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Powell Poems

At the usual club for a mates birthday with a noticeably terrible haircut
Something kinda like Dwayne Dibbly's off the Red Dwarf TV series
Almost sober
And speaking to a girl of phenomenal beauty
Mysterious... features as if she hadn't quite
been around the place before
Untainted by the usual blues of typical local youths
A brain unclammed
And man, there she goes off and partying
I think she'd whacked down some drugs
Cos her transformation was amazing

Stared at her for a while, and dreamed of a few impossibilities
My thoughts contaminated, then I knew I was in for
an evenings battle with the sex-drive

'The drink'll stop it all'

The sub-conscious
The escapist talk of the mind
The escapist whispers of an already influenced head

'Easy, the drink, yeah, the beer'll make it easier'

And by then the people of the night
were making me feel quite nauseous
With repetitive talk and various forms of arse-licking

Beers rolled down the neck
The room shook
Danced and felt complete for a while
'Yeah the night IS good' I'm shouting
Chatting and dancing with the beasts
who once bored me to my sickness

Conversations never to be remembered

The return journey, incomprehensible and conned into
believing the night was one of the greats

Blanked out

Told the following day
(by a friend who spent the previous night sober)
That there I was, 4.a.m, back at a friends house
threatening a couple of pillheads with a pair of kitchen
What a shit comedown for the poor bastards
One of them claiming I was some unheard of knife enthusiast
Too many coincidences to tell him otherwise
Same name, same birthplace, and knives in hand
And being a pissed up fuck, probably with
some sort of evil smile would've sealed the case
And fuck knows who the other geezer was
Probably a pair of thoroughly decent blokes

What a night of possibility
The sex-drive, killer of mans sanity
The alcohol, killer of clarity
The knives, product of these murders

...ahhh the mind'll do anything
to distort your vision

...to con yourself you're in the right

and the genius of the mind is that
It wins almost every time

When beer days fall cliff edged
lost in the haze of wasted power
my rucksack revolution ambition nullifies
then it is time, I know, to pray.
When craftsmanship is overlooked
and creativity is as gold dust
the old zen lunatics smile at me
as wise as unborn children.
Now is time of hope unneeded
as time exists not when fear vanishes
lifes young eyes cry for pure experience
an unfathomable mystery to be unlocked.
18 January 2001 00:09

I sat in sheer fear of losing those bonds
Of family repair and grace
And a pure love invented and brought by these people
And this monstrosity called truth lures me away and away and away
And I fear for my health
And I fear for my bliss
I dont want to shit my pants for realisations sake
But I know I must
A journey this far is like seeing the sun without feeling her heat
The encouraging stroke upon my face, touching like loved ones touch
Fear of the truth, how stupid is that?
I can vouch for nothing and if i cry i now know it means nothing
Suicide appeals like eating balls of shit
Losing your ties
Losing your bonds
Sam in the loneliness of Cornwall where kerouacs wondrous waves crash the shores
Admiration of his battle strength seen in my eyes as great as winning a war
A war it is
Losing the ties
Needed or not?
Justifying my poor actions?
The time is ticking and time leads to the present and I'm thinking
Yes! Football in a few hours time
The beauty of a life which had to come and go
My Life
Beautiful life, heavenly girlfriend, angelic faces of friendship
My spirits are ideal
I, not understandably, dwell in optimism
And know the sun the moon and the stars are watching in near bliss
the mystical wizard of destiny may tap my left shoulder at any second.
Fri, 28 Jan 2000 19:49

Bedroom, between walls of illuminous catastrophes
In between minds full of haberdashery
Catastrophes dressed as laughable cats
Sticking extra long arms on my ears and legs in my moustache!

Feeling incomplete yet patient
Its some connection to this cute little devily shaped thing
That keeps popping through my window
Saying 'Come over here man, God is wrong'

And for fuck, I sometimes believe him!
Hah, the cheeky Impish little git!

A friend of mine, I know, is his treasured acquaintance
The top robot I am sure
As sure as sure is real
Her well timed arrival to the touch of my penis

Complimenting my effervescence in my time of need
And now her sudden abstinence from my arms!
The minx blowtorch babe!
Mixed up monster horse!

