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# MINDFLOW
MindFlow (1994)
## FILES
=> gemini://informis.land/textfiles/magazines/MINDFLOW/mf001.txt [ 20337] Mindflow Issue #1 by Josh Ruihley (May 25th, 1994)
=> gemini://informis.land/textfiles/magazines/MINDFLOW/mf002.txt [ 20280] Mindflow Issue #2 by Josh Ruihley (June 20th, 1994)
=> gemini://informis.land/textfiles/magazines/MINDFLOW/mf003.txt [ 23721] Mindflow Issue #3 by Josh Ruihley (July 8th, 1994)
=> gemini://informis.land/textfiles/magazines/MINDFLOW/mf005.txt [ 18702] Mindflow Issue #5 by Josh Ruihley (September 12, 1994)
magazines/MINDFLOW/mf001.txt
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mindflow #1 ascii version
05.25.94
edited and programmed by josh ruihley
mindflow #1 is the first attempt at getting different thoughts from people
acrossed the country and putting them together in a nice little
file. these thoughts can be in the form of a poem, short story, brainstorm
or any other kind of self expression that can be put on a computer.
the purpose is to create a nice little mind trip that people can take once
a month. it features different views from different people on different
subjects. all that is needed to take these trips is an open mind, so open up
your mind, and enjoy. if you would like to submit something to be printed in
future versions of mindflow, please either mail or email me. mindflow will
not work if it isn't for 'thought donations', so if you have something that
you would like to be put in here, please, donate your thoughts and make
mindflow a trip worth taking.
all versions of mindflow can be downloaded for free from:
rip curl bbs (versailles, ky) : 1.606.873.6637
too basic by paul kell------------------------------------------------------
two basic emotions
two basic fears
two basic eyes
shedding two basic tears
two basic hearts
two basic souls
a story of love
as our story unfolds
they were two basic friends
with two basic minds
their friendship was one
too basic to find
too lost in emotions
too lost in their fears
too lost in their eyes
and too lost in their tears
one basic body
one basic mind
set apart from the world
unfeeling, unkind
not feeling the love
only feeling the fear
persecuted by many
persecuted by peers
from two basic persons
united as one
separated forever
they both have no one
Fish by Joel Wheeler---------------------------------------------------
Fish.
Fish on a plate.
It is a work of Art.
Art who?
wish by josh ruihley---------------------------------------------------
i threw the penny in the wishing well
my hopes and dreams needed still to come true
the penny fell and the water splashed
the well one cent closer to purchasing heaven
and me one cent closer to foreclosing on hell
but the birds dont bother me one bit
the grass is still green and the sky is still blue
and i am still nothing cause im without you
Untitled by Matt Williamson------------------------------------------------
The overwhelming dark flood
of
smoke caught us
off
Guard.
Help! someone screamed
as
I hovered over
the
Fire.
The toxic fumes were
pleasant
To my primitive
senses.
My time was up -
Destruction done
Time to leave
Manifest.
My essence in the Floating
ash.
To be scattered across
the land
of human fraility
The Girl Who Lived Here Before by Melissa Pike-------------------------------
The horses keep falling;
I guess she likes the dolls better,
because she never bothered them.
It must be a little girl
Who hated living on this farm.
My sister is afraid for her horses;
Their plastic legs don't hold up well
to falling six feet
The floor's not very soft.
Maybe we should put something there
for them-- some pillows or something.
I think the girl will get uses to the horses;
she must learn that things change.
She must have been spoiled
and rich from the looks of this house.
I wonder what her name is and
what happened to her.
Maybe it had something to do with
horses.
And why is she still here?
She must be lonely.
Sometimes I hear her crying in the night.
I would be her friend
if only I could find her.
I must look in the yard.
The stones will reveal her to me.
Inside by Andy Malloy----------------------------------------------------
looking inside
i see the blackness
a Void
i can remember,
there was a heart there...
once...
long ago...
it was stolen
and never replaced...
Untitled by Betsy Hughes---------------------------------------------------
i look about me
and everywhere i see
what i could have been
misconceptions linger on the ground
where i have dropped them
the visions of my dream of success
float quietly across the walls
out of my reach
or just too quick for me to catch
i grasp one suddenly, hold on, then let go.
Psycho Disco Ninjo by Brad Wright----------------------------------------
Bzzzzzt.
Bzzzzzt.
Bzzz -- SMASH!
Billy managed a moan of contempt for the alarm clock as another Monday
started.
"Boy, I hate Mondays."
Billy rose from his bed, if a mass of covers and blankets on a couple
pieces of wood is a bed. In his early morning stupor, even the mild-mannered
wallpaper seemed to scream at him.
"Billy! Get your scrawny butt in the shower!"
Billy blinked several times before he realized the wallpaper was, in fact,
not talking. It was only his slightly demented and completely crazy and evil
step-mother.
"Whatever, Sherona!" Billy sighed, as he lumbered towards the bathroom.
The hallway was full of little dolls and little cars and dog poop.
"ARGH! When is anyone besides me going to clean up for this filthy
animal?!?" Billy screamed, getting no reply. But today was going to be
different, he decided. No more letting people walk all over him. No more
taking flak from schoolmates. No more -- SPLAT.
"I just stepped in a DOG TURD!!!"
"Well pick it up, duh, stoooopid," came the low reply from around the
corner.
Billy rounded the corner to see his little sister, Cindy. Cindy was
wearing her My Little Pony pajamas and waggling her tongue at him.
"Santa Claus isn't real, ya know," Billy muttered, just loud enough to be
sure the rugrat heard him. Tears filled Cindy's eyes, and a low moan started
to eminate from her.
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMOM!!!" Cindy shrieked. "BILLY SAID --"
Billy slammed a fist into Cindy's midsection, ending her yelp in mid-
breath. Cindy looked up, startled.
"B-b-billy..." she whispered. "W-w-w-why-dj-ja d-d-do th-that f-for?"
Billy stared down at her with molten eyes. "Listen, munchkin. Dad and
Scum-ona have been giving me crap since I kicked the dog down the stairs
after it bit my knee. Now, we aren't going to say a word to Dad and --"
"BIIIIIILLY!!! ARE YOU READY FOR SCHOOL YEEEET?!?"
"SHUT UP, SCUM-ONA!!!" Billy yelled down the stairs.
"WHAT?!?"
"I SAID, NOT YET, SHERONA, PRINCESS!"
"BULLCRAP! GET IN THE SHOWER, OR I'LL BEAT YOU SILLY!"
Billy sighed, and went into the bathroom, which, by some grace of God, was
actually empty. Billy stumbled in, and looked at his dejected form in the
mirror.
Billy was always a small boy, until eighth grade, when he grew ten inches
over three months. Still, he was slight at 5'11", 140 pounds. With brown
hair and green eyes, he was an almost mirror image of his father. From the
day he was the born (not the night, but the day, mind you), we knew he was
trouble (not monopoly, but trouble). Billy jumped in the shower, and bathed
quickly, knowing if he took too long, he would have to deal with She-Man
Sherona.
After putting on a t-shirt and pair of blue jeans, Billy weaved his way in
and out of toys and other miscellaneous mishaps waiting to happen on the
'Stairs of Doom', and grabbed his bookbag and a Pop-Tart on his way out the
door.
"BILLY! GET BACK IN HERE AND --" started Sherona, whining/screaming as
usual.
"Cram it, freak!" he yelled back, and started off to school.
Bzzzzzt.
Bzzzzzt.
Bzzzzzt.
Billy lifted his head and wondered how it could be Tuesday already. He
got out of bed, and that was when he saw Kathy Ireland battling a pitch-black
demon.
"Well, there's something you don't see every day," Billy mused.
Kathy turned her head. "Mind giving me a hand, cutie?"
Billy stared for several seconds, and jumped off the bed, landing a vicious
side kick to the face of the demon. The demon howled in anger/fury/pain, and
promptly turned into a wisp of smoke.
Kathy turned around, and smiled at Billy. "Thanks. He was a handful, let
me tell you. Now, let me show you my gratitude."
Kathy moved towards Billy, parting her thick, moist lips...
