumpled valentines.
Often she asks her pet books,
"And how the heck
Can you respect
People who take out
The swear words?"
She then eats her breakfeast
Consisting of
dimes, metal aces, and
cracked guitar picks.

By: Joanna Tenney

Epic Poem

Candy C. Williams lay quite still in her casket
Like a pretty dead doll in a little girl’s basket.
George was first at the funeral, by her coffin he stood.
His face was sculpted steel, his were hands rotting wood.

A week before Candy was alive, but not well.
Under quite a horrid and sickening spell.
She climbed in the bath dressed in a veil
Staying under the water till she turned bluely pale

George walked in the tomb before she had faded
She might be alive if he could have aided
The fight against death wasn’t much of a tussle
George lacked the strength and much needed muscle

He couldn’t tip the tub and
He couldn’t lift her up.
All that wimp could do
Was scoop up the water in red plastic cups
So there, right in front of him,
A young sweet thing died.
Just another tragic case
Of preventable suicide

George was wracked with guilt
Black tears streamed down his face
His mind was beginning to wilt
Without Candy in her place.

BAM!

Enter Norma in Scarlet, some could call her a whore,
Tripping over her bra strap as she came through the door.
Not far behind, held taut by the core
Was her Drag King in rags that dripped to the floor.

Molly came in next, her violet eyes mean and riled.
Like the surgeon aborting your perfect brain child
Her soul almost gone, her heart now exiled.
The checkerboards in her brain were perfectly tiled

George could handle it when Norma came too close to tell
Inhaling near him saying, “How I rancid smells.”
But when she mixed his tears for an alcoholic drink
It sent him soaring and skipping off his sanity’s brink.

He lashed out. Slipped–In Cleopatra just wouldn’t cry.
So George began shaking newspapers for a goodbye
He suffocated her honest lies so tight in his fist
Cleopatra’s painted eyes hazed over in a radioactive mist.

Molly pounced on the moment to sing her complaints
Of how she disliked funerals and seeing dead saints,
“I hate seeing my shadow alive in the mirrors,
A creature darting in and out of their fears.”
Norma turned to her and smoked in her ear,
“Molly, your lip liner seems to have smeared”

A change of the channel.

Candy disappeared
The scene was just glass.
George kept watching TV
Sitting on his fat butt.

By: Joanna Tenney

Untitled

What a sweet, acidic way
To perform a version of “Roman Holiday.”
Sitting Criss-Cross,
Vanilla-Emotion-sauce,
We giggle uneasily at the plastered mafia kids
As their guns convoltingly spiral
On the mirrored pavement.
Baby-doll eyes motley roll over
And their facades turn to ashes, ashes,
They all fell down.
Your polluted voice
Once again repeats that it’s a
Tragic event that should numb absurdity and
Freeze my laugh to the needle tears
Corroding in my aluminum conscious.
I glance at the pious little mask you’ve
Mordantly glued to your face,
Delighting in the consensus,
And our cackles wickedly explode like a
Million toys being blown to bits.
Do you truly love being shackled to ugliness,
Or are you just achingly plotting
Until the skeleton limbs on the clocks
Tick-Tock to your cue so you can
Snatch back what you lost?
You might want to put on some rose
Colored glasses before you’re blinded by
The newsflash:
Mr. Detective has finally concluded
That speaking in code is sleazily diluted.
So maybe next we could jump on trampolines
In a hopeless attempt to
Unlocking windows in the memory-stained sky.
You under-handedly mention my recent
Homemade cosmetic surgery,
The very first line in our script
Which will feature some
Psychedelic chances
And on-purpose trances
In our completely pointless but oh so lovely
Life-and-death Puppet show.