Makes me want to squeal monstrosities at pigs
and ministers and people who cant see clean beauty in love's bellowing silence
But peace sweeps my body home to truth
And I see love conquers pain and that pain only leads to pain
So here I come bouncing like babies
Dancing down the streets of coloured arms and smiling toys
Treated like a baby
People say one day I'll have to get a proper job

'Baby, you gotta live like a real robot'
I like monkeys more than robots
Only last night I left my girlfriend's home
Fluid and restful
Wandering mindfully
A child's kite, happy to walk any distance in the cooling dreamy state of my future's palm
With thoughts as gentle as;
'What am I doing in this life?'
'What is love anyway?'

Backpack on, travelling home early hours of the morning
Red wine glowing like warm hands on full tummy
Talked about this love of women to the garage attendant
Recently befriended through drunkard excellence
Shopkeeper with such disobedience and anger
His tone tamed by angers absent lips
Bothered by his own existence
And the entirety of women
His life arranged by religions mist
We talked love and change
He believed no change
Maybe I made him think?
But I had to leave, to where only last week
The magpie crashed just metres from my eternal presence
And swung branch to branch
As if a rat had stolen some dead birds body
And, this week, not far from, was a loveable dog
Whom I followed for some steps
Stray and scruffy, no strangling securities
I shouted the dog politely, and its head turned straight to my face
ugh, what an intrusive face!
Face of space, face of fear, attack face, run face, disrespect face, old face, new face
Eternal face, blue eyes, brown eyes, purple eyes, eyes of India, eyes of Japan
Eyes of Majorca
Eyes of remembrance
Eyes of war
Eyes reminiscent of local childhood bullies and streets of wrinkled violence
Eyes forced into an uncomfortable glare making simple seconds pass like millenniums
And my very own eyes are his paws!
Phew! Off he trotted like a horse into the luring hands of the dark park

Through the iron gates and gradually darkness took him from my vision
Trotting down past, I imagine, the horseshoe-maker and the friendly cobbler
Then the fishmonger, who waves protectively over his doomed bright crabbies
Who wish the ways of the water, whether forgotten to them or not
'Because evolution says we should go home!' squeal the crabbles
Through their subconscious love buttons
And off trots the dog
Past the screaming crabs
In a dream or not
Perfectly forgotten by the crabs who move to pastures new and old

The horses trot, the dogs malice, and the thoughts of the crab
All float mysteriously
Smiling like Indians in warm wig-wams
Down to the comforting bed of the lord
Down to old Eddies knacker-yard
Fri, 28 Jan 2000 19:49

There are two options at every instant
If you are good and true to yourself you will feel good
If you are bad and false to yourself then you will feel bad
I know it sounds simple but these two options strangle me
Sun or rain, every second, of every day
Now I must leave my page and you must lead your life
hope this helps

Yours Sincerely
Fri, 28 Jan 2000 19:49

My cells are separating
Emancipating from the slavery as Marley yodelled
Flying slightly
Under the serene influence of Ivan Morrison
Of a man's sweet voice
Of another mans cells
Matter to matter
Dust to floating dust
Flickered by the tongue of wind and gently spread by the lips of love
Remember the simplistic experiments
Where mass condensed and passed through a life of its own
Released as evaporating angels
Under the touch of a simple Bunsen burners flame
Then re-incarnated as untouchable gases!
Such rational amazement!
This big re-incarnation bafflement
Lying there, as sweet as a true mistress
Too obvious for our unopened eyes
One tangible touch of heat
And cells stretching to where they wish !
Venturing honestly
Into the waves of the nagual
Fearless into the unfathomable
With no recollection of illegality
Or even lucidity
I want to comfort you
And you too want to comfort me
For we can listen to the air that whispers
And dive the waves of sanctuary that wash up on the sandy shores of the mind
to see the souls of separated structures
Vast and wide
Rapturous visions of life
lying closer to the eye than the eye itself!
The eye
With vision, ethereal
The eye
With will, gone
Floating through non-existence
Into Oneness and out of nothingness
Pretty little scrumptious nothingness
Releasing the noose of expectation
Before beheading the strain of explanation
Fri, 28 Jan 2000 19:49