"BILLY! Are you going to stay in here for fifth hour, too?"
Billy's dream faded almost as quickly as the demon had. He shook his head
to clear the cobwebs, and realized the bell had rung, and he was still in his
fourth hour class when it was fifth hour.
Billy managed a squeak of bewilderment, gathered his things, and headed to
fifth hour class. He was relieved when he got there. His mind was totally
blown, and he couldn't think straight. Thank goodness he had a free period
to...
"Okay, class. Get out fourty sheets of paper and write a novella. You
have fifty minutes. Begin."
Billy stared numbly at his Advanced English teacher, Mrs. Learse. She was
staring out the window at her nice shiny red car, a Ninjata or something.
Billy screamed, once, and pulled out his paper and began.
Forty eight minutes later, he was done. His hands were bleeding, and his
eyes swam in and out of focus, but he was done. "Mrs. Learse?" Billy asked.
"What should we do with our --"
Mrs. Learse leaped from her perch, and with the deftness of a jungle beast
(which, Billy assumed she was related to one anyway), snatched the papers from
Billy's hands.
Her face was expressionless as she snapped, "No talking during writing.
Automatic zero."
Billy suddenly realized how people can commit murder. He jumped up, ran to
Mrs. Learse, and started yelling in her face.
"You stupid freak! You Hooked-On-Phonics dropout! You wouldn't know a good
essay if it jumped up and bit you on your ass! You --"
Mrs. Learse slapped Billy full in the mouth. Billy started to bleed, and
gaped at her.
"No one, I repeat, no one, EVER talks to me like that."
Billy considered his options briefly. He could...
1 - Let it slide. Billy wasn't a violent type, so, being slapped in the
face by a woman in front of 25 classmates shouldn't have bothered him.
2 - Complain to the principal. This was the best thing to do, as it was
democratic and would be a peaceful solution.
3 - Beat the living snot out of her.
Billy headed for his desk, pivoted on his left foot, and shot his right
foot into the front of her knee. Mrs. Learse shrieked, and toppled over
backwards, grabbing a letter opener from her desk. She lunged at him on her
unbroken knee, but he moved out of the way, bringing his knee up into her fist,
jamming the letter opener into her throat.
Werdna Yollom stood up. "Wow, Bill. That was actually pretty cool."
Bill grabbed the letter opener from Mrs. Learse's throat, and flung it at
him. It lodged in Werdna's thigh, and he shrieked like a woman.
"Shaddup," Bill muttered, and went into the hallway.
Bill headed for the parking lot when Mr. Bigguy, the prinicpal, put his
hand on Bill's chest.
"Thinking of skipping out, are we?" he smirked.
"Um. Get off me, or I'll rip out your liver and stick it in your ear."
"Don't take that tone of voice with me, young --"
Bill jabbed him in the belly, and threw him into a vat of Dunbar Funk.
"Ow," Mr. Bigguy said/died.
Bill laughed jovily, and continued towards the parking lot. Carla Barch
waltzed by.
"Hey," Bill said. "Cool waltz."
"Thanks," Carla replied, and waltzed away.
Bill smiled, changed directions, and headed towards the newly completed
Ammo Annex section of Dunbar.
"Boy, that Ammo Annex sure was a swell addition." Cheesy grin.
Bill stopped, and pondered why he had taken this choice in life. Could it
be because his parents divorced at the age of ten, after his dad discovered
Bill's mother was actually a man? Could it have been that nasty Cheez-Whiz
incident with the police? Could it have been...
"Could it have been those burritos I had for lunch?" Bill wondered.
Bill continued wondering and walking until Chris Lyman flew by on an acorn
tree.
"Squirrels," Chris said.
"Booha," Bill replied.
Chris nodded, and flew away.
Bill waved goodbye, and noticed the floor had turned into Jello.
"Darn," Bill darned. "Lemon. I *HATE* lemon Jello."
Bill wobbled his way to the door of the new annex, when the door opened and
Kathy Ireland answered.
"Hi," Kathy purred.
Bill laughed. "Say, weren't you in a dream I had a while ago?"
"No, but I was," replied a second Kathy, emerging from the shadows.
"Wow, Beavis. This is pretty cool," Bill said to no one in particular.
"I wasn't either," chorused twenty more Kathys.
"Uhhhh... wow. Neato. Spiffy. Et cetera," Bill sighed.
A large red dog appeared next to Bill.
"Like, bark. Bark, or something," Clifford barked.
"Hey. I know you," Bill replied.
"Not anymore..." Clifford said, halfway through the metamorphesis he was
undergoing. In fifteen seconds, he was a squirrel.
The squirrel nodded at the Kathys, and looked at Bill.
"The time is short. We must save the world!!!" the squirrel chriped.
"Too wierd," Bill gasped.
Suddenely, and without warning, and redundantly, a huge alarm sounded.
BUZZT! BUZZT! BUZZT!
"Wow," Bill moaned, suddenly getting very sleepy
(awake)
BUZZT!
Buzzt!
Bzz
zt!
Bzzzt!
Bill sat bolt upright in his bed, sweat pouring off him in pails.
"Bill!" a voice yelled. "Come downstairs!"
"That was some strange dream..." Bill said, starting downstairs.
His step-mom was behind a newspaper when he sat down for breakfast.
"Sherona," Bill began. "You won't believe the dream I had..."
"Oh no?" the woman replied, and laid the paper down.
"Kathy???"
Bzzzt!
Memory by Jennifer Hacker-----------------------------------------
I see your face a thousand times before I enter the realm of sleep.
I see the smile you gave only to me, the little sister who loved you.
I reach out to take your hand, to tell you I love you.
Then I remember you're gone, and the image shatters.
I see myself, nine years old, not able to understand.
I watch as you cry when you thought no one could see.
I wanted to help you, and gave part of myself to save your life.
But still I watched you weaken, still I watched you die.
I see myself at the funeral, full of rage.
I see myself curse the God that would take a 17 year old girl away.
I see myself, now, the same age as you were.
I see myself, I see you, and I see the connection.
The Victory by John Geurkink-------------------------------------------
Lord on the football field of life
where I will suffer pain and strife
Help me to achieve the goal
which is salvation for my soul
Keep me running straight and true
ever closer Lord to you
round the left or round the right
running hard toward the light
When sinful foes around me near
help me pass into the clean
but when I'm blitzed and taken down
let my foes ne'r see me frown
But help me stand and run again
up the middles, or round the end
To break through so all may see
How great Thy faithfulness to me
But if I boastful pride portray
thinking that these yards I've made
Stop me Lord and make me humble
make me fall or make me stumble
If in the huddle, you call the plays
there'll be no fouls, no delays
But when I plan my own attack
without fail, Oh Lord, I'm sacked
Now that the final goals in sight
and my days give way to night
I know the game has only been won
by the blood of Gods dear Son
When my flesh couldn't carry me through
and my spirit was black and blue
Jesus lifter me up and carried me
over the line to victory.
Simple by Cislyn Hunt---------------------------------------------
Sitting Indian style on a scratchy rug
Scooping handfuls of cocoa puffs
And flashing those dimples
As you watch Scoooby Doo
You make life seem so simple
There are tire marks on your front lawn
It's easy to see; the weeds are pressed down
I ask you where they came from
"Who knows? Who cares? Not me!"
What a philosopher thou art
I swear I heard a gunshot last night
But you laugh and say that it was
Only a bad muffler on one of the cars
That incessantly turn left at the light
You call me "obsessive"
Mostly about the little things
And tell me to relax and
Live a little
But I would rather live a lot
Because I don't think life is complicated
I know it is.
Mind Wind by Chris Lyman---------------------------------------------
Thoughts converge
and I emerge
From the deep black tide
Omnipotent in the power surge
All I see
is me
Existing as all
Imagining things that will always be
Nothing is heard
like a dirty word
Silence is deafening
Distinction is vague and blurred
Gray son
realizing I am one
Destination fulfilled
The battle is won
Laying to rest
the visions jest
Seeking all but sleep
The mind wind blows west
All that I fear
within a tear
Burning into the sky
Not far, not near
Fall with haste
to a breathing place
Mount the omniscient steed
And vanish into space
Rebirth copyright 1994 by Aaron Ramey----------------------------------
He had been there
all the while,
And yet
was invisible -
alone marble inaseaofbrokenglass.
