Subj: io rising
From: buffalo soldier
if only
we walked out from corners and darkened halls
we celebrated sympathy and the end of our fall
to darkened hearts
and darkened knee's
darkened palms
and the darkness that so becomes me
one day I found a friend
found my life again
slipping up
fucking up
those were the days we loved to live in
the awful days we somehow fell in love with
or out of...was it? or was that us?
whatever, we lived and that was enough
and then sometimes
when all the world seems right
when all the world seems fine
and all this world comes to me
and tells me my dreams
I wake upand I cry
for the lost
for the lost times
we dreamed to be
what went wrong?
we dreamed of me
what went wrong?
we dreamed way too deep
was that wrong?
how could you dream of me and find this song???????????
how is it
or why
we lived
we died
we dreamed
we loved (we longed)
how much more could there be?
we tried so much to do right
and fell so far to wrong
was it all a dream?
we came apart when we found this song
and darkened our hearts to get along
with it's harmless harmonies
and melancholy melodies
that held us under
too long
was it all a dream?
how could it be
lied to me
told me
hold me
lie to me
tell me it wasn't all a dream
if only
for this moment
tell meI can hold it
if only
for this dance
tell me there's one more chance
if only
for your lips
tell me
I can kiss
and remember the days
I loved to live in
and live the nights
I loved to sleep in
and live in love with you
(A small boy climbs on the wooden swing under the great oak
tree on
the grassy knoll, and swings in purity in the light of a setting sun. And
remembers nothing, and wants nothing, and feels nothing but this pure perfect
moment that has found him.)
help
we ran out of time and mind
feel us
out of our sides of blind
and kiss me
into dreams of this kind
we all became what we wanted to become
it was the journey that was our fall
high roads to find one
until one just wasn't enough
and we fell to none at all
she got the best of me
what did she say to me
to make that part of me
believe
how can I regret
things I did instead
of dying
from nothing at all?
how can I forget
the things we did instead
of crying
for nothing at all?
how can I forget
the things I do instead
of waiting
for nothing at all?
There are, perhaps, things that were never meant to be
understood by us. There are some things that must be lived, that cannot be defined in
words. Things themselves, not symbols of things. That is life.
Subj: juniper is my blatant wondering
From: harijan
in the spirit of the morning
let us reflect on two quotes from two alternative bands.
"or am I just stoned?"
"sometimes I feel like a whore."
profound. truly.
ode to the magician
the radio fades in and out
playing music from years ago
that is not to my liking
switch sides, switch hands
look at the dirty floor
and write some more
lust after doughnuts
i think about the meaninglessness
of life without God
but it doesn't make me think i need him
it makes me think why my mind would create him
and that makes me evil
i am the twisted mind that is the magician
post mortem veritae est.
end of thought
Now my friends, there is nothing to life, all we need is love...all we need
is individuality.....whatever, i do not know what the point is.
love, uniqueness, truth. what is it for you?
pick something and do it.
i feel inadequate to discuss something like this.
We are what we are.
life is what it is.
why wonder? and i do anyway.
i'm dirty.
I want a shower.
it' been over a week.
what does that make me?
DIRTY.
I work with a burnt out hippie.
he is nearly as intelligent as I
but he's almost 50 years old.
I'm not yet 20.
what does that make me?
dirty.
I'm still dirty.
no matter how I think
what I do.
how much money I have
where I live.
who I fuck.
how big my penis is.
I'm just a dirty man who wants a shower.
that's all it is.
life is dirt and showers.
Subj: failed delivery
From: buffalo soldier
she wants to be so different, just like everyone else
so unlike anyone she's ever seen
and she looks so pretty in blue and white
so of course she wears green
her clothes are loud but she never talks
so no one knows what's inside
and all she wants is to go on long walks
to find a new place to hide
they know your clothes / but no one knows
who you are
what you are
they think they know / where you go
know how far
know how far
you'll go to get away
and now I sit alone again, with my impossible dreams of what should have been
Make your life into something, or that something will make you into just
another statistic.
