                                                                book 5

                               Igal Koshevoy's

     ޱ ޱ    ޱ ޱ ޱ  ޱ ޱ ޱ ޱ ޱ 
     ޱ   ޱ     ޱ  ޱ    ޱ   ޱ    ޱ    ޱ  ޱ   ޱ  
     ޱ ޱ     ޱ  ޱ ޱ   ޱ  ޱ    ޱ  ޱ   ޱ  
     ޱ   ޱ     ޱ  ޱ    ޱ   ޱ    ޱ    ޱ  ޱ   ޱ  
     ޱ   ޱ ޱ ޱ ޱ  ޱ    ޱ   ޱ ޱ ޱ 

   ޱ ޱ  
   ޱ   ޱ   
   ޱ ޱ     

         ޱ ޱ ޱ ޱ ޱ ޱ ޱ ޱ ޱ 
         ޱ   ޱ    ޱ    ޱ    ޱ     ޱ    ޱ  ޱ   ޱ  
         ޱ ޱ  ޱ  ޱ ޱ     ޱ    ޱ  ޱ   ޱ  
         ޱ   ޱ    ޱ    ޱ    ޱ     ޱ    ޱ  ޱ   ޱ  
         ޱ   ޱ    ޱ    ޱ ޱ  ޱ   ޱ ޱ ޱ 

                 poems from March 29, 1993 thru May 26, 1993



 ANOTHER LIFE DRAINS AWAY
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 ...another braindead genius, another fallen hero.
 the desire, why fight it?
 need i fight this losing battle?
 need i fight this lost war?
 just give in, give in and die - like a good lil' soldier.
 it is always there
     waiting.
 can't shut the door on it.
 out, can't keep it out.
 it gets inside
     always.
 and spreads its cold anodized wings
     inside me.
 till i shiver to the bone.

 must my drug be so alluring?
 must my disease be so terminal?
 can't i be an ostrich and hide my head in the sands?
 the sands of time,
     they grind me and tear me away.
 so quickly, so slow - so persistently.

 the procession of Tyme marches on.
 click, click - tick, tock - blam, blam.
 another soul goes to heaven,
 another soul goes to Hell
 in a freight elevator.

 oh why can't i give in?
 it feels so nice to lose a bit of your soul,
     sell it down river,
         lose a little reality that clings like lichen to the
             unbeating heart.
 feels so good
     to lose.
 so good
     to give it away.

 i want to lose:
     everything.
 let it all out
     till i'm as dry as the straw in a deserted basement.
 it's so hard to just say no,
     as it rides through me
         on nerves of steel.
 so hard,
     so good,
         so painful to behold.
 and it flows,
     flows,
         flows.
 close my eyes,
     but still my tears flow down,
         down,
             down.

 i lost.
 i lost another meaningless battle, another meaningless struggle.
 nothing left to do
     but drag the mutilated corpses away
         (feed them to the fires)
             and make room for the bloodshed to come.

 blam.
 another soul to heaven?
 no another soul to Hell...
 blam, blam, blam....


                                 -Igal Koshevoy (4 DF&m&s&S); March 29, 1993
                                                      RADIOACTIVE STUPOR 1:5



 LIVING: THE MOST GRUESOME ADDICTION OF ALL
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 i want,
 i need,
 i crave.
 i must,
 i trust that will obey:
 my affliction,
 my addiction,
 need a fix.
 my demon,
 my Beast,
 my monster
 rises for
 the feeding.
 burnin' me up,
 tearin' me down,
 swallowin' me whole.
 it commands,
     "GIVE IN, GIVE IN - YOU MUST.  THERE'S NO ESCAPE, NO LIGHT AT THE END.
     YOU WILL OBEY.   I'LL MAKE YOU DIE, YOU ARE BUT A LIE.
     SCREAM MY NAME OUT LOUD: *MASTER!*  YOU SHALL GIVE IN."

 and i have.
 and i am.
 and i will.
 always & always.
 forever & ever.
 till my Beast wears me out,
 and gores my rusted remains.
 till my Beast has satisfied its hungers.


                                        -Igal Koshevoy (m&s); March 29, 1993
                                                      RADIOACTIVE STUPOR 3:6