Suffering a non-
existent existence,
Until now.
Surfaces begin to
take shape,
A life emerges beyond
tangible bleakness -
the desert fern against
immeasurable odds.
He begins anew.
a new path -
A new opportunity
not to be forsaken.
Murky skies finally crack -
allowing the mind
To bathe the fruits
of his intellectual labors
in newfound promise.
Never again would he
allow his life to
slip
away
from him.
After all, it isn't
every day that the lost
are born
again.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reaching the Authors
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Paul Kell can be reached at:
223 East Eagle
Versailles, Ky 40383
Internet: wbsj47b@prodigy.com
josh ruihley can be reached at:
418 wells lane
versailles, ky 40383
internet: ebbheadky@aol.com
Melissa Pike can be reached at:
755 Delaney's Ferry
Versailles, Ky 40383
Andy Malloy can be reached at:
4161 Palmetto Drive
Lexington, Ky 40513
Betsy Hughes can be reached at:
Internet: blaine666@aol.com
Jennifer Hacker can be reached at:
687 Finnel Rd
Georgetown, Ky 40324
or
Devil's Dominion BBS (lexington, ky) : 1.606.272.5696
Handle : Kiriseth
Brad Wright can be reached at:
4300 Stoneyhurst Place
Lexington, Ky 40514-1830
Cislyn Hunt can be reached at:
Internet: pandora149@aol.com
Aaron Ramey can be reached at:
Internet: hydroguy@aol.com
Chris Lyman can be reached at:
The Zone BBS (lexington, ky) : 1.606.271.8352
Handle: Shadox
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
thank you for your time
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
if you would like to submit a poem, short story, brainstorm, or anything else
that you think belongs in mindflow, please mail me at my home or email me
through the internet or on the ripcurl bbs. this is the official home of
mindflow. all versions of mindflow will be here and available to download
for free.
josh ruihley
418 wells lane
versailles, ky 40383
internet : ebbheadky@aol.com
all versions of mindflow can be downloaded for free from:
rip curl bbs (versailles, ky) : 1.606.873.6637
.
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mindflow #2 ascii version
06.20.94
concept/editor: joshua ruihley
programmer: keith shapiro
mindflow is the an attempt at getting different thoughts from people acrossed
the country and putting them together in a nice little file. these thoughts
can be in the form of a poem, short story, brainstorm or any other kind of
self expression that can be put on a computer. the purpose is to create a
nice mind trip that people can take once a month. it features different views
from different people on different subjects. all that is needed to take these
trips is an open mind, so open up your mind, and enjoy. if you would like to
submit something to be printed in future versions of mindflow, please either
mail or email us. mindflow will not work if it isn't for 'thought donations',
so if you have something that you would like to be put in here, please,
donate your thoughts and make mindflow a trip worth taking.
all versions of mindflow can be downloaded for free from:
rip curl bbs (versailles, ky) : 1.606.873.6637
Untitled Sarah Lynn Collins-----------------------------------------
It happened again; she had left the cap off the toothpaste. This
relationship had to end. Her life, too. Bob had planned this moment over and
over for the past three years, but it had always been a fantasy. He had
always wanted to put a bullet through Annie's precious little head. Then, as
always, he would come back to the real world and he would love her just as
much. Or so Annie thought. Deep down inside, he was jealous of the clothes
that she wore and the friends that she had. On occasion, Annie would come
home and find Bob wearing her clothes in an imitations of her and playing tea
with his imaginary friends. She was worried, but she got over it with time.
She thought she was in love. She was in Hell.
Tonight when Annie came home from her job at the library, Bob was in the
midst of another murder plan. He'd do it tonight. It had to be tonight.
Tonight. He had the table set as always and dinner in the oven. She went to
shower and Bob slipped back into his morbid dream. She'd come out of the
shower, he thought, and he hug her as always, then he'd stab her in the back
with the butcher knife. Yeah, that's what he would do. He sneered and went
to find his weapon. With slow, ponderous steps, he walked to the bathroom
door. He'd do it tonight. It had to be tonight. Tonight. Annie walked out
of the bathroom to see Bob holding a carrot. "You know, I think I'd like
carrots for dinner, too, Darling." Annie said before she slipped into the
bedroom.
She made Bob sick sometimes. She could look at him so innocently, but he
knew about her. Her knew of her sins. The toothpaste would be the end of
her. He plotted other ways while she dressed. He checked all the equipment
that he would use. He had to do it tonight. "Honey, would you open a bottle
of wine tonight. I feel a little like relaxing tonight," Annie's voice
grated through the apartment. He got a bottle of Burgundy and the cork-screw.
He could imagine the tip penetrating her head and hearing her screams. He
grinned; he night was looking up again. He waited and concocted his next
plan. He glanced around the kitchen. The blender. He'd hit her over the
head with the blender. No, he'd torture her first. Her fingers and then her
hands would be removed with the blender.--He grabbed her hand and cut off her
fingers. She screamed. The blood splattered on his face. He'd do it
tonight. It had to be tonight. Tonight. He turned on the blender and her
screams mingled with the machine's. He put her fingers in and watched them...
"Bob?" He shuddered from his dream and looked up. There was Annie and
her fingers still intact.
"Bob, why did you puree the bread sticks?" she asked staring at the
blender.
"What?!" He snapped at her. It was just another miserable dream, he
thought.
"The bread sticks?"
"Oh, that. It's a new recipe for tomorrow's dinner." He grumbled.
"How lovely, Darling." she said giving him a peck on the cheek.
They sat down to dinner and she babbled continually about the library and
the people. Bob dreamed:
It was tragic. The fire swept through the apartment and swallowed
everything in it's path. Annie was in it's path. She screamed his name but
he just laughed. He wouldn't help her; this is what he wanted. The fire was
all around her. He heard the beams fall...
"Bob," Annie's voice grated again, "Have you been listening to a word
I've said? You've just been staring at the candles. Is something wrong?"
"No dammit!" He pushed away from the table and slammed into the bedroom. He'd sleep. He'd do it tonight.
It had to be tonight, dammit. Tonight.
Some time later, he awoke. She was beside him on her side of the bed.
The pillow: He'd smother her with the pillow and that would be the end of
her. No screams. He grabbed his pillow and jumped on her. He pressed the
pillow over her head. No struggling. No sound. He pulled the pillow away
and it was just her pillow. She wasn't there.
He woke up in a cold sweat. She was gone. The light in the room proved
it to be morning. He got up and made his way to the bathroom. He splashed
his face with cold water. She was at the library by now, he thought. He
glanced over at the toothpaste. It happened again.
Untitled David Asher Brown------------------------------------------
"Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling, down down down..."
Words
Can not describe what is...
A hand reaches out to take you,
And around the sun the world spins
Around the the emptiness the universe spins...
A hand reached out and stayed, extended there;
Touches fell down
An imprint was left by the hand...
And the seas parted
The flock took to flight..
Still I stood there,
Watching vacantly...
Two people rose from the ground
And up to the clouds, the sky, the sea...
I watch...I watch, but I don't wait...
People are missing
Love, beauty, all gone, never here...
Beauty, how is it you were never here?
You left behind that piece of feeling,
"Look my way"
Now I feel the loneliness...
"Don't ever love me..."
A hand began to reach farther and farther out
I look at the hand and felt inside:do not wait, only be...
The hand flies past and grasps the person next to me...
I never understood, why the hand is most beautiful...
I could never percieve inside me why the palm, the finger tip
Helped someone to feel...
Then I looked at the soft skin...
I held a stren face, and shed not a tear
Yet still I felt empty, not within myself
But in my world...
Emptiness is a terriable metaphor...
"The suspense is terriable, I hope it will never end."
So I lay in the corner of my room
Where my bed sits next to the window
And all around me is silence
And all inside me is that fear
Of becoming a human...
I want my mind back, you bastards...
I will never have that which I seek...
I won't have my beauty...
I only have my love, yet it is not wrapped in someone else's...