Long Untitled

She clings to the walls
Like the paint peeling from the rampart.
Someone must have forgotten to mention
That you should never
Paint your roses black
When wearing an evening gown
Torn from magazines and sewed together
With saccharine lies.
It isn’t the most flattering thing to don.
Actually, she could completely understand
Why he gave her nothing more then
A disgusted,
Almost non-existence
Side-ways glance

Every possible love vein had long been
Severed and snapped with a rusty
Odium knife clenched by both of them
But she can’t help noticing
That way he turns his head just
So that everything clicks into place
His hair sheens to ragged snow
Momentarily calming his harsh face.

Once upon a time, that look was hers
His face wrapped in aura with foil and glittering
But its occurrence was frayed,
Pulled and stretched with habitual remembering.
Now it was only a nostalgia she’s
Pretty sure she had just invented herself
Lying awake in her cradle one night.
The only differences now between the
Memory rotting in her head
And the way he is staring now is that the
Hinges on his mouth swing open a little more,
His eyes erotically wandering over his
Someone old,
Someone new,
His someone different
Has made her blue.

Yet, it’s a little hard to have
A prominent nose turned up at you,
To be constantly wearing a
Melting neon sign inscribed with
Warning: Eye contact with Miss Monster
Could send you shooting through Your
Mind for an Unpleasantly Painful and/or
Embarrassing Flashback.

Someone serves him sugar and ice,
But he chews on lipstick instead.
She sighs with the sad, sad
Realization that he’s
Just a tacky plastic knight whose
Chivalry has a motive that’s slightly less
Then completely honorable.
But, euthanasia has always needed a reason.

His grimy caramel voice
Ricochets off the walls and
Twists in her ears like a razor windmill.
So she turns away to the hammering of the
Three radios playing at once
The sacrifices being compared,
“Well I have my vendettas,
Just look at my wrists.
Oh hell hath no scorn,
Then one who’s been kissed.

By Joanna Tenney

It’s a party.

It’s a party.
The citizens are adorned in Ashen and Crimson,
With their sequined yarmulkes
Jauntily askew on their foreheads,
Diamond Rosary’s twisted between their fingers
And Mardi-Gras beads
Wrapped twice round their necks.
The hymn version of “Mr. Brightside”
Is ballroom danced to,
With it’s harmonies being Shot and
Resurrected again through metal.

By: Joanna Tenney

Untitled

Energy I cant breathe
I'm so weak but i feel so strong
just keep holding on
It feels so wrong to be right
Take me away
To the greatest place
I shiver when you kiss
I jump when you touch
This feeling of bliss
I......

By: TerRanay Teague

Words

Words cannot articulate
The ways
In which
YOU'RE KILLING ME
Except it's an odd sort of murder
You WON'T LET ME DIE
LET ME DIE
LET ME DIE
Never,
NEVER has any human being been the target of such
Nauseating rage from my direction.
NEVER
Because no one has loved me enough to hate me so much.
It's flattering, in a
SPLATTER MY BRAINS ON THE WALL SORT OF WAY
It's funny that you think you could've loved someone you clearly knew nothing about.
Gosh, I'm sure sorry that you DON'T OWN ME
DON'T OWN ME
DON'T OWN ME
DON'T LET ME DIE before I destroy this,
One perfect lie at a time.
'Can we please be civil?'
Man, THOSE were the days...
Two weeks ago
When I thought there was half a chance you were human.
But how I have learned since then...

By: Lucy Weiland

I can't sympathize

I can't sympathize
I can't understand
No, I don't know what you're going through
Because I guess everyone is happy with me
BUT me
And I'm sick of that
And I'm sick of rejecting people
And I'm sick of people thinking I have everything figured out.
I don't know ANYTHING.
Just please, once, finally, take my word for it.

By: Lucy Weiland

You've wrapped your arms

You've wrapped your arms around a lifetime that no longer exists
A lifetime we've lost
And it's not your fault
Maybe it's not even my fault
But it was over anyway...
So now I'll remember what it's like to hug my pillow for company
I won't be showing up tomorrow
And I hope that you won't call me again
Because just two hours later, we were almost okay again
But it can't ever really be okay again, you know?
Please say you understand...