APRIL'S FOOL
~~~~~~~~~~~~
...Stomping down the hallway, ignoring everything.
   Staring at my shoes, I look up and I see you.

                        ...Stomping down the hallway, ignoring everyone.
                           Staring at the floor tiles, you look up at me.

Elaborate schemes of avoidance seem to have failed again.
No mortal man can stand that pain.
Us both, stop in our tracks ... stopped in terror...?
I look at you,
    you're glorious cage that keeps you protected so well.
You look at my gnarled scars,
    gained from trying to break down its walls.
I look at a caged animal, trapped into its life.
Scared to death of life.
Scared to death of love.

You're a caged bird, but I don't hear your song...
Lived so long in your cage that you won't come out, no way.
Maybe once you hurt your wings, beating them against the cage.
But more likely, you built that cage - damn, you're a good architect.

...you've let your defenses down.  You opened the door ... almost.
You saw the Light outside and it frightened you away, back inside the
    cozy confines of the bars within...

You don't know just how much I've missed you, no idea at all.
Did you miss me at all?
Did you ever hear my call?
Did you ever feel my presence?

I continue to stare you down.  Staring at a poor, hunger ravaged animal that's
crawled into the corner of its cage.  You're afraid  that someone might try to
reach in and grab you.  I can see the dried blood on the bars, from you trying
to escape in the other direction.  I can see the dried blood on the bars, from
those that tried to save you.  I  can  see  my  dried blood on the cage, I can
seem my dried tears there  too.   Eyes,  so  big  and  scared;  terror  that's
indescribable, driving  at  you  inside as you look back.  Scared, because you
know I almost got you out  of  your  damned  cage,  I almost helped you out, I
almost got through to you, and boy did I try...

Am I angry?  Yes and no.  Spending so long on what could not be done,  wasting
myself trying to help you see the Light with your own eyes - or see it at all.
I almost...  I almost...  I almost...  so damned close to seeing the Light....

I tried to help you, you know that very well.
You know I love you, you know that very well.
I know your scared, I know your lost, I know you too damned well.
You know I've been waiting, waiting too long,
waiting for you, where are you?
You're only a few feet away,
but we're still miles apart,
miles away,
collided.

                *   *   *

Seconds pass into minutes, and minutes seem to turn to long winter months.
Standing there,
    in fear,
        in awe,
            and still in love.

And then, we shut our eyes
and run past each other.
Almost in tears,
almost.
And pray
that we don't
see each other again.

    (And yet,
     praying to
     see each other again.)

Your name isn't April,
    but sure enough,
        I'm your fool.


                                             -Igal Koshevoy; April 1st, 1993
                                                      RADIOACTIVE STUPOR 7:1



 FAMILY ORIENTED POETRY
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 i'm sorry mother, i'm sorry father for failing you my whole life.
 i never did live up to those expectations that you wanted me to.
 forgive me for not yet owning a multi-billion dollar company.
 sorry that i haven't graduated Harvard yet.
 sorry that i'm still in high school.
 i know i must bean idiot cause i haven't yet earned enough money
   to put myself through collage -
     and an absolute nut to think that you'll pay for me.
 i'm lazy, i realize that i spend 20 hours of each day working,
   I sleep too damned much.
 sorry mother, i understand that any normal person
   can get up at a request after sleeping a full three hours.
 i'm so sorry i haven't gotten any grants or scholarships yet.
 forgive me for not getting my Eagle, i know that ALL people get it
   at age 16 without even breaking into a sweat like Bri.
 mother, forgive me for not yet marrying a nice, intelligent Jewish girl
   and treating her like a goddess.
 father, forgive me for not yet marrying a nice and stupid Jewish girl
   and brainwashing her into worshiping me.
 sorry for filling up a full nine square meters of valuable room in YOUR house,
   that could be better used for keeping a rocking chair at.
 sorry for desiring two small meals a day.
 i'm sorry for being a vegetarian, mom,
   and forcing you to spend over 15 minutes cooking my meals,
     i can't tell you how i appreciate it.
 sorry for wanting things that i could easily make or grow,
   like clothes and food.
 i'm sorry i made you leave Russia just for my selfishself -
   i was a crafty devil at the age of three (months).
 forgive me for talking back at you when i was three,
   even then i was malevolent and mischievous.
 i'm sorry that i pooped my diapers and yelled when i was a baby,
   it was most definitely worse than premeditated murder.
 i realize that i'm completely abnormal for wanting to learn to drive a car,
   i mean, whose heard of a teenager driving a car?
 sorry i don't have a cult-full of friends that throw money at me,
   and let me exploit them at will.
 i have sinned by being a lazy lout,
   like you always tell me.
 i waste obscene quantities of time by watching the news for over 15 minutes
   every couple of days and interrupting your viewing.
 i know i just toss my time out by not trying hard at school.
 forgive me for having missed 5 assignments at school,
   out of 713.
     damn, that's almost .7% of the total - awful.
 i know i'm nuttin',
   you've repeated that enough times to me.
 i know i'm not worthy of having Holy people like you for parents.
 i've wasted 17 years of your lives on me; selfish waste.
 i'm sorry for living.
 i'm sorry for not living.
 i'm sorry,
   sorry for myself.
 mom and dad, there's one thing i want you two to know:
   i'm trying very hard to be who you want me to be.
     you can't imagine how hard i try to be someone
       who i am not.
         sorry,
           for being me.


                                    -Igal Koshevoy (m); April 1st, 1993
                                                 RADIOACTIVE STUPOR 6:1



 SYNTHETIC LOVE
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 ...yeah that's its name.
 Nothing more than you can buy at the local chain.
 Poured into molds, 5 for a dime.
 When you're done, just go and throw it away.
 When you're done, simply walk away...

 Don't need to suffer - it ain't the real thing.
 Don't need to wonder - it all makes sense!
 (BUSINESS IS BUSINESS...)

 Sinthetic love, see it on the tube.
 Sinthetic love, hear it through the waves.

 Come down, one and all.
 Grab a handful, just pay for it all.
 It ain't nothing serious, just a bit of fun.
 Nothing more than the old pump and grind.

 Forget the world, this is the best there is.
 Ignore the rest, go for the best,
 Come on folks, test drive our best!

 Shoot them philosophers and the damned moralists,
 They don't know what they're missing at all,
 Be a friend, hand them our coupon,
 "Half off the regular price!"

 Down at the Faktory we got it all!
 All sizes and shapes and colors.
 Every type, every class, every taste.
 And if it ain't enough, we can custom make!

 Don't listen to the nuts who keep saying "There's more to it than that..."
 Ignore those fools - they ain't seen nuttin' yet!

 Come on down!
 Come on down to the Faktory!
 Tell us the serial number of ye'r favorite type,
 Bring us your coupons, and name us a price!
 Pay us, drag it home.  (give or take the bone)

 Sinthetic love, we got it here.
 Sinthetic love, we got some for sale.
 Sinthetic love, we can give it to you,
 So get your wallet, and ya' gonna get high!


                                               -Igal Koshevoy; April 3, 1993
                                                     RADIOACTIVE STUPOR 11:1



 CITY OF SILICON
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 city of perfection,
 city of death.
 gleaming black,
 sharp and correct.

 millions of hi-rises,
 thin and clean.
 billions of people,
 all dead and green.

 narrow passage ways,
 aerial tunnels,
 deep basements,
 satellite dishes;
 all etched in stone.

 narrow minded people,
 heads full of air,
 deep inside themselves,
 radioing for help;
 all etched in stone.

 city of silicon,
 city of ex-dreams.
 city of the dead
 that still walk its streets.

 city of suffering,
 city of pain,
 city of lost madness,
 city in vain.

 all its inhabitants
 trying to crawl out.
 all its inhabitants
 never get out.

 city is impervious,
 to salt,
 sleet,
 and rain.

 city protected
 from nukes,
 bombs,
 and planes.

 city of silicon,
 the grandest tomb of all:
 the city of silicon,
 and its silent fools.
 streets now all empty,
 the dead all at work.
 100% efficiency,
 100% work.

 all huddled masses,
