thought issue one
april one 1996

(c)1996 mindflow productions
subscriptions, submissions, or any comments to:
email : thought@www.woodford.k12.ky.us
www   : http://sac.uky.edu/~jrruih0/thought

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credit where credit is due...
this is the .txt version of thought issue one.  all complete issues 
including visual art (photography, ect) can be found on the web page

cover photo by : sara compton
cover photo of : lisa rippetoe
creation : josh ruihley
editing : melissa pike
executable versions : keith shapiro
graphics : tin hung lok, josh ruihley
html : tin hung lok, josh ruihley
submissions : josh ruihley 

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content:


prototype - a welcome to thought                              
I dream I am a blimp pilot                   Micheal McNeilley
Poem Straight from my SubConsiousness        Antti             
Honkeys                                      M.K.               
a thought...                                 Aqua               
Let the Poem Be                              Charles Cooper     
A Tear in my Eye, And a Smile on my Face     Bill Bauman        
In a Feeling of...                           Christopher Stolle
fortunate.                                   melissa pike    
In the Pink                                  Danielle Stickler
Impatience                                   Sander Koyfman   
the sixty machines of mr. mills              josh ruihley    
posthumous forgiveness                       Barry de Waal  
journey                                      Keith Shapiro     
untitled                                     Seven           
Winter Comes                                 Jody Larsen   
passions of yesterday                        paul kell  

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prototype:  a welcome to thought


the first step has been taken.
the path seems a bit more clear.
jump on.
go where you wanna go.

welcome to thought issue one. im not really into these 'editor telling you
exactly what he thinks' pages, so i will keep this short. i do, though, 
want to say thanks to all who helped make this first issue possible. the 
first step has been taken, and it was the hardest step to take. its all good 
from here on out. i am pleased with the response to thought before the first 
issue was even released. so ive decided to not let anyone down. ive put much
time and effort into making it all come together, and i am happy with the 
first issue. i hope you are diggin' this also.  feel free to submit. this 
isnt an art review... its a place for all to come together and share their 
thoughts. okay... the 'editor telling you exactly what he thinks page' is 
now done. i'll let the pages speak for themselves. 

enjoy. 

j 

----------------------

I dream I am a blimp pilot
Micheal McNeilley


I pilot my blimp
my big black
blimp down
the river corridor
down the shipping lanes
where weather is
predictable
and navigation
is a breeze

it is night and I pass
blimp hotels and bars
clifftop moorings and
treetop apartments
with dim red
porchlights

and I pull into
the Judy Bar
which offers free parking
for blimp jockeys
and my heels spark
on the metal gratings
as I pass through those
swinging doors

everyone working in Judy's
looks about the same
female and male
waitrons dressed alike
it's a clone bar
and one with copper
hair and that
intractable headache manner
takes my order

white spider with a twist
and as she turns
to go a motion
in black denim
I think of you
walking away from me
and then it all
starts to make
sense

----------------------

Poem Straight from my SubConsiousness.
Antti


Behind the mask of madness , just
- just is the rule of time ,
as it will take away our mind .
For what good could it be , if
- if we little people could see ,
how feeble is this our try to be free .
            
Great people of time ,
- people who rule their own mind .
So driven and sane ,
motivated until the game ,
shall take away the pain .
Pain that was born in flames ,
pain of need and pride ,
pain of years in dark .
Losers and bums ,
we never wanted anything hard ,
we always could deal with the dark .
if motivation is name ,
that lights this little game ,
where god signs his name ,
i think i wont see the end .

----------------------

Honkeys
M.K.


My parents take pictures on the first
 day of school.
They smile while I scorn, and
 the pats-on-the-back are frequent.
My parents like everything except
 real things, and nothing in between
They brush their teeth together and 
 toothpaste oozes out of their
 mouths as they smile.
My parents are envious of childless
 couples and they are 911 morons
My parents drive a Volvo and they
 buy CD's for our cassette player
 satisfying wishful thinking.
My parents clean their bedroom on
 Saturdays and see a matinee if they
 are deserving.
My parents are hopeful, but they
 are limited in achievements
They have adjacent burial plots and
 labeled laundry baskets.
My parents are virgins of the world.

----------------------

a thought...
Aqua


If we are all actors playing a part in the role of life, we should rehearse
the bedroom scene more often. 

----------------------

Let the poem be
Charles Cooper

 
Find a new way to say it
Looking for something more
Use a word that no one knows
Sounds good
Looks good
It's meaningless.

Meaning and understanding walking hand in hand
One without the other may walk but not stand
The poem must be understood to mean anything
One-half page of footnotes is nice
But it means little to me.
Why write for a few intelligent snobs
When the world awaits your words
With your dreams caressing mobs.
  