By: Lucy Weiland

Untitled

On this night, like every other night, tears burn your eyes.
There is no longer a purpose, nor even a desire to search for one.
Familiarity, is all.
Who you cry for is inherently unimportant.
Spill over your lashes; lick up the tracks.
Taste the adversity of paralyzing fear.
Sodium lamentation without a cause hits the mahogany dinette,
and its splash lands in your coffee.
You eat, sleep, breathe painless suffering.

By: Lucy Weiland

Short Poem

Shoot for the moon
or,
Shoot yourself.

By: Brenda Skinner

Death's Sonnet

A lifetime of pain of pain, of sorrow, of joy
A lifetime so short, so carelessly played
My days like a game, my time like a toy
The toy, now broken of which I'm afraid
I've always had dreams, I hoped that someday
These dreams would come true, little did I know
That forever can end, days fade away
and the time, once my friend, now is my foe
Oh if morning brings life to those who sleep
I live in the night, forever awake
Though through darkness so thick, morning shall creep
My night time will stay, no more time can I make
So many days wasted, so few words said
My last days swinging by death's brittle thread.

By: Rhonda Miller

Friday, September 19, 2008

Untitled

Slowly descending,
Cold and deceitful,
I see them so clearly
In the moonlit sky.
The blades of death,
The shining crystal,
It rubs against my skin.
I don't feel pain,
Just coldness of the dark,
The chill of early morning dew.
It's the blood that I feel flowing.
It's life the I keep swallowing.
Release me from the grips of death.
It holds me so...
I can no longer breathe,
Please let me go...

By: Alisa Popova

'From a potential member of an insane assylum'

I want to kill the fucking tumor
that possesses me.
It eats my brain alive
and nibbles on my soul.

The monster of the dark and gloom:
it laughs a shrilling laugh
each time I suffer
another panicking desire
to die and drown in tears and blood

I walk along a hallway,
behind me is life.
It's over, and I gave my best attempts,
And now I have
Nothing else to give.

Now why, you ask,
Why is it so?
What is the reason?
I don't even know.

Yes, I don't know
And don't you bother asking
I'm just mad and
I need to be put away.
(Perhaps into an insane assylum..?)

By: Alisa Popova

'Drink up my sweet, the game is over'

Yes, there it goes again.
Rip, rip... I rip paper.
Snowflakes, flying everywhere.
So beautiful, like angels.

But the messages they carry
are far worse than blasts of rain.

Sweet winged angels
with souls of pure evil.
Sipping acid in the sunlight,
playing their little games
of razorblades and laughter.
Such carefree detachment...

The sudden cracking of my brain
has gone away, asleep and well.
The beating on the window of rain
puts me to rest. How fake.

The game is on and I'm a victim.
Angelic feathers tickle hearts,
They play and giggle.
...little feathery wings,
Stop tickling my life!

The blade's too sharp,
it's cold.
My blood is colder.
The sockets of my eyes are cold
and wet with dew of death.

Thick waves of life...
I'm finally alive!
I wasn't wrong, my heart is red
and red with blood!
...my head has lost its purpose,
the blood flows free.
The angels' game is finished.

But wait, they are no angels...
I see their disguise at last.
Acidic cups are empty now
and they will never sting again.
The wings were fake,
sweet buttercups were demons...

I didn't wake,
I was still dead.
Life never came.
It all stayed still.

By: Alisa Popova

The Earth's core is calling out for my heart.

They sing of democrats and saving dolphins
And all the while I'm ripped apart,
In slow motions death reaches for me
And pours oceans of tears on my heart.

There's always controversy, and I can never choose,
I'll never take a side, I'll never be a native
Of anything. And everywhere life sings
Of the alien, who happened to be a girl.

I'm never good enough for anything,
I'm always 'almost', almost there...
One step away, not quite the one.
And once again the Center grips me.

