Chrysalis: Spring 1993

Chrysalis the literary/art magazine of Ferrum College

Cover Illustration by Michael Newman

Spring 1993

Contents Literature Free

4

Light Swirls Downward

5

Identity

7

Thoughts on Ego

8

Flowers

9

The Birth of Summer Sky

9

Tammy Wood

Aaron Conove

Chris Monroe Guy Byrd

James C. Miller III

James C. Miller III

Old Glory

10

The Indecision of the Sea

11

p.m.s. blues

12

Aspirations

12

Quiet Up Here

14

Today the Man, Sometimes the Water

15

Molding Their Minds

16

Rhythm of the Dark

17

Madness I

18

Paul Baker

Trey Cherry

Kristy Ricks Genna Fuchs

Christine Ullman Anne Dickens

Tammy Wood Eric Baker

Kristy Ricks

1

2

20

Birth, Death, Life Greg May

Free

21

Arena Michael Newman

22

Michael Scott W. Cser

23

Nothing Like Now Anne Dickens

24

Phrases Christine Ullman

25

Crystallized Mind James C. Miller ill

25

Mindfingers James C. Miller ill

26

The Last Greg May

27

The Last (detail) Greg May

A book lies open between us.

I'd rather look at the pictures but a long, red fingernail keeps jabbing at the lines.

Nervous, tense, I focus on the print.

The butterflies in my stomach settle down.

I laugh inside myself.

Soon I'll be eating chocolate ice cream B�t those letters must wait for me, Right there, On the page.

Three words pound into my brain.

"Sound it out."

She points.

U-

bertee.

Art

LIBERTY 6 title page 19,27 cover 13

Aaron Conover Hillary Hardison Greg May Michael Newman Christine Ullman

She smiles, Hands me the book, And I am FREE

Tammy Wood

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4

Light Swirls Downward Footsteps knocking at a door leading to an entrance that goes nowhere but opens into the imagination Swirls of light, fancy free glisten in the indigo water of tears that flow from blood-soaked, gouged eyes

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A ripple of skin, a bubble of thought a reflection of bright images rippling into darkness being touched by graceful fingers Light swirls downward into a pit of flaming demons each possessed by its own ignorance each caught in a self-powered dance

- ' ..

�-.,� . � ... :. .. - :. -·�

- Aaron Conover

Aaron Conover

5

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Thoughts on Ego Identity Darkest starlight Dearest friend My eyes come alive in you Dead to the day Born to the night Sleep reveals what's true A safe place In the shadows of the night A place to rest A weary face And assumed identities No one stares Not afraid to shine Crawl out through the shadows I'm not afraid to cry In the sunlight Innocent sunlight My enemy's exposed For all the world to see Maybe one day The sun will shine On my true identity Anonymity My mind's virginity Come closer-swim with me We'll live our lives In just one night Assumed identities Chris Monroe

7

Hold me tight with a jealous grip.

Fear of Fearing.

Wanting Want.

Desire......

Desire!

Echoing................... .. ......... .. .

Resonating................... ...... .... .. .

Reverberating ...................

The sound of the rhythm locked in full.

Jamming to the sound of myself.

Jamming to the Jam. Oh,MAN! What a jam............................ .

Flib..it..tee flam!!

Oh, Ego! Why must thou love me so?!?

You know me well, you trust me not on my own.

Oh, Fear Full Guard I am!

It is time for me to set sail. i am of age now.

PLEASE RELEASE ME. i have built a ship........ , i believe it to be seaworthy.

It is built of strongest Oak and Chestnut.

Oh, Ego! The Borderlands, and those who dwell within sylvan castles, sing to i when You are not aware.

Not out of defiance do i sing, for i love You as well.

If You and i could traverse the vast sea together........

Oh, I would have You by My side.

But the matrix of design has a plot for each of us.

With that course i must go.

Oh, Ego! My Ego! i must wish you adieu.

Guy Byrd 8

Flowers Dazing at your dried dead flowers.

Absorbed by thoughts of this fragile life.

This fresh, new blossom blooms, waiting for nurturing truth.

I don't know what the old lies were.

Look and listen for inspiration; only finding desperation.

Old Glory Walking swiftly on my way, late again.

I stop, struck by a flash of color.

Red, white, and blue snap in the wind a banner of pride enshrined in fabric.

The images return, friends a,,d comrades about this symbol, men of my land.

Lost within the reeds and dried, dead flowers.

Blowing in the moist wind. Searching within.

The Birth of Summer Sky The sweet Summer Sky brings me to my knees like lean1ing a new religion, or receiving my soul, my love, my energy.

Unknown purity, as a fresh, clean breeze in the realm of a wann Summer's night she began to breathe.

