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.

It’s 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 can’t 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.

There’s 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....

You’re running out of time.

It'll feed from your weaknesses,

and cover you in ashes.

A smile creeps to your face because,

you really can’t 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 that’s left to hear,

You’re just going to have to spin in the opposite direction my dear.

REMEMBER :

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

I NOW CONCLUDE THAT THERE IS A FINE LINE BETWEEN BEAUTY AND DUTY

(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 I'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 it’s a shame,

that I'd never pluck up the courage to stare,

deep.....into her wholesome voluptuous glare.

words......

words...........

words...................

............................who invented those damn things ?

Wed, 29 Oct 1997 13:40:06

*

1.

Marched into the capital brooding duplicitous

wicked and able

media-ready

heartless and labelled.

Super US citizen

super achiever

mega ultra power dosing

Relax.

2.

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

You’re 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.

Ok.

I'll stop babbling.

Everybody understands, it just takes people a while to admit it.

maybe I should underline this ???????????????????????????

okmanok

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

*

This is something that an old man threw on my lap, 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

That’s another story. He said he kept clutching at a ghost like creature, I say ghost, but it definitely wasn’t 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 wasn’t, nobody really cared about it anyway.

He told me reality always seems possible on an uphill slope.

These are the words he spoke:

(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.

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

*