PLANET ARET
. . . CONVERSATIONS IN POETRY . . . . CONVERSATIONS IN PROSE . . . .
...a friend is a stranger waiting to be met...
RISK
THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE... (I HOPE...) THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE... (I HOPE...) THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE... (I HOPE...) THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE...
PLANET ARET
. . . CONVERSATIONS IN POETRY . . . . CONVERSATIONS IN PROSE . . . .
...a friend is a stranger waiting to be met...
RISK
January 3, 2000
> :)
>
>i have teeth. i've been known to bite
>the hand that feeds me. you can not
>guarantee my cooperation by being nice
>to me or by flattering me. i am a strong
>woman. i have strong opinions. i know
>in my head what is right and what is wrong.
>i have made lines in my life which i will
>not cross.
>
>just wanted you to know.
>
>but, hey! i'm also really nice, too.
>
>aret
>not just another pretty face. :)
*theeere* you are =)
the writer in me missed your words big time and I hoped I'd find you here... hope you're inspired to poetry soon... so little miss bites nice, how've ya been?...
hope the crap of life hasn't been to deep for you and the muse has not gone too hungry...
here is my hand
do what you must
here is my smile
you've got my trust
I like your style
cynical lust
innocent dreams
ashes and rust
but discarded beauty
behind youre sneer
defies your warning
welcomes the fear
casual asides
soon you are near
slipping behind us
suddenly here
this is an unreasonable facsimile
of your unintended mentioning
the artist's reflection
judges with a whisper
comforts with a scream
or paranoid delusion
infectious poetry
welcome your illusion
and when the fan is fecaled gently
damn the heart that remains pure
reason loses hope intently
slamming into every door
corrupt passion births the folly
condemned men know in the end
nothing lingers but the longing
alone with a million friends
someone said enter the matrix
alice bit the mushroom hard
share the breast of your indifference
lift your bail, stroke you rod
play that flurried finger fancy
no need for another now
yet somewhere there burns desires
even if we don't know how
fix your god another cancer
light a candle for dead dreams
answer only what your willing
nobody knows just what it means
bit and pieces of a puzzle
scattered throughout a vast maze
and enigma in a riddle
in a place where no one stays
a dichotomous construction
a dance where no music plays
no one understands your ways
confusion explains your days
in a moment of clarity I thought I saw
the answer you were hiding in your dare me smile
and then I knew
I didn't know
honest love, ric
... a friend is a stranger waiting to be met ... a friend is a stranger wanting to be met ... a friend is a stranger willing to be met ...
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