Volume 2, Issue 4 Melancholy Predator Page 2 7 Apr 96
Continued from page 1

The effect of this vacillation is an undermining of self-determination. Outside forces exert their influence on the actions of those who have not set their beings to one pole or the other; anyone not polar good or evil is susceptible to easy change. Questioning the power of evil prompts a display of the negative mindset; evil is powerful. Questioning evil is as futile as questioning its equal, good. When the human mind defies the concept of distinguishing good or evil, it experiences a stand-still of consequences and a boost in confidences.
There is no natural morality. What is good or evil is identical except for its perception. Nothing is ever good or bad but that thinking makes it so. The sky is not moral, the trees are not moral: there is nothing good in nature except those things that we define as good. Yet we don't define them as good when they obviously promote life (unless it's the particular life we want promoted (agar-filled Petri plates are not very often defined as good)), and we don't define them as bad when they are obviously detrimental to life (war has always been the national pastime, our great country was built on a solid foundation of selective genocide), so what's the system?

Underminining the authority of such forces of decisive power could result in release from the morass of mediocrity. A decision to be unfailing evil is to be applauded; so too, a committment to irremediably goodness. Only a truly enlightened mind, versed in the nature of both moralities (perspectives), can completely embrace one and seek the personal eradication of the other. These extreme paths are both wise and brave: each acknowledges the power of the other, and pursues its goals purely, without the taint of the other. The rest of us middlepeople, adrift on the whim-sea generated by our amalgam lifestyle, are cloudy in our actions, unclear in our thoughts, and hazy in our vision.

helmenthic tears - fleshhenge weathersooth 
Pining for fingered leaves,
	a circle of human colored torso-trees pitches 
	towards its center.
Encased in spineless,suppurative membranes,
	tiers of eyes span the cleft 
	between every two trees
  		and stare

A mindvessel holds court 
	jar-enshrined in the circle's center
	wet electricity turmoils across
	twists of protein, sugar,and fat
		turbulence in the sky
		over this head flashes
			similarly 

This storm was created by the organic mindvessel
	this storm has evolved a mind 
	of (circuits) its own.
Columns of light lance from sky mind to 
	circle mind to fuse 
	silicon (from shattered jar, from groundust)
		meld with wet machine

Torsos writhe, wrenching themselves apart
	with newly sprouted silicon limbs,
	and plucking pairs of eyes
	from the membranes to serve in inorganic heads.
	newly-born, newly-meshed metalflesh
	stumbles off to discover fire 
 			all over again.  
					-Mark Cicero
 Submission:

I wish i was an artist. could write melodies to make your soul weep. sculpt images that make you rejoice to be alive. scribe soliloquies. conceive paintings. blow glass. take pictures. doodle.

too bad i can only bitch.

-Anton Evets

PIERS Ally Week
Poetry Reading

April 10th
7 - 9 pm
Tower A Lounge

Bring your own to read or come just to listen.
PIERS Ally Week is an event to show support for gays, lesbians, and bisexuals.

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