Subj: pro-long athletes
From: buffalo soldier
lost kings
This is for all the last nights
and all the lost kings
all the left behind
and me
this is the song of the lonely
the anthem of the broken
versus to those if only
their words were ever spken
would find sens only in us
shadows and memories
memores and dust
this is for the last nights
[the memory remains
[and memory tears
in our hearts and in our eyes
we lived goodbye on that last night
what other way is there
what other way could there be
for such as us
such as me
we are the left behind
three lost kings of memory
on that night
trying to find the innocence we somehow left behind
three lost kings of memory
with one last night
dreamers
with lost dreams that ran away
but at least we tried
so what if we fell apart as you fell away
three fallen kings who tried to find
some truth inside
girls or drugs or love
but fell to things beneath
and longed for things above
they fell so far
they fell so long
however did they survive
those three lost kings
who once wondered why
on those fallen nights
and this was their song:
they always told us the angels were too far away
that their dreams weren't meant to be understood
but we never could believe what our eyes told us anyway
I suppose we never could
did you say
"why can't she happen to me"
did you dream her bare
when she brushed your hand
did you say
"why can't this just happen to me"
did you dream her to care
when she kissed another man
did you say
"no, this just can't happen to me"
when you saw your dream come true
did you say it half as beautifully
as beautiful Jeff Buckley
when this beautiful person finnally kissed you
we sang a song of innocence
we sang a song for love
and when the songs were finished
we still couldn't undo the things we'd done
the end had come to dance
but somehow we hadn't sung enough
so we sang one las song for one last chance
one last song for love
to return to those she'd
forgotten
indwell those few who still
believed
rob us of our lonliness
and remember me
for somewhere deep down there
we're all lost kings
past buried memories
buried desires...and other things
there we are
with broken silver crowns
of when we fell down
to the feet of the stars
and their awful sounds
the moments we worshiped
when you weren't around
lost kings of memory
lost kings you and me
lost kings looking for a way back up
to believe those star lit things we said
when we were in love
love and dreams
doves and wings
something pure
for three lost kings
perhaps we were never meant to be perfect
fallen was our destiny
never meant to resurrect
all that you meant to me
destroyed the kingdom I made inside
destroyed the one I tried to hide
from enforcers of reality
that would take my dreams away from me
so simple desires
for one
for fires
destroyers wings were like yours
for they were yours
destroying me
to the faint white whores
of ecstacy
to replace what you took from me
and give me reason
to continue from this mad, mad, season
hope
in drugs
and other things. . .
love
in girls
and summer flings
life
in love
and fever dreams
of lost kings
finding whatever it was they were looking for
back before
we fell apart
and felled our hearts
unto these dreams of hope we bring
offerings
of better things
better ways
and better days
love and dreams
doves and wings
Subj: untitled
From: hajiman
While you sleep, I sit and think. I write to myself, to my friends, to
anyone who will listen. So much to say, yet so few words with which to say
things. To be poetic or to be plain. To make sense or ramble aimlessly,
filling pages and pages with pointless gibberish. I suppose it's not
thecontent that is important, but the little number up on top, <1 new
message>. This is what makes some people happy. Why do we talk when there's
nothing to say, and why do we not talk when there is stuff to say. Why do we
listen to so many words when all we really want to hear is one. Why do we
say so many words when all we really want to say is one. Why do some things
make sense and others don't, and still others only make sense some of the
time. Why do I type when I just want to sleep. Why sit home when I want to
go out. Why work when I want to play. Why do I say no when I want to say
yes, and why do I expect others to try to guess what it is that I'm really
trying to say. What emotions do I wish to convey. Can it be that I too am
unsure. Unsure of so many things which once seemed so plain and simple.
Unsure if I want to go back or forward. I do not want to stay here. Why is
it that the one that brings such joy at the same time can bring such pain.
Why remember when remembering huts. Why forget when remembering is so nice.
Life is too big to try to understand. Just pray that the good parts get
better and the bad parts don't get worse. The good life does not exist.
