Chanda's Collections

     (it’s not lady-like to have them open,
      unless you’re getting fucked…
      but that’s just as improper)

To look pretty
We bring out the blush
And eyeliner and such
Then make ourselves up
Like movie stars at brunch
To go to the beach and lay in the sun

written: 12-20-00


REPRESSED RAMBLINGS
SHHH! Don't say those words!
You might offend some one

But it's not illic--

HUSH! And don't wear that pentagram!
You might scare some one

But it's not satan--

QUIET! You can't do that!

But I didn't do anything wro--
STOP! It's controversial
We can't allow that

But -----
SILENCE!

NO! Listen to me!
If we shelter ourselves from the contrary
We'll never grow as a whole
Evolve to something more
We have to adapt to the unusual
Or our society will crash
Burn to the ground and be replaced be a dictatorship
Unless that's what we already have...
Sometimes it seems that way
But I know we can make it work
If we embrace our differences
Close-out the close-mindedness
Turn against the hypocracy
Free ourselves from our own chains
We can make it work
But we have to try

written: 12-20-00


MY OWN TOURIST (Part I)
The gloomy skies
(such beauty in their darkness)
I stare up at them
Tears sliding down my face
(they scream of glee, they're free
no longer trapped behind the glass walls
covering my eyes)
I scream
(a mornful, yet hollow sound)
For times remembered
(decoupaged into a collage of scenes
for my mind only
but everyone keeps asking to see)
My clothes are ripped off my body
And I dive into my ocean
(through all my torment, I've know taken possesion
of the waters I do not own)
Swimming for miles I try to forget
The pain you caused in me
Concentration on the burning muscles
(take no more responsibility for the body that is mine)
I strain it
But still don't forget
The burning has worsened
I've exerted this body too much
(it's throwing up in the waters
that I force it to swim in)
Yet I don't turn it back or even let it rest
(when I do it will only be the middle)
Why do I exert this body so?
(because)
I can leave it any time

written: 12-23-00


MY OWN TOURIST (Part II)
Swimming for miles in my ocean
(of bodily fluids
in you this body has cried, pissed, and puked from exertion)
And yet I haven't let it turn back
All this torture will surely pay off
...
Alas! I see and isle through the (wave's) mist
I the natives singing
Sweet sad songs of their torment
(they are true natives to my waters of pain)
And I am yet a tourist
(looking for a home?)
I crawl ashore
They pull this body up
Tell me to end my (self-infliction of) pain
Tell me to get over me self-pity
It isn't doing any good
They feed my body
My soul
(reposession of my body I take)
They are mad to see the choices I've made
I benefit form their pain
[feel fortunate for what I have to gain (back)]
I didn't want to live my life this way
But they have no choice
I do
I choose to let go of pain and resentment
I end my torture
(take a boat back to mainland)

written: 12-23-00

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