And if you're anything like myself, you're often afraid to show this writing to other people, perhaps because it reveals more about yourself than you want to, or perhaps because you're afraid that it isn't any good. Anyways, it occurred to me that this forum is the ideal place to share anything you've written.

So, dig around on your hard drive, locate that writing that you had stored away in some dusty corner, and post it. If this thread actually manages to get off the ground, I'll contribute some of my own stuff too.

I've been published in a few different papers like The New Yorker and Chicago Sun (or something like that) but I don't know where to find links to that...

Anywaze, as far as my other works... I put EVERYHING on my website!
< Poems >
< Writings >

Enjoy!

Anywaze, good topic Mikey, and I can't wait to see what everyone else gots...

------------------
<P:\>erson\Guy.exe -PersonGuy *pERSONgUY.cfg
< http://www.personguy.com >

If you're too lazy to click on a link:

---------------
Fart

Why must you,
How could you,
How can you,
Why should you,
How did you,
When did you,
Where did you,
Why did you
FART!
---------------

------------------
<P:\>erson\Guy.exe -PersonGuy *pERSONgUY.cfg
< http://www.personguy.com >

I myself have never competed in any poetry contests, with the exception of one in sixth grade that I won honorable mention in for my (rather grotesque) poem about the dangers of bicycling in lightning storms.

Anyways, the following poem was prompted by the discussions on this forum about superficial looks vs. real personality, and just for the record it is written not to any girl in particular but to all of them who feel that they have to look perfect in order to get anyone to like them:

A question that I would like to ask,
With an answer you’d be unwilling to say:
Why do you hide behind that mask
That you paint on your face in the mirror each day?
And why do you hide yourself as well,
As if there is no one who’d want to know you,
Or as if personality’s something to sell;
Do you think there is no one who loves what is true?
And why do you act so shallow and shy,
And simple and coy and flirty and vain?
I think it’s a shame; I don’t understand why
You think I’m afraid of a girl with a brain.
Equating friendship with playing a part
Is as bad as equating love with lust.
Stop hiding yourself, let me into your heart;
I won’t steal your soul. All I want is your trust.

I installed Windows,
It has crashed,
Linux

------------------
"I'm not dumb. I'm smart in my own way."

quote:

---

Originally posted by hal0:
umm.. I guess I'll make a haiku

I installed Windows,
It has crashed,
Linux

---

dude, that wasn't a haiku. 5-7-5

I installed Lunix,
I could not change the screen res,
Back to Windows, man.

------------------
"I'm not dumb. I'm smart in my own way."

----------------------------
There, that's haiku for you!

------------------
Just your generic meaningless signature. Mix with 2 quarts water and stir till evenly coated.

bends visions,
rends the psyche,
casts off the sore

glows in pleasure,
grows deep inside,
and forever wants more

the silly student
he writes horrible hiaku
drives everyone mad

hehehe. and instead of working in my Computer Applications class in school, im writing a science fiction novel. ok, story. its only about 12 pages long so far. not even close to done. but now one pays attention to me here so, [b][i] BAH![\b][\i]

------------------
Make it idiot proof and someone will make a better idiot.

This message has been edited by Rhydant on November 06, 2000 at 07:14 PM

When my flying days are over
and my death has come to pass
I hope they bury me upside down
so the whole damn world can kiss my ass!
-
heres another that I made up (just now)

See the numbers
Line up, flare and hold it out
And BAM, three point landing

(okay so its not that good..)

------------------
When my flying days are over, and my death has come to pass
I hope they bury me upside down, so the whole damn world can kiss my ass

I visited the Red Planet, not long ago,
The lofty mountains, the valleys below,
The ice caps, white with frozen snow,
And caverns none may ever know.

I saw the beauty of Martian sunrise.
I felt the power of storms that swirl in those skies.
I felt the red soil, waiting to live,
Full of the richness and life it could give,
And I saw the canyons; in their design
I saw the surest, clearest sign
That Mars holds water, underground,
Or in the ice caps, waiting around
Until the day when it’s set free
To make new rivers, or even a sea.