So I sing...
"`Don't you...forget about me...'"
So It Is Justin Cutway----------------------------------------------
when as so often
the slighted eye is
deceived THERE
is ( )
now stop to look
the line is
as is the BREATH
when all IS ( )
earn it and it
will ( )
Untitled Jennifer Ray-----------------------------------------------
Sweat drenched dreams etched in the human memory
taunting the human face.
Horror stricken screams ricochet
from every shadowed room.
Shimmering tears spill form the
shallow wells of society's eyes.
Hearts are open and bloody in this
the moment of human need.
Orbittin in the blackness of space
is a swirling mass of predator and prey.
Slowly eaten by the expanding rift,
swelling beneath our meticulously clean
toes, that must never touch bottom.
It seperates mother and daughter,
and brothers and sisters.
Hate is its weapon and its victory.
Just past midnight, we are vulnerable to
this crack. The quell of demons buried deep
beneath a wall of earthen fragments.
Inch by inch broken earth seemingly
heals itself. Souls of the poet labour ardously
spinning their yarns and telling
their tales for the fate of their home,
and saving our lives.
The Attic (c) 1994 James Kight---------------------------------------
This lonely room in which I sit, keeps reality at bay
Silent years have come and gone and this existence bears no gold
Yet my despair has found no home much like a dog without his day
And empty hatred bears no grudge but keeps this soul from growing cold.
The ray of sun that visits as I ponder makes my skin so pale
But I am grateful for the light that drapes me with its dusty trail.
A frame that shows us life stagnates is nailed upon the facing wall.
Decomposition sets in slow and drives the strength from deep within.
If loving helps the lonely sinner, lifting up the heavy shawl,
Pity burns the open wound and makes of it a mortal sin.
The birds of spring have come again, and sorrow follows close behind.
Sing to me your song of life that drifts its way towards its kind.
Bittersweet the strong desire that blows away like shifting sand
And leaves the weary coarse and dreary, grasping for the empty air.
The tears come softly uninvited, resting on my withered hand
That moves no further than its home upon the metal, cold and bare.
When will life give up on me like warmth beneath the falling snow...
Who will say they knew the man that they abandoned long ago...
Education Apryl Schilling--------------------------------------------
Angry young man
battling emotions untried
uselessly fighting chao's reign
stubbornly standing against the mass
euphoricaly dead now.
Frightened souls dance from
right to left
outwardly calm, inwardly shivering
mind reeling in shock.
Convulsing nerves twine around the
hate, an all consuming urges
fated, unfortunate wretch
linking soul to soul
doing battle to survive
helpless, screaming unanswered prayers
ominipotent creatures prowling
on to the last breath death.
Grade Point 2 (c)1994 Micheal C. Dasit-----------------------------------
paper piles in the floor
on the desk
disks and books
(no, "texts")
and monitors
reflect in a
dusty mirror
cigarettes, ashtray
evening dusk through
slatted windows
smoke boiling
roiling to the ceiling
yellowed florescents
flicker sometime
off the fan with
no guard in the corner
and the man with
no hope at
the keyboard
my love matt libs--------------------------------------------------
my precious love
of darque and sweet domain
of which the sun never shines
and falls a constant rain
such beauty i've never beheld
within my mortal life
your presence remains with me
throughout my pain and strife
though i may curse you
and defile your fragile mind
my devotion to you will always be
throughout all eternal time
and even when my life is over
and Death has come for me
i'll remember you, my love
and whatever will be shall be
Smudges Kelli Lee--------------------------------------------------
Don't dull your sharp tongue on my account.
My halo tilted years ago
when the little boys on the playground
ran around yanking up my plaid skirt
to take a peek at my JC Penney underpants.
The words you speak, I've seen countless times
scrawled in bathroom stalls,
graffitied on abandoned buildings,
carved into desks in detention,
and I've even said a few myself.
When I look into your eyes
not only am I blinded by the light of
intense tractor-beams that pull me
closer and closer and closer,
each word you speak is a calling.
A mystical sound that surpasses
audible words like the
blowing of a conch shell
or the lingering hum of a gong.
In it's own way
a religion.
So, don't let your mommy
or any other woman
spit-wipe your mouth.
Keep it dirty, and kiss me.
faces of reality Sarah Levien-----------------------------------------------
I wear many faces.
Though some may believe
I am what I say,
I am not.
For never do I show
my true self to another.
And never will I throw open the curtains
to let them weep for the tragedy they see before them.
Though my lips
may turn upward at the corners,
to reveal maybe a smile,
the eyes tell another story.
The story begins
with the tears that I shed
and ends
somewhere in the midst of infinity.
Never!
can I be happy.
For what if tomorrow
I am sad?
But to them
I am happy.
Free and careless
like the wind!
Oh, they think they know me.
They do,
but it is not me they know.
They know my facade.
Look!
My mask is stained.
Quickly,
I must put on another.
I must hurry
and paint the smile
upon the frown,
before they see.
For if they saw,
they'd laugh.
But is that so bad?
No, the prospect does not daunt me.
But still I fear.
I fear them seeing me, the true me.
For if they did,
I'd no longer have me to myself.
The Night Noise Mark LaPolt------------------------------------------------
My head starts up from fitful doze
I search the empty room.
For some small sign of what I heard
I peer into the gloom.
A noise, a howl? Some beast of night?
I wonder what it was.
That rose me from unpleasent dreams
Whithout revealing cause.
Unsatified, I don my coat
And lightly step outside,
Perhaps the sound repeats itself,
And thereby makes me wise.
The cool night air soothes my soul
and I wonder, 'Could it be?
That in my restless dreaming state
The sound could come from me?
As I ponder this in silence
My ears become aware
Of all those precious little sounds
That waft on night's thin air.
The crickets chirp, the owls cry
Somewhere a night bird sings
And my noise? My phantom noise?
Could it be of these things?
Settled in soul I turn once more
To leave this realm of night.
When once again I hear the sound
That gave me such a fright.
A haunting howl, more piteous
Than any sad refrain,
The noise that woke me from my sleep
From dreams of doubt and pain,
Was nothing more dark and fearful
Than the whistle of the northbound train.
RUSH H D Suckow-------------------------------------------------
The Lemmings
they say ---
RUSH
to throw themselves
in some suicide
act off
cliffs --- in throngs
too many to count.
But - once and late at
night -
in the blue light of
early morning
tv -
I awoke uncomfortably -
laying on a couch too small
and too hard to sleep upon -
to see
footage of Lemmings
RUSHing
in so many large numbers ---
but --- not
to throw themselves ---
you could see the fear
on furry rodent faces - as
reality showed so clearly
that they were about to plunge unintended---
and they tried - desperately -
to stop -
to turn back -
but they could not turn back -
and in large numbers - they were
pushed off the cliff -
pushed by those who were behind
and were as yet unaware
of
their journey's
unintended
end.
The Divine Tragedy Cy Routh-----------------------------------------------
Eyes closed....backwards....fade to WHITE........A body hovers, floating
on a cushion of air, life plasma flowing by leaving a soft, tingling
sensation on the skin that teases each hair, an anxious half-hungry pressure
swirling about just behind the ribs, the lungs short of breath, unique to
love, in an immense whiteness, shadowlessly extending beyond reason, pure,
unconfined by mortal thought, that surpasses in its brilliance any religion,
any philosophy, all the gods for the conscious viewer, vision of the mind. A
white so resplendent, scintillating, angelic, only to be viewed through
closed eyes, the image is forever etched, beyond the optic, encompassing the
spirit, directly into the instinct, only interrupted by diminutive voids of
light emitted by distant, supernal orbs, strewn chaotically in a familiar
pattern, intermingled shimmer of emeralds and sapphires abort impending
suicide.
Approach shadow....plummet........The ivory beast, long, graceful neck
curved forward in introspection meets the gnarled mane in the cylindrical
head, three efficacious, magnifying eye-stalks, spiraling a dying sphere,
iridescence raped by the corruption of the star, is grasping with gaunt,
glimmering arms at the abscessed growth upon her broad, rectilineal breast as
the serene visionary, drawn by the mass of the orb, tumbling toward the
titanic creature, eclipsing the darkness, is swallowed by the arched glass
atop her head.
