Painted American woman stands strong
on each corner weeks after
bombs landed on Pearl Harbor
How can I hold her in my arms
if the ground beneath us is trembling?

This country is filled with oppression
misunderstandings and hate
But isn't their still love?
The blue on our flag reminds me
of her lovely eyes, and the red is the blood
I would spill for her fair skin. Isn't this love?

I can't walk down the street
without seeing old Uncle Sam's
determined finger pointing at the
squint eyed japs and their wet fangs.
They say he's the enemy, Kill the enemy!
Kill!

I will fight for the painted American woman
I see her everyday on my lonely travels
with her hair wrapped up in red,
staring into the blue sky
praying that every bullet that
is fired at me will perish and fade
away

I fight so I can sit in the front with her
drink and share the same water as her
I kill to hold her hand in a free world
while this country is unfair, I'll die for
her and a new tomorrow.

It is a naked sort of feeling
When you're not around

And I am colder than usual
In this room of things that fall

As the ceiling continues to drop
My heart does not stop hurting

Or keep my eyes from seeing
How empty this room is without you

[or more reasons I want to slap you right across your pretty face]

upon wakening
my brain informed my arm to
tell my hand
to pick up a pen and
tell of your voice

the first time
  i hear your particular  vibrations
your sound waves
  your signals
over the air
i almost drove off the side of the road
...now i have to close my eyes
and hold my breath
trying to hear a silent memory
  stored in a recess of my mind
your voice has a musical quality
   a warm tone
that i miss

this brings me to your perfect, hateful lips
  (really, i could do without all of this nonsense)
this very moment my heart is pounding
   right out of my chest
         my jaw clenched
                 my eyes glaring stubbornly into blank space

release me from this madness...
   i just want to get through the day
without this ridiculous longing
   just one goddamn day...

...back to your stupid lips
   i like shapes
and yours are the exact right shape
  to taunt me
you grew that scruffy sexy stuff
   just to drive me insane

i'd also like to slap you
   for informing me of your jogging habit
my imagination is quite active
   and the last possible thing i need
is the sun...
   glinting on your hair
       on your stupid muscles
i mean, seriously?
i've almost run down 18 men
  that look nothing like you
because of this insanity
   that has saturated my brain
my nerves
   my emotions
      my instincts

never in my life
   have i been slammed
with such desire
   knowing exactly
how to end this madness

but forced to remain still.
regulating breath.
letting words flow
trying to calm the mind.

but my body wants to m o v e .
my heart wants to explode
my breath wants to quicken...
my voice wants to escape...
my nails want to claw...
my teeth want to bite...

this is getting me nowhere...already i feel the new words coming

1. 
   What a small weight for the most important gas,
   that is keeping us alive.
   I was 16 when I realized that my mom
   had forever been my biggest supporter.
   I was 16 and I was still holding my fingers crossed behind my back,
   hoping that Santa was real.
   
   I'm the hidden meaning behind good reasons
   that have paved the way toward bad choices.
   For I have realized, sitting silently in the corner,
   that we are all forced to realize our
   own self destruction.
   
   Like the building and the wrecking ball,
   of which I am often both.
   
   I am your overspoken words and unsaid thoughts.
   
   I am not the beautiful bare trees in the winter,
   but instead I am your poisonous dinner.
   
   I am the passion behind tears
   and the emotion behind screams.
   
   I am the thoughts that keep you up at night,
   and your cold, bare feet.
   
   I resemble a constant string of avoidance and indecisiveness.
   
   I am your dewy eyes and groggy voice at 7:30 in the morning.
   
   I am nothing but a blinking statue.
   
   I am 16 years worth of unanswered questions.
   
   Yet in 16 years will all I be is
   another 16 years older?
   
   I am the epitome of drowning without water,
   and not to spoil the ending for you,
   but I still have 16 years worth of faith,
   that everything will be okay.

Another one got caught today, it's all over the papers. "Teenager Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal", "Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering"...

Damn kids. They're all alike.

But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1950's technobrain, ever take a look behind the eyes of the hacker? Did you ever wonder what made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him?

I am a hacker, enter my world...

Mine is a world that begins with school... I'm smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they teach us bores me...

Damn underachiever. They're all alike.

I'm in junior high or high school. I've listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. "No, Ms. Smith, I didn't show my work. I did it in my head..."

Damn kid. Probably copied it. They're all alike.

I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is cool. It does what I want it to. If it makes a mistake, it's because I screwed it up. Not because it doesn't like me... Or feels threatened by me.. Or thinks I'm a smart ass.. Or doesn't like teaching and shouldn't be here...

Damn kid. All he does is play games. They're all alike.

And then it happened... a door opened to a world... rushing through the phone line like heroin through an addict's veins, an electronic pulse is sent out, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought... a board is found. "This is it... this is where I belong..." I know everyone here... even if I've never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again... I know you all...

Damn kid. Tying up the phone line again. They're all alike...

You bet your ass we're all alike... we've been spoon-fed baby food at school when we hungered for steak... the bits of meat that you did let slip through were pre-chewed and tasteless. We've been dominated by sadists, or ignored by the apathetic. The few that had something to teach found us willing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the desert.

This is our world now... the world of the electron and the switch, the beauty of the baud. We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn't run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals. We explore... and you call us criminals. We seek after knowledge... and you call us criminals. We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias... and you call us criminals. You build atomic bombs, you wage wars, you murder, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the criminals.

Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me for.

I am a hacker, and this is my manifesto. You may stop this individual, but you can't stop us all... after all, we're all alike.

I don't remember the first time I saw you,
Your sunshine eyes and golden hair
Were hidden from my view
As I looked past you, and to the rest,
All of the people, plainly dressed,
To the front and to the teacher,
Rabbi, Priest, Guru, Preacher
Of a faith I didn't want
And a lesson I didn't need.

They say it's true love at first sight,
But try as hard as I might,
I can't remember loving you,
At that moment, right on cue,
Or even when we first went out
My heart didn't flutter, scream or shout
With pure emotion, love or lust
Instead a slight murmur, just
A flutter in my stomach.

Maybe this wasn't meant to last,
But it shouldn't have ended quite so fast,
Or I don't think so anyway,
Because I just can't keep my heart at bay,
The love came slowly,
You can believe me,
I fell for you,
Head over heels,
And you let me down.

Thanks, babe.