And I met the denizens of that place:
The wind, the dust, the bleak rock face,
And they asked me, why I was alone?
Was Mankind afraid of things unknown?
Why send but robots to prowl around,
When we could set foot upon that ground?

And I told them our questing spirit is lost,
That all we think about now is cost.
That people are often unwilling to pay
For what might cost them more someday,
Or not be worthwhile, anyway;
It’s no excuse, but it’s all I could say:
The risk seems too great, the gains too few,
To seek the frontier, to look for the new.

How to be Attractive

Hey, little girlies,
This poem's for you.
If you want to be pretty
Like Elizabeth Hurley,
But don't have big titties,
I know what to do.

Don't put up you hair,
Or put on mascara.
You're legs in the chair:
Crossed or uncrossed don't matta!

You don't need your lipstick,
Your blush, or perfume.
Act dumb as a brick,
Be hairy as a baboon.

You don't need to dine,
Or wear clothes from China.
You can have stains on your shirt,
Or pick a bad wine.
All you do is lift up your skirt.
Boys flock if you show your vagina.

------------------
<P:\>erson\Guy.exe -PersonGuy *pERSONgUY.cfg
< http://www.personguy.com >

quote:

---

Originally posted by PersonGuy:
All you do is lift up your skirt.

---

There are exceptions.

I've never been the sort to be attracted to those sort of "loose" women, but obviously plenty of men are... it depends on what sort of men you want to attract.

I'm just too much of an idealist for that sort of empty relationship. I mean, I look around and I see all these people who are doing all that stuff, and in a way I envy them for how happy they seems and how pleasurable their lives seem to be, but on the other hand I feel that there has to be something more to life that that. But if I'm lonely for a while because of my philosophy on life, at least I hope that eventually it will pay off...

Do you see those people who think that they know
Just who they are and where they want to go?
They think they’re so cool, and they always fit in,
And they list all their friends, like it’s a game to win,
While I can’t even seem to begin.

And hearing them laugh, they look happy, they smile,
And I sometimes wish I could too for a while,
But they’re following a path that, though pleasurable still
Will soon get burdensome, when they’ve had their fill,
For such a life can only kill.

And they go to their parties and they dance ‘til dawn,
And they have their fun until the fun’s all gone.
And they think with their bodies, and not with their head,
And get drunk, and wake up with someone else in bed,
But I am looking for love instead.

And they smoke their cigs and they drink their beer,
And they do their drugs, and they laugh at the fear,
And they take their chances, ‘til chance goes awry,
And if they’re lucky they’re arrested, or maybe they die,
But I have better things to try.

And they want to look cool and they want to get laid,
And they push their limits and don’t admit they’re afraid,
And they won’t back down and they have to follow through,
And they act like it’s something that they’re driven to do.
But I am driven by something true.

Eulogy of my father

My father wouldn?t even show my picture to his friends. He
told them about his prodigy daughter,
the one who was going to be some great
something-or-other. He was embarrassed of
the real me; the one that gave the cat a haircut, the soldier?s
daughter taught never to cry.
I tried to disappoint him.
I'm no chiffon-winged angel or china doll face,
I hated the perfect burden he put on me and
wanted him to know how far from grace I'd fallen. His
perfect little girl, dead in the water and the truth is
an illusion that died with his sight.
When I was young, I used to hide my peas under the couch.
Once I poured a glass of milk under there too.
I was almost raped by one of his friends.
I was there the day Ed got shot.
Sometimes I fuck out of anger at him.
I hated his pretentious dreams.
I think about his funeral, and how
I might have cried.

------------------
kuru
'sex is one of the most beautiful and natural things that money can buy' - steve martin

This message has been edited by kuru on November 07, 2000 at 11:54 AM

Ok never mind.