Something is always going to suck, you just have to ignore it, and maybe
it'll go away. Or maybe it won't, but that's not the point because if you
have god things, the bad don't seem so bad, and that makes it ok. It doesn't
matter where you end up as long as you get to the end and can look back and
think that for the most part it was all ok. I miss you. I wish you were
here, or I was there, or we were both somwhere else. Good night. Good
morning. Good. It can all be good.
Subj: small circles home
From: buffalo soldier
perhaps in this thing
we went too far
and lost ourselves
with all those things we thought were so important
we lost unto ourselves
and found our dreams
and found our prayers
and in this we found meaning
the answer was the question
the question was the beginning
with the first beat of every rave
with the first beat of our love of the day
we went too far
and lost ourselves
into the only purity
that mattered anymore
the purity we made
for ourselves
we never asked for our prayers to be answered
we only wanted to be heard
but that's the way it always ends
every time
So suppose I was right, and it really was my last hurrah, suppose I did find
this life I was looking for. Suppose I did fall apart like I always thought
I would. Suppose I did find happiness, suppose I did find a cure, suppose
another dream cam true, suppose I found something pure. Suppose this is
real. . .then I was right, my golden path has run it's course. I suppose
that means that somethings over and something new begins. All stories have
happy endings, even tragedies, no story really ends in sadness, the story
teller just stop telling it. But the story goes on. I suppose that's it. .
.life goes on.
Subj: the moon walks beside you in the daytime
From: harijan
during the day the moon walks slowly behind you
a little off to the left so he can see ahead
and it's too bright in the sunshine for us
to see he's there.
Subj: untitled
From: betterman
the first good thing I've written in months:
Amy lost her lips today
She has to find another way
To show her love to her lover.
Amy opened a book today,
Read about an ex-nun and a gay
Poet who became friends forever.
Amy stepped on glass today,
A rainy day in the mid of may,
She hid behind a dream so no one saw her
Crying. . .
Amy is a friend of mine.
She betrayed her smile, now she's dying;
i think it's loss of faith she's trying to cover.
She told me a story once about
The feud between the sun and her.
It happened when she was down and out.
She got burned and now it's over.
She spends her evenings painting roses on the
carcass of her soul,
Crying on my shoulder about the plant she lost
when
she was three.
She's lost all rhyme and eluded all reason.
Together we're dying in our graveyard-gas-stationjob.
"each time we cry we die,"
she said.
"each time we wake we die."
she said
"each time we live we die,"
she said
"and each time you smile I die,"
she whispered
amy has one of those
death-obsessed-dark-but-not-gothic-love-hate-burn-free-the-birds-worship-the-m
oon
souls
she cries when she's lonely.
laughs when she's happy.
innocent yet not really.
naive but not at all.
repressed but fighting it.
FREE! YES-EERF (free backwards)
. . .she wrote her name in the sky before i was a gleam in my father's eye.
Subj: thought tripping (excerpts)
From: brahman
........sometimes the sun just doesn't shine bright enough, and the rain
doesn't soak you the way it used to.............i can see my hate's and my
loves and the places where the two are so extreme that they bleed into each
other and the emotion for someone or something is so great you can't tell if
you are at the epitome of detesting them or at the apex of love. a blured
image is me. is you. is us.