Paradise lost....exit garden........Light, white, cloud, cream, grey,
storm, black, dark, nothing...but the hiss of air, now frail frame falls from
glory towards the smoke-marbled drab ball, the color of slate infused with
the dying of vegetation, that encompasses ears, flesh with burning, ambrosia
gives way to sulfur, melting hair, lungs that once breathed love now breathe
fire, charred skin flakes away leaving bare nerves to ward off the searing
heat. Innocence is stripped away as the blackened bones shatter upon the
rocks.
I look through the dark pine boughs, only illuminated by the dying
embers, into the even darker night sky, filled with brilliant specks of
white...and I know. Therefore it is I who will suffer while those who are
ignorant go on mocking bliss. But I have the hope, the vision, to soothe the
pain. They unknowingly pity me. I wish I could pity them.
the other side keith shapiro----------------------------------------------
the last time i talked to you
i tried to tell you how i feel
but life as usual interrupted
and now you are gone away
to the other side of the country
to the other side of the world
my heart tells me that you will come back
and so i wait for you
on the other side of tomorrow
why is it that the road is paved
with left over good intentions
you ran away before i could
the courage in my soul evaporate
but two lines not parallel
will eventually intersect
my soul knows you will return to me
and so i wait for you
on the other side of tomorrow
you are the only person who
makes me feel and makes me want to go on
but to you there has to be some other
who you want to carry on
and not me
but i believe eventually
the world will stand still
and everyone else will go away
and so i wait for you
on the other side of tomorrow
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
thank you for your time
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
if you would like to submit a poem, short story, brainstorm, or anything else
that you think belongs in mindflow, please mail me at my home or email me
through the internet or on the ripcurl bbs. this is the official home of
mindflow. all versions of mindflow will be here and available to download
for free.
josh ruihley keith shapiro
418 wells lane 199 woodlark road
versailles, ky 40383-1545 versailles, ky 40383-9190
internet : ebbheadky@aol.com internet : shapiro@ukpr.uky.edu
all versions of mindflow can be downloaded for free from:
rip curl bbs (versailles, ky) : 1.606.873.6637
.
magazines/MINDFLOW/mf003.txt
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mindflow #3 07.08.94
ascii version
concept/editor : josh ruihley
programmer : keith shapiro
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
mindflow is our attempt at getting different thoughts from people across
the country and putting them together in a nice little file. these thoughts
can be in the form of a poem, short story, brainstorm, graphic, or any other
kind of self expression that can be put on a computer. the purpose is to
create a nice mind trip that people can take once a month that features
different views from different people on different subjects. all that is
needed to take these trips is an open mind, so open up your mind, and enjoy.
if you would like to submit something to be printed in future versions of
mindflow, please either mail or email us. mindflow will not work if it
isn't for 'thought donations', so if you have something that you would like
to be put in here, please, donate your thoughts and make mindflow a trip
worth taking.
all versions of mindflow can be downloaded for free from:
ripcurl bbs (versailles, ky) 1.606.873.6637
the void (hopkinsville, ky) 14.4 1.502.886.0517
2400 1.502.886.5871
fallen angel bbs (lexington, ky) 1.606.299.2329
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
editors' note
welcome to mindflow #3.
new this month is the prelude of the ongoing story "the gathering" by
keith shapiro. starting this month, each issue of mindflow will feature an
episode of the gathering. the unique aspect of this story is that although
it is written by keith, you, the readers of mindflow do have control of what
happens. keith will take a compilation of ideas that you give and continue
the story from there.
please note that all of these pieces are property of their authors and may not
be used in any other program/work/magazine/ect. without the written permission
of the authors. they can be reached c/o us at the addresses given.
we, the creators of mindflow, would like to remind you that mindflow does not
run on its own. we have spent much of our own time trying to make an
enjoyable compilation for your sake. please, to keep this going, we need
your help. if at any time, we find that there is not enough interest (there
are not enough pieces to print) we will be forced to stop the publication of
mindflow. this is not what we want, so please help us keep this thing going.
thank you for your time.
-josh and keith
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Case of Mistaken Identity
by : Steve Sheiko
"I can't believe this!"
"We have the evidence right here. Now it would be better for everyone
involved if you would just go quietly!"
"But I'm not guilty!" protested James Alexander.
"I'm afraid that videotape doesn't lie. Now, I want your resignation on
my desk by five. Clean out your desk. If you haven't removed all your
personal belongings from the building by eight o'clock tomorrow morning, I'll
have to call Security to dispose of them. Don't bother trying to take any of
our property--someone will be watching you at all times." With that his boss
turned away to look out his office window. "Now get out of my office before I
throw you out!"
Alexander stormed out, slamming the door behind him. He'd had a feeling
that this was coming. He had heard the whispers behind his back that a
security camera had taped him stealing from the petty cash drawer. But that
was ridiculous, so he had thought. He didn't even know where the petty cash
drawer was. However, his intuition was piqued when he was told by a terse
message on his phone from the boss telling him to "be in my office at three
o'clock sharp." He knew it to be true when several of his coworkers offered
their condolences at lunch.
His letter of resignation was on his computer screen. Foreseeing the
inevitable, he had typed it up before reporting to his boss's office. With a
sigh of despair, he clicked the Print icon with his mouse. The LaserJet
ground and creaked as it spit out his final document. Leaning over the desk,
Alexander grabbed his fountain pen and affixed his signature to the bottom.
He swept the photos, cards, and memorabilia that cluttered his desk into a
cardboard box. After another cursory check of the now-empty office, he headed
out, locking the door behind him. On his way to the elevator, he dropped his
letter and his office keys on the boss's desk. As the elevator doors closed
in front of him, he left the office for what would be the last time.
When he arrived home, he headed for the phone. He dialed his
girlfriend's number, only to be rewarded with the blaring of her answering
machine. He left a message: "It's Jim. I need to talk to you right away.
It's very important. Call back as soon as you can." As he sat around his
house, he began to think to himself. I'll never be able to get a job again.
Thirty-year-old junior executives don't just resign. And how am I going to
live? I can't pay for this place without my salary! He suddenly said to
himself, "Well, Jim, if you've ever needed a drink, you need one now."
He headed for the kitchen, took a shot glass and a full bottle of Jack
Daniel's from the cupboard, and returned to the living room. Flopping down on
the couch, he picked up the remote control and pointed it at the stereo.
Strains of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture poured from the speakers. Forgetting
his glass, he opened the bottle and took a swig, ignoring the burning in his
throat. As the music played on, he continued to drink, emptying the entire
bottle. Everything became hazy. He fell into an alcohol-induced stupor.
As the finale of the Overture began, he jumped to his feet. There it was
again--a cannon shot. An idea materialized in his inebriated mind with
amazing clarity. As if in another world, he stumbled to his bedroom. He
opened the closet. There it was, leaning against the back wall--his
Winchester 12-gauge double barrel shotgun. Grabbing it, he opened the chamber
and looked inside. Both barrels were loaded. So much the better. He sat on
the bed. Deliberately, he pulled back each hammer and placed the barrels of
the gun in his mouth. He began to push down the triggers with one finger.
But something stopped him. He heard a noise at the back door. Lurching out
of his bedroom, he stopped at the window. Darkness. He knew it. What an end
to the worst day in his life--he was about to be robbed! He made up his mind:
It would be a cold day in Hell before the creep left in anything but a body
bag.
He stood in front of the door, shotgun at the ready. As the door swung
open, he shouted "Surprise!" and squeezed both triggers. The cloud of smoke,
dust, and airborne blood droplets obscured his vision for a moment. When the
air cleared, he rolled the body over with the toe of his shoe. It was his
girlfriend, still holding her key in her hand, twin holes blasted through her
stomach. He sank to his knees, sobbing. Just then, a voice boomed out behind
him.