------------------
jim
Beauty is in the eye of the Beer Holder
< Brews and Cues >

Hehe, just kidding. That was really good! It's good for people to look at their parents and judge then fairly. But for the record, I NEVER EVER recomend that anyone date a chick who hates her dad, or a guy who hates his mom.

Ok, that didn't have to do with anything, but I thought I'd say it.

Anyway, that was a humorous poem Mikey! I was just goofing on your very well written serious one.

---

He seemed so sincere,
But he was only joking.
Kill him anyway.

------------------
<P:\>erson\Guy.exe -PersonGuy *pERSONgUY.cfg
< http://www.personguy.com >

quote:

---

Originally posted by PersonGuy:
I NEVER EVER recomend that anyone date a chick who hates her dad, or a guy who hates his mom.

---

Psychologists look at our pasts and infer:
If she hates her Dad, there's some problem with her,
But if she doesn't hate him, that's rather unclean;
The former's dysfunctional, the latter Oedipean.
And if you're depressed, you need to take these pills,
But if you aren't depressed, you're just hiding your ills.
And if you think a, b, or c, it means that you're gay,
But if you know that you're not, then you are anyway,
And if you seem perfect, it's reaction formation,
And your personality's just one big false creation.
And if someone does good, they have selfish motivation.

These Freudian people are very smart guys,
They've got theories that poke through your every disguise.
And don't say that they're wrong, because if you do,
They still know that they know you much better than you.
You're always hiding something only they can see,
Through the self-righteous science of Psychology.

---------------------------------------------

Something to Reflect During Your Weekend

Two girls tricycle outside
Doesn't it seem monotonous?
They awake at seven o'clock each day
Just to run in circles
They must be restricted to this Cul-de-sac
Because I once was, too
And I enjoyed it to the fullest
How?
Now I just wish to sleep
Never go outside
There's something about those girls
And the boys playing with them
It is the first weekend of spring
And I seem incomplete

------------------
Indeed, your logic is flawed.
-< Bluu >

This message has been edited by Bluu on November 07, 2000 at 03:54 PM

this one is much more autobiographical. it's dedicated to my teacher and mentor. he passed away last year.

Sulfur in the Morning
(CLA 119)

the snow of winter fell on a fresh dirt mound,
where they buried you in december.

snow,
white like flakes of
acetylsalicylic acid left in piles and drifts -- on filter
paper -- in your lab.
it'll always be your lab.

tears,
salty like those sodium hydroxide and hydrochloric
cocktails that you used to make,
run down my cheeks.

i'd like to think that it isn't real,
and i'm sorry for all those homeworks i missed when i was in your class.

fragile, like a 19/22 glass distillation
kit -
so are the illusions of the young.
five years since you wrote a letter for
a sixteen year old kid,
and i now walk down the halls of
university,
expecting to step on one of your
surprises.

contact explosive
gun powder
brass pennies
water plant field trips
take home finals
and i admit, i've forgotten all about benroulli's principle and boyle's law --
moles of this and moles of that,
you taught me more than i ever knew i learned.

neat blackboard writing that i didn't know i'd miss
until i got to college.
final exams that keep me from coming to say "thank you" one more time.
but i know you understand.

have i done you justice as a teacher?
been the kind of student you deserved?
the years in your lab
frozen in my mind like one of those grapes you liked to dip in liquid nitrogen.
avagadro's numbers of memories -- and the things i'll never know.

did you write that letter for the kid who stood in front of you,
or the person yet to be?

someone irreversibly changed for having known you.
and though in the cold of winter you were buried,
you are far from being gone.

------------------
kuru
'sex is one of the most beautiful and natural things that money can buy' - steve martin

I have read a story by a friend of mine, it was beautiful in a way that I couldn't describe. If you read it with a cadence it's true meaning came out, that it was for a woman (not in existance) for which he felt love. It was a fantasy story, a vast epic, in fact, he is still writing it to this day.