With her breath my life began, as hers did from mine. Rise sweet Summer Sky. Beyond the trees.

Where I and my child fly in the fresh breeze.

A refuge of home in a sea of foreignness.

Here is pride, here is honor.

Below it fly others, straining for attention meaningless, they do not touch me.

I stand motionless in the darkness, fog swirling.

A moment of peace in a stream of chaos.

My back straightens, I nod formally.

The flag ripples in return.

I return to the world, stepping out of the fog.

I have polished a pillar of my self.

Paul Baker

James C. Miller III 9

10

p.m.s. blues

The Indecision of the Sea As the tide rolls in here in this distant land, I ponder my existence, As my footprints disappear in the sand With wondering eyes I search for a lonely sign of love.

Upon my shoulder saddness perches, like a crying dove.

I hear the roar from crashing waves.

Cold water shocking my soul by way of my feet, Freeing me, my actions of defeat.

With my freedom the sun rises, its warmth protecting me, through my realization.

As I slowly revise the indecision of the sea Trey Cherry

writhing in lit class reading e.e. cummings p.m.s.ing while i'm supposed to be discussing frost andhisroad destroying the pen-top in my mouth ti! blue ink oozes through my aching teeth as my aggression is falling, falling out of the beige window i have no business going to my next class this is how someday the meek shallinherittheearth

Kristy Ricks

Aspirations i forced my breath into them giving life but they were too heavy and fell to earth like stained glass stones catching the light they had a moment's splendor before they shattered on the harsh ground leaving but a soapy film to testify to their minute existence.

Genna Fuchs

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12

Quiet Up Here Quiet up here so aloft in the sky (there's a peace I should feel) It's all gone, I ask Why.

)

Below: Golden fields transform in my eye to an ocean of water, they all wave me goodbye.

Yes, I must leave but again, I ask Why. The plane draws a line as far as it can from the Eastern extremes of my Mother's land I reach out for Seattle to grasp Daddy's hand.

Below: Are there families that have learned how to live?

Together forever? Have they learned to forgive?

Quiet. Up here so aloft in the sky. (there's a peace I shot;ld feel) It's half there, and I sigh.

i>

Christine Ullman

)

- Christine Ullman 13

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Molding Their Minds Today the Man, Sometimes the Water As pliant as warm clay their hesitant young minds lay before me.

Today, Winter is a friend the kind good deeds has no time for.

The man, and his walking stick move slower, still into the frost.

Sometimes, I wonder where he is going but more often I am afraid to ask.

The Water, is moving so quickly now and he is almost out of sight.

I want to remember this day. All the picnic tables are bare and I'm taking a break to slow my time.

Anne Dickens

Waiting, impatiently, to be shaped and molded into utter perfection, or so I thought, by me.

Whispering words flew around me, my clumsy fingers hurried to force con frontation.

Stop, their eyes pleaded.

We must do this on our own.

Agile fingers worked the clay into shapes of their own choosing, each one different, each one beautiful, un finished, yet wonderfully begun.

TamrnyWood

16

15

Rhythm of the Dark Night is falling swiftly crawling across the sky and I lay here and listen to the rhythm of the dark to tongues that pulse so moistly and the eyes that hover near as these waves of thought swell deep and high and push aside my fear I am bursting out and over with a million stars my guide to touch this fragile heaven that quivers deep inside until I close my eyes upon the final wave from this warm and placid sea sinking slowly under as it crumbles over me.

Madness 1 Voices stir within m:¡ brain retreat inside me, go insane view the faces on the wall (they're not really there at all) It's nice to talk to someone, though.

Nuts? not me, I'll deny it (but it's fun, you'll have to try it) water, water everywhere come inside, you'll drown out there Social graces aren't for me I think I'll treat myself to tea now that I know I can be free alone Finally lost it let it go down the toilet gone with the flow sanity's overrated.

Kristy Ricks

Eric Baker

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18

••

+ Birth Birth Death both seeds of thought planted deep within galaxies spinning roots spreading outward planting virgin worlds with life's infinite possibilities

Death Death Birth both terror-filled seeds as yet unplanted roots poised eager to explore the answers of the infinite beyond

••

-Greg May

Life Life Fruit of all labors both thrown and willing with saddened hearts WE choose the answers of our beginnings and our end.

Greg May

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Arena

Michael

A man walked into the arena with one thought in mind. He wanted to lose in order that he might die. A man called himself alone even though he was with many. He felt that all was lost until he ran into the conflagra­ tion of the concourse; they are unfor­ giving of segregation. In fear of giving; the crowd is vindictive.

A woman walks in to join a man.

She feels for him and can see the apprehension in his eyes. His breath is bringing chills to the warm crowd.