Music cuts off my arms
Rips off my umbilical length
Tears apart my rib-cage
Grinds at my pelvis
Slices my forearms
Masturbates on my smooth, clean hair
Glues together my lips
Daggers my eyelids
Strokes my scratches
Scratches my sores
Cleaves off my fingers
Lacerates my intestines
Pressures my thumping heart
Until all thats left is heavenly perception
For I perceive
Whilst time stops
And when I exist again
The clock exists again
My steps exist again
And walk meditatively
Toward the next apocalypse
Fri, 28 Jan 2000 19:49

I say God
You envisage beards flying through space
God - all
Just simply everything
Love is God's sidekick
A meat pie with a fly on it
Now aint that bad !!!!!
Ah Man, Its just gods fingernail
God, love, truth, simplicity
Such sincerity
I pray mercy for you feather dusters
Tickling and tickling away
Whispering 'fingernails.
We must find more fingernails'
Fri, 28 Jan 2000 19:49

I feel strongly about nothing at this instant
I am neither weak nor pitiful
I am even
I am a circus tightrope walker
I am a crow on an unused telephone line
I am a bowl continually rolling down an endless alley
No need to correct me
I am beside you
Your lovely curls and the way you sway and swirl and use your curls
Instead of words to choose direction
I am beside you
I am your ears
Your voice sounds gently through Pennine winds
Your words - 'I will find love!!!'
Your thoughts sneak to the foggy hillside peaks
Screaming - 'Will i find love?'
I am beside you
As is love
As is the pencil portrait of my dog with his floppy ears
Malfunctioning charmingly
As is the greasy pilchard dish cooked and served on
Comfortable tables alongside mediterranean sand grains
Erupting between toes, warm and homely
As is the packet of boiled sweets you purchased and consumed
With mouth-watering intensity, licking your lips as men oozed by
Eyes on eyes, with no return
As is the big biscuit tin holding the most picturesque money in the world
As are the living and the dead and the monsters
And the creators who never existed
As are the worlds never spoken of
As are the words never spoken and the garbage can fish skeletons
bought for millions
As is the pure orange juice that settles in a simple glass
Where luscious clippings of orange rest in the basement
Collecting for the last magical gulp
As are the supermodels and cowboy heroes
As are the peasants and the earls
Acting with thoughts and noughts and crosses
Moving, tempting, helping, scalping, tickling
And mama teresa is beside you, for I can
Identify her little feet alongside everything
Everyone and thing
Inside of you
Beside you
Just lying there in your accurately woven picnic hamper
With such a pleasant bow
Pink and boat-like
On a gentle air cluster
Fri, 28 Jan 2000 19:49

I have an eagle on my shoulder
Its visions cannot be explained
Its size roars from fearsome lightning bolts
Volting perfectly through simple keyholes
Its movement is clear and pure
It does not know who it is
As it needs no description
And cares for no description
It is an assault course for the karmic royalty
It is an end
Simplicity is enormous
I like my eagle for he is you and I
Sometimes the eagle walks past its
Canary compatriot who sits on the shoulder of a familiar face
Who's familiar anger builds each time he makes his distress evident
'My bird is bigger than yours!' he proclaims
With the roar of a hungry lion
I reply 'Your beautiful bird is no different to my bird'
Again, he roars louder like a starving hippo
The canary looks at him as if he has lost his marbles.
Fri, 28 Jan 2000 19:49

If I abuse you, I hurt myself
If I throw banquets at your laughing lips
I begin the starvation of my own body
If I intend to manipulate, then I am inserting the
Trowel and beginning to dig the hole where my
Flawfull body will rot
If anger is formed in this body, simply because of your presence
After my endless slipstream of mind cries and hides
From eventualities crawling out of the pasts dark hands
Then I am not a man but an aggressive man
If, in the cold, I blow out the simple candle flame to halt my
Longing for the desirable, smoky, atmospheric jump
From flicker to neverending blank action
I become blind
If I, at any point become incomprehensible it is unintended
And your stream will catch this stream
And link, not as words
But as every stream heads to the eternal ocean
If I persist to attempt an answer on asking myself
'What is mankind?'
Then I am a persistent man of some kind
Together with you
In the blameless mental hospital called earth
Both timeless and ridiculous
Fri, 28 Jan 2000 19:49