Subj: when we were kings
From: buffalo soldier
bitter cote d' ivoire coffee
and light bulbs painted red
on a backround of hunted glee
we painted the lives we led
inside madness with pastels of hope
we burnt the woodwork like they burnt our souls
and inside all the impossible things
were the lives we led
when we were kings
lover's blankets in Ociana's park
lover's words and the touch of forbidden parts
run away nights for cheap whiskey and beer
run away dreams for the life so near
and with all the lies it brings
were the things we said
when we were kings
empty spirals and empty nights
empty promises of empty rights
emptry songs at stars so bright
and somehow I miss the emptiness tonight
so many an empty song we'd sing
so long ago
when we were kings
too away / lock away / keep away love
run away / hide away / fly away dove
rooftop kisses in forbidden zones
naked lips on a naked rose
one white couch and a forbidden attraction
a hundred warn nights in forbidden passions
so many times such flesh in my dreams
so many times
when we were kings
freedom songs in african rain
oppression harmonies so profain
naked boys in naked water
they called to us - we went farther
I can still remember the songs we'd sing
our freedom songs when we were kings
crimson burnings of one dream over
ramblings of a buffalo soldier
those burnings of just one year older
(falls the last sky lover)
all the memories a madness brings
the memories we made
when we were kings
Subj: spirals
when sadness surpasses tears sometimes all that's left to do is laugh
ends become beginnings and knowledge stupidity when you find what gives you life
you end up choking on its poison develop an addiction to the pain that makes
you real when you find the greatest high you forget to not remember moonlight
slays the sunshine logic shatters on the real ground when passion drowns the
heart all the kisses become needless love becomes self-centered morality
drives you mad when you find another answer the questions take you over naked
on the ground contorted all the more
Subj: steel pills
From: hector
i see the joy drip out your eyes,
blended with tears,
and covered over by a smile.
i see your smile bleed into me,
stained the heart that was not to be revealed.
Subj: Claybold Writings
From: brahman
Chapter 1
The road ahead is tedious and laden with inumerable obstacles for the
young warriors in this journey towards the treasure of self. But Aaronious
sticks to his plans that lead him in the direction of the land of Reddington,
with hopes of aquiring a humble abode with past companions such as Hansen the
misfigured mife. Dreams of including wizard Joslin and Lazer the giant in
these plans have all but been abandoned in light of the fact that the wizard
has possibly come upon his wizardess and the giant has chosen to enter an
institution requiring his presence upo it’s grounds throughout the evening
hours. Sir David, the sack-laden beatkeeper, has also chosen this fate in
the forthcoming season while Jeremy of Seattleson pursues knighthood. And so
Aaronious and the mife are left to fend for themselves in Reddington, if they
should chose to accept this path before them fighting the dragons of doubt
and the ogres of truth.
Chapter 2
The plans of Aaronious had been sidetracked for a brief stint in our
comforting label called time for he himself was thought to have found his
spiritual, emotional, and phisical companion. But rebels of time and nature
did lay upon his dreams a dreadful plague, causing an unforseen and sudden
change of heart within the being of his lover. And so our brave warrior is
left battling the demons of all dimensions, and is forced to choose the path
less traveled by (*then why is there a path at all?). Or perhaps moreso.
The reasons unclear but all the more joyous in some respects for Aaronious
has found comfort in the numbing of his soul and in the lack of one more
thing to alter his plans of aquiring the elusive treasure of self. So the
journey continues, and the road mutates beneath our social mutants, ever
changing to merge with their destiny.
Subj: my soul is a backwards doorway
From: henry gorlen
my soul is a backwards doorway
leading down a long flight of stairs,
i can hear hushed and mumbled conversations of loved
ones nearby;
you know how the wind feels, the shy autumn breeze
can't bear to touch you but can't get around you,
flowers, the dead flowers
crumbled in my hair, i miss three friends
and a photograph makes me feel sad
remembering
praying for the blackandwhite face you know and love
Subj: "GREEN"
From: betterman
i faked it just to be with you
i can't fake very well i guess...i failed.
it's ok, it's allright
sometimes the rain comes down in torrents
washing away impurities like a tide sweeping away a shell-filled beach.
sometimes the sun burns so bright my viens start to whither and die.
sometimes i'm like a flower.
sometimes like dirt.
a lot of times i'm like a blade of grass.
just part of the neverchanging scenery.
everytime i'm given the chance to grow i get cut down
over and over and over again.
i just wanna be green.
just wanna be the soothing color for your worn out mind.
i just wanna be the bed for you to rest on.
i wanna be the water you drink.
sometimes i think i created you cause i need it.
i need someone to drain my thought,
feelings, love, life into.
you are the closest i've come to finding that person
but you are not her.