The Earth's core is calling out for my heart.
It died almost three times now,
And always it's my own fault,
Unable to do anything about it.
Finally, it's an eternal bleeder.

It bleeds out of nowhere,
Soaking my soul in it's red disease.
There's no way to fix a thing,
Don't wase your time on me.

They say I'm good enough for praise,
But I am not the one who's praised.
I am unnoticed, I am invisible,
...And it's my own fault.

No, I am not the one who's loved,
I am the one who cries,
who wounds herself in hopes of nothing
who suffers pain inside and lies...

Lies to herself
Pretending she is simply crazy.
Lies to the world:
'That's only me, and nothing more'.

But that's not 'me' at all...
What's left of her
Shut itself tight
Inside the cubicle that is her soul.

Save Mother Earth. Protect the whales.
End wars, make peace,
Concern yourselves with things.
Don't pity my pathetic self too much,
And slowly but surely
Forget my poem and me.

By: Alisa Popova

Untitled

Get the edges first.
I want penetration.
Your masculine force:
rough wires rolling over tensed muscle,
you are poised to pry.
I keep up my guard to screen out all those who think they know me.
I hope that one day someone will define me.
I hide in my shell, I am safe. Safe. Safe.
I hurt myself in here, but no one else can match the damage I do inside.
Figure out the puzzle.
Snap me into place.
(Hint: The last piece is hidden under the cushion, in the poodles intestinal tract, in the crisper drawer.)
I want you for the distraction.
Someone elses pieces unfamiliar.
We both know how this works.
Like kids at grammas Christmas party,
We mummur and squint
Curse the lighting, the image, the late hour,
Come on, fit already!

By: Dana Ovsak

La nuit noire (the black night)

12/23/93

Sitting here in darkness
This cold and solemn evening
Snow falls like tears that spill from my eyes
Making me shiver
Numbing my bones
Hardening my soul
Piercing it and letting it bleed red drops of blood
There is not a star to be seen
No moon
No light
No hope.
Just the two hands of this clock that ticks eternally
Spinning round and round with each day and
Night
Being bound by this shroud of black
This warm body floating in this cold sea
Pain and anger swimming around me
Preparing to devour me when I die
Now, I see nothing, for my eyes are shut.
Tight.
Usually open to all light, they now are closed to this misery that pounds upon this gate of mine
The sky is filled with grey clouds
Those solitary grey clouds
Those solitary grey feelings that everyone feels
No one knows about me
Everyone's asleep in their beds
While I'm out here
Maybe I can make a fire
They will see me
Flock to me
This fire, it will burn hot
Embers that will melt the snow
The icy rivers -- they will flow blue
Like those eyes I see in my head
The memory keeps me here
Thinking.
Thinking about me.
Those eyes.
That face burnt into my soul
It will never leave me
I can see it now,
Can it see me?
Lying here in vain, here on this rock
Maybe this stone has been here longer than me
Probably not.
Don't leave again
You leave like the snow in the spring
My body -- it aches from the cold
It aches from no sleep -- it aches from no love
Hoping that those eyes will find me
I am so faithful
Not letting go of this hand which holds me over a cliff
I will wait here until my blood rushes through my veins no more.
My eyes -- they are still shut
-and I will wait for you until my eyes won't be able to open.

By: Leana Clothier

hanging on the floor

hanging on the floor
a woman lingers.
tying the rope to her feet,
devoting trust
into nothing.
dreaming of caressing
darkness.
driven nowhere.
hanging on the floor.

By: Stacey McClure

Goodbye Letter

It started out in 1977, god dropped you a little gift from heaven
Two parents struggling to do the best they can, giving it all to the child they had
Love kept them together through the years, always caring for me and wiping my tears
I miss the closeness we once had, when I think about it- it makes me feel so bad
I used to be able to tell you everything, keeping no secrets and having no shame
Where is the loving father I once knew? I wish I could say my love for you has only grew...
But you make me angry and pissed off, and I want out-
That's why I am leaving here for good with out a doubt
I hope you enjoy your new life here without me, all quiet and stress free
Just remember the choices you made, you brought
me to this, the path has been paved
I'll be out of here by dawn- I hope you'll miss me when I am gone........