Hmmm...anyway I spose I better add a poem here. But before I do I will tell you a story. One day I was on IRC and I met a young lady, who I told of my poets prowess. I asked her to name any subject and I would write her a poem, netball, she said. It was fairly crappy but it made her day, I spose that means it can't have been all that bad.

to start with a question is considered rude
but i did not mean to be questioning you
if i put forth such a terrible riddle
and danced around with a jig and a giggle
would you hate me for knowing the answer
that gnawed at you like a growing cancer

is showing myself such a terrible crime
it is when people won't give you the time
but if i hold back because of my fears
is it enough to pay the arrears
do you owe people a part of yourself
or is it enough to dispense pearls from the shelf
will people accept your right to be just you
or do they have a right because they do what they do

is this a world where sinners don't pay
to laugh at each other in a friendly way
we look upon others who frown and stare
dont be a frump do what we dare

is it sufficient to be kind to all men

reman

Because as in any race,
The racers run side by side,
Headlong to the same end.
Are we racing towards redemption
Or towards destruction?

------------------
"i was born without any nads, so i guess like, my kids wont have nads either" - Beavis

Metal/Electronic/Ambient etc..
< http://www.mp3.com/fatbitch >

On day I loaded-up the threads.
To my surprise they all were red.
"What is this?" out-loud, I said.
"Some one has a big-fat head."

I read the posts,
All posted by one.
Stupid were most;
Some of 'em fun.

"kuru's the name."
I roll my eyes.
"I have no shame!
I'm sexy, SUPRISE!"

I just brushed it off
As rash baseless crap.
But each time I coughed,
She gave me a slap.

One time she got pissed.
She wrote 80 paragraphs.
And she didn't miss,
She killed me with sas.

"YOU SUCK! YOU STINK!
YOU SMELL FUNNY TOO!"
"FINE! YOU WIN!"
Onto round 2.

I licked her today.
She didn't have a chance.
But not "licked" like in that sexual way!
SHEESH! Keep it in your pants!

But never-the-less,
She continued to rant.
Her arguments? A MESS!
Yet, "I squish you like ant!"

Alright that's it!
This time I've had it!
Don't give me your shit!
I 0wn j00 you bitch!

KKKKKUUUUURRRRRUUUUU!!!!!

But in the end
It's easy to see.
We're basically friends.
We sometimes agree!

I know you think
That I'm on your case.
But I truely like your vaginal stink
Around this place.

So say what you must.
I always judge fairly.
I know you don't lust.
You've mentioned that clearly. (many times )

Keep your thoughts smart.
Simple, not long.
Don't be so tart,
Or assume that I'm wrong.

It's just another day.
Nothing personal to you.
That's all I gotta say...
That, and KKKUUURRRUUU!!!

------------------
P:\erson\Guy.exe -PersonGuy *pERSONgUY.cfg
< http://www.personguy.com >

This message has been edited by PersonGuy on November 07, 2000 at 11:08 PM

A free mind floating
in cyberspace, infecting
with primal ailment.

Prions, puzzle of
biologists: how did this
molecule gain life?

kuru, puzzle of
detnetters: they wonder, who
is she in real life?

quote:

---

Originally posted by reman:
hmmm I both love and hate poetry...anyone who writes probably knows what I mean.

---

Very well said.

************

As I sit underneath the brown, lofty apple tree
I sit and stare at leaves of green
Of course the leaves do not stare back at me
But such are the ways of lofty trees.

************

Caught underneath a fingernail
Elusive, irreverent and sickening
I am jabbed by a splinter
It is nothing else
But a splinter...
Carries no meaning, promotes no thought...
But the mere fact that it hurts
The fact that I am in pain
Well, that makes all the difference
Pure, sweet, visceral emotion
Nothing matters, I could care less
In light of a pindrop of blood
and my aching fingernail

Forget bringing this to court,
Forget the Democratic rally.
The thing that's of more import,
Is that you abide by the tally.

This election could go on forever,
If you bring legal uncertainties in,
Any ties between parties you sever,
In your selfish desire to win.

Though you might be the better man,
The vote is much greater than you,
And the Constitution has to stand;
At our country's roots you now hew.

