Mary Petersen: I was born on February 14, 1983. I live in Seattle, Washington. My favorite poet, mainstream as he may be, is Jim Morrison. My reading and writing take up a fair portion of my time. I belong to a group of tightly knit friends known as The Tribe, called so simply because we are always together, our numbers are so many, and we are tribal to say the least. I mention this only because of their influence in my life and writing.

Stuart's Trip is about a guy who gets stuck in his cabin during a snowstorm and starts going crazy.

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Goodbye

taking a last breath
before eternal death
take a step
ride it out
mind filled with
feeling empty of doubt

clouds burst up
and guts pour out
loving life
we sadly shout
goodbye, goodbye
soon going
dying without a doubt

soldier rolls over
soon to die
worms and maggots
and soon flies
eat out his eyes
that won't even cry

in the mud
in the flood
filled not with rain
but only blood

taking a last breath
before eternal death
take a step
ride it out
mind filled with
feeling empty of doubt

daisy chains under aeroplanes
fields of green
the soldiers flee
running through the cream

daisy chains under aeroplanes
fields of green
deaths of a dream
can you see the human souls
leaving in a stream

clouds burst up
and guts pour out
losing life
we soon pass out
goodbye, goodbye
now going
dying without a doubt

Copyright © 2000 by Mary Petersen

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Tired

I wish I was a crutch
you could always lean upon
I wish I was the pair of dice
you place your bets upon
I wish I was an embryo
curled up and warm inside
I wish I was an ugly duckling
destined to soon fly high

With all the roads to follow
and all the ways to go
sometimes it seems so shallow
sometimes it seems so low

I wish I knew how far it was
across the starlit sky
I wish I knew how far it was
until the day I die

We all know how easy it is
to wish and wish and wish
but just how many people
go out and take the risk

day by day the time slips by
night after night I stare wide eyed
at the constant transformation
all the colours lack confirmation
all the colours spilt from a lie
all the colours unwilling to try
all the colours destined to die
all the colours I need to cry

I wish I had a life to know
I could always depend upon
I wish I knew how easy it was
to take the risk and try

Copyright © 2000 by Mary Petersen

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Stuart's Trip

all alone in my world
with my flag unfurled
on the floor of my
great land
with a shot in my hand
and a gleam in my eye
I drink til the embers die

with white all abound
and no one around
to hear my great white sound
cause I've finally found
what I needs in the ground
the cold unsettling ground

I dig and I dig
with my chisel and brig
searching for what can be found
I search as I perch
gripping the furs
of a poor unlucky young deer

the crow does show
that what I know
is going to show this mans down
what's this that I see
could it be a young tree
three-feet underneath the new snow
what I know what I know
the snow is not snow
I'm digging into my latrine
no no not at all
I'm taking a fall
back down to reality
I was spaced all along
while writing this song
it took me a while to see
I wasn't digging at all
only writing this scrawl
on a paper that you'll
never see.

so the cycle continues
as my mind breaks away
all alone in a lost paradise
I wish I could see as
I set my mind free
what is to become of me

Copyright © 2000 by Mary Petersen

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