By: anonymous

*I wrote and left this for my parents before I hitch hiked (via truckers) with 2 girlfriends from Eugene OR to San Francisco CA to live a more glamourous life..."

a bottle of black clouds

a bottle of black clouds
to release it is to conform
so sip it from the side
for all you want is near.

the words of a wild woman
they vent through a caustic crematorium
a gas chamber for your enjoyment
it moves inside of your veins, deep

make it mine, all mine.
all mine.

By: Jordan Baker

Her voice

Her voice and those words
sounded in my head
like lines from a too often seen movie,
and caused me to retort,
""I heard you TWICE
the first time!""


By: Virginia Rehberg
2/28/93

FROUCKINBECKIN

Yearling, never fear the change
never suffer, never lose
talk out loud on paper, for now til then
sunder and shake thunder rolls in
I scream: I cry: I laugh: I lie
SHOOT! you prickly prude
Froth hath done no crime
nor death and dishonor
sank down***to the depths of eternity
TALK, TALK, TALK no more/no less
Splash of colorslide of luck
my light=where is your shine
Best friends>>>exchange of lovers
Tick-Tock+++strung along a barbed wire
Shoot me now, or forever hold your PIECE
off the stage, out of sight
clown faces fill the halls
to doom us to another houris to say live
Masked in serenity the heavy hearth
Warm moist dirt falls covering
Cornered eyes float to the surface
sand storms wash away the paint
as you chew the LUMPS my heart is
and yet sunlight graces this face
To shine on=Weebles Wobble
BUT ONLY WE FALL DOWN-----

By: Virginia Rehberg
5/14/91

Hypocrisy, domestic charm, ZILCH

Hypocrisy, domestic charm, ZILCH
Thats how much I have saved.
Bells ringturning stomachs in disgust
Forever searching, shifting feet, uncomfortable smiles
How do you keep composed?
Framed in glass, YELLING: never heard
Preached to save mehow absolutely absurd!
I cried on my kneesI laughed with the sun
I gave up my life to love
Crabs, fat with the decay of time
Lifted up by clouds unseen
Observers could not tell
Yet, truth is far behind
Tabloid departure, trust is lost
Pennies are cut from copper
Flesh from bone, Ill go it alone
Water melts the last bits of soap
Foaming down the drain, clean and caressed
Soothe my worries and have my soul
Toil with springs, bounce to and fro
Domestic charm lost and dead
Hypocrisy is my middle name
I love what I hate
All the while, hating hate itself
I shall come to an end.