Her Fireworks
Her fireworks
Black and blue at base
Stem, the mist of her youth
The high stork stretching for the sun
And speckles of light hit midnight
Warmth to the tip of her meditations
Where she lies in beautiful innocence
The orient of her eyes
Beaming presence on my body
Unfolding the pretence
Beholder of the present
The only time, if time is named
Her tip, a hysterical mass of wonder
Thu, 28 Oct 1999 00:28:46

Me & my keyboard
Keyboards, Well,
You know them Blending into wood
Always in my mind Gracious
The Australian keyboard frights of Johnny54
And plastic desks of boredom
Seen through the eyes of null angels
Angels whom have not yet flourished their wings
Upon sweeping, singing societies
Or broke from the ropes
As tied turtle doves
Poems will fly
Emotion will fly
Some things will die
Yet, We know I still love mankind kind man?
Kind one!
Poems zoom by like flashlight motorway headlights
As does life
Or what we apprehend to be life
I would say to the dead today;
Dead you are not dead!! you are me!
I love your god!
You are the legs I stand on and trust!
I am you
To be with you what would I do?
What a poor feat.
Stamp on my head in harmony with the roots of my baby-faced trees
Such trees of say, 20 years!
I would stamp and stamp until I became you
No need! We are we
Heed, taken from the bible, the bilio, bbibliash
Dreams, dreams, dream
Cars and screams
Life and girls
Who will take my world as I know it?
Beautiful cliffs,
Waiting for the fall to wondrous waters
Great abandonment!
What a death of Dover!
The white and blue as pure as purity itself
Twenty times a day I am winning my battle against insanity
I am, I am, Iam!
The little freckled girl from Dennis
She shouts and balls and stamps her crushable feet
But Dennis is free!
Dennis is a lion!
A lion from the Allen of Ginsberg
Who will live and die?
My friends, survival is both our lowest and highest phenomenon
Depending on the tilt of your butter-kissed head
Boys, girls, brilliant moons of Jupiter,
I do not care if you have eleven lumps
And the rings of uranus from patterns of spoon moons
I just love the word Neptune!
Shining a delicate blue through simple rivers of musbury Neptune,
I hear you shout my name Get me away from your far thoughts of solar systems and complicated starbursts
I just wanna be a happy man !
Me and my compatriot, Neptune, deduce from this
Every cover he abuses gently with genuine blushes
The favourite, in Dobbsys cover of the waterstone, Manchester
The deep blue Castaneda cover, horizon and depth
Mercy Oh beauty
The clips are taken from our bodies tonight
Lets let it all hang out, like fat buddhas!
Apprehension falls from minds
Hanging like pussywillows
Throwing our dimes
Complimenting the radiance of simplicity!
Thu, 28 Oct 1999 00:28:46

Here goes into poem land again
Try not to cling to egos and form
Try to sway like smoke from chimneys in and out of angelic homes
of plastic cartoned ashes
clinging to the dead bodies as if the life itself is dead!
Some smoke see joke
like the yaqui Indians of Mexico and surrounding
pointing the difference in the dreamer and the dreamed
Don Genaro in his fits of spasmodic laughter
Write it on a postcard home to England
Stop breathing for me
my fingers are now following
diverging points distorted landscapes
so i will break from here from this poem.
Poor or not I cant tell anymore, let other earthlings check it out
am i still here in this poem? Can't get out.
I can't end this thing, It is me.
Ok hope you are feeling clear and well farewell for now!
Thu, 28 Oct 1999 00:28:46

The whole country of china
Lies sleeping under the
Bonsai of her cheekbones
Sun, 7 Nov 1999 19:47:34

All falls are still before and after
All souls were souls before our bodies rose and melted
I see the cracks in space, moreso in time
Reminding me of my overflowing bath
I see the gates of heaven rise through the mind
As beautiful as emptiness
But these legs are not moving
Dragged through the dust by poor wisecracks of teatime radio
With all their might I shall not fight
For if medals make me happy I am crying
The fist cannot chase the invisible
If I am empty I am pure
Sun, 7 Nov 1999 19:47:34

The plastic telecommunications keep pushing down on my heart
His massaging voice swells
And eases its aura into an almost comfortable pressure
Ring me, pick me up
Silently smokelike
Now. No later! Pick me up hands off me!
The suspense is my form of power
I am just a phone
But I am selfish too
And untrue
Just like you humans
With our malnutrition and constipations
Pick me up
But not yet
You, John, are lying in my power
Sun, 7 Nov 1999 19:47:34