It may not be time to concede yet,
But it's time to stop all of this mess.
You might still take the lead yet,
But think what for the country is best.

Thank god he's in Germany right now.

------------------
Estuan interius
ira vehementi

Banana
ba-NANA
I LOVE you
I EAT you banana

cr0bar laughs
BUT
HE
Oh no... he does not see
My love for you, banana
EAT EAT EAT
MY big fat ba-NANA

You have brown spots
But I will not stop
BA-nana

/shakes head
/eats banana

------------------
<P:\>erson\Guy.exe -PersonGuy *pERSONgUY.cfg
< http://www.personguy.com >

It used to be there was a perfect fit
To everything, as if the world was one,
Whenever things went wrong I knew that it
Was going better still for everyone.

But disconnected now, I feel things slip,
And seemingly come loose and out of place,
As joyful journey turns to tiring trip,
And eternity is just an empty space.

And now it seems, that though I know it,
Somehow that meaning I once saw is gone,
And though the world occasionally may show it,
I feel as if it will soon all be done.

And walking somewhere, I just freeze and stand
In midstep, as some thought or demon strikes,
Or some confusion I cannot understand,
Or sudden disconnection, or the likes.

And then it seems that everything which once was certain
Is tipping out of balance, uncontrolled,
And the world's perfect tapestries, seamless curtains,
Are unravelling in the ragged fringes of the world.

And I still am trying to see the meaning
Behind it all, but still, I fear,
That in the ned it often is simply seeming
When I look at the world, that there is no justice there.

And now suddenly it seems,
That the rhythm of the world is sliding into chaos,
And the logic seems no more than that of a dream,
The meter is gone, and none of the verses rhyme.

the time of my life was a blink
of your mind. and you don't know the
difference now you're looking. hope you
see clearly cos i can't.

we were friends i remember, what
are we now? just a mess that has no
resolution. perhaps you'll forget but i won't.

not generally in to into poems - prefer stories - but you lot have inspired me. this girl has fucked me up good and proper so it seemed like a good medium for being morose and self indulgent. which is why i prefer stories.

------------------
<P:\>erson\Guy.exe -PersonGuy *pERSONgUY.cfg
< http://www.personguy.com >

the knife in my back
it hurts like a fucking bitch
please take it out now.

and yeah, this is semi related to my thread in the rants section...

it was a Wednesday, like any other,
and bored of school i decided to cut class.
i walked around Oakland for a while,
debating on getting my tongue pierced.
i’d heard the horror stories of pus-ridden
infections and uncontrollable drooling.
as i walked into the piercing and tattoo shop
i took
a long
slow
swallow
forcing the taste of bile out of my mouth

i hope i don’t have bad breath…

and half paid attention as the man with the metal face ran through a long
slow list of the things i should and shouldn’t do for the next few weeks.
as i looked at him i began to see not the jewelry poking out of his face
in odd places, but the holes going through his skin, the two in his lower lip,
stretched beyond what’s normal for a piercing.

will i end up like this? two steel rings
with wires thick as pencils protruding from my
lower lip? will i ever be able to set off airport metal detectors?

the rest of it passed in a blur, the piercing itself took
only a minute or two. some Listerine, not nearly
numbing enough, and then cold metal. a clamp
to hold my tongue in place. i could hear the buzz
of someone getting a tattoo in the next room,
wondered if they could hear my heart pounding.
the needle, three inches of hypodermic steel,
slid hotly through my tongue and then nothing.
total numbness set in as the balls were twisted on
and i rinsed one last time with Listerine.
i don’t even know the name of the man who put
a hole in me

----------
now that the poetry is back

------------------
kuru
'dancing is the vertical expression of horizontal desire.'
-robert frost

quote:

---

numbness set in as the balls were twisted

---

------------------
<P:\>erson\Guy.exe -PersonGuy *pERSONgUY.cfg
< http://www.personguy.com >

This message has been edited by PersonGuy on January 24, 2001 at 09:11 AM