Subj: my happiness is a bandage
From: henry gorlen
i dream of stability,
a life of no change,
things that last forever,
things that stay the same.
friends can last forever, and some can kill your soul.
a fetering wound, my lifes become,
covered by a bandage...and this bandage is undone.
my memories are fading,
i'm becoming someone else
i want to be a strong man,
instead i am a mouse.
loneliness my enemy, sleep is my only friend.
i lie in bed and hope for it, but none comes in the end.
i don't wake up in the morning,
i just open my eyes.
my only thought is that i'm tired, but hell, i am alive.
life is what you make it, but i'm sick of cliches,
so, its onward to another one of those lonely carbon copy days
Subj: author unknown
From: buffalo soldier
middleman
don’t dwindle man
though your the last to still believe
middleman
don’t give in
through all the pain it brings
and middleman
don’t try to understand
the lost hopes you long for, but alas cannot see
because this is the night you can’t think hard enough to please,
everyone, but middleman don’t leave
middleman don’t leave
and you’ve reached out for so long
your hands reaching towards the past
dreaming of where your friends belong
and you dream so hard but you wake at last
this is the day you can’t believe enough to keep them all together
so burn your dreams and their clothes
and in the flames lose your hope
but it won’t make it any better
it won’t bring them back together
it won’t make it any better
it won’t make it any better
so erase the emails that clutter your heart
forget the smiles they once had
and tear up the pictures that tear you apart
but it won’t make it any better
it won’t make it any better
this is the night you can’t write enough to make them believe
and you can’t bear to look at this wreckage of memories you won’t leave
this is the night you can’t fake a smile wide enough to make it better
make it better
make them remember
and it won’t make it any better
it won’t make it any better
middleman
reaching out with weary hands
to hold seven souls just long enough
to bring them back again
but his head aches and his eyes are tired
and the dream is breaking in the fire
of lonliness and silence
lonliness and silence
and he held out longer than any other
held on till the dream was over
he says:
“I fought so long for a dream that wasn’t even there
begging redemption for misconceptions that vanished in the air”
three years just dissapear
and it doesn’t make it any better
no one cares anymore
no one cares what it’s for
waking on the morning after
remembering the first night we spent in laughter
and it won’t make it any better
it won’t make it any better
to try to let go through lonily letters
it won’t make it any better
to try to forget what you’ll always remember
does it make it any better to know you fought the good fight?
does it make any better that they lied?
doest it make it any easier to sleep
to at least know you tried?
the middleman once took a stand for everything he loved
but he was broken by things beneath
and couldn’t get back up
and he wishes he could go back
and reach again for the stars
but they burned him with their brother
before he got too far
and he went to the middle to bring them back around
but he reached too far and fell apart with an awful tearing sound
and the middleman is leaving you with feathers in your hand
he was broken by a silence
he could not understand
and the middleman is leaving you with such a heavy heart
all he wanted was a dream
a dream that you forgot
so he burns up the memories that burned out his heart
and tears up the dreams that tore him apart
but it won’t make it any better
it won’t make it any better
Subj: opera of memory
From: buffalo soldier
it’s the story of one who should have known better
a dedication for all of his lost feathers
someone who should have known
someone who just couldn’t let go
it’s the story of a hero
who was never really there
the story of one
who fought for those who wouldn’t care
and in the stead of reality
created hope and belief to banish grief
in the absence of innosence
he left his sense in the present tense
and gave it all
for a fall
so is this now just his regret
the birth pangs of memories or the offspring such memrories beget?
tilting towards better things
leaning towards the end of dreams
and holding on in spite of everything
the meaning has now officially left the building
all that remains is the beating
of my heart and my song
that somehow seem to get along
the meloncholy create the rave
like the beats of my heart pumping blood through my viens
come one come all
to the songs of celebration for our fall
come to my Opera of Memory
and see the things that made me;
one lost boy and a forest of tears
screams at the missing times and missing years
one longing boy a a girl of dreams
not really there but so real it seems
three lost kings and rock and roll
fall apart looking for the answers to make them whole
one lone boy and too many pills
no matter how many he takes they just won’t fill
the gaping hole left in his heart
torn by the only one who could tear him apart
as he stands looking back at her alone and empty
and I stand watching him like he’s not really part of me
one lost boy and one pure girl
takes her hand and feels her curls
one faithless boy and a world full of tears
losses his case for the missing fears
and falling out of madness he falls into love
and gives it all for wings and doves
one happy boy and happy girl
finds his standard and at last unfurls
the flag that was his soul
before the angel that made him whole
one silly poem and a song of heaven
one sweet chance to make it happen
and he listens. . .