Listen Mr phone, I know you can hear me
My fingers were scratching the fragile glass of your suspense
I was there at the phone
And you knew it
So you phoned me
Are you my girlfriend?
Beautiful as a fleeting thought
Sunstars and tornadoes
Tortilla and funky disco dancing
Your suspense will lurk next time
I am sure of this
I could have conquered
But you made it easy for me
Next time the heart massage will last longer
But I must be stronger
For you are just a phone
And my eyes cannot see as warriors see
As the Indians see
I can only beat you through my own lovely ignorance
And where is the point in that?
Sun, 7 Nov 1999 19:47:34

Pure phone
Smooth phone
All appearance
But your power and perseverance
Lie knowingly in your heart
Sun, 7 Nov 1999 19:47:34

After hours of searching for the right words, I met two friends: King Horse and Elvis. They passed me these words, which of course should be passed on to you people.

Cheap cut satin and bad perfume
Showtime is almost here
Teased up by a strip cartoon
Laughing up your sleeve
Sniggering in your beer
Hed seen the bottom of a lot of glasses
But hed never seen love so near
Hed seen love get so expensive
But hed never seen love get so dear
Now I know that youre all King Horse
Between tenderness and brute force
She can turn upon a sixpence in the mouth and trousers set
Hit the bill, ring the bell, never spill a sip
And still she knows the kind of tip she's gonna get
A lot of loose exchanges, precious little respect
When its someone elses weekend
Thats the best you can expect
So fond of the fabric
So fond of fabrication
From comic books to tragic
Through the heart of complications
Meanwhile back in some secluded spot
He says will you please? and she says stop
If I ever lose this good thing that Ive got
I never want to hear the song you dedicated tonight
Cause I knew that song so long before we met
That it means much more than it might
Sun, 30 Nov 1997 14:39:46

Right, yesterday, I was in the library as I usually am at this time. The clock strapped to my arm mentioned that the time was somewhere between nine and ten, you see the man who controls the minute hand had only recently returned from a holiday somewhere which meant he had not yet become in control of his work schedule.

Your all wondering where he went on holiday arent you? Well to be honest, weve all known him for a few years now, nearly twenty-five, this was his first holiday. He wouldnt tell us where he was going, in fact we knew he wouldnt, or at least I did. At least I did what?

Anyway the books in the library were kind of dusty, all with dark and
Tatty leather cases, it was as if I was part of some film, you know where I find a book of ancient words, or a treasure map, just like being up in your grandparents loft, with the old paintings, put there years before anyone was ever born.

Anyway I looked around, there was a man standing, there were three seats next to him, but still he stood, I could see this was a big moment in the library, as all the staff were peeking above their half-glasses they wore to go along with the stereotype that the general public had tagged them with since, well since something.

Anyway this was the moment they had been waiting
so long for, and they knew they would have a story to tell on their arrival home.
The book in the mans hand had a title of some length, it read,
Ten thousand hands around my fingers,
seeing my world burn to cinders,
suddenly I dont seem so wise,
when your truths tell a million lies
After all this everything fell back into place, as I wandered off to the
chippy, which seems to be tasting worse everyday. I dont know why, same people, same potatoes, same place, same time, everything was the same apart from the taste. My explanation is taste-bud puberty, you know when all the things you once loved/or said you would never eat become, oh you know, you start eating
plain crisps, I mean cheese and onion are top of my wanted list sometimes, anyone else experienced the taste-bud puberty yet?
Well thats what went on yesterday during a break I was handed, only fifteen minutes, but obviously I had to estimate this.
Sun, 7 Dec 1997 07:18:27