"Jim! It's Bill! Your front door was open. Great news--the guy who
took the money from the petty cash drawer came forward and turned himself in
after you left. The boss wants to give you your job back and . . . " He
walked into the room. "Dear God, Jim, what have you done?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bird Food
by : Andrew Jones
Summer with its profusion of animal
carcasses, opposum and skunk,
rotten into cardboard by winter,
when heavy plows scrape the highways
buckling in the extremes of cold and colder.
I once stumbled into the guts of a skunk
still pumping its stink into the night
air; when morning came, there was blood
up to my knees, I walked in it for miles.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For Justice
(c)1994 Amber Goddard
one day in a forest,
the trees danced,
the music played,
the red bird flew,
the green chair screamed,
Ella cried silently,
my cat climbed a tree,
the bricks fell,
the wind chased her,
the man said yes,
i finished my book,
the table laughed,
the sidewalk ate my horse,
the cracks in the window sang a new song,
she opened the box,
a june bug died quietly,
the flowers attacked the queen's curtains,
Adam fed his nickels to the fish,
and i said i loved you.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
10:51 pm
by : Joel Wheeler
the fan above spins
and the crackling blue light
outside blurs the
concentration of the
undersea artist whose
Jesus machine just finished
the julia set.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
birthday
(c)1994 jon e. dark
cross your fingers and close
your eyes and wish real hard.
wish harder than you have
ever wished for anything
before.
wish so hard that your brow
furrows and your cheeks
redden.
wish so hard that your
temple begins throbbing and
beads of sweat begin trickling
down your forehead.
wish so hard that your
shoulders actually...
tremble,
your nails draw
a blood drop and tears pool
the corners of your eyes
and then down your cheeks.
wish to the point you
feel you have to scream but
can't.
wish so hard that your head
becomes too hot to hold
in your own two hands.
wish so hard that you break up
the party
because you don't care where
you are or who's around you.
wish until you can taste
blood in your mouth
until it's on your sleeve.
until you can't breathe anymore.
yes,
wish with your last breath.
now, don't tell anyone what you
were wishing for
and see if it comes true.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Camelot
by : Aaron Ramey
Ne'er did it rain so
In Camelot.
In Camelot where
Once,
The work was
Hearty,
The army was brave,
The madrigal gay
And the passion -
Endless.
Not so is it now
In Camelot.
The workers still
Work,
But with marked lack of heart.
The soldiers still
Soldier,
But only for mere wage.
The tune is still sung,
But the meter, twice
As long
And the passion -
Gone.
Vanished with the Queen
On voyage to another
Side of the
Universe.
Indeed, others have
Sat the throne in her
Stead,
The endless procession of
Queenies and Princesses,
But none seem fit to
Sit the seat,
Either too bulky and cumbersome,
Or withered away, without substance.
And thus,
Ne'er shall this
Truly Camelot be,
Without its Queen
To keep these rains
Away.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
yo muse!
by : Su Byron
yo muse of my throat!
come from your ghetto land
bring me a dollar
on your way up
the dirty flight
where once we stopped
to kiss on necks
bring me some ice
O muse from below
come up from the hysterical avenue
where young boys shout brown things
get outta my way!
O muse from the 100th depth
come up from that place where youÆve stuck yourself
black bodies kicking dust
white bodies kicking stone
young bodies picking fights
pick me my very own bud!
yo muse!
come from that littered land
where I kept my heart in my boots
walking straight out into that three a.m. street
a dollar in my hand
for my muse
the one I dream about
the one I got holed up
we'll take a train!
O muse we'll close our eyes and force the track
crawl up the flight
the stained, slippery stairs
up to my door
where scribbled on the wall
is that name of yours
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
the same
by : Kurt Moskowitz
nothing is given
for i shall want more than this
as i want more
in you
for what you are i can handle
for what you are is what i love
nothing is different
nothing ever seams to change
because when it comes down to it
everything remains the same
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
loser.
by : melissa pike
waiting
for the sun to come around again and
thinking
about the warmth i felt and
wondering
when and if it will come again and
hating
the way i feel and
wallowing
in my own self-pity and
crying
because i am weak and alone and
hiding
from the real issue at hand and
wasting
my precious time of life and
regretting
the innocense lost and
realizing
a feeling i never knew i had and
laying
my soul upon the table and
fearing
the reaction and rejection and
losing
my mind
to a loser.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Untitled
by : Matt Williamson
Life is nothing, we are nothing. How do we call this living? A gas keeps
us breathing. Water keeps us alive. Trapped in the fragile body of skin and
bone. I want to fly. I want to soar. To totally escape the confines of
this body would be the most pure fufilling experience. To become unpredudice
and see things in that true form would be pure bliss. If we die, we become
a burnt out particle. The atom is there but how is it made up? Are there
millions of subatoms which make up the partivles of an atom? Who is god?
Where did he come from? Who created him? What is this crazy existence?
Many questions - still no answers.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This Feeling Reserved -
A Promise To A Lady
by : Mike C. Dasit
Some suitors send flowers
some lovers send cards
some charmers send diamonds
in silver and gold
but all I can send you
are words and my feelings -
a tiny, typed piece of my soul
I had rather send this
than the flowers, soon faded
than the cards, too soon yellowed
than the diamonds, soon lost
The first three require
only money or credit
but a gift of the heart
is beyond any cost
It cannot be bought
or be borrowed
or stolen
It means nothing at all
if not given for free
You can take this
and keep it somewhere
you can find it
and if you ever need me,
you'll know where I'll be.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Darling, Take Out the Trash, Would You?
by : David Asher Brown
Faith:
Dust, like dust, dust was once living collected dust.
Frantic:
One foot, two feet, yet I have no arms, Thalomide man, Thalomide baby.
Fishsticks:
Dildos stuffed with salty flesh.
Find it amusing, all above, worthless metaphores
Find them worthless do you?
Why?
Good, keep it that way
I find them quite the rage
Quite the rage...rage, fuck you.
Their words, look at them, words flexiable, undefinable
Words.
Good, now blow your head off.
No? Even better.
Don't die yet, because you can still change negative assholes like me.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hero?
by : Cislyn M. Hunt
At home he is considered a hero
for bravery, valor in battle
In distant lands they call him a murderer
slaughtering countless sons
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The salty sweat runs down his face
mingling with the tears
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At home he has a wife and daughter
doubting his existence a little more each day
The man before him may also be married
with a son: growing taller while he's away
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The humid air shimmers
Tensions running high
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So similar, with different ideals
So regretfully we humans die
The shot was loud, shattering damp air
One father - in a steamy shelter - continued to cry
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"The Vintage Years"
by : anonymous
Take a moment to smell time.
Has it been well worth it?
Is yours sweet wine?
Waste not those precious drops,
lap it up, pray it won't soon stop.
Live for the challenge, the bravery and a nobel quest,
do what you can to achieve,
seldom rest.
Have you spoiled opportunity's cork?
Are you throwing your life away?
Reflect right now, then make anew tomorrow's day.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
door.
(c)1994 josh ruihley
pre-destined love song plays its tune
the words dont come to mind
and all thats left is time to think
those thoughts which are unkind
that selfishness which plagues my soul
leaves nothing up to me
but to unlock this heavy door
two must hold the key
so now i hum this tune alone
my chance has come and passed
and how i long to chase this thing
but i cant run that fast
the sun will rise the stars will fall
acquaintances ill see
but oh my mind will never clear
the one thats right for me
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Memories
by : Jennifer Baron
Memories are full of happy times
And of sad times
They make you laugh
They make you cry
Memories remind you of friendships
And loved ones
Memories are like the Sun-
They never die out
Memories are part of your past
They cannot be replaced,
But can be made
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cycles
by : Stephanie Suhler
Ivy, seared red by frost
Tumbles down the shock grey rock
Like a waterfall of blood.
The mountain blazes with
The last fire of life,
Scarlet and orange erupting
Like wounds in the green velvet.
The wind whips through the trees
And the forest writhes agonizingly
In the throes of yealy death.
Leaves tumble swiftly down
And the trees stand shivering,
Skeletons waiting foe Spring
To reclothe their naked bones.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Berserker Reborn
by : Tony Cord
In hell at least
the souls lay not so
cold as so hot.
In hell at least
justice is served
more often than not.
You ask why?
And I answer...
