This is a small collection of mood and music driven poetry, untitled but numbered. The name of the collection is Digging for Fool's Gold in a Caveman's Cave.


-One-

I watch the sun rise and set
Through my screenless bedroom window
Through the veil of tears.
Tears betray my hidden pain.
Locked in this room.
Locked down forever.
When will I ever make it out?
Perhaps I'll be stuck here,
Sleeping my days away.
Watching my life wither away into the void.


-Two-

There is darkness on the face of my planet.
It's blotting out all of my thoughts,
Disrupting my brain-fed transmissions.
It's destroying my memories,
Eating up the shards of my past.
It's consuming the inner workings of my brain,
Sucking every drop of information.
My brain is fried...evil rock music.


-Three-

How well do you know yourself?
How well do you know your friends?
What truth is hidden in the lies of our hearts?
What secrets have delved into our minds, until forgotten...
Answer these questions truthfully.
Answer them without doubt.
Until you can, you are incomplete like the rest of us.


-Four-

From the earth to twisted seas
I crawled about upon my knees
The Raven mourned my dismal plight
And I alone was left to fight
But my struggle proved in vain
I fell beneath the heavy pain
My heart felt beaten and dull
My brain was pulsing in my skull
I felt the blade as it pierced my skin
They notified my next of kin.


-Five-

The diggers dug deeper toward the core
The scientists studied the alien lore
The religious men gathered in one acord
They polished the Reverend's sacred sword
They waited for the perfect time
They waited for the divine sign
They could not let the dig go on
What had the greedy scientists done?
An alien life would debunk their religion
They waited for orders and holy visions
They prayed throughout the cold night
They readied their weapons for the fight
When sunlight broke the morning dark
It was time for their mission to embark
They found the crash-site and the camp
And slaughtered everyone before they even know what had happened.


-Seven-

A firearm must be made by human hands
A weapon formed to destroy its creator
A moment of silence before the storm of fire
The creators smile and nod for the have made it perfect
It will do nicely in the destruction of their fellow men
Even the air they breathe is wicked to the core
As vile as they, as sick and polluted
And thus are we, mortals stuck in an immortal world
Doomed to kill each other, doomed to carry on
Doomed to live, doomed to die, and doomed to stop caring.
Ah well, I'm not bothered.
Are you?


-Eight (Accentalented Womyn Redux)-

Never in life did I think
That a woman would spare me a wink
Yet on that fateful day,
My luck drove that way,
And I asked for to buy her a drink.
Now I'll regret it,
I'll never forget it,
I dropped my ring down the sink.
She says that I'm stupid,
Neanderthal cupid,
Perhaps I'm the missing link.




Okay, a change in mood is coming over me, so I'm going to end this collection, albiet small.

In closing, I leave with these words of my own wisdom. Do not think that you are any better than anyone else, in any way. You may be smarter, cuter, younger, older, but when the averages are in you're just dust like everyone else, and you have just as many faults.

Don't waste time lamenting over the past or dread future, and don't worry about the kids who can be saved with 80 cents a day unless you're willing to do something about it, otherwise you're just caring to make yourself feel good.

Respect your parents, flawed as they may seem, because one day you'll look back and wish you had've, when you're putting flowers on their graves.

Do not be quick to judge others, especially not to judge their intents and purposes according to your own ideas about them. Bias is a dangerous thing.

Lastly, don't hold grudges. They're most uncomfortable and horrible things. They get no where, they're deffinantly unhealthy, and they consume you like the lies upon which they are so often based.

Steven Sivley
AKA Marcus Conrad
October 31 - November 2nd

*Salutes* Yes sir!

Interesting stuff.