I mean I was about seventeen and a half, something clicked, well the notes say so, although my feelings at the moment tell me that it was all lies.
So, I think at the time I was off to explore something, nothing to do with the maze I was in at the time, this kind of formed around me as I walked a straight sort of path.
Anyway it was just before dinner, I saw something which resulted in this, my explanation is poor due to the length of time between the notes below and the present day :
On the day in mention, something was lost, it must have been something big, although I dont have the date feeling, you know when you smell something and it reminds you of an era you passed at some point in your life?
Anyway (it seems) something that day was definitely lost, what was lost
What was Lost
Engulfed in the rays,
the end of the maze,
was near,
one name.....
and off to cloud nine.
One more vision blue,
and all would be seen,
no knots,
no more knots.....
then off to cloud nine.
A glow to surround,
in a field of hope and dreams so close
An explosion went ahead,
they found a thousand nerve endings dead.
All the peace we had grown,
in the garden, was blown and ripped apart.
The mist and the darkness,
like a pane of glass by the gutter
Shattered cuttings of pride,
all intelligence found was lost or tied.
A few more steps behind,
a wave to stop the force, the hurt.
A skull ripped in two,
Like a pane of glass by the gutter
What was what was lost,
a willingful morning gone,
everything was done, was undone.
Including all credibility...
What was what was lost.
Sun, 7 Dec 1997 07:18:25

Its just like playing in those complicated shadows.
Courtesy of Van and Elvis
And I shall drive my chariot
down your streets and cry
Hey, its me, Im dynamite
and I dont know why
And you shall take me strongly
in your arms again
And I will not remember
that I even felt the pain
We shall walk and talk
in gardens all misty and wet with rain
And I will never, never, never
grow so old again.
Mon, 27 Apr 1998 16:58:03

this isn't how I speak)

ok, erm...
lets start again
I'm a little nervous,
(Is it hot in here?)
I better go before I start going red,
I blush easy,
sorry about this,
I'm not used to it.
I cant do it.
(I've wasted your time now, sorry).
Sat, 21 Nov 1998 16:37:11 0000

get all kitted up
cherub cheeked
ironed shirt
theres a party on the hill
smiling faces
someone crying
pretty balloons
loads of small sausages (skinless)
and some horrible cake to bring home
Sun, 29 Nov 1998 19:24:13

(True Story of the weekend)
Right guys, I was watching telly the other night, (lots of words missing here) then woke up and did something similar. Soon I came to a conclusion, so I went out and bought a fluffy pink hat (not dissimilar to the rabbits in Alice in wonderland) I wore it like fascinated teenage film star. People passed comments in the street, none of them knew what I was thinking, they didn't know I had four quid in my pocket either... they thought it was a movie or something. Dan Hartree bought some three-fingered gloves from the same shop (didn't you Dan).

Yeah that was a great day, me, Dan the stars

And a little bottle of sunshine (in case dusk settled early) oh yeah, and a girl from the Woolpack, she lives on Haslingden Road or something, we all ended the day at Stickies, where Andy Ashworth has a new part time job. The highlight of the night was when everyone waited with bubbles of anticipation as Jon Tolley came out with his new togs on.

Im on the ground
Im upside down
Youre in the air
Youre in the air
and I am breathing
hope you enjoy the day ahead of you
Sun, 29 Nov 1998 19:42:40

Im in love again
like last week when I fell in the oil pit and nearly drowned
I want to be next to her whenever I can be
just to see her smile would send waves of optimism through my body like a swimming pool of sunlight.

Ive moved house guys, right behind Mr Lindsays brother, I like it here, it feels almost as if I should have always lived here.

Im sitting in my new computer room talking to you guys listening to

Music in a comforting woollen jumper (great fit) not too dangly over the arms my arms hurt a little off the edge of the desk

yeah the music has set (along with the jumper) a comforting atmosphere, Up by REM is now playing.

Yeah right this house, it seems much bigger than I thought it has a nice little picturesque conservatory, which nobody uses.
Erm, overall its good and the move went ok.
Mon, 7 Dec 1998 23:21:47

This is the list always at the back of my mind
go to Uni. (never gonna do it)
get a full time job (Id feel too old)
get a better-paid job (dislike office work/love present job)
learn to drive (hate cars, dont trust other drivers)
attempts to do these little things (not worth mentioning)
buy a new guitar (very much in need of/cant afford due to first few points) travel the world (money/too scared)
write more songs (lack of moments when emotionally worthy/lack of time/lack of support/instruments)
ask the person of my dreams (too self-conscious/scared)
gain sanity (dont know where to buy it from)
grow young, buy a house MANSION and invite everyone I know/love to come a join and live as we want in peace and go and snowball houses and jump in mud and race spiders and jump from high buildings and throw things at people and drink and eat what I want and fly I would forfeit all of this for one thing.
MAN THAT WAS A BIT DEPRESSING, thanks for letting me release it.
I AM A LOT HAPPIER THAN THIS IN REAL LIFE AS YOU ALL WELL KNOW in fact please do not think I am unhappy at this present moment, in fact I am very happy sometimes I love life so much I want to hug it I love people so much. I guess everyone has these lists at the back of their minds (back me up guys).
It snowed here yesterday! Quite thick.
Mon, 7 Dec 1998 23:46:47