Woman feels the breath on her neck and falls to the earth. Isolated they are together. Together they are alone.

A child finds himself in the arena with the woman and man. Child is cold from the breath of the crowd.

The chills of the man are now the chills of many. Child must also be alone as they are isolated, yet infant is of them. Set the giving down and run.

A dog can be there, too. Dog feels as dogs feel: servile.

Michael Newman

21

The sandy haire'.! boy with white chalk dust between his limp fingers Sat among eggshells of dry white wallpaper Scrawled his message on the white wallpaper wall Spoke to the friend within the white wallpaper His brown eyes cried to see his friend fail

Scott W. Cser

22

Phrases

Nothing Like Now "If I wasn't what would I have?" -frustration Fear is better expected and embraced.

I �ould point to your home now, with no calls for comment or intimidation.

"How does it feel?" -anger I had garnered temporary relief not knowing the WHYS. I knocked you to the floor instead and believed in Eskimos.

But my casting molds of you is no longer vital.

"What is that sound?" -fear

Drunk with anger.

Blinded by fear.

Justified with pride.

Ill by ignorance.

Deaf with our discrimination.

Hungering for a healthy heart.

Famined within a world of chaos.

Fairy tales torn a p a r t.

Fantasies that had no chance to start.

Favored images smeared by reality.

Our virtuous destiny dictated by someone else (or something else).

I've been sleeping in the night. !ime zones and two coasts crossed quietly 111 the hush of evening.

"You can't correct everything that goes wrong!" -condemn We would have been a great coffee-table book the widower friend and I, If only we could burn the binding ties.

"Not everything you see is real!" -lecture I focus now four years later making pacts and pledges to return someday.

We will revel in the surprise.

Why can't we all just get along?

Who's talking?

Not me!

Not me! (then who?)

Not fighting one another together fighting something else, causing anarchy within our ranks.

NOT UNITED. CONFUSED.

Christine Ullman

"At least I think that we have replaced a peace" -calm It is the society of the ancient bards resurfacing here, I wanted so much to grasp your hand in the airport but I missed and fell, hard, long, and slow to a new ground.

Anne Dickens

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The Last

Crystallized Mind Crystallized trees, rigid and shining a glass menagerie, as fragile as a child's crystal mind, lost and frozen in time.

Mind Fingers As the notes slip through my mind-fingers Sanity drips down descending fine, slender hopes, fears and little lost Tears sliding down through my mind-fingers James C. Miller III

25

The sun rose over the horizon in swollen red fire. Her glorious crown creeping into the almost dead cities of the world while hot dry winds blow dust, mummifying a score of bil­ lions below. But they were not alone.

The man stood on the outskirts of town, a feeling of emptiness as cold comfort for what he had seen. A lonely tear tracked mud across the dust of his cheek, but he was not alone.

His wife walked proudly up to him and put her arms around his waist. He turned to tell her he loved her but was caught by her beauty.

He merely stared into eyes framed by a crown of gold, life framed by the lifeless desert be­ yond. And they were not alone.

A ship came in low from the east, the sun creating stars on her silver hull. Carried on a wave of thunder, she landed on a nearby plateau.

The man and woman approached, driven by a mixture of hesitancy and awe, their growing fear pushing them forward. When they fell under the massive shadow of the ship, a slight hush erupted from the hull. The door was opening. If not for the feeling that this was not new to them, they would have bolted like a frightened beast. The man and woman could both feel the sense of climax upon them, and they danced still within the moment.

A voice like the breaking of waves shattered the stillness from within the ship.

"My children? Do you not know me?" The second question came as the first remained unanswered. Knowing the end was near, they remained silent and were nearly destroyed as an intense feeling of love erupted from the darkness of the ship.

"Hello Adam. Hello Eve. I am your father and I have come to take you home." The

26

hull closed again as they entered willingly and another roar of thunder brought them to the stars.

There was nothing now except the age old sigh of the wind expectantly awaiting the end. And for the last time night feH upon the Earth.

Not a shadow stirs in the old mourning sun Quietly she is sad for this is the last day and not one of us is there to weep Our journey ended long ago ... the last conqueror vanquished and the day explodes across the plains like victory.

Chrysalis Staff Editor-in-Chief:

Anne Dickens

Literary Editors:

Christine Ullman James C. Miller III Greg May

Art Editor:

Michael Newman

Associate Editors:

Aaron Conover Tammy Wood Chris Monroe Guy Byrd

Adviser:

Dan Gribbin

Special thanks to:

Bettye Buckingham Labrena Hudson Jane Peters Freda Nichols Tom Rickard Dr. John Hardt Dr. Joseph L. Carter

Greg May

-Greg May 27