and he writes. . .
and he breathes in. . .
and he types. . .
it’s the story of one who should have known better
a dedication for all of his lost feathers
someone who should have known
someone who just couldn’t let go
but mostly it’s just about me
my opera of memory
all the things that I wish I had seen
and all the impossible dreams that found me
Subj: california sky
Date: 07/22/02
From: buffalo soldier
the night was cool with breeze
as they came for me
and for all that I had forseen
when it finnally came, I wasn’t quite ready
I once wished that they were all happy
I even wished I could smile too
how could I have known you would make them so happy?
how could I have known that smile would be aimed at you?
we danced tonight
under a California sky
and remembered
the members
left in tears and years
and remembered
with all the dying embers
of all our hopes and fears
under a California Sky
we were dancing allright
you were all in my eyes
the force behind my strange words that night
under a California Sun
hopes and dreams became one
just like the friends words had undone
just like the hope those dreams had won
and breathing California air
we gave up our pride without a care
let the music let down our hair
everywhere
everywhere
And in one little moment
took a chance and didn’t let go of it
turned around and saw
a sight that broke my fall
from the dream that I remember
dreamt of dying embers
of all of our sad members
on the eve of a long december
I remembered
In the California air
I danced without a care
In the California sun
I smiled so wide as I looked at us
Under a California sky
I finnally realised
the prayers I had screamed
and the silences that followed
all the forever of that eve
broke before the hope of tommorrow
and this middleman says to you
to the objects of the dreams of his youth
as towards sleep you alight
know this: “I danced my dream tonight”
In the California air
we danced without a care
In the California sun
we celebrated as two of us became one
Under a California sky
everything was allright
and the california sky
hung over lost kings in the burning night
as we danced away our longing sighs
lost crowns and shattered wings
haunted pictures and the memory they bring
drowned our sorrow not in forgetfulness
but in the smiles we wrought instead of this
I danced my dream that night
sorrounded by friends and knowing it was allright
“. . .As the first beats begin to pound the dance floor only shyly do
they enter, but their shyness is not contagious, and around us newly freed
youths begin the endless dance upon the tiled floor. And then suddenly. .
.we remember. Weary faces become new, soulless eyes fill with remembered joy,
old loves ashes spark and their phoenix rises once more from it’s new found
flame. Reality fades away and a dream invades the night, and we remember. .
.”
“. . .when the way clears I find a sight that cannot be real. For there
before me are my friends, enmeshed with dance, tracing my beats and
harmonizing tear struck melodies with smiles and laughter and shining eyes
and hands that remember. With open arms they beckon me and unbelieving I
stumble into their midst, let their dance entwine me and I weep for the dream
that has found me. . .”
”. . .Intertwined to easy beats they dance, and smiling faces greet when
light happens past. . .”
they enter, but their shyness is not contagious, and around us newly freed
youths begin the endless dance upon the tiled floor. And then suddenly. .
.we remember. Weary faces become new, soulless eyes fill with remembered joy,
old loves ashes spark and their phoenix rises once more from it’s new found
flame. Reality fades away and a dream invades the night, and we remember. .
.”
“. . .when the way clears I find a sight that cannot be real. For there
before me are my friends, enmeshed with dance, tracing my beats and
harmonizing tear struck melodies with smiles and laughter and shining eyes
and hands that remember. With open arms they beckon me and unbelieving I
stumble into their midst, let their dance entwine me and I weep for the dream
that has found me. . .”
”. . .Intertwined to easy beats they dance, and smiling faces greet when
light happens past. . .”