 huddled in pain.
 huddled together,
 inside, still far away.

 in their city of darkness,
 in their city of night.
 in their lost battle,
 in their city of unborn eyes.


                                               -Igal Koshevoy; April 3, 1993
                                                      RADIOACTIVE STUPOR 9:8




     BLANK
     ~~~~~
     I stare at my blank monitor.
     I stare at my blank page.
     And people stare into my blank eyes
     and my blank smiling face.
     I am happy.
     I am blank.

          -Igal Koshevoy; April 1; 1993
           ONLINE 6:66



                                   REQUEST
                                   ~~~~~~~
                            standing on my knees
                            staring at the sky
                            my lips plead:
                              "What You have given,
                               take it away."


                                                    -Igal Koshevoy (LH&m);
                                                     April 4, 1993; 6:52am
                                                     RADIOACTIVE STUPOR 12:5



 WHORES OF MY MIND
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 created by my imagination
 for my sole pleasure
 do what i want
 then do a bit more

 twisted imagination
 covers up
 reality

 my eternal slaves
 my eternal servants
 my indentured whores

 my beautiful delusions
 never really clean
 dancing in the flames
 of my violent lil' dreams

 light you up
 burn you down
 tear you up to chunks
 anyway i want

 sometimes i really scare me
 sometimes i really feel some guilt
 but mostly i feel nothin'
 but my anger building up.


                                                    -Igal Koshevoy (DF&JTB);
                                                     April 4, 1993; 05:21am
                                                     RADIOACTIVE STUPOR 12:1



 INMAGADA INFERNIDA      (In My Garden Of-Not-So-Eden)
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 Wanna sing a little song - that I ain't allowed to sing.
 Wanna yell a little scream - that so many just won't hear.
     Wonder, just what words can I not use,
     Thinking, what thoughts might they refuse.

 Folks, are we all speaking the same language?
 Nope, each is your own - spoken in different tones.
 We all speak a dialect - that too many just ignore.
 We send thoughts on too many frequencies - that so few ever receive.

 I got my vocabulary with so many useful words,
 Got so many little words like "love" - that so many will never know.

 I got my rifle loaded/shouldered * and my Desert Eagle .50 in the sling.
 Keep on wondering just what bullets I can't fire,
 Wonder what shots pierce your invisible snake's skin.

 I got my little nutcracker - I'd like to break your stupid little shell.
 Wanna break open your reality,
 Wanna fliiiiiip over the rock you been under - so long.

 Who said that your god?  Look more like a chained and yapping puppy to me.
 Since when were you called "messiah," well your cumming sure ain't near!
 I call you stone-cold idol - I don't call you free.

 No one's gonna command me * no one will put me down with fear.
 I've wadded through shit like you my whole life,
 and you sure won't slow me down.

 Bible sez' "Cast away what offends thee"
 So you'd better cast my words out!

 I will keep up my yelling - won't stop kicking just yet.
 I won't let you rape me - or try to bleach my thoughts clean, nyet!

 Gonna drag you into my garden - gonna let you talk all night.
 Watch my flowers grow and flower - they love manure, you see!


                                                     -Igal Koshevoy (TBDOP)
                                                      April 6, 5:13pm
                                                      RADIOACTIVE STUPOR 12:7



 AIN'T NUTTIN' THERE
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 Walking past an old cozy house
 I hear a little boy ask,
 "Mother, what's outside that door?"
 Says she,
 "Nuttin', there ain't nuttin' there."

 Time passes.
 A young boy opens the door,
 And looks outside.
 He sees the flames of Hell.
 "It's okay honey, I'll protect you," says the mother, she lies.

 Time passes.
 A young man walks out the door,
 Into the flames outside.
 His mother yells out,
 "Stop!  Not yet, not so soon...!"
 She dies waiting for her messiah to come.

 A long time passes.
 An old man emerges from the flames,
 Bowed legged, bent backed, tattered and frayed.
 He's seen the flames.
 He walks past a cozy little house
 And hears a little boy asking his mother,
 "Mother, what's outside that door?"
 And he quietly mutters to himself,
 "Nuttin', there ain't nuttin' there."


                                                   -Igal Koshevoy (LH^m)
                                                    April 8, 1993; 4:19pm
                                                    RADIOACTIVE STUPOR 15:1



            STREETS OF HATRED
            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
            There were simpler times,
            There were memories,
            Of me smiling joyfully.
            There were singing birds,
            Flowering trees,
            And cheery helpful people.

            Now those are all memories.
            The birds all lay dead in the dust,
            The trees are stumps now,
            The people - I can't trust.
            Those people, all against me, or they simply step away
            As I walk down my grand ol' Avenue Of Hate.


                                                   -Igal Koshevoy (LH^m)
                                                    April 8, 1993; 4:28pm
                                                    RADIOACTIVE STUPOR 16:1



 Dedicated to my bloodsteam's main components...
 (37% testosterone, 21% caffein, 34% hatred, and 33.8% gasoline)
                                       

 LUST-DRIVE: THE RAPIST
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 Got ye'r carnal satisfaction.
 Got ye'r love on a stick.
 Got ye'r creation,
 Got the thing the Lord gave to thee!

 Got all those fires,
 Ain't got no water bucket.
 Got too much to give,
 And know where ta' shove it!

 Got my devil on the leash,
 Got that lovely angel all tied up.
 She's gonna burn,
 And I got my matches burning bright!

 Got my infatuation,
 I got my love as a slab,
 Got my insanity,
   coming NOT from above.

 Got my love in a cesspool.
 Gonna free you from your chastity,
 Gonna let free your soul,
 Gonna let it all hang out, baby!

 Gonna catch up wit' ya honey.
 Run n' hide not gonna work this time.
 Gonna hold you down and take you,
 Gonna tear your world apart!

 Ain't got no emotions,
 Ain't got no guilt,
 Ain't got no feelings,
 Sperm-retention-headache is what I got!

 Screaming, that won't save you.
 And your mace just makes me laugh!
 Silly knives n' bullets
  will not shatter my grasp!

 No pleas for mercy,
 No prayers to God,
 No beggin' for my kindness,
 None will change my sick mind.

 Gonna pin you down in an alley.
 Gonna really shove,
 Gonna tear to little pieces
   With what you clothe your pretty bod.

 You think I'm crazy,
 And probably you're right.
 But that don't make no difference,
 Cuz' I got my lust-drive all geared up!

 Gonna screw all those pretty angels,
 Gonna send them all to Hell!
 And there I will be waiting
 With my matches all lit up!


                                             -Igal Koshevoy (DF^TBDOP^JTB)
                                              April 8, 1993; 2:59am
                                              RADIOACTIVE STUPOR 13:5



 BENCHMARK: CRUDE
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 I remember a bench that stood outside a beautiful house.
 The bench was surrounded with bright flowers,
 And its polished surface shone like glass.
 The cyprus tree in the yard of the gorgeous white house looked
 As happy as a tree could be.
 I remember playing with someone's lost kittens there,
 Remember listening to the birds as they sang, as I sat on the bench.
 Later, I remember sitting there with a girl, both of us deep in love.
 So many happy memories, so many happy thoughts.

       Today, I walked up to that bench,
       But I could not sit down.
       The old piece of wood lay on the ground,
       Rotting beside an old abandoned house.
       The boarded up windows stared out,
       There was a stump in the dusty yard now.

       And where someone carved on the bench,
       "IK & KG: I  U FOREVER"
       A swastika's there now.


                                                   -Igal Koshevoy (LH^m)
                                                    April 8, 1993; 4:25pm
                                                    RADIOACTIVE STUPOR 15:5



 LULLA-bye.
 ~~~~~~~~~
 ...go to sleep, go to sleep now...