I hide from her until the day dies
sometimes while the nights awake
I escape and follow her
to convince myself that I am trying
One day I will reach from the frozen waters
burst the tranquil balance
and blue skies will grasp my wanting arms
until I am pulled with grace beyond belief
If anybody asks me
This is my finest defence
Tue, 8 Dec 1998 00:00:05

Hey guys, here is a poem of recent it is a nice poem with some mighty-fine help and influence from Jonny Robertson. I hope you all smile from bumper to bumper afterwards!

Sometimes if I stop
and listen
I can hear a thousand frightened fingers
on a thousand frightened keyboards
its a small war
yet the disharmony exists
And sometimes if I look away
my vision points toward the one
the unexplainable one
the true
For if I stop
and listen more
I hear our tune
emit the oracle
and see a thousand shining leaves
wipe away a thousand shining teardrops
19 May 1999 14:51

Nicholas Maden, a fair maiden indeed.
Not opened his mailbox, nor did he read,
the mails he was sent, the replies he was asked for,
maybe he slipped down the open Greek trapdoor.
Weak ending.
Week ending.
Its nearly that lovely day us humans call Friday!
Thu, 23 Oct 1997 18:28:48

Sitting on a postal box,
In a colourful country lane,
I witnessed an event of norm,
where I could lay the blame.
A man of sorts was down below,
and asked me what time it was,
I said the time was 1997 more,
he said he was 2000 years premature.
He asked if I minded him waiting,
little did he know,
that in this town 2000 years had passed already,
I'd left him with his wish come true.
I think my exit baffled him,
as I walked a winding path,
for I could see his expression,
he had not one feature left.
I met him again later,
He showed me his face and reasoning.
I laughed and I greeted,
to see him nod was strangely pleasing.
Thu, 23 Oct 1997 18:28:41

It'll peel you down to shreds,
and circle you with memories.
Your face will glow for a time because,
you really cant stand the faces.
The little chair you always held,
no longer bears you name bold.
You'll fade away just like the ink,
shattering into stories told.
Theres one ray left still filled with hope,
the ray you need to feed from.
Your name can glow illuminated,
before love eats you all wrong.
All the people secure their laughter,
and the words you need to climb.
The ink is drying quickly now....
Youre running out of time.
It'll feed from your weaknesses,
and cover you in ashes.
A smile creeps to your face because,
you really cant stand the paces.
The mist you need to conquer,
will always stand before you.
Like a never-ending roundabout,
you'll need those who adore you.
Learn the curtain, motion and trend,
the fact is that the curtains always draw in the end.
But good is all thats left to hear,
Youre just going to have to spin in the opposite direction my dear.
You are just going to HAVE TO spin in the opposite direction, my dear.

Thu, 23 Oct 1997 18:32:42

Remember the accent is filled by one and never NEVER two lines?

I felt so sorry for the girl next door
She was always next door, whenever you knocked
yet she had a host of problems
I think she threw all the keys for the locks
She lived with a pharmaceutical company
who fed her whenever in need
and people passed by whom she never knew
with eyes so easily pleased
She had a problem as the sub-company had vanished
well she wished this as it truly alarmed
her friends all knew the game as well
I could feel her fall apart in my arms
But I never said anything
I think she would have been easily scared
she was so fine to plead with
I mean you could run your hand straight through your hair
Another problem was she had spent to long
with a dog that always swayed
and her sub-companion number 1
never knew the real game she played
I now conclude that there is a fine line between beauty and duty
I now conclude that there is a fine line between duty and beauty
(Sorry for shouting)
This is a deceivingly happy piece of work.
Tue, 28 Oct 1997 14:05:16

