| The P-Papers by Andrew Stergiou Part I June 5th, 2005 For those with minds life is in need of explanation Consideration and deliberation One needs to explain matters in length and breadth And if what you say is true For your own sake in this existence For even prison cells for the most part have dimensions What diabolical fiend designs prison cells? In that which can not be defined? Without more where is it all going? Does it have shape and form?
As one may suggest Why issues are truly real issues? When I raise no such issue
I ask not for such love unconditional Nor without limits to be doled out Without consideration of expense In endless parcels of mail express At
So why is all that an issue? When it is not an issue for me I never dreamt of having slaves Nor idol worshiping minions (Though some offered me such bribes and inducements) And as I don't want to have you as a slave Did you make it one for me? Did you decide foe me? And if so why?
But as we are here, it is a fact Do you like the fact? As I wish to leave and I ask where we are are to go: THAT IS AN ISSUE! For if we do not act we will stay here And as such Do you want to keep things as they are? Non-threatening, distant not too heavy nor too casual, Light you are in no hurry to change matters Nor as fatalistic as I Nor as you once were you rush no further into them
If not how would you like to change them? What are you fishing for? What are you waiting for? A miracle consisting of white puff An army walking on water? Nigh maybe more in some unknown nondescript abyss As your lips are shut Of the uncharted waters on unmapped shores in unseen lands Of planets never visited that you speak of not
In words which you lie even to yourself as you say you'll decide You’ll decide One day some day Soon Where I don’t know Some day some day soon waiting deciding ranting raving In what has not been conceiving As it has been neither defined nor measured in the slightest As the description which could be all too frightening As evil as some evil witches brew In what is sown is what is reaped As black as night and as sweet as honey
But nigh it is not that either So what is it and what will it be or become What is expected? When it is easier said in
Under the moderate influence of spirits Tried by courts in absentia Rather than in sobering moments of espresso Doctor Livingston I presume means Cabernet Wine means the mythological nectar of the Gods
TheP-Papers Part II June 6, 2005
Crabby cranky tired malingering in writing about the eyes and ewes the pen moved itself
Upon empty pages with glistening modern ink Rather than thinking to depend in wait on lazy thoughts Letters words and phrases before the author pronounced them Appearing as a dunce that can do better than any writer In a corner with effort many try but few succeed In what one writes Balanced as it was "so inadequate" so empty, Unfulfilled and shallow unworthy devoid of meaning Related to many things crying tears in rivers Hidden in the ancient pastry of
Were a million annoyances Complicated in unforgotten words Lacking respect foul mouthed and dying was death Sliding into the depths of some unknown precipice Callously some cold fingers into a cavern Hidden in a wall realizing limitations As strange or stranger as strange can be Feigning what is no stranger in fear As most strange to self is neither the sum total nor some part But strange itself as the essence undiscovered in metaphors Self centered and fixed in fears For which tiring there is a beating that is needed Mad Bitch crying at the moon hidden in the forest Rather than confront the light Sullen shaded subtle shadows Foul mouths stricken vindictively In what is desired as hate in anger But never found as such in caring
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