 Lived another wasted day, lived another wasted life,
 Wasting away, I live a lie.
 I lay, lay waste to a few more hours of my precious time.
     Nuttin' left, go to sleep, go to sleep now...

 Don't wanna remember today, wasn't my fault anyway.
 I'm not at fault, but I'm with guilt and pain.
 Don't wanna remember, just wanna forget.
 I wanna descend into dark silence, into death.
     Nuttin' left, go to sleep, go to sleep now...

 All the words I shoulda said well up inside me now,
 All the ones I said lay testimony to my violent account.
 All those waiting, they've left now - mad and angry, me in sorrow.
 Nothing can I do, nothing can I say,
 With clenched fists - I watch my life fade away.
     Ain't nuttin' left, go to sleep, go to sleep now...

 Words of anger, thoughts of hate, is this all I'm good for?
 Just another blinded, bleeding, pissed-off bastard, bleeding down the drain.
     Nuttin' left, go to sleep, go to sleep now...

 Don't believe in miracles, have no faith in silly dreams,
 Nuttin', nuttin' will flower, for me.
 Dreams try to come, I shoot them away; let the darkness take me away.
 Damn those wishes and those prayers; darkness please tear me away.
     Nope, nuttin' left, go to sleep, go to sleep now...

 Don't want those dreams - darkness.
 I want darkness:
 My Savior,
 My Deliverance,
 For my empty pain.
 With clenched fists and gritted teeth -
 I pull an imaginary trigger, that fires a shell that's too damn real.
     Nope, there ain't nuttin' left, ain't nuttin' left,
     Go to sleep, yeah, go to sleep, go to sleep now...

