Monday

The Countdown


It is 11:59 on New Year's Eve, 1984.  The countdown begins:  10, 9, 8. . .  3, 2, -- in one second, we begin celebration of the new year.  But this time, there will be more than idle laughter and resolutions.  Many people will celebrate our continued existence for another year.  It isn't a pleasant thought, but not everything is.  And the threat of nuclear war rests heavily in the minds of the people of the world.  It is no longer just the burden of the adults or those who've made an effort to be aware.  This is a topic of everyday life.  Young children have gone beyond inquiries of Santa or the Tooth Fairy.  Today, they must ask, "What is nuclear war?"  The people my age are quite aware of the nuclear threat in the world.  Unfortunately, they feel there is no answer.

On the weekend, I find myself over at a friend's house, and we bring up the issue of war and Nicaragua.  "I'd go to war," says one of them, as he toys with a model machine gun.  "If I were president, I'd nuke 'em," says the other.  Is this the mentality of the people my age?  I ask them why they'd kill so quickly.  "I hate the Russians.  I always have."  This IS the mentality of the people my age...

(unfinished)

- Dec. 31, 1984, A.D.

Wednesday

Looking Back, and Moving On



Hello.

For the sake of not embarrassing myself in front of fellow peers, I will refrain from writing a poem to my notebook.  But I've got to have an intro, because every new notebook begins a new era, and this one's gonna be good.

First, let's reflect on the past year or so, since the poems began:

Autumn, 1983:  Pain.  Yep.  And emotions as varied as the Fall leaves.  And coldness like the November wind, making me a stranger.

Winter, 1983-1984:  A reversal of roles, where the cold is on the outside, and warmth grows within.  Finding friends, and new meanings in friendships.

Spring, 1984:  Production.  Growth, like the budding spring leaves.  Mental downpours onto paper.  Fresh blood.  New awakenings of the mind.  And warmth.

Summer, 1984:  Warmth becomes heat.  Love locks the poet into a one-track mind.  Simplicity - nice, but not me.  Ending like a Shakespearian tragedy.  The Love Empire comes crashing down - and a part of me with it.  In the end, it is not missed.

Autumn, 1984:  A definite attempt to lay off the heavy concepts.  Friends are strangers - strangers, friends.  "So long, poetry!"  I cry, as I ride a more sociable wind.  So long, reality, I think, as I watch myself weaken, and lose form.

Winter, 1984-1985:  So long, Autumn faces.  I'm going to put the Vision to coherent work.  I'm going to do things I've never tried before.  And I sure as hell am going to write.  It's the most natural feeling I could ever have.  Writing is thinking.

But no resolutions.  Just this:  A notebook to be kept un-violated by any essays, notes or assignments.  A notebook to contain everything I really am, and everything I want to be.  A cliche?  Yes!  And more.  The lover that doesn't die after the attempted suicide.  The guy in the fog under a streetlamp with a trenchcoat and a hat.  The little surprise as you hit the bottom of the confetti in the box.

Dear Reader:

I'm not making any promises.  There's no "Satisfaction Guaranteed" sign anywhere.  But if it is good, publish me, please!!  Or at least put in a good word.  We all need a little encouragement, now and then.  And besides, I've got the boogeyman on my side...

- Sharon


- Dec. 26, 1984, A.D.

Nothing Day


The time:
the day after happiness --
a day when everything is so painful
that we talk about the weather
that is, if it's nice out

the contrast to yesterday
is not the worst day of all
but a nothing day
like always
I watch the people:

the tall one -
there -
he doesn't walk
he floats down the hallway
he doesn't know how she 
watches him

another girl joins another guy
they talk
she nears closer -
as if to touch -
but draws back
somehow, she sees the futility
of it all

and another hurts
as he watches her eyes
as she watches, and feels for
something she cannot have
don't think she doesn't know
he's watching
but she goes for the lesser of the
two futile pursuits

people chase,
people follow,
people watch while others gain
he is always better off than you
he gets your goal
but you get his
there are no answers

the time:
another desperate day
two would-be lovers try to find a way
to bridge the gap
two has-been lovers try to find a way 
to bridge a different gap
two friends walk in silence

and here, the place:
a musty garden
with rust-covered trees
and moldy daffodils -
no place for the innocent

surrounded by the Institution,
the garden sweats in anticipation
of a light
but today, the rabbits are eaten
by the stale air
and become cannibals
and the inevitable last rabbit trips,
and chokes on a stray piece of barbed wire
oh yes,
it does die

and if you walk through there, sometime
you will find strange remnants
you will see long hairs -
or antennae -
12 inches or more
or a black, broken, half-digested wing
but no source,
only the terrifying guess of what 
crime had occurred there

at the center of the garden,
the one object that retains any beauty
is an emerald-green beetle shell,
proving that something good did
live there once
and something good can live there again
but no, children
don't dream of it happening too soon
there is too much death there, now

and the place?
where is the garden?
up here
back, behind my eyes
below my hair
above my neck
within the slosh -
within the place of greatest
scientific awe

it's here
oh yes, it's here
it's all within
alas, my nightmare

and the time:
another nothing day
when the pain is so terrible
that we talk about the weather
that is,
only if it's nice out.

- Dec. 19, 1984, A.D.

Monday

Sanity on the Line (Poem in BASIC)


Frustration
Unrest
Pulling me under
Like a volcano, the eruption comes from the inside
Give me the strength to fight this battle!

I must endure it this time

* * *

Confusion
It's here, inside me
So Much To Hate
And So Much To
Love
But I've got to keep my sanity first

I want 
To love
You
But
I've got
To find
Myself.

* * *

Will you help me?


(Dec. '84)