Newspapers / St. Andrews University Student … / Nov. 12, 1987, edition 1 / Page 11
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November 12,1987 THE LANCE page IJ Quill and Tnk GROWING UP Thinking back to the past. Something we all do, Yet somehow mine is different. Looking back on life before college, As if a different person was there. I have entered the past. To try to change what I have done. Extra knowledge is of no help- For all mistakes rectified are Replaced by more intelligent ones. ROB McLEAN TO A.L.S. You are not a dry memory hidden in a drawer, like the dry shell a locust leaves behind, but rather, fresh and substantial, like an ice-cube or a rose. RIZWAN UNTITLED Long ago my mind was simple and wild Vigorous to the thrill of crime and killing and dreaming of suicide Myself to die, a better way for the world to understand my life Thank God, his kind hand, the heart of Jesus Christ, always within me I have realized the joy of living- The ecstasy of life just a whisper t hat we must shout... I am alive! PAUL E. DINKINS THE WORLD JUST MADE ME CRY Have you ever cried and won dered why, it’s happened to me and I never u-ied. Tears they roll all down my face, kiss my cheek and fall to grace. I ask again why am I crying, could it be my happiness dying. It’s hard to tell, it’s hard to seize, but the tears that flow bring me ease. I wipe them away and then I laugh, shedding my tears isn’t so bad. I sit and wonder just asking why. What in the world just made me cry. DEVO THE PATH IS GONE, THE WAY IS LOST The world is crashing down as if it were a damned bowling ball cracking pins. The sky, our ceiling, has sprung a leak and pestilence is coming through. The unicorn has fled from this; Rainbows are not to be found, at all. They say you must laugh to stay sane. But how can you laugh in a world in which you can’t find happiness? Sanity? What is that?... Something which is far away. The unicorn knew to run; his bridge was the rainbow. The rainbows knew; they followed the uni corns. Can I follow the Unicorns? Can my soul find its way along the path without a guide? My way is lost. My childhood is gone. JAMEY DONALDSON IN GHOST’S COMPANY There is a ghost that walks St. Andrews (ghosts walk everywhere) You know You have seen him standing Where a leaf stands in mid-aif Before he lets it fall ' Yes, you have heard Him, also. Running past A bush to catch up with Nothin^g No thing waits for him Feel him. Walking through you He pushes up goose-bumps on your arm While he mingles with Your soul UNTITLED I think of her often, [Blue stars tonight dance behind the cover of rain] looking away (from whatever could have been there) into the other direction. The course changed & the pools became part of the stream that took away the banks. (While) Summer passed by in the forgotten that stirs (us) in our sleep. A languid song from the background spirals into the distant. [The hot rain fell] & as the jazz fell through, it broke right back, (leaving behind whole shapes of color) PAUL BULLARD SUMMER ON STONE MOUNTAIN A circle is cast around us in salt With a lock of hair and words to the Goddess, the Moon descends and joins our souls. In the cool mountain air we breathe as one. We stand united; grounded with energy rising from the Earth below. Together we gaze upon the moon, letting her will entwine our hearts. Our destiny in this life molds and is realized. Once again we are together, my Lady of the Lake. We stand beneath ,the Moon, our beings as one. The wind blows cold through the trees, The stars twinkle, and we are content. ALMOST HEAVEN ...hand of babies Ancestors summer Breath of blacklung Hands of steel Night echo of banjo and slide Rivers motion marks the year Courthouse whittlers up DeAngelo Roads ribbon to memories untold Slag bums Mail pouch bams Hard is good Shine helps Right... Right CHAD HADDIX UNTITLED Great big gobs of marshmallows in my basement that’s already full of odier nonsensi cal stuff given to me by transitory boy friends who smoke entirely too much dope when picking out presents NORAMAH BURCH CAN YOU EVER FIND SOMETHING YOU NEVER LOST? Names, Evoking memories. Of a long time ago. But never forgoucn. Never forgotten. But never found. We can never find our futures. By looking in the past. MY SON I never thought he would do it Strong facial features and a proud smile My friend was a rational individual. A bit of a logician. Here before me, on this day a year ago, sat a broken man. Behind his strong sad face lay a limp mind Exhausted by his intemal struggle to find What he could have done to make his father Feel this way about him. “Friend,” he said to me in a calm voice. “I have loved you all my life. My achievements have made you a proud man. Last night, on the eve of my seventeenth birthday, I became your lover. My Friend, My Father, My Lover. Why do I feel guilty about who I am and what I’ve done?” I could say nothing. I saw my son crushed by my action. My once proud friend had become a vege table. The result of my morbid revolt against his manhood. A stream of useless tears fall from my eyes The flow is broken by a struggling voice. “Cry not my father. This is who I am. Death calls me to pay my debt for my guilt.” A year has passed since I’ve wimessed, through a wall of Tears, My friend put a knife through his heart. Pride is but a mere word to me now. I struggle with the reality that incest. Is my reward and mental tattoo for loving my son. I long to touch my young friend. But I feel my heart pinch when I imagine My son crying at every touch of my hand. My tears My son My friend My lo... My loss. JAMES KRISTIAN DEAL MICHAEL K. CHAMPION ROB McLEAN SUBMITTED FOR RELATIONSHIP VIOLENCE AWARENESS WEEK OC TOBER 25-28.
St. Andrews University Student Newspaper
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Nov. 12, 1987, edition 1
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