                                    *  *  *

 MIRROR STARES BACK HARD...
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 I wake up every morning, a new man.
 I walk to the mirror and stare him in the eyes.
 I hate him more than yesterday,
 Him, I do despise.
 I'd really like to kill him,
 And let both of us shut our eyes.


                                                    -Igal Koshevoy (LH&m)
                                                     April 9, 1993; 11:04pm
                                                     RADIOACTIVE STUPOR 16:5



 GHIRAFFEZ O' DAMNATION
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 my room is comfortably small.
 has got soft pink stuff lining its walls,
 and the guards are all watching me.
 they got their hands on their gun belts,
 they eye me like hawks,
 as i quiver in my corner, so quietly and cold.

 get a million delusions,
 a dozen ballerinas dancing in my head.
 got a 12 gauge,
 some beets,
 and also some heads.

 keep on a shaking
 as the guards laugh and sneer.
 i paint my own pictures,
 (in my own little head)
 of fishes and beers.

 dancing tarantulas and drunken gnomes,
 are my lovers and friends.
 as we listen to the way that glorious pork sings,
 see, i found it at a sale.
 it told me, "Screw Joy and then Mary!"

 look at me hands as they sway and they tremble.
 grabbing out like a baby at something that isn't there,
 but it is (but it isn't).
 and yelling like seven bells
 as i get my food processor ready.

 good thing i'm guarded,
 good thing i ain't free,
 good thing that i know they are watching me.
 but i hate it cause they are the devil with nine tails (and two heads)
 beady eyes, spear, and "HOE-HOE!" three legs.

 wanna make-up my mind,
 but they won't lemme have Revlon(TM).
 guess this Hollofill(TM) will just have to do.
 they tell me it's infections
 but i really don't care - it tastes good, so there - HA.

 listen to a radio,
 running on its last two cylinders.
 watching the tv,
 that needs a hammer in the middle.
 singing a song, but i got no tongue.
     (playing the drums, without using sticks, nor fingers)
     (strumming the banjo, without using my hands)
     (OUCH, stop that, IT's beginning to hurt
 keep on wondering whether this sickle...
 is it sick or is it just a satanic pickle?
 gimme the damned rhubarb
 so i can make my mud lie.
 and my screaming hyenas, i luv 'em AND club 'em 2 death.


                                                -Igal Koshevoy (d)
                                                April 14th, 1993
                                                RADIOACTIVE STUPOR 20:1



 OUTCAST(e)
 ~~~~~~~~~~
 gone away into your own fantasy
 bordered only by the walls of your skull

 you lay waiting for lady luck to come
 hold your hand
 and take you away
 to a better place

 walking blinded
 not seeing anyone
 no thing
 stumbling through your existence
 staring out with eyes of a shocked fish

 we can't see you crying
 we really can't see much
 for, you walked away from all of us
 you caste yourself out.


                                                Igal Koshevoy (St.E^m)
                                                April 18th, 1993; 10:49am
                                                LAM LIBIDO 1:4



 ONE MORE FIX...
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~
 damnit, i just can't get enough.
     i need another fix,
         another fix,
             one more fix....

 just a damned, condemned junky
     dying of my addiction.
         now, i can't get my drugs any more.
             honey - where the Hell are you!?

 how can you be so heartless!?
     you know you're killing me and tearing me to little (bloody) chunks,
         how can you be so cruel!?

 isn't your damned pain enough...?
     must you give me your pain too!?

 i'm a dope on a rope for you.
     why do you do this to me!?
         i didn't harm you ... i did everything i could to help...YOU!
             must you keep beating the life outta me!?

 and still ... i can't get enough of you, woman.
     i need
         one more fix...
             one more fix, damnit.

 i hate you,
            i love.
                   i'll be back,
                                for you
                                        again
                                             and
                                                 again.

 i can never
             escape,
                     i can never leave.
                                        even when I close my eyes
                                                                  you
                                                                  are
                                                                 there
                                                               (waiting)

                                              -Igal Koshevoy; March 3, 1993
                                               LAM LIBIDO 1:8



 MEANING(less)
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 a million meaningless characters * a million meaningless words.
 a billion pointless sentences * two billion pointless proverbs.
 a trillion empty pages * a zillion snapshots of the same empty soul.

 a million points of light * yet so many more dark corners to behold.
 a wasted day * a wasted minute * and the seconds keep bleeding away.

 a hundred mile road ahead * a pack of wolves behind.
 nothing to do but run * ahead.

 i know there's a wall up ahead.
 a wall i can't climb over.
 then the wolves can get me.
 there's nothing that i can do.

 i can keep running * but how much longer?
 how much longer can i, myself, escape from myself?
 how much longer can i keep myself from seeing the insides of my eyelids?
 how much longer can i hide from what's inside my skull?
 how many more miles to go before i rest?
 how many miles to go before i sleep?
 how much more?
 and why?
 why?

 run.
 run away.
 keep running away.
 think about it some other day.
 not today, not tomorrow - i gotta run now.
 gotta keep on running, keep on waiting, keep on lying to myself.

 i got nothing to lose * nothing to gain.
 got no freedoms * but i have got my pain.
 have my hundreds of stupid ideas * that no one cares for.
 got my endless words * no one cares to hear, they just ignore.
 got my continuous screams * that they'd rather silence than hear.
 got my million points of light * that no one wants to see.
 got so much love * and who cares for me?
 got so many ideas * got so much to give.
 what do you do?
 you shut me up with fear.

 thanks a lot.
 i'll be shutting up now.


                                                    -Igal Koshevoy (lh^TR)
                                                     April 24, 1993; 5:30am
                                                     LAM LIBIDO 3:3



 'LINED RIVER
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~
  ideas * words flow into the darkness
 rivers * flow into the sea
          and disappear

 life * slipping into
        nothing

 rope * i am losing
        grip

 rope * bites into
        neck

 and it flows
 as the albatrosses sit
 and
 watch
 with
 blind
 eyes

 staring off into the distance
 into the hills so very far away
 wondering why there's nothing left to wonder about
 why there is nothing left to sink your teeth into
 why there is nothing left

   words * flow
    eyes * blank
  shouts * to no one but the Devil
   flesh * charred away
   growl * at the Beast
    tear * at it
 kill it * you cannot

 and the tears flow on
     (never return)
 flow down the stream
     (never return)
 disappearing into the distance
     (never return)
 gone with the winds
     (never return)
 lost in the sky
     (never return)
 flashed before the countless eyes
     (never seen)


                                                    -Igal Koshevoy
                                                     May 7, 1993
                                                     LAM LIBIDO 5:1



 HOT TEARS
 ~~~~~~~~~
 I feel your warmth
 Simple
 Wonderful
 I am in love with you
 We lay for hours in satisfied, fulfilled silence
 We don't need words
     My hands wrapped around you
     Fingertips sensitive to your touch
         My cheek, you brush so softly with your hair
         I caress each strand of it
         With loving care
             I feel your slow
             Relaxed
             Breaths
                 I feel your warm breaths against my shoulder
                     I smell your dozen smells
                     Intertwining into a rich wine
                     I drink you in