My suggestive look mustn't have suggested a thing,
she makes me blind with those flowers she strings,
and inventions drip from her mind, so resourceful.
I wish I could tell her how I felt,
In words
I wish I dared place a title, or even split lonely,
but 'm sure she'll understand it's for safety purposes only,
I'm sure that she knows she could easily throw me.
But I'm nowhere near one hundred percent sure,
In words.
For safety purposes I included no name,
I know how I feel, and I know its a shame,
that I'd never pluck up the courage to stare,
deep.....into her wholesome voluptuous glare.
............................who invented those damn things ?
Wed, 29 Oct 1997 13:40:06

Marched into the capital brooding duplicitous
wicked and able
heartless and labelled.
Super US citizen
super achiever
mega ultra power dosing

A cramping style, a head that hangs low
over your shoulder
A face, that gradually splits and drips
over your shoulder
Siamese, we have formed a bond, people talk
about us as one person
Your bronze arms hold me, and shake me
lock me
Your flowing hair blocks my airholes
beat me
It scares me
It scares me to know I would miss this
Youre bronze arms.
A face that gradually spits
In slow motion
Your bronze arms.
(this honestly looked a lot bigger in real life)
Critics welcome home.
If anyone finds the answers
You will have heard these before, maybe unconsciously, the previous ok.
I'll stop babbling.
Everybody understands, it just takes people a while to admit it.
maybe I should underline this ???????????????????????????
Love that.
I'd just like you people to know that I love you.
Sat, 1 Nov 1997 06:10:27

The day was the seventh,
somewhere around Remembrance Day if I remember,
sombrous tulips grew me a beautiful horizon,
everything was there that I would die for.
A mask appeared upon my face,
me and the flowers formed as one as we embraced,
the sun held me mercifully, I embarked with no thorn,
everything was there that I would die for.
Sun, 23 Nov 1997 14:04:29

A psychopath stands before my naked eye,
leaving enough identity to become frustrated,
I asked him to leave,
he leaves enough silence to doubt his sincerity.
A ghost stands before my naked graze,
leaving enough pain to become human
I asked him to stay,
he stayed long enough for me to succeed him.
A knife went through my back today,
a regular occasion you say,
but lose belief in your opinion.
A knife went straight through,
no matter was spilt,
he stayed long enough for me to succeed him.
A knife went through my back today,
the girl who stood her ground was able,
the girl of my dreams,
making her name in the gutters and drains,
was able enough to leave no bombshell,
(on her part)
he stayed long enough for me to succeed him.
Sun, 23 Nov 1997 14:04:27

In fact I'd say he...
Was quite young, mid eighties, maybe the 1985 model, the ones we all had to send back due to high chemical content.
He said to me, he said Lustful unlookable, he stuttered slightly, but...

Thats another story. He said he kept clutching at a ghost like creature, I say ghost, but it definitely wasnt dead, I mean it was so alive it was killing him.

He told me that reality was always possible, I smiled an acknowledging smile, he knew I was confused, but was too confused himself to mention my state of affairs.
In fact my state of affairs was quite good at that time/this time, I mean maybe I was in love, or maybe I wasnt, nobody really cared about it anyway.
He told me reality always seems possible on an uphill slope.
These are the words he spoke:
He said Lustful Unlookable
(His words)
Lustful Unlookable, moderate but meaningful,
Ski slope and landscaped, normal but delicate,
Remarkable perfection, lined and similar,
Golden and workable, sensible and pure.
Sculptured magnetised, bloated but familiar,
Distinct and strangely questionable, slightly overdone
Inertia.. forceful, gravity retarded,
Simple and sensible, cloned yet post remarkable.
(notice the switch ?)
Lustful Unlookable
Clutching at nothing more
than the air surrounding
a charicature
Lustful Unlookable
holding on to more hope
yet reality seems possible
on an uphill slope,
Reality always seems possible on an uphill slope.

Yes these were his words, moderate but meaningful.... too meaningful, the words just sounded like words to me, but after just a few seconds I understood every single one, I'm sure he was an angel, but he didn't seem to notice my state of mind, maybe he didnt need to.
Maybe you guys can tell me what he meant by this,
I'm in the ice-(st)age,
I can see the healing water, but this little barrier is yet to be broken.
How many of you fell asleep during this?
Mon, 24 Nov 1997 18:37:32

(Cozy) John Paul Powell. Not to be used without permission.