Author: David Schwarm

#This is some bad poetry from a journal that has a pink bandana cover. It starts with a
#newspapaer clipping dated June 2, 1989

Inward See – Leonard Nimoy
Cannot be me even with teh ind meld; for the eye, however cannot completely represent a reality. How could adding more senses improve this condition. In fact, the existance of a universal spiritual sense, no matter how improbable, would not prevent this from being true. Accept it Mr Jones, there is something happening that your understanding can never keep up with and honesty is the only salvation because the changing face of truth will always be more clear then the be pimpled face of fiction

Bad Lit with Big Pring Part III

Fiction is false by it nature
Truth rejects it

#This is some bad poetry from a journal that has a pink bandana cover. It starts with a
#newspapaer clipping dated June 2, 1989

The narrator must be trusted, from him comes the entire tale. Seeing his flaws ins one thing – adding reasons to them is something altogether different. However, the writers often manipulate narration by foolish dsavowels of the word – i.e. the word does not create the reality it reflects, points, directos towards a ‘Reality’ – for there is no such thing as referential language – in fact, things are simply and entirely things and can be symbolic only for themselves. Thus writers manipulation of narration servers absolutely no purpose. Write the honest truth. Speak for yourself. Personify nothing, but yourself for it is easy to become lost in ideas, rather than the

#This is some bad poetry from a journal that has a pink bandana cover. It starts with a
#newspapaer clipping dated June 2, 1989

Boots the dog Bark Bark
can be bribed Money and
with peperoni food,
Yet you shall Bible
still be accosted Thumpers
On the way in return
Still more
six liners and
Haikus

American verse
platonic love
Clarol Womyn
50’s verse

Is blown apart as
the univers inhales again
and the lines of verse run
end to end unlike
The lines of highways
built in the ’40’s
or disjointed versification
found in the 90’s

Three lines Rain
In a row connecting
not parrallel sky and lake
more then
Rainbows ever
could

wood greet
destroyed by the morning
the hail Trees
Frozen in blocks
of ice
under

The knees of the driver
as the avalanche
slowly passes by
faster then a train
yet slower
then the clicking of teeth
removes teh metality of
the metaphorless
society
Born Anew

#This is some bad poetry from a journal that has a pink bandana cover. It starts with a
#newspapaer clipping dated June 2, 1989

Lisa and I are in a movie theater when 12 or so punks sneak in a side door off to the left 20 or more security guards rush in and escort them out – one, who looks like a cia man, rushes over and shots a man directly in front of us – Lisa does not look shocked. Another man breaks in the exit door – the gaurds see him – he rushed the shot man and blasts him two more times. The gaurd – blond haired Slavis youngster – examines the young man who jumpts up laughing and runs past us out the exit. I see LIsa is not bothered. I start screaming, laughing, carrying on. When the first assasin walks in, sits next to us. Says “you’re dead” and walks away. I run after him begging – saying “I’ll do his act, please don’t kill me” He laughs and hands me a cigarette – we walk toghether through the parking lot smoking.

Mary the colored girl carved a man with a casorol lid. Carved him good for calling her a name mayber there would be less metaphors
if
more people acted
like this
Smashed a man with a
muffler for keeping her time
robbing her money