 I love you
 I need nothing more
 Nothing more than you
 In my arms
     Motionless silence flows like lazy honey
         We have all the time in the world
         To hold each other

 My arms around you
 A smile so clean and pure upon my face
     You are mine
     And I am yours

     *   *   *

                                            i awake covered with cold sweat
                                        arms wrapped boa-constrictor tight
                                        around a tear-drenched pillow
                                    my eyes filled with tears ... so hot
                                    so hot
                                what has come
                                has gone
                        i am left with nothing
                    but the tears
                that burn
            down
          my
    cheeks


                                                    -Igal Koshevoy
                                                    May 7, 1993; 7:44pm
                                                    LAM LIBIDO 7:1



TAKE ME AS I AM
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
falling,
down a block of ice.
    dropping,
    so fast
    past the snow.
        fingernails
        dig deep into it,
            not deep enough.
                can't stop my fall
                    my wings won't bite into the air
                    won't save me.
                        i'm falling
                        to a fridged death.
                    take my hand...
                    TAKE MY HAND!
                i fall
                continue my descend
                and reaching for the heavens
                (or so they are called)
            you cannot accept me...
            won't take me.
        i smash against the frozen crystal
    shards scatter
    whipped by the cold cruel wind.
why didn't you take my hand...?
WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE MY HAND!?

climbing a ladder
of razor wire.
    it cuts bloody grooves into me
    deep
    grooves.
        i ignore
        i'm in chase
            still i cannot catch you.
                i reach out to you
                but you turn around
                and run.
                    chase you
                    through an endless hell of never-ending labyrinthic crypts.
                        i run as fast as i can
                            paving the way behind me
                            with my shed
                            blood
                            and
                            tears
                        you leave me...
                    won't you please take my hand...?
                    TAKE MY HAND!

drowning in a pool of acid
thrashing wildly...
as i dissolve.
    you hold my life line
    my key
    but you're too scared
        you won't save me
            i splash away
            digits dissipating
            limbs rubberizing
                i am sinking...
                and you watch...
                sad
                and
                scared.
                    i go beneath the surface,
                    for the final time.
                        i stretch my hand out,
                        to you...
                        i am waiting
                        for you...
                            save me.
                                take my hand...
                                TAKE MY HAND!
                                TAKE IT PLEASE!?
                            you close your eyes
                            turn around.
                            clap your hands over ears.
                        you let me die...
                        you let me die.
                    why didn't you take my hand?
                    WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE MY HAND...?!


                                                    -Igal Koshevoy
                                                     May 7, 1993; 8:35pm
                                                     LAM LIBIDO 8:1



           U'R WASTE      
           ~~~~~~~~~      
        waste of flesh.   
        waste of water.   
        waste of years.   
        waste of tears.   
            damnit,       
            nuttin',      
            nuttin',      
             but a        
             waste        
           of breath.     
                          
             i look       
           into your      
          empty eyes,     
         broken windows   
       to an empty soul.  
           listen to      
           your empty     
           words that     
           flow like      
            a river       
           of sewage.     
                          
            silence.      
             ponder       
          the silence     
            as i cut      
          your throat     
            and see       
            my glee       
            as i no       
          longer hear     
          your wasted     
            breaths.      


                                     -Igal Koshevoy
                                      May 10, 1993; 10:08am
                                      LAM LIBIDO 9:5



    TOTAL SOLUTION
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    let's maim the masses!
    let's kill the krowds!
    let's dance in the lime pits,
    then chant around the pyres!
    tear them to pieces,
        with our sharpened teeth!
    let's play kick ball with their headZ!

    oh, let's start
    the Total Solution!
    let's Kill Em' All!
    let's light ourselfs on fire
        and luv it a lot!
    "let's dance in the death of life!"