Do you want your writing to be like God?
condemning us all to death for worship,
So we can worship with honesty truth
Do not! He deserves nothing and so shall you.
It is left for us only to be better then God
to rise above the standards set for us.
 
To give the poem meaning, to whisper words of truth
To know that all that read the words walk with understanding In their
hearts
and claim to all the wisdom that is ours to impart

For us to be the selfless ones
For a poem to mean more then content and words
For the poem to live our hopes and dreams.
For if we truly crave meaning in life
And our satisfaction came from learning to write
From learning to rhyme and give the words time
We may not be omnipotent omniscient creators
We shall live and then may die
But we shall be Gods.

----------------------

A Tear In My Eye, And A Smile On My Face
Bill Bauman


There's no definition
For the way that I feel
I don't understand
This can't be real
I feel so sad
Yet filled with joy
Life's not that bad
When I hear your voice
You break me down
You pick me up
You reverse my frown
And fill my cup
With so many emotions
I can't sort them out
What's this commotion
That I can't hear aloud
From where did it come
And where did it go
It's left me in shock
And forced me to grow
To face what's inside
And confront my pain
Where my thoughts reside
And my feelings remain
Within my soul
The hatred that sleeps
His story is old
As he sits and weeps
Not due to loss
And without hurt
He weeps cause he's happy
Just thinking of her
Her voice is enough
To drown out his pain
She's calling his bluff
It's the end of his reign
No more secrets
My heart is exposed
Don't feel bad
And accept this rose
This isn't the end
I've a long way to go
It's only the beginning
On a dead-end road
Some day I will realize
This is getting me nowhere
I'll see things through her eyes
And I'll know why she cares
With a tear in my eye
And a smile on my face
I'll sleep soundly tonight
Now that I've found my place

----------------------

In a Feeling of...
Christopher Stolle


if a dream came true
should I be happy
or should I question it?
   
should I pray
to what I cannot see
or imagine it does exist?

and can I whisper a story
into your innocent ears
so you can laugh?

for if I should die
a flower will be planted
that I will never see grow.
      
so I cry.

----------------------

fortunate.
melissa pike


he looks up when he thinks
as if looking to God for the answers,
and he talks in chopped language,
taking small breaths every few words.
large mysterious man,
casting his knowledgable gaze over the class,
constantly questioning their learning,
re-explaining, watching for understanding
in the faces to which he cannot yet attach names.
they are as mysterious to him as he to them,
because it's only the 2nd class for many,
and it's late in the day
The darkness outside relaxes the mood
 of the room, and diversifies the class.
Their busy, talkative days come to a halt
 as they sit those 2 nights a week,
trying to get where they need to go in life,
 one piece at a time.
does the strange man realize his part 
 in each of the tiny lives to which he is so unfamiliar?
perhaps.
 yet they all go on.
 as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

----------------------

In The Pink
Danielle Stickler


Chubby pink children
In chubby pink shorts
slurping cherry shaved ice
Trotting along after
Hurried teenyboppers
who slam their knapsacks into me
And splash Coke
Onto my sunburn.
I hate them.
Tall, lean, graceful
My companion smiles at me
Amused by these sticky children
And their Appalachian mothers
With too-big hair.
His green eyes shine.
I smile at him
His blacks, whites, greys
So tiresome a moment ago
Now offer welcome relief
From hideous pastels.
"Damn!  Scuze yew."
Yet another backwoods inbreed
Runs into me
Dropping her Taco Bell
On her red-faced child.
I have mild sauce on my shoes.
He is laughing now
So hard he cannot speak
As he reaches over to
Hug me.
I glow.
And when the next
Tubby redneck child
Gets her lollipop
Stuck in my hair...
I don't mind so much.

----------------------

Impatience
Sander Koyfman

 
Impatience is arbrosia for mistakes
of personal and more generic nature.

Impatient bird ends up all dead and cold,
Impatient friend is often lonely,
Impatient lover loses sight of love,
Impatient poet seeks the inspiration.
          Impatiently.
           
And all of them are me
and are in me,
they bug me all the time
instead of letting be,

They rob me of mistakes of being slow,
absorbent for a change
and laying low.
Instead of making waves
make no sound.
 
I wish I could... but
Like Brooklyn bound train,
I am impatience bound.

----------------------

the sixty machines of mr. mills
josh ruihley


make up your mind mr mills
youve a choice of sixty or more
you know whats in store
so make up your mind mr mills
 
walk down the street mr mills
take it all in
dechipher within
doesnt it give you the chills?
to walk down the street mr mills?
  
yeah... all sixty of them.  they seem after you, dont they?  they seem
to know just a little bit more than you do.  well, actually, they don't
'seem' to know more... they just 'do' know more.  and they are after you.
always have been.  yeah... they're after me too.  its funny though.  i
stop, they stop.  they never actually catch me.  i dont think they would
catch you either.  in fact, they've never caught anyone before.  they
have just let that person run and run until he died.  they laughed.
happy little guys, aren't they?  you run and run and miss everything
around you.  they know so much more than you.  you think they do.
but they dont.
 
you created them.
you can take them away.