Darkness walks as a man,
Is a woman! My blood runs
cold at the sight.
Demon's whore!
Devil's bitch!
Begone! You are
not wanted here.
How judge you so harshly?
Have you any goddamned right?
No, you don't.
Your ego won't burn even in hell.
Maybe blood will
fill the gutters tonight.
And I will laugh.
Warm blood, innocent
soaking my shirt, running
down my arm.
Streaming off my blade.
Hell is mine.
maybe I will give
it to you.
Innocent blood.
The carnage smells of
rust. Fitting in this
canyon of concrete and
steel.
You lied to me,
and fucked me over.
My mastery of mind
is weak. But my
mastery of steel is
great.
The pen is
mightier than the sword,
It's true. But only if
you let it be. So raise your
pen against my rage,
and I will give you hell.
My rage is much like hell.
Hot, and hungry for your soul.
What a cold world
when I can be warmed only
by blood running.
This city is my
battleground, my life
is hell to give. Wed to
grief, injustice, and
sorrow.
Yet still a will to live.
My wedding ring
is the ring of steel,
my bride hate and malice.
my best man the reaper.
My priest your damnation.
So then! stand
you steel against me!
Time will tel my tale.
Land of the free my ass.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
expressions
(c)1994 keith shapiro
all the things i've longed to say
none of them are said
why is it so hard for me
to find the words that echo the feelings
in my heart
i know it is not you
you are so easy to talk to
then that means it must be me
isn't it? or is it something else
nameless, cold and dark, deep within
yes! that is it
my discourse with my mind
has shed some light upon it
fear drives the cogs within
my heart only now i know
inspiration pure and sweet
has often touched my harsh rebukes
a continuous diatribe within my mind
the conflict and the fear overpower
the love and the hope of a spring eternal
but worry not for me
this splitting forces have not effect
on me or so i think
love will triumph over all
or, is that just the gears of fears
fears from deep inside
that get out only once or twice
and then are banished again
for a time
to await the coming of the new age
the new age which may never come
but that is not my decision
for if i can find the words to say
then all of it comes
down to you
if you love me then tell me, or never
will i know, my heart
works that way.
it only believes what it is told
because sometimes hope can lie
but i wish for my hope
to this time be telling the truth
so that together
we can be together,
for the rest of time
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
the gathering: prelude
(c) 1994 keith shapiro
from the journal of tiroth jikad, entry #1:
today is the 38th day of martol. i start this journal so that those who
succeed me may know the troubles of the the life of one such as i. i was born
15 standards ago, on the 5th day of girod under the 3rd rotation in the place
known as hordan. my mother died during the childbirth, and my father was
already dead... killed by bounty hunters. at least i was told that by my
cousin ginda. she took me in after my mother's death and raised me as her
own son.
for a time, my life was carefree. i had taken ginda's name of lokari, but as
i grew, i became inquisitive as to the death of my father, i slipped into the
dirty gik-tak bars, where the slavers danced their naked girls for the enjoy-
ment of the custormers. i stood in the shadows and listened to the talk. and
i discovered exactly why my father had been killed. he had been a traveller.
not a normal traveller as you most probably are, but one who could move between
the dimensions. from what i gathered all it required was a thoughtt. he had
been killed because he had "posed a threat" to the security of the galactic
imperium.
now, it is time. i journey now to learn what my father knew. to learn how to
travel between universes with a thought. from this point forward, i'll
reference this method of travel as blinking... that is what it looks like if
you watch closely. they just sort of fade from existance. but all of this is
here say. i begin now my journey to discover the truth and to right the wrong
done my father. and as such, i take his name now... jikad. it is a name
fit for one such as i.
all that i take with me is this computer... to store my journal and keep track
of my travels. who else may find this, i know not. ginda was kind enough to
pack me enough food to last a week and some credits. i am sure they will last
me to my destination. but enough... i am tired and i must leave early in the
morning tomorrow.
*** end of entry ***
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
thank you for your time
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
if you would like to submit a poem, short story, brainstorm, or anything else
that you think belongs in mindflow, please mail us at our homes or email us
through the internet.
josh ruihley keith shapiro
418 wells lane 199 woodlark road
versailles, ky 40383-1545 versailles, ky 40383-9190
internet : ebbheadky@aol.com internet : lunatix!kshap@s.ms.uky.edu
.
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mindflow #5 09.12.94
ascii version
(c)1994 mindflow publications
about mindflow-------------------------------------------------------------------
concept/editor: josh ruihley <jrruih0@ukcc.uky.edu>
programmer : keith shapiro <kdshap0@nx41.mik.uky.edu>
mindflow is a monthly ezine that features poetry, short stories, brainstorms,
random thoughts, essays, ect. basically, mindflow features thoughts. it
takes what people feel and what people think and it compiles these thoughts
into a monthly mind trip for people across the country and world to enjoy.
all that is really needed to enjoy mindflow is an open mind, so open up your
mind, and enjoy.
mindflow is free to distribute as long as its contents are not altered in
any way. each piece in mindflow is personal property of its author and may
not be copied in any way (except when distributed with the whole issue of
mindflow).
format:
right now, mindflow is distributed in two formats.
one: ibm .zip file. this file includes the actual mindflow program which
is menu driven and has vga graphics. if you are on an ibm, ***i highly
recommend that you check this version out.***
two: universal .txt file. this is just all of the contents of mindflow
typed out in ascii (.txt) format. this will work and print on almost any
operating system out there. all of the same great pieces, but not as
pretty as the .zipfile.
subscriptions:
subscriptions to mindflow are free. to subscribe, just send your email
address to:
kdshap0@nx41.mik.uky.edu or
jrruih0@ukcc.uky.edu
please include whether you want the ascii (.txt) version or the uue encoded
.zip file.
submissions:
this is the most important thing about mindflow. without your thoughts and
your submissions, mindflow would be nothing. for the most part, all
submissions are accepted , so if you would like to see
something of yours in mindflow, please, send us your submission.
all versions of mindflow (.zip and .txt) are available at:
bulletin board systems:
ripcurl bbs (versailles, ky) 14.4 1.606.873.6637
the void (hopkinsville, ky) 14.4 1.502.886.0517
2400 1.502.886.5871
fallen angel bbs (lexington, ky) 9600 1.606.299.2329
aoyu (lexington, ky) 2400 1.606.273.6836
commercial:
america online
keyword: writers
writers club e-zines
internet:
anonymous ftp: archive.etext.umich.edu /pub/Zines/Mindflow
editors note------------------------------------------------------------------
welcome to mindflow #5! this month is a big month for us. mindflow is now
officially on the internet. this means that mindflow is now available to a
whole new group of people: definitely a step in the right direction.
we here at mindflow are also heavily encouraging subscriptions to mindflow.
subscriptions are absolutely free and mindflow will be in your mailbox the
day of release each month. to subscribe, just send your email address to
keith <kdshap0@nx41.mik.uky.edu>. please let him know if you would prefer
the ascii (.txt) file or the uue encoded .zip file.
this issue: once again, there are many, many great thoughts from different
people in this mindflow. most pieces this month can be classified in the
brainstorm, poetry categories. there was a shortage of short stories this
month, so we can try to make up that next month! anyway, i hope you enjoy
this monthly compilation of thoughts.....
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Autumn Storm By Danielle Cosney-------------------------------------------
Crisp, iridescent leaves
scrape the pavement
as gusts of warm, damp winds
carry them along.
Swarthy, somber clouds
swiftly roll in
obscuring the bright sun.
Irrigous drops
fall from the ominous skies
creating a gentle patter
on the softening ground.