                                                    -Igal Koshevoy
                                                     May 14, 1993; 10:01am
                                                     LAM LIBIDO 10:7



 JESUS AND THE SILVER SNOWPLOW
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 I awoke
 seated
 at the controls
 of a snowplow
 made of Silver
 that shone
 like the sky.

     I was driving
     along,
     minding
     my own
     business,
     being a
     good little
     member of
     society.

         so this
         loudmouthed bastard,
         on his little mule,
         comes along.

             he yells,
             he curses,
             he screams.

                 with angry voice,
                 shaking fist,
                 and flaring eyes
                 he shouts at me.

                     so, I drove him over
                     with my snowplow
                     made of Silver.
                     there was nothing
                     else I could do.

                         had no choice,
                         but to run
                         down
                         Jesus
                         with a
                         snowplow.

                             run down
                             Jesus.

                                 I just
                                 had
                                 to run him down.

                                     Just ran Jesus down,
                                     with my snowplow,
                                     made of Silver -
                                     that shines
                                     like the sky.


                                                        -Igal Koshevoy
                                                         May 17, 1993; 3:23am
                                                         LAM LIBIDO 11:2


                         INsinERATOR      
                         ~~~~~~~~~~~      
                         Devil-maiden     
                         you must burn.   
                                          
                         Burn             
                         at the touch     
                         of my heart      
                         of fire.         
                                          
                         Streaks          
                         of sparks        
                         shall fill       
                         the summer       
                         sky -            
                         as I cleanse     
                         you              
                         of your sins.    
                                          
                         And              
                         in the darkness  
                         of my soul -     
                         I let            
                         the ashes fall.  
                                          
                         And with         
                         my love -        
                         I bring          
                         your             
                         world            
                         down             
                         in               
                         fire.            
                                          

  
                            
                    
                                
                    
                              
  


                                                          -Igal Koshevoy
                                                           5/17/93; 10:12am
                                                           LAM LIBIDO 13:1



                             i{italicboxyeats} #5
                                THEBREASTPLATE
                       ͯ
                           
                                   as the
                                 Time Head
                                   sang.
                                  It sang
                                    sad
                                    and
                                   sweet
                                   to the
                                    one,
                                   he who
                                  gathered
                                  clothes
                                     in
                                   middle
                                     of
                                  passion.
                               ...And through
                                the breaks,
                                  cracked
                                  through
                                Hysterica...
                           


                                                    -Igal Koshevoy,
                                                     May 20, 1993; 9:17pm
                                                     LAM LIBIDO 14:4



              i{italicboxyeats} #4:     
                  THE CASEMENT          
                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~          
              you may cry to god,       
                but who are you?        
               a passed and empty       
                Cast is what is         
                  left of you.          
                 fill the Void          
                with nothing but        
                  your tears.           
                 The Casement           
              you've constructed,       
                  Lies beside           
                 the turbulent,         
                   crippling            
                    danger.             
                      and               
           in The Casement you Turn.    
           in The Casement you Burn.    
           in The Casement you Drown.   


                                             -Igal Koshevoy
                                              May 19, 1993; 6:13am
                                              LAM LIBIDO 13:8


                             ۺ              
                             ۺ     \oo/     
                             ۺ     /[]\     
                         ۺ    00{}00    
                         ͼ      ()      
                         ۺͼ              Ŀ
                         ۺ i{italicboxyeats} #9 
                         ۺͻ fly on the pile ٰ
                         ͻ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
                         ۺͻ let those ٰ
                           ͻȻ that be ٰ
                           ۺɼ Robbers,Ŀ
                              ۺ those that 
                              ۺ muttered ٰ
                              ۺȻ  softly 
                              Ȼ in the ٰ
                             ɼȻ night.
                             ɼͼ       Ŀ
                             ۺɼ let those 
                             ۺ who be from 
                             ۺȻ  Robbers, ٰ
                             Ȼ let them ٰ
                             ۺȻ  Drown  
                          Ȼ as they 
                           ͼ  mutter 
                           ͼ softly, Ŀ
                            "Am I for me? 
                           ͻ ...no." ٰ
                           ͻ         
                          ۺ         
                               ۺ         


                                                    -Igal Koshevoy,
                                                     May 20, 1993; 10:02am
                                                     LAM LIBIDO 13:8



                        i{italicboxyeats} #2
                             FLASH      
                          DISCOMFITURE  
                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~  
                             they       
                             echoed     
                              the       
                            stream,     
                              the       
                             flow.      
                              not       
                              like      
                              men       
                              nor       
                            women -     
                              now       
                             girls      
                            looking,    
                           eternally    
                            looking     
                              for       
                              the       
                             spots      
                             that       
                             light      
                              the       
                             night      


                                                    -Igal Koshevoy,
                                                     May 20, 1993; 10:06pm
                                                     LAM LIBIDO 15:3



                           
 ; i{italicboxyeats} #5
 ͸
    WHO. 
    ~~~  ͸
    Oh Mundi Spiritus! ͯ
    The Hunchback Saint let fall the Sands through wiry fingers -
    lest He still sing with I in the Old....
    We sing eternal!