----------------------

Posthumous Forgiveness
Barry de Waal


frightening situation seems unsolvable
acted sympathy brings more sorrow
opening up to the stranger
always a promise to be there tomorrow
no message or letter goes to show
real adversity they don't know

no special wish to touch the horizon
just a simple plea to unfocussed ears
no frantic desire to sense belonging
just someone out there to catch my tears
closing in on me, the edge is calling
virtual sympathy got me falling
   
ghostrider on the highway of life
just past the final turning
martyr forced to smile at the gallow
tied to the torch that keeps on burning
saw your features in my final confusion
the roaring I heard was just an illusion

----------------------

journey
keith shapiro


walking on eggshells
with cracks down the side
looking for someone
who's uttered a cry
some eggs are strong
and bear my large mass
but others are weaker
won't allow me to pass

the landscape i wander
most beautiful of all
must watch my step closely
can't slip or fall
the mountains in front
as steep as behind
wondering, wondering
who am i to find

the shell-splintered land
gives way to a maze
opening on caverns
with fires ablaze
before the games start
i look at the land
over years filled with caution
of holding of hands
 
and then to the catacomb
long-crumbled walls
once open pathways
blocked by rockfall
winding and twisting
and many dead ends
corpses with ferry-fare
show what folly portends

past spiked pits and deadfalls
for weeks i forge through
always with care though
not to hurt you
and then to the center
most wondrous of all
a beautiful rose garden
ringed by a wall

in the middle of eden
your garden of life
a beautiful fountain
spared from the knife
with toes in the water
a beautiful girl
hiding from rainbows
a head-hidden turtle
 
her eyes open wider
the nearer i come
her wiry frame tenses
readies to run
i stop in my tracks
and drop apprehensions
the fear in my eyes
must import my intentions
 
caring and hope
from eons of longing
finally at pinnacle
a sense of belonging
the beautiful maiden
rises from waterside
finally awakened
a true hope realized
  
a smile long forgotten
dusted and cobwebs swept
returned and then answered
by what happened next
hands clasped with fervor
the walls tumbled down
i reached to my pack
pulled forth the crown
 
the beautiful mountains
crimson and red
watching the sunset
the crown on her head
the eggshell field
of thousands of cracks
finally nurtured
and ready to hatch
she looked on with awe
and i looked on with love
at the shells all sprung open
the rainbow above

----------------------

untitled
Seven


my talents flit away
i don't know who i am
i spend all this time searching
hunting, trying to find
what is inside
dying there unused

----------------------

Winter Comes
Jody Larsen


"The leaves are falling," whispers wind,
"I have seen it, where I've been,
Winter dances, winter weaves,
Cold is falling, like the leaves."
 
"The plants are browning," whispers wind,
"I have seen it, where I've been,
Summer prances, summer leaves,
Leaves are falling, in the breeze."

"Flower's dying," say the bees,
We have seen it, soon we'll freeze,
Coldness turns, coldness comes,
Summer dances, summer runs,

"Clover's gone," whisper bees,
We have seen it, soon we'll leave,
The wind is crying, the grass is dying,
Winter's gliding, we're all flying.

----------------------

passions of yesterday
paul kell


                                though it's
                                   almost
                                   been 
                                 two years
                             i still think of 
                                    you
                                all the time
                                 your face
                              a picture in my
                                   heart
                             an offering to my
                                    mind
                           and i now that you've
                             gone on with life
                                 found your
                                 true love
                                 so you say
                           i still can't seem to
                                free my life
                                  from the
                              passions of days
                             when we would walk
                                hand in hand
                               and make our 
                                future plans
                            and talk of how our
                               lives would be
                           together without this 
                                    maze
                   of school and parents and other things
                                 that were
                             always in the way
                                and how we'd
                                    love
                        no other now and how we'd be
                                   today
                          and i know it all seems
                                  foolish
                          now and i should be like
                                    you
                        but of all the things i told
                                    you
                              one thing still
                                stands true
                            i said that i would
                                  love you
                                  with my
                            body, soul, and mind
                                  forever
                                   to be
                                  faithful
                                    and
                                  new love
                                 never find
                    and though i never thought it would
                                  be over
                              quite like this
                                    and
                                    fate
                               would deal an
                                 empty hand
                                and leave me
                                you to miss
                           i often still can find
                                   myself
                           reaching back in time
                          to grasp the days with 
                                 you and me
                          our passions undefined.
----------------------*