The sweet smell of damp leaves
floats soothingly with the breeze.
cobain by Kurt Moskowitz--------------------------------------------------
why idolize something
why worship someone
because there life is not finished and done
4 he brought it upon himself
not you
there is no need for hysterics
no need to hold your breath
no need to repress your own freedom
because most people expect more of you
media surrounded him
sharpened there knives
and you can damn well say he payed the price
for it was them
that did it
they wont admit it
for the gun he used the media filled
why do they morn for someone they
killed
a thought by Ann Keller----------------------------------------------------
Sometimes the best times we have are only shared with our dreams.
the fall by Andy Malloy---------------------------------------------------
looking down i see the rocks
and water flowing, white turbulence
leaning forward thinking only
"is it worth it?" and
"is it worth it?"
tipping past the point of balance
moving beyond no return
i'm falling, falling
toward the rapids
wind howling in my ears
everything's a blur
then in an instant
it's over
and my body swings
under the bridge
Untitled by Mike Laiacona--------------------------------------------------
5am and sober
i've never felt better
life isn't broadcasted in 2 tones of gray
life isn't hating myself or you
life isn't a hazy delirium dream
i still haven't forgiven myself for your death
but i think about it almost every day
I remember watching the news about
our latest effort overseas
and I can never forget seeing your name among
those killed,
and I can never forget feeling sick to my stomach
so numb i couldn't begin to think it was true
I crawled into a bottle that night and
did not leave until now
In altered states, I am the fool
the prophet who seizes life in one breath
and easily brushes it aside with the next
In altered states the pain is all to real
I wanted to lay side by side with you
forever
It was all to easy to do
and that scared the hell out of me,
so now it's 5am and sober
and I never want to go back...
flagging down the angels by Su Byron----------------------------------
you gotta try to catch them
these winged beings
as they fly over churches on Sundays
you gotta be quick
to catch these pure things
barely born and still covered with that cloak
that coat of newborn goodness
you gotta jump high to bring them down
you gotta climb to the highest step
while the minister curses you
under his breath
you gotta be quick
and kiss every hand that will help you to
where you need to be
you gotta be able to stay on the roof
all night while other guys
make love and drink beer and read verse
to their g-stringed mistresses
you gotta play the game to get there
to catch those flying angels
believe me
I caught one in a dream once
and flew all night
through bursts of violin music
and sights of strange color
that broke my heart
you gotta kneel when you're close below them
and with the cleanest face you can muster up
you gotta gaze on them
and with pure thoughts you
gotta beg them not to pass you over
Untitled by Bryan Mullins-------------------------------------------------
little flower, why do you wilt so?
when all your days are filled
with sunshine
and green fields?
a dark cloud has passed over you
and threatens not to leave?
blocking the sunshine,
making green fields grey.
little glower, worry not
your pretty purple petals,
the sunshine within you
turns again the grey fields
green.
Mirrors author unknown-----------------------------------------------
Who was he? The strange man in the mirror. I never knew. I laughed with him
sometimes, cried with him more, yet I never knew who he was. We often stared
at each other but he never spoke to me or betrayed his secrets to me.
I've heard that some people believe the mirror holds their soul and provides
them a short visitation of it. Yet each time I came to the mirror, I was met
by this cold stranger. I was forced by him to search within me to find my
soul.
After long searching I finally came to her, sealed behind many walls and
buried beneath tears and lies. I looked to her and cried, embracing her after
so long. I began tending her wounds and helped her from that place, giving
her freedom. She smiled and rose, filling me and embracing me. Now when I
meet the mirror, I see her and she smiles tenderly to me. We share our
thoughts and secrets. I speak fondly to her and feel her reply.
But I wonder what happened to the man in the mirror and who he was. I wish I
could have known him and spoken to him. He is gone forever now. Perhaps he
never existed, except as the guardian protecting my soul until she was strong
enough to stand alone.
--------------------------myself by paul kell------------------------
to
crawl
outside
myself
and view what's
left
the visions of what
i want to be
my sights on what
i want to see
the
mellow meadows
of my mind
changing seasons
changing time
changing things
i want to find
all wasted words
from
wasted lines
the
cold creeps
in the
light eludes
my soul's what's
left
the
dark secludes
all that i see is
what i am
not
what i'll be
not
what i've been
alone
to be
without you
here
i see my sin
i see my fear
i see myself
in this
mirror
an
empty shell
of what is
dear
what was
life
is now not
there
so
what is it
that
i've found
in these
walls
that
surround
to make my
hopes and thoughts
resound
an
inner peace
before
unfound
tis it life
flows from within
beneath my breast
beneath my skin
beneath my soul
the light within
or is it
not
a
myth
a
tale
a
talisman
old and frail
could it be
something else
gold within
an untold
wealth
i know not
what
makes me decide
right and wrong
in all confide
my
conscious state
of
love and hate
both absolutes
we both
debate
loss of life
or
loss of soul
the
quest for truth
my
final goal
"stricken, smitten, and afflicted"
the
anti-climax
makes me
whole
Impatient Patience by Don McCormick---------------------------------------
People say I'm impatient
And that I have to learn
That the world won't move when I want
And I've got to wait my turn
In my heart I know they're right
And I'm doin' what I can
But until I attain deliverance
This is just the way I am.
Now I know that the earth harbors
Many strays, dimwits, fools and worse
And I hear tell in third world countries
Many people die shortly after birth
But here in the U.S.A. Texas Triangle
'Ole Beaumontville
Our longevity permits
That we may fret
Over nothing more than a utility bill.
But, lately I've found something that seems important
And disturbs my little brain
Concerns this girl I met the other night
And if I'll ever see her again
That may seem a little selfish,
(Living in such a microcosmic world)
But despite my adventurous spirit
I'm just another boy lookin' for a girl.
So, anyway, I thought I'd found her
I felt so safe and warm
My heart tremored
Quakes of delight
A rose without a thorn!
So I cascaded down the steepest slopes
Suddenly without fear
Pretending everything was all right
And that I wouldn't have to steer
Thinking everything was OK
And that I wouldn't have to turn
That I would sail right into her life
But I just had to learn;
That I was ordinary
No matter how special I may feel
And that special feeling is temporary
And that's what makes it oh so real.
Like the bird and the worm
And the fish and the fly
And the balance of nature
And the way we survive
And the loving and the lonely
And the frost and the seed
And it's only through contrast
That we may see...
That it's the feeling that we crave
That drives us near insane
Yet we demand whoever brought it
Bring it back again
But then they're just carriers
Like it could have been the flu
-First they love you
Then they don't-
And there's nothing you can do
'Cept button up 'gainst
The gales of emotion
And fall in love
Whenever love gets the notion.
silence. (c)1994 josh ruihley---------------------------------------------
the stabs of silence
poke at me
robbing all
i'll ever be
no chance for reversal
no chance to turn back
now is too bright
and then is too black
i forked to the right
when left was what was true
i forked to the right
when left it lead to you
so here i am
confused and mislead
my chance is dead
my chance is dead
so here i am
confused and mislead
there's nothing said
my chance is dead
Spiny Blue By Joel Wheeler------------------------------------------------
I've only seen you once --
your azure mysteriousness
is so obvious to
all but me.
You're everywhere, but not for me
-- a Saturday morning dream.
A satisfied smirk is ever
apparent --
Sixteen short bits going
on thirty-two.
"the view from here" (c)1994 Amber Goddard--------------------------------
once, when i was very small and all things seemed good and shiny,
i fell into a round hole under the kitchen sink, and as i floated
weightlessly towards the prince of salamanders, i threw back my head and
laughed, because i knew things he didn't.
then he chewed off my innocence and, through the straw in my ear,
sucked away my
laughter.
this was when i was very small.
the bond of life (c) 1994 by keith shapiro--------------------------------
somehow i knew that
when i first saw you
that you were the only
someone for me.
at first you piqued at me
and then my curiosity
took over and wanted to know
something about you, dearest
there is a bond between us
even if we cannot see or admit it
it has always been and will always be
from a moment frozen in thought
time plays its leprechaun's tricks
dancing about and trying to break it
but that bond was formed out of time
and so he will never separate us
even though you may have left
gone away to anther place
these bonds are formed of something
that has no bounds or distance
and i will go on, doing and existing
waiting for the day when i can truly be
that is the day that you come back
that is the day that you return for me
somehow i knew... the first time i saw you
that there was something different about us
i never knew until i first saw you
that you were meant to be my match
and this bond will always be there
even after a million years
it is there and always between us
it lets us share our hopes and fears.
but this is hard, the words don't come easy
each one is a though about you
i don't know if i can bear it much longer
being here, without seeing you.
.