Who We Are

(I really love this poem. It's...poetry and the power of words and us all mixed into one. Hope you enjoy it!)

We are the poets of the world
Artists of the word
Creators of the rhyme
We see a million futures
In all the pasts left behind
We defy the definitions
But conform to form
We explore the outside edges
Where reality's been torn
We trespass into dangerous lands
We follow foggy paths to unplanned destinations
We set convention on its head
Inside out, upside down
We take practicality
And spin her 'round and 'round
We weave hormones into phrases
And neurons into stories
We speak of the unspeakable
We sing the unsung glories
We disect the alphabet
And cobble together new words
We listen to the colors
We see what has been heard
We halt the ticking clock
To examine all the facets of time
We use eloquence
To change the recesses of the mind.
We know the power that words can hold
They can start revolutions
And heal lost souls.
So welcome to our world
It's a priveleged few
Who know that boundaries are...boundless
And so are you.

Frances

Yesteryears have left strange thoughts behind.
In this central bowl of knowledge I spoon through leaflets and pamphlets
trying to let it all digest
in a manner which I can understand.
Yet the past isn't opening up to me.
Nature's not being what I need it to be.
So tell me Emerson, Whitman
let your century old breath whisper to me
what's next?
I've kept my sabbath all by myself and I'm still only where I started
calling out to a God I fear can'r hear me.
I've read your essays and your speeches
I've peeked into your personla lives and what I found
were just leaves, just grass
(a smell I unknowingly despise).
Your will was stronger than my own
your democracy stands enumerated through time,
when will you allow this light to shine on me?

Beggars can't be choosers
but choosers can be losers
can I can't go back to Confucius
because he was meant to confuse us...

Eve's furies are shadow-cast over my every bend, turn, and twist
How do you justify this?
I've looked into the past
and in every reincarnation I've been slaughtered and underminded,
I've been used to wage wars and slaughtered to make peace.
Tell me where I stand.
Tell me where I stand amongst God's and peasants-
adorments of either diamonds or coal

I've been searching for the answer but
age-ed leaflet's haven't spoken yet,
will they whisper for you?

Deidre-Ann Fuller

I'm under the gun
And above the petrified remnants
Of the plastered smile society.
I'm once again gliding,
Not to touch the pavement.
I no longer scream at night.
Into the tunneled memory of my failures.
I appreciate the thought,
But I don't want your poison.
You're punished by the anesthetic
That lines the walls of your wound
In healing pinstripes.
Disinfecting the memory
Of the nights you picked the scabs
To relive each battle
That you fought in the
City of Fire
Sing in me Sinister Muse!
And tell all our friends
The story of the sulfur
And the lies.

-Steve?-