                                                    -Igal Koshevoy,
                                                     May 20, 1993; 9:20pm
                                                     LAM LIBIDO 14:9



              RAINS
              ~~~~~
              let fall the gentle rains
              of shrapnel and of fire
              to wash away the darkness
              to wash away our sins
              to wash away us
            
              ever so tender
              ever so kind
              slaying all the standing
              and the fallen, they lay behind
            
            ۲  never discomfort
            ۲  never afraid
            ۲۲  never look back
            ۲  shuddering so quietly
            ۲  like a little dead child
               waiting for the rains to come
            
              let come the rains
              let come the gun
              let fall the bomb
              and once again
              let come the rains
               that wash it all away
            
              wash
              wash me away
              so softly
              so carefully
              cut me away
              like a cancer
              like some sordid disease
            
              stand
              in the rains
              feel them fall
              feel them soak
              into you
              feel them
               take you away
            
              gonna wash
              wash away
              down the rivers
              down the streams
              gonna disappear
               into the ocean
              gonna disappear
               from this earth
            
              and when i'm gone
              nuttin' left
              nuttin' left
              but the rains
              but the rains
               falling rains
               
              
              


                                                -Igal Koshevoy
                                                 May 11, 1993; 2:21am
                                                 LAM LIBIDO 17:3



                    punk
                    ~~~~
                    there you stand before me
                    all decked out and pretty
                    looking really good
                    for yourself.
                  
                    you ain't got a minute
                    ain't got a dime
                    don't give a damn
                    won't hear me out.
                  
                    wallowing in you glory
                    that burns your candle
                    from both ends
                    as you wallow in your self.
                  
                    you haven't got no pity
                    got no moral
                    griefs
                    nor kindness.
                  
                    don't even have enough respect
                    to listen
                    or even
                    pretend to listen.
                  
                    hell no
                    you are god
                    that's the end
                    of the line for you.
                  
                    you can't spare a moment
                    just to understand me
                    can't wait a moment
                    till you insult me again.
                  
                    despite your pretty haircut
                    those cute rounded glasses
                    and the ironed docker's slacks
                    to me you are still a punk.
                  
                    you ain't a man
                    not really even human
                    just a scrap heap
                    that rusts away.
                  
                    leaching its wastes
                    that taste so
                    bitter apon
                    our tongues.
                  
                    all self confident
                    so damn proud
                    you are of your
                    worthless self.
                  
                    too damned ignorant
                    to realize
                    that you are
                    by yourself.
                  
                    I don't want you
                    don't want to hear your words
                    put a sock in it and shut up
                    or i'll quiet you.
                  
                    you believe in yourself
                    believe you are god
                    therefore
                    you believe in nothing.
                  
                    nothing do you hold dear
                    nothing is Holy unto you
                    there is nothing you call sacred
                    no on you love - but you.
                  
                    you curse me
                    just for your attention
                    put me down
                    just cause you're selfish.
                  
                    you have no ideas
                    head is so empty
                    so instead
                    you assault mine.
                  
                    smile that sickened leer
                    smile that twisted sneer
                    look at me with your
                    confident disgust.
                  
                    you don't understand me
                    you don't even care
                    don't even want to know
                    what you're missing.
                  
                    you are a punk
                    just curse at all
                    insult everything
                    bitch out all.
                  
                    don't make an effort
                    to help anyone out
                    don't care to solve
                    or give some advice.
                  
                    laugh and sneer
                    as you think
                    you have got me
                    but think again.
                  
                    one of these days
                    my dumb little friend
                    your words and your actions
                    will catch up with you.
                  
                    just you wait
                    I'll be waiting for you
                    laughing your last laugh
                    for you.    ;)


                                                    -Igal Koshevoy
                                                     May 24, 1993; 12:17am
                                                     LAM LIBIDO 16:2



                       THE 10TH (shrouded) DAY OF THE HORDE
                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                      
                        Against
                        all courtesy,
                        She made
  Ŀ         a Drawing
  ´         on the
           Gold Wall.
   ´         The Wall
             that cast
         ´         the eye
   GOLD          of the
   WALL´         mourning...
              cast their
   ´         eye unto
           Tomorrow.
  ´         They didn't
           understand,
  ۲۲´         they didn't
  ۲ݲ         want to.
  ²ݱ´         And so
  ݰ         they hid
  ±ݱ۲´         the Drawing,
  ݲ۲         the Window,
  °۲´         with a
  ݲ         Curtain -
  ±ݱ´         no one
           needed
  ´         to know.
           Years past,
  Ŀ         no one knew,
  óFORBIDDEN         all too afraid
  ٴ         to look behind
           the Curtain,
  ´         too afraid
           to see Tomorrow.
           And so, only
                        the Curtain
                        would know
                        what lay
                        shrouded
                        behind it:
                       Tomorrow.


                                                 -Igal Koshevoy
                                                  May 26, 1993; 10:14am
                                                  LAM LIBIDO 18:3



                                       

      Anyways, I've wasted enough of your  valuable time and brain cells, so I
 honestly hope you have enjoyed the poetry that I've  written.   I  also  hope
 that  some of the stuff written has 'rubbed-up' on you and has or will change
 your life and that of others somehow for the better.  Take care.

                                                    -Igal Koshevoy


         Ŀ
           Copyright 1993 Igal Koshevoy, all rights reserved!  
          "Mess wit' mah' poems n' 'Ah break ya' finghas!"  -JTB 
         

                                       
