Month: December 1997

[This was originally published in F.U.C.K. poetry Issue #10. The publish date is approximate.] All poetry sucks. No talent, eccentric fucks. subjective creativity is not art and does not hold meaning. Anyone can scribble, we can all force rhymes. So what makes ‘good’ poetry. If YOU like it. Nothing else. Like beauty it is in…

[This was originally published in F.U.C.K. poetry Issue #9. The publish date is approximate.] unknown likeness in the distancemutual spirit close to heartnever ending friendly surprisedaily routine repressed the spark curiosity, maybe even destiny?always meant to be, in one form or anotherone with true concernsilently provoking, such a tease never met, already knowncontent with eternal…

[This was originally published in F.U.C.K. poetry Issue #8. The publish date is approximate.] seven days a week, we were onefour eyes saw the purity betweeneight months we shared our soulstwo times a day, we shared our bodiesone bad night to bring it downfive cuts remembering the painthree years to rid myself of your memory

[This was originally published in F.U.C.K. poetry Issue #7. The publish date is approximate.] single repeat can’t touchoverwhelming adrenalineprepare, and it still pullsone second down thought trails to memeonly on tv, hands of controlhigh risk raid, self defensetwo seconds down magazine emptypause to admire killing techniquefresh circle of pinpointssilence returns

[This was originally published in F.U.C.K. poetry Issue #6. The publish date is approximate.] more eclectic, eccentric, out of touch another kernel compile, more mail A all meaning lost to all 2.0.55 bombed shortly after 2.0.31 small slice except me another man page, another util now of my random thoughts I known. continued wonder of…

[This was originally published in F.U.C.K. poetry Issue #5. The publish date is approximate.] dull flicker, the room dances with life;whisper of trance pours from the speakersbowing head, warrior prepares for strife so much time crashes by;its the longest minutes of his lifeand his duty begs him to cry as he wishes he was deadsilent…