By: Virginia Rehberg
4/20/92

Capitals

LITTLE BOY BLUE, COME BLOW YOUR HORN
MY FRIENDS HAVE ALL FALLEN ASLEEP
LISTEN, LISTEN WELL TO THESE LESSONS
REMEMBER TIME IT TICKS EVER SO SLIGHTLY
WITH PALE SHAFTS OF LIGHT GLISTENING ON THE SURFACE
A SWISH OF TASTE TO ADD TO YOUR SENSES
A CALMNESS NEVER KNOWN, NOT QUITE
INSIDE TURMOIL FACED WITH LIES
JUST WANTING TO BE LEFT ALONE, SWEET SILENCE IS PAINFUL
TO A BRAIN ROT WITH IDEAS, NOT SO PLEASANT IN NATURE
BUT HEAVEN KNOWS NO SINNER THAT CAN NOT FORGIVE
FOR EVEN YOURSELF IS AT TOLL
TELL ME A TALE OF THOSE LOST CHILDREN
THEIR SOULS ALL BURRIED IN DUST
A GENTLE BREEZE TEASES THE MIND
TO STAND BEFORE YOU IN JUDGEMENT, A CRIME BEFITTING OF
NONE
TO HAVE LOST IS OF SORROW, TO TAKE IS OF MADNESS
SHIFT GENTLE TIDE AND RECAPTURE MY MIND
IT SITS STAGNANT IN A POOL OF PLIGHT
TIS NUMBERS COUNT ON WHICH THEY CAME
BUT LEAVES TO NUMBERS OF GREATER WEALTH
AND SOFTLY I HEAR THEM CALLING, BUT NOT MY NAME
KNOW NOT THAT I HAVE STOOD HERE BEFORE
KNOW THAT I STAND HERE NOW, CROSSED BY DISTASTE
OF HERE-AFTER, SHIMMY DOWN THE IDEALS OF MAN
TO CLUSTER UNDER A TREE
FIX THIS PROBLEM, BUT LET NOT HER HEART BLEED
DRIPPING OF SERENITY, EYES MASKED IN GLORY
FLING AWAY THE STORY TELLING AND READ MY TIME
THE TIME THAT TICKS EVER SO SLIGHTLY
AGHAST, IN AWE, AT FOES AND FRIENDS
MAGISTRATE IN FIRM RULE; UNFINISHED, UNSAID
CALLING MY HEADTO FIELDS OF LESSER DAISIES
FIGHTING THE SUN, BLOCKING OUT THE MOON
HOW MANY DAYS EVER BRIGHTEN
SINCE YOUR SONG, SWEET ROBIN, BUT NOT TO MINE EARS
OF THAT OF THEIRS, FOR YOUR OWN PLEASURE
TO KEEP AND TO TREASURE
COME SOFTLY, LITTLE BOY BLUE
BLOW YOUR HORN
MY FRIENDS ARE ALL ASLEEP.

By: Virginia Rehberg
10/17/91

Untitled

My parakeet cage is not big enough
The clock is ticking, but minutes are as long as hours
And I find myself sinking to depths that I am not accustom to
Only the empty shower purifies my senses
And only the lifeless room knows my place
Its been years since I remember feeling this way
Back when walking through the front gate
was like stepping into another life.
(an unhappy one)
I now appreciate those feelings of happiness
Its energy and enthusiasm
They are not so easily found
Introverted and submissive-who the hell am I
I am the memory of an eagle hiding in a parakeet
I am unhappysometimes
Existing in these 4 walls which exist within 4 more
Two ends if a broad spectrum
I can be so comfortable
Yet so isolated
And for the first time, I ask
Do you like me?
Unfortunately, I think not more oft than should
Some must wonder why I ventured this far
I most certainly do
I miss simplicity and complication
Conflict is not the problem I have a taste for that
It is unknowing that will be my undoing
And the cycle at every month

By: Virginia Rehberg
10/15/92

Untitled

A soulful search in nothingness
Leaves my hands stained red.
Shipping sails towards the setting sun,
Taking along my hearts desire
With no hope of closing the hole
that life has left.
I often drift back
To shores of tomorrow
On ideas of yesterday.
But as high tide comes rolling in
I fatefully drown
In moon lit sorrow
Spitting out salty water
Wrought with the distaste of bad memories!

By: Virginia Rehberg
8/30/92

untitled

Shady reality has left clouded vision shrouded cold and alone
Pools of shimmering mystery, dripping through the ceiling
My fever boils high through the night
***shifting in turmoil
Scants of tomorrows dust burns my eyes
Realism costs a high price
And pages stained white with serenity reveal undertones of hurt
Bloodied by my fathers hands dirtied by the social soil
Touching mystic ideals in time
The moon shines bright in chasms of DARKNESS
Shattering crystalline images
What face does this innocent child wear?
Incessantly crying behind closed eyes
My heart rains for wounds of the past
My arms let go of the ideas of today
What mask to wear, what mask to where?
Take down the lights and plug your ears.

By: Virginia Rehberg
11/8/92