If you know me so well then
tell me which hand i use
this is orignal talent submitted by people like you. if you have any submissions, please e mail them to me. the only rules are that stories must be short, poems to a reasonable length, and pictures in JPEG of GIF format. thanks:)
- rasingirl
Click here to hear "Silent All These Years" midi
untitled
by raisingirl
Greetings from within.
yes, i'm still here.
can't say i really want to leave
but then, i have no choice.
i'm used to locked doors
sometimes i want to blow
wouldnt know, though, what to do without them.
sometimes i wonder
what he would do
out among the living
ive got my own four walls
i dont need his with them.
i try to laugh but it isnt funny
i try to run but these weights are heavy and i fall down.
i hear what you are saying, and it really is the right response
but its easier said then done.
so i'll just go back to that from which i came.
hes here, too,
yet i am still alone.
Artist's name: jessica
age:22
type of art: poetry
artist's name : Ericka W.
age: 22
type of art: black and white photo
Dulcinea
So he’s gone again
Chasing more windmills
With that stupid Sancho Panza.
What of all his talk
About you being his princess?
He really doesn’t want you around.
Why does he treat his beloved so badly?
--
I told you when you met him
That he was out of his mind
A knight generations too late
With a feeble cardboard visor
On his rusty helmet
And that poor old horse on which your knight rides --
He even treats her better than you.
--
Where he sees giants and castles
We see windmills and guest inns.
So typically male-- everything’s bigger than it really is.
From what will he save you
Your reality or his fantasy?
I can see where you’d like to be saved from some horrible fate--
“Oh, isn’t it so romantic!”
--
But what dread evil lies in wait
To drag you into its lair?
Master Peter’s puppets? I think not.
Working too hard? Don’t make me laugh.
Could he even save you?
Smashing illusions shatter left and right.
Reality a crude shock to a deluded mind.
--
So he’s not really a Spanish knight,
But he’ll make it big somehow.
And Sancho’s just what you call his stupid friend.
They’re off chasing a vision of sudden fame
And left you wondering if you’re really
The one to blame.
But if you are, why do you still feel so much pain?
--
Quixote and Panza and their little band
Whining about their cruel cruel world
While they drive around in Daddy’s Mercedes.
Such a shame to them angst’s just another German word.
They end their lives “because life’s not fun any more.”
And become heroes to their brainless peers.
Rebels without a cause? More like rebels without a clue.
--
Give him up, girl, you deserve better.
Make the dreamer awaken
To the harsh light of real-life reality.
Respect yourself- don’t let anyone treat you like this.
You’re not just a pretty face for him to show off
And cast aside when you’re just not convenient.
You really are Princess Dulcinea- some day a real prince will come rescue you.
--
-For Tori, who has been a true inspiration; for Jessica, who also deserves far better;
and with apologies to Miguel de Cervantes.
(rasingirl's note: this was e mailed to me by vanya tucherov, and it was the nicest e mail i think ive ever gotten! thanks, vanya. and to those who want to read her other poems: Click here!
Artist:Brock. click here to view more of Brock's work!!
S-Man
S-MAN I don't think you can fly
Haven't seen you pulling that shirt
off in a long-long time Not that
TIME matters in your crystal cell
The wind in your ears may hurt The
crying out young GIRLS thought you
could understand But your CAPE was
in the way O can I come now please
can I come where you fly? S-MAN
yes man go away I've got nothing
to sell Nothing stays and nothing
really matters to mommy
Oceans
Look into the sun
Let blazing yellow-red flares burn
Unto my blue-gray heart
The connection of the souls
Lost in the trenches
And downed in waves
Of Rock’n roll music
Washed away
By soft piano chords
Sunk sunk sunk
Like a huge kriptonite boulder
In oceans of stagnation
Counting Lizards
One two bad form
Three to tell
I’m going home
Showdown match together rain
Four to keep the beast&rsquo's disdain
Five eruptions primal green
Six has evil keen and seen
Seven shores where are you God
Where Eight the boys keeps sniffing my corpse
Number nine my resurrection from pool of blood
Let them all know in Aldus and in Morse
In Ten i’ll be back to take my revenge
Bring the sugar
Author: Lance Windom
An excerpt from an untitled poem written on February 15, 1994
All that exists takes from us, robs us, denys us, envys, covets, steals, all
which is called by name Sin. How could omnipotence disgrace us, call us
foul, when all that we know reflects our true nature, and even pales the
face of heaven, should itself be meek.
We know only what we are not; we fear only what we cannot be. Life itself;
a struggle, snagged, entwined with hatred, wound around itself and tied with
a bow of death; this is our gift, this is ourselves, will you take it not?
They will take anyway, should they receive a stale gift? The least we can
do is add attraction and flame, the trinkets of our affection, our love, our
being, toward our volatile end, on this magnet of dirt.
Our Earth, stale, flat, unprofitable. We have lived here, among those
thieves, happiness, death...
We shall die here, but even then we cannot be free;
We will return again, and again, plagued with reverence.
The day of reckoning is approaching.
The latter-day of your minds unrest is coming. Expect it, and do not wait
for it to overpower. There is no way to avoid its arrival. There is only
time left for you to abandon, an eternity-in-waiting.
Author: Randy W.
Wallpapering a cardboard box
wont make a home of it
a million more dollars more
wont make a life perfect
a beauty isn't happy just
'cause she may seem it
I am not that ugly person that you see
Write me a nasty letter
on pink paper
in caligraphy,see if that changes
a single word I read.
I am not that ugly person that you see!
dan
Chris Burns
Pencil drawing
by, unknown
rasingirl@